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.

157. Lord of Calamity

A/N: I'm not going to say you need to know the Walrus' poem from Alice: Madness Returns, but it will make it easier to recognize where I have lifted inspiration. What you will need to know is the song "A Story Told" from the Count of Monte Cristo musical.

...

"THESE ARE THE DESIGNATED COMPETITORS' FIRST-CLASS RESIDENCES?"

Mozenrath, the Huntsman, and Miratrix had been thrown in a dungeon that seemed to be a featureless hallway curving slowly around a central point. As soon as Topaz had left the trio to their own devices, Mozenrath had exploded all over again.

"At this point," the Huntsman sighed, "we really shouldn't be surprised."

"If the final round of this tournament doesn't involve one of us gutting the Grandmaster," Mozenrath seethed, "I'll just have to edit the bracket so it DOES. PREFERABLY ME."

"I certainly will not stand in your way," the Huntsman said with a nod. "Just leave me the Champion."

"I'll scout ahead," Miratrix suggested. "Get an idea of the space we're working with." She took off down the hall, disappearing around the bend.

And immediately reappearing around the bend behind Mozenrath and the Huntsman. Befuddled, Miratrix whipped around to look down the direction she'd come. "WHAT?"

"Oh, and there's a loop enchantment on top of it," Mozenrath groaned. "For the dungeon builder who's TOO LAZY TO JUST MAKE THE CELL AN ACTUAL LOOP."

"I would argue it saves on floor space," the Huntsman noted. "Yet you're not entirely wrong either."

"Are we just supposed to sit against the walls?" Mozenrath yelled.

Miratrix had located a cobwebbed, dessicated skeleton of an unidentifiable extraterrestrial species doing just that. She kicked its rib cage, and it fell apart. "Revolting."

"I would imagine the food is no more pleasant," the Huntsman sighed. "Mozenrath, is there anything to be done about this? Preferably in a discreet manner."

"Right," Mozenrath said, beginning to pace up the length of the hall. "I can fix this. I can improve this. There's hardly anywhere to go but up anyway. All I have to do is create an extradimensional space – or link to one – that has a hidden entrance the Grandmaster can't find. Or won't find, since I'm sure he's the type to – "

He got all the way up around the bend, and reappeared behind the Huntsman and Miratrix without breaking his ramble. " – avoid his own dungeons as much as humanly possible. Wouldn't want to be infected with the stink of the rabble, now, would we? The princess of the melt stick might be the one to watch out for, but let's not kid ourselves. I know her type. She's all too happy to eat out of the Grandmaster's hand, which has made her – "

And he looped again. " – not only complacent but laughably soft. If you stripped that instant-kill weapon out of her hands, what would you even have left? Let's be real. She doesn't come down here either. It's only us. We could have the door out in plain sight if we wanted. But I'll play nice. Plan for the worst and expect the best. Actually, the best way to hide the door would be with a Fidelius Charm, but that leaves the question: where does it lead? We could link it back to the warship – "

He looped. " – but that comes with the unfortunate side effect of having to deal with interruptions from everyone, and I do mean everyone, on the warship. That's not even factoring in the cats."

"…I like cats," Miratrix muttered. "As long as they're not Fearcats, that is."

"No, I want something new," Mozenrath decided after looping again. "Something I can design myself. We need a reversion back to good old-fashioned black and blue."

"This is my quest," the Huntsman reminded him. "I should think it more appropriately hunter green, with tasteful purple accents."

"Fine, fine." Mozenrath waved. "But only because you're party leader!"

"He's certainly not letting you act like it," Miratrix hissed to the Huntsman.

"He is who he is," the Huntsman replied. "Infuriating. Charming. The root of so many frustrations and of so many more joys and victories."

"But most importantly," Mozenrath said as he came back around the loop, "we need a way to know what we're dealing with. To know what cards to play when. Now, that, I can get under way sooner rather than later. The minute they allow me on the battlefield, I'll be able to lay down a scrying enchantment. Insofar as it isn't found, we'll be able to watch the same action as the audience. And trust me. With the display we saw earlier? I have full confidence it won't be found." He came to a halt. "Actually, I think I just realized where our lounge needs to be. How would you feel about a little throwback to – "

Miratrix rushed to Mozenrath, slapping a hand over his mouth. "SHHH!" she hissed. "Someone's coming!"

Mozenrath glowered at her, but didn't make any rebuttal.

The Huntsman moved to the cell door to greet the visitor; Mozenrath and Miratrix flanked him. Topaz had the melt stick pointed straight outward. "Round one," she stated. "The Grandmaster requested the sexy one."

Miratrix and Mozenrath exchanged glances, each thinking themselves to be that one, but still aware that it might've been the other. They both stepped forward.

The melt stick was pointed directly at Miratrix. "NOT YOU," Topaz snarled. "JUST the sexy one."

With a smirk, Mozenrath sauntered forward. "Well, what do you know? Looks like I get to be the first one to rain mayhem and madness upon your little game."

The Huntsman sighed. "The worst part is knowing for certain I was not the one meant by that request."

"Aw, don't sell yourself short, George," Mozenrath told him coyly. "After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I'm the one beholding. That I find you incredibly stunning is a compliment beyond surface level."

Topaz led him away. The cell shut and locked, leaving the Huntsman and Miratrix alone.

"And you CHOSE to date him," Miratrix said incredulously. "And you keep choosing to date him."

"I would not choose any other path," the Huntsman replied.

...

The Chimaera stalked Asgard, keeping to the shadows. It didn't stray too far from the theater, well aware that its prey was likely to return to the scene of the crime.

Of course, Mim and Aghoul knew it would draw that conclusion. Hence their decision to use themselves as bait.

The theater had been abandoned for a while; everyone else was following "Odin" on his tour. When the sudden sound of firecrackers and the sight of multicolored lights came from the stage, the Chimaera hurried toward it all, knowing exactly what the spectacle was a result of.

There, dancing in a spotlight she'd conjured (and able to still shine in daylight), was Mad Madam Mim, her frame lengthened and curved to tall and voluptuous. She was dressed in every respect like a Vegas showgirl, all purples and burgundies, dancing about with a "LA-LA-LA-LAAAAAA!"

With a hideous chorus of roars from its many mouths, the Chimaera rushed her.

Mim leapt into the air as the Chimaera approached, rising high over its head and pushing her feet off the back of its largest head in order to backflip into the audience. Once settled in the front row, she returned to her usual shape, though still wearing the showgirl outfit, and now picking up a bucket of popcorn. "TAKE IT AWAY, GHOULIE!" she yelled.

Aghoul slid out onto the stage, striking a dramatic pose as he hit the spotlight. "All right, that's been enough of that!" he laughed. "Let's get on with the REAL show, shall we?"

The Chimaera loomed over him, its many jaws slavering.

"Or should I say…" Aghoul threw his arms out to either side. "On with the SHO MINAMIMOTO!"

There was a blur of black whipping past the Chimaera like a comet, and it felt a sting. One head whipped to see Sho coming to a halt with a "Heh," slyly holding up a single shade he'd torn free from the Chimaera's mass. "So zetta slow."

That was a cue for a second beam, this one pink and teal, to zip past the Chimaera and rip off another shade. "zomg Sh0," Coco yelled, "we're all SO SICK OF THAT CATCHPHRASE! Y U DO DIS?"

"What?" Sho responded. "Like I'm not supposed to tell it what it is? And it's SLOW!" He blasted across the stage again, ripping several more shades off the Chimaera.

The Chimaera changed tactics, attempting to swipe Sho or Coco out of the air as they continued to buzz around it like insects and peel shades away. Aghoul summoned up a microphone from a pool of Darkness in the ground; its handle was distinctly skull-and-bone shaped. After giving it a couple of taps, Aghoul said into it, "Now, I would like to recite a little poem that means the Underworld to me. If nobody minds…EH-AHEM!" He straightened up to full height, which meant almost doubling what he usually stood at, his back cracking ominously.

"Sword and crown are worthless here," Aghoul recited. "I invite everyone to dance."

The Chimaera was temporarily drawn to him, but immediately blocked from attacking Aghoul when Sho barred the path and then performed a leaping kick that hit the Chimaera in three chins in succession, ripping off scores of souls. Now the black shades that swirled about, detached from their host, were drawn to Sho himself, and the Reaper absorbed them into his body.

"Laborers, lawyers, mosque, and sheikh," Aghoul continued, "all make their little prance."

Coco danced about, throwing handfuls of razor-sharp heart-shaped energy particles like they were flower petals. They stuck into the Chimaera, spilling out still more souls – and now the Chimaera was looking visibly thinner.

"This life is full of random death," Aghoul said, making his poses more and more dramatic on each new line of the poem. "And heaps of grief and shame!"

Sho plunged a pair of spinning red energy discs into the Chimaera like buzzsaws, collecting the shades that spilled out.

"So few are soothed by 'accident,'" Aghoul went on. "You want someone to blame!"

Coco drew a circle around one of the Chimaera's limbs with a gel pen, using her wings to duck and dodge the swipes of its claw. With a bright flash, the limb ripped off where she'd drawn; a new one spawned, but still more souls went right to Sho.

"Fire, plague and strange disease!" Aghoul was practically dancing now. "Drowned, murderered, or, if you please, a long fall down the basement stairs! None were expected; no one cares!"

As Mim watched the souls be torn away from their host, she pouted. So far, she'd only seen strangers. Aghoul's kill count really was that much larger than hers. But now she was finally starting to see some recognizable images. "Oh, THERE are my victims!" she crowed, spraying popcorn bits. "I bet you regret turning me down at the ball now, Atherol!" She swung a fist. "Ransley, you got what was coming to you when your wagon cut me off in traffic! And you! Thistle! Cheating me at the market! That's for ME to do to YOU, not the other way around!"

"I often must work very hard," Aghoul stated, "Though I can't sweat from my skin."

"We've got him worn down pretty good now!" Coco yelled to Sho.

"I'd say 25 percent on the dot," Sho observed.

"Go for the head!" Coco cheered. "That's gotta have some good stuffy stuffs!"

Sho took a flying leap, spraying Dark projectiles every which way, and then, with a suitable Dark aura charged up about himself, he grabbed onto a canine set of jaws and wrenched one whole head off the Chimaera. With a chorus of screams, it dissolved into shades, pouring into Sho.

"After the dance, I then must rest," Aghoul concluded. "And the REAPING can begin!" He took a dramatic bow to the rhythm of Mim snapping the fingers of both hands, and then a couple more hands she sprouted for the purpose of snapping.

Sho rose high into the air, arms spread outward. "YES!" he roared. "I FEEL INFINITE!" It had been a while since he'd been able to absorb that much energy, and even longer since what he'd had to absorb wasn't just Noise or Heartless. He spun in the air, transforming with a wild yell as he hit the ground with a three-point landing. Now he no longer resembled a humanoid, but a bipedal lion Noise three times his original size, black from the waist up and gray from the waist down.

This form was known as Leo Cantus.

Sho was still going, though. He'd taken so many shades in that he realized he could deal out still more power. "It's been a hot zeptosecond since I've been able to do THIS!" he roared in an unnaturally deep voice. "INVERSE MATRIX!"

Leo Cantus punched the stage, shattering the floor. He and the Chimaera both fell down into a dimension that Sho had summoned, space that was not there before, fragments of debris and stone floating among cosmic patterns.

Mim, Coco, and Aghoul all crowded around the jagged hole to the otherworld. "I didn't realize he could create pocket dimensions," Aghoul noted.

"He's just borrowing it," Coco explained. "He can only do that when he's REALLY high on souls or Dark stuff."

The Chimaera blazed through the air, jaws snapping. Leo Cantus charged to meet it. The two monsters met and clashed, limbs flying, tearing shards of Darkness off each other. They backed off, retreated to different debris platforms, then tried it again from another angle. Though at first it seemed like the Chimaera might be the stronger of the two, Leo Cantus' advantage was speed and agility. He took a hard punch and went flying – only to come back with greater resolve to not get hit.

Mim passed out more popcorn, then cheered, "GO, SHO, GO!"

"ON WITH THE SHO!" Aghoul cackled.

"Oh teh noes," Coco sighed. "Puns? Really?"

"Get used to it, sweetheart," Aghoul said with a wink.

Coco then bellowed "KICK ITS $$, SH0!"

Finally, after much brawling, Leo Cantus dug both clawed hands into the Chimaera's chest and simply ripped it in half. It dissolved into shades, dissipating into the far reaches of the pocket dimension.

"OH LAWD HE COMIN'!" Coco yelled, backing away hurriedly and inspiring Aghoul and Mim to do so as well.

Leo Cantus burst up from the entrance to the pocket dimension, which sealed behind him, leaving a perfectly intact stage. He gave another twirl, and when he landed on the ground, Sho once more appeared human, panting heavily.

"I felt like a DUODECILLION!" Sho bellowed, giving a joyous laugh. "That thing's an absolute zero now! Don't tell me you got any more of those lined up!"

"Unfortunately, no," Mim pouted. "But Loki probably has something else waiting for us to try and stave us off now that we've come this far. I'd like to see what he throws at us now that we've got two bona fide Reapers!"

"Or perhaps more accurately, a Reaper and a Noise," Aghoul corrected.

"Eh." Sho shrugged. "It's not so binary."

"Let's go!" Coco cheered. "Next stop on Lokimania!"

...

After a long voyage across interspace that included one very sneaky stop at Sweet Jazz City, the Van Eltia, now outfitted to be completely interspace-worthy at the cost of a whole lot of munny and Terminus' patience, docked at Glenwood. The closest they could get to Lohgrin was the Great Camelot Bridge – an absolutely enormous structure that spanned a couple of miles – and from there, it became a trudge across the Zaphgott Moor: a hot, dry desert.

It was no small party that had arrived here. First came Harley Quinn and Yang Xiao Long leading the procession.

"Geez, it's hot," Harley grumbled. "I thought a moor was s'posed to be a watery place."

"If I'd've known we were gonna go through this much sand," Yang said, "I would've considered DESERTING this mission."

Harley cracked up again.

"Thank you!" Yang replied. "I'll be here all week! No, seriously, it feels like it's gonna take a week to cross this stinkin' desert."

Behind the two of them came Velvet and her party: Rokurou, Eizen, Eleanor, Magilou, Bienfu, Laphicet. Velvet had finally gotten a more practical outfit tailored, though not one that was altogether too warm for the desert. It was a replica of a pirate-style dress she'd worn in her heyday, with a long red jacket, corset lacing on the bodice, and a short, asymmetrically-hemmed skirt with a chunky belt. Instead of a three-corner hat, however, she'd been given a particular accessory insisted upon by the person who'd helped her finalize the outfit. A crimson top hat. Wearing it was apparently non-negotiable.

"I have to say that is a FABULOUS look on you, Velvet," complimented Magilou. She was wearing a blue striped jacket and a pair of pink-striped pants with strategic cutaways, a tall blue top hat tilted to one side and her face shaded by enormous sunglasses. "Not as fabulous as mine, of course, but still!"

Eizen folded his arms. "Well, I know who I'm not asking to help us with wardrobe again." His attire was mostly the same, but his black jacket had been swapped for red. He'd also been persuaded to keep his glasses on for visibility rather than just removing them for aesthetic purposes.

"I mean, he did good work," said Eleanor, who was also wearing a similar outfit to what she'd had, except with a red jacket instead of blue. A pink bow pulled back her bangs.

"And three of us managed to squirm out of it," said Rokurou, now in a silver hakama, his hair pinned back with a pink blossom. "Lucky thing we don't have to wear the tacky hat, right, Laphicet?"

Laphicet hadn't opted for a change in wardrobe at all. "It looks good enough on Velvet. But you wouldn't catch me dead in it."

"That does it." Velvet ripped away the top hat and whipped it across the sands.

"HEY!" Eleanor went running to catch it. "Mr. Snatcher made it for you special, you know!"

"I don't care," Velvet grumbled. "It's not like we're going to run into him out here! Until then, I don't want to even look at another top hat!"

"HEY!" yelled Bienfu, whose head was all but obscured by his massive top hat. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH TOP HATS?"

"Too bad, Velvet," Magilou remarked. "Your hat looked almost as cute as Bienfu's."

"Heyyyy!" Bienfu wailed. "My hat is the cutest hat! You even gave me my true name after it!"

"Did I?" Magilou retorted. "I could've sworn 'Fuschie Cass' translated to 'annoyance.'"

"Nooooo, it means 'Cute Hat,'" Bienfu argued. "And you know that because you ASKED me the words for 'Cute Hat' when you – "

"WELL THAT'S ENOUGH REMINISCING!" Magilou said with a nervous laugh as she clamped a hand over Bienfu's mouth.

Bringing up the rear of the group were Giovanni Potage and the Blaster squad comprised of Crusher, Spike, Darkstar, Flamethrower, Car Crash, Ben, and Molly Blyndeff. "Now remember, boys!" Giovanni called out. "This is a mining and trading town, and it's gonna be RICH with cool weapons and stuff! I want you on your sneakiest pickpocketing! Your stealthiest swiping! We're not going home unless we're loaded down with only the AWESOMEST weapons!"

"Maybe we can even get our OWN real-ass goddamn swords!" Car Crash suggested.

"Okay," Molly said with determination. "I can do this. I was built for quiet. I'll steal something, and then I can fit in with the other Blasters for real!"

"Now, now, Bear Trap," Giovanni told her, "it's not about fitting in or giving in to pressure. It's about doing what you're comfortable with. If today's not your day for stealing stuff, then you don't have to."

"Boss?" Crusher brought up. "I hate to complain, but I'm worried that I'll pass out if I take much more of this heat!"

"Aye," Eizen agreed. "I didn't know it would be this sweltering."

"It's…hard to believe this used to be Eastgand," Eleanor remarked. "I remember how much it used to rain. This place looks like it hasn't seen rain in centuries."

Yang pointed; "Cave up ahead! Probably cooler in there."

"All right, everybody!" Harley declared. "Shade break in the cave!"

The group hustled into the cavern mouth, then ventured a little further in to get the best of the cool air.

"Ahhh," Rokurou sighed. "Much better."

"Hey, guys!" Spike called out. "Check it out! I just found something really cool!"

The others crowded around what she'd discovered: a stone coffin, slightly raised off the cavern floor.

"A tomb?" Yang observed, tilting her head with confusion.

"GREAT WORK, Spike!" Giovanni crowed. "There's sure to be all sorts of neat loot buried in an ancient coffin like this! Crusher! Rokurou! Let's get this lid off!"

"Sounds good to me!" Rokurou agreed.

Then a voice sounded out: "WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING?"

"Uh-oh," Harley muttered. "Busted."

The group turned to see a woman in red robes, with fiery red hair to match, storming toward them. "You may not descrate the tomb of the poet Mayvin!" she barked. "The woman interred here is – "

Then she stopped short. Gaped as though seeing a ghost. Raised a hand to point to Magilou. "You," she breathed. "The woman interred here is…you. Is it really you, Magilou Mayvin?"

"Look at that!" Magilou cheered. "I'm famous here! But that's no surprise. Anyway, the answer's yes and no. Think of me as a sequel to the original. I'm on my way to catch up on the knowledge gap." She took on a more somber expression. "So. This is the place I died, huh?"

"Yes," the redheaded woman said. "You…have no knowledge of it?"

"As far as I know," Magilou replied, "I came right here from a thousand years ago, and even then, I was probably living a better version of my life than I really had. When did this happen?" She gestured to the tomb.

"Only three hundred years ago," the woman replied. "I've been watching over you – over her – ever since. You…you do not remember me."

"Sorry," Magilou pouted. "Doesn't ring a bell. Can I get a refresher?"

The woman nodded. "I am the seraph Aksha. And…come to think of it…it doesn't surprise me that you can see me, but what of your friends? Maotelus has yet to undo our suppression."

"Maotelus and I are nearly as one," Laphicet answered. "I allow the others to see what he hides."

"A link to Maotelus," Aksha gasped. "A return of Mayvin…what are you? Are you divinities?"

"Nah," Yang replied. "It's a long story. We're just a bunch of pals trying to get ahead. Definitely not gods. Or divine. More like heathens."

"I still am somewhat of a god," Laphicet corrected indignantly, folding her arms.

"Three hundred years." Magilou was still staring at her own tomb. "So I ended up sticking it out for the long run, didn't I?"

"To tell the stories of the world," Aksha responded. "You used oaths to extend your life, then passed down your title to the clan of Mayvin. Storytellers. Bridges between humanity and seraphim."

"HA!" Magilou barked. "Stick that in your oversized hat, Melchior! No surprise I took over his legacy and made it my own."

"Who is Melchior?" Aksha asked.

"DOUBLE HA!" Magilou crowed. "He's where I got the name, and I deserve it far more than he ever did." She shrugged. "Guess it's all the more important I get to Lohgrin, then. Apparently there's something there that can catch me up on everything I missed out on."

Aksha nodded. "A link to the Earthpulse. It is stored in the city's upper levels. Many of us harvest iris gems from there to preserve the Earthen Historia, but some say that there is a passage to the Earthen Historia itself. A way to walk among what the world remembers."

"Many of us have seen the Earthpulse," Eizen realized. "It must've become less accessible by this time. Of course…the Earthpulse contains all the memories of this world. It would allow us to find what belonged to us, and internalize it as our own."

"How far are we from the town?" Yang asked.

"Not very," Aksha answered. "Exit this cavern and keep moving East. The gates will come into view shortly."

"Then can we get some apple juice or something?" Spike groaned. "I'm so thirsty!"

"Yeah, and I could use some A/C," Flamethrower sighed.

"I'm guessing your options would be more like water and a fan," Molly pointed out. "Well, okay, maybe they have apple juice here…"

"One more question," Magilou asked Aksha. "How did we know each other?"

"We worked together in your final years," Aksha responded. "We were close friends. In fact, we…"

She scanned the group. "Your companions," she realized. "Are they the legendary Exorcist and the first Lord of Calamity?"

"I mean, I'm AN exorcist," Eleanor said. "I don't know about a legendary one."

"But I was the first Lord of Calamity," Velvet said, folding her arms. "I'll wear that title proudly. Which means you have to be the exorcist she's talking about."

"Your famed lovers," Aksha realized, a look of distress upon her face.

"Now that part you have spot-on," Magilou told her.

"I see," Aksha said. "Well, at any rate, you and I were friends, and that's all there is to the story."

Giovanni leaned in to Harley; "She's covering, isn't she?"

"I'm guessin' she was a later girlfriend," Harley whispered back. "Y'know, after Velvet went AWOL and Eleanor died off. Too nice to homewreck, though. Poor gal."

"Miss Aksha?" Crusher asked. "Can we chill out here a little longer?"

Aksha nodded. "As long as you require. And if there is anything from your tomb that you should like to reclaim, Magilou…it is all yours and always was."

The Blasters, Eizen, and Rokurou looked hungrily to the tomb.

"HEY, DON'T!" Magilou yelled. "That's MY tomb, okay? You have to leave it the way it is! I'd be fine with robbing anybody else's old tomb, but that one's MINE! And I want my corpse to be interred with all my stuff!"

"Yeah, you're right," Rokurou realized. "Probably wouldn't be very respectful."

"You are our friend," Eizen agreed, "so we shall refrain."

The Blasters also backed off. Except Ben, who took another step toward the coffin, but Giovanni shut him down with a venomous glare.

"If that is all," Aksha said shakily, "then I shall leave you to converse. After all…this is as it should have been."

"Wait a minute!" Eleanor yelled as Aksha turned to skitter further into the cave. "You can stay with us if you…want…to…"

Aksha was already gone.

"Wowee," Bienfu remarked. "That was one pretty malak, all right!"

"You're telling me," Magilou agreed.

"So they're called 'seraphs' now," Velvet mused. "This world has definitely evolved into something different than we all knew."

Yang crumpled to a sitting position. "At any rate, I'll take the break."

"Yeah." Harley sat beside her. "Whaddaya say we…CHILL for a while?"

Yang laughed loudly; "Good one!"

...

The same memory. The same nightmare.

The horrible, awful crash, metal on metal on glass. Disorientation. Pulling him from the rubble – yes, he was still alive, still alive! – laying him out on the table – their voices murmuring about organs and endoskeletons. The realization that they weren't here to save him. They were here to change him. The bite of the scalpels. He felt every agonizing moment of it. No…he'd survived…and he'd done so much for them…how could they…

A voice cutting through it all: "Wake up, Vincent Edgeworth. There is much to be done."

No. He wouldn't. Because somehow, he knew that what awaited him in wakefulness was so much worse. There was the detective – the manhunt – he'd been killing and killing, spilling blood to avenge his hollow organs, and now they were closing in on him, but he couldn't stop, not until the last head was severed –

"I said WAKE UP, Vincent!"

No, no, they were removing his innards now and it hurt like he'd never known pain and all he wanted was to see Victor but –

"Can I splash him now?"

A sigh. "Go ahead, Deymos."

A shock of cold water to the face and the nightmare was over so suddenly. He sat straight up, with what he could swear was the chord of a sitar ringing in his ears.

No. This wasn't where he should be. Not in some hospital room with the lights turned out. Who had brought him here? What was the purpose? No, he was supposed to be…

Supposed to be…

Actually, he didn't know.

Vexen looked him over: one of his finest creations yet, now in motion. Tall and pale and slender, with a somewhat long mop of dark hair that was kept gelled into an exquisite shape. He wore only black and white, suit and tie. His gray eyes were sullen, mournful, yet without a trace of weakness behind them. In a deep voice, with a heavy accent that Vexen couldn't quite place, Vincent Edgeworth muttered, "Where…? Where am I? Is this…?"

"Not the Myers Corporation, I can assure you," Vexen told him smoothly. "That was your worry, was it not? After all, you have devoted your life to picking off its board and staff because of what was done to your body and mind."

"I get it, man," Deymos added. "All you ever did was help 'em out, and they turned you into a guinea pig for it. Sucks. I have so been there."

"I would argue what you did wasn't helping," Vexen muttered, "yet nonetheless I can't be happy about either of our treatments. As for you, Vincent…do you remember how you arrived here?"

"No," Vincent realized. "I don't remember anything since the woman – the thing that called herself Vanora – showed up on my doorstep and inquired of me." He pressed a hand to his head. "And there are things before that I can't recall, either."

"Allow me to elucidate," Vexen told him. "In your quest for revenge, you and two of your companions met with a horrible…accident."

Vincent felt a cold, slimy presence curling around the back of his neck. "Accident, accident!" Xerxes cackled into his ear.

"I was able to repair you all, of course," Vexen went on, "but your mind was as much in pieces as your body. I am to this moment working hard to recover the memories you are missing."

"Memories…make identity," Vincent said softly. "If I am not in possession of all of mine, then how do I know I am truly Vincent?"

"Ugh, do you have to get philosophical?" Deymos rolled his eyes. "Around here, we've had memories missing, we've had our hearts ripped out, we've changed names, we've changed names BACK, we've lost the capability to feel emotion, we've gotten it back – at this point, identity crises are just second nature! You learn to deal with it."

As they'd guessed, Vincent made a sudden lunge out of the bed, one arm swiping at his "rescuers." Deymos used a wall of water to slam Vincent against the wall behind the bed, and Vexen quickly froze that wall over, leaving Vincent's face exposed so he could communicate.

"You can't hold me here," Vincent snarled. "I have a mission to carry out. And no proof that you aren't with HIM."

"I can assure you that I have no relation, professional or otherwise, to your tormentor Monsieur M," Vexen replied. "If you'll allow me to stand without being attacked for a few moments, I can show you the proof."

Vincent's brow furrowed. "If you're not part of this, then how do you know anything about it? I've kept to the shadows. Nothing I've done has been an open book."

"You forget I have been repairing your memories," Vexen told him. "And reading them as well."

"Only one entity I know of had the ability to do that," Vincent growled, struggling against the ice. Cracking it slightly.

"On your world, perhaps," Vexen remarked. "But have you ever stopped to consider that is not where we are?"

"A foolish lie," Vincent growled.

"Okay, you can't talk," Deymos told him. "From what I heard, the guy you're trying to kill was attempting to become a god by inventing a race of cannibal monsters to eat humanity AND read everyone's mind so they had no privacy anymore. And you're telling us that the existence of other worlds is STUPID?"

Xerxes hovered before Vincent's face. "If no other worlds," he asked, "how Xerxes magic eel?"

"I think this can all be easily settled with a little investigation," Vexen said. "After all, Vincent, I too would like to see Myers pay for what they have done to you. For I too know what it means to have given your very heart to an organization, to further their goals in such a way that it would crumble without you, only to see that loyalty rejected and trampled!" He was getting heated, and forced himself to regain a cooler exterior. "And yet you have no reason to believe my allyship. Promise not to attack again and I will show you proof of my good will."

"I'm no idiot," Vincent hissed, wriggling sharply. "Putting me that close to your grip will only bring about my end, in whatever form of punishment you have planned for me." And with a horrific crack, he broke an entire arm out of the ice.

Vexen sighed, withdrawing a small device from a pocket. "I did not want it to have to come to this, Vincent." He pressed a button.

And Vincent was suddenly rendered utterly immobile, his arm fluttering limply to his side and swinging. The only part of his body that wasn't paralyzed was from the neck up. "What have you done to me?" Vincent asked in horror.

"In essence, assisted you," Vexen told him. "While I was recovering your body – and those of your companions – I noted that several of your cybernetic implants were sorely outdated. You have been given an upgrade. No doubt you've noticed you are stronger than you were before. That much ice would've immobilized you the way you were before, and I'm sure you're well aware of it. I had hoped to lead with that fact, but since you decided to get violent, I instead was forced to deploy the failsafe. After all, I know far better than to enlist the help of one who could so easily dispose of me."

"Seriously," Deymos emphasized, "we're here to help. The freeze button only exists because we knew you were gonna go kill mode. Calm down a bit and we can actually talk this out."

"What do you want from me?" Vincent asked, breath hitching. "It can't be to uproot Myers. You would've left me to my own devices or pledged submission to my cause if that were the case."

"We have our own agenda, yes," Vexen confirmed. "Before I explain, let me ensure I have correctly understood something from your memory. You are well-read in philosophy, and yet you are a proponent of the idea that there is no true concept of good versus evil."

"Only the winners who write history," Vincent filled in. "Those who succeed and those who fail. The loser is called the villain."

"How very interesting." Vexen's tone had a taunting lilt. "And would you not style yourself one of those who would do whatever it took to become that winner…be it 'evil' or otherwise?"

"I think you know the answer to that already," Vincent spat.

"My current affiliation is with an organization that is determined to become the winners," Vexen explained. "As I mentioned, we play on a stage of a multitude of worlds. Your tormentor sought to conquer yours. You sought to outpace him. We seek to conquer world upon world upon world, and we have chosen you over him as our desired ally to do so."

"To put it simply," Deymos clarified, "we're planning a huge empire. Big supervillain takeover. And we're not playing nice. We thought you might be able to help us out with a few things. Like with one of our science projects we're trying to get back."

"To put it in the simplest possible terms," Vexen said, "we are looking to take a person into custody. If she is where we believe she is, then she is protected by several powerful scientific aberrations who have no meaning to you and far too much meaning to me. Help us to retrieve her and pledge loyalty to our cause, and you shall be privy to all the benefits of the empire – including the fulfillment of whatever you desire. That being the downfall of the corporation that transformed you, and the ability to shed the blood of the man who brought you such pain."

"So it's a case of helping you to help me," Vincent resolved. "I still don't trust you."

"You haven't been agreeable enough to see the reason to," Vexen argued.

"What aren't you telling me about the 'scientific aberrations'?" Vincent asked.

"He sure cuts to the quick," Deymos noted.

"Very well," Vexen stated. "They were at one point to me what your cyborgs were to you, and Monsieur M's to him. Beings I augmented in order to demonstrate the capacity of how humanity itself could be transformed at my hand. They were ungrateful, and I suppose you understand why, but equally do you understand that such steps need to be taken in order to arrive on the right side of the story. After all…you were reviving cyborgs in the same way you had been revived, and just as painfully."

"I'd score you about an F in empathy," Deymos told him. "Which is a good thing. We're all like that here."

"What you do with your victims means nothing to me," Vincent spat. "What I care about is myself and…"

His eyes widened. "Companions. You said I came with COMPANIONS."

"Yes," Vexen said with a smirk. "Would you like to reunite with them? Of course, that is only possible if you refrain from attacking."

Vincent weighed his options. Did his distrust of Vexen outweigh his need to see who else had been brought here? Even if it did, there had to be a way to have it all. Survey the situation, and then take revenge where needed. Of course, that would first mean playing along.

"Let me go," Vincent said. "I promise I shall hold back." For as long as they didn't deserve to be harmed.

Vexen could read between the lines. "Very good," he said as he pressed another button on the remote. Then he passed his hand over the ice barricade, and it sloshed down as water; Vincent fell with a thump onto the bed.

But Vincent realized he could now move with free will again, which was good. He moved slowly, carefully, righting himself and standing up in the room. "Where are they?"

"We are in the surgical ward," Vexen told him. "I thought it most appropriate. The amputee ward is just down the hall, to the left. You'll find something of interest there."

Amputee ward…

Sparking with realization, Vincent took off running.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Deymos chuckled. "Y'know, I've said it before, but the cruel irony here is just perfect. The guy thinks that Vanora chick can't really be her if she doesn't have all her memories, he manipulates her to have just the wrong ones missing…"

"And yet he does not see the obvious truth," Vexen said smugly, quietly. "That he himself is a replication. That the man whose memories he bears still fights the battle he aches to. That his own identity is compromised based on the memories I chose to let him see."

"You are DEVIOUS. I love you."

"Why, thank – " Vexen gave a jolt. "What?"

"It," Deymos said quickly. "I love it."

And really, Vexen was in the right frame of mind to buy that.

Most of the doors in the amputee ward were locked. Vincent was well aware he could bust them down, but he also knew how to read a setup. They were directing him toward a specific room: the one with the open door, from which a dim light poured. He hurtled down the hall, grabbing the doorframe, practically hurling himself inside the room.

There stood another man in that room, looking up out the window that was the source of the light. His back was to Vincent, yet Vincent would have recognized him anywhere, by any tell. Ginger hair, a red vest, arms made of glimmering gray metal.

"Victor…?" Vincent panted. Not out of exhaustion – he hardly felt like he'd exerted any energy – but out of fear, out of relief.

The redhead turned away from the window to regard Vincent with bemused surprise. His eyes, also a pair of cybernetic prosthetics, widened, then twinkled. "Vincent, my dear," Victor Blake greeted with a playful smile. "When they told me I had friends here, I didn't know whether to expect the best."

"Is it really you?" Vincent asked. A hand fumbling for the black tie he wore, gripping it idly. Remembering who had given him that accessory.

"As far as I know," Victor replied. "Are you missing any memories? I have several holes in my own mind. Apparently we fell victim to some sort of accident. Not your first time, I know." His voice cracked. "At least this was painless. Did they give you any 'improvements'? I have several new functions to my prosthetics. You don't even know all the things my eyes can see and measure right now, or all the weaponry stored in the arms. Myers really will meet his reckoning at our hands."

He was babbling out of nerves, passing it off with his usual suave demeanor. But Vincent cut him off.

"Victor," he said sharply. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," Victor replied. "Did they hurt you?"

And Vincent realized maybe this was the proof he needed that Vexen was in fact an ally, if a tenuous one who held far too much leverage. "No. Victor, I – "

Words failed him. He couldn't remember, exactly, what sort of relationship he'd had with Victor in the end. He knew well the time they'd spent together at university, how they'd become the best of friends – how fate had ordained it, and how Vincent had learned to actually believe in fate. And maybe, just maybe, they had graduated to something more later, but if they had, the memory of it was missing, but all Vincent knew was that Victor had meant more to him than any person ever had, and be he friend or lover, he was an oasis in this sea of confusion.

Vincent charged him hard. Practically tackled him, and with an "OOF!", Victor felt the impact of Vincent's new strength thud into his chest. Victor, of course, had been augmented enough to withstand it. Vincent wrapped his arms around Victor, pulling him close and tight, and Victor immediately responded by doing the same, pressing a cheek to Vincent's face.

"I'm glad to have you here with me, my dear friend," Victor said softly. "I may not remember so much, but I think I have felt very guilty about the time you spent underground, a prisoner of Myers, without me to stop it or to even be there like I promised. This time, I will be here for you."

"As I will for you," Vincent whispered, a solemn vow.

"SO?" Deymos' yell from the doorframe caused both to wince. "Do you guys believe me now or what? We put the band back together!"

Startled, Vincent and Victor turned to face Deymos, Vexen, and Xerxes. Letting go of each other with one arm, but each still keeping one arm around the other, side-by-side. "Did they not say there was another of us here?" Victor realized.

"Winston," Vincent deduced. "If both of us are here, the third has to be Winston."

Deymos had to bite his lip almost to the bleeding point to keep from chuckling and giving the game away.

"Where is he?" Victor asked. "You surely didn't leave the frailest of us to fend for himself."

"We are keeping your third in a special ward," Vexen informed them. "Follow me. Hopefully this shall be the reunion you have dreamed of."

He turned to stalk down the hall. Deymos beckoned for the two replicas to follow, then walked after Vexen. Xerxes waited to ensure Vincent and Victor were following before speeding after.

"Did they make the same proposition to you?" Vincent asked. "Take a hostage. Then build an empire. Then Myers falls."

"The exact same," Victor affirmed. "It seems too good to be true, but also not something we should turn down until we have enough reason to doubt it. After all, this could be a powerful weapon. Perhaps the saving grace we have been waiting for."

"Victor," Vincent hissed. "I have not wanted a saving grace. I have wanted to be the hand that causes the fall. I would not trust anyone else but you to have any hand in it! If I cannot control this through my decisions alone – "

"We're right here, you know," Deymos sighed.

(And the part of the hospital they were headed into was getting darker.)

"It may be time to set aside your pride, Vincent," Victor told him. "Did you not once say you would do anything to achieve your victory? Apparently submitting to another who could provide aid doesn't count as 'anything' in this scenario."

"You really believe we should follow this trail," Vincent realized.

"I do," Victor replied. "After all, I don't know if they've demonstrated it, but they have an ability to shut me down now." His voice dropped: "Meaning that after this 'accident,' I am now more cyborg than I ever remember being."

"And this does not raise a redder flag than where we were?" Vincent hissed back.

"I want to know more first," Victor replied quietly. "After all, you recall that where we were, we did not start out in the most advantageous position."

"You think this is advantageous?" Vincent's eyes were wide.

Victor glared at him. "I think you are here, walking beside me, rather than being tortured in the dark."

That was the most compelling argument of all. Vincent fell silent.

"And I would rather it stay that way." Victor reached out, lightly seizing Vincent's forearm with a metal hand. As though afraid to let go.

It was then that Vincent felt the eyes upon him. Little pinpricks of light, from entities that hid in the shadows. Crouched in the corner, clinging to the ceiling. "We're not alone," he realized.

Vexen scoffed. "I am well aware and working on a way to clear out the infestation. Pay them no mind for now."

"I have a question about these people you'd have us fight to take your hostage," Victor brought up. "You let on to me that they were very powerful, yet did not specify. I don't know if you gave Vincent different details."

"They were experiments of his," Vincent cleared up. "Not dissimilar to our cyborgs."

"They have powers in ways you have not encountered before," Vexen told them. "Perhaps the most reasonable of the group will be Argento, whose only augmentation is her brain function. She is now practically as a living computer, able to memorize massive amounts of detail and calculate logistics in the blink of an eye. The rest will have mutations and magic you will not be used to. Yet with your new strength, I have every confidence you can overcome them."

"Unless you're chicken," Deymos urged.

Vincent's steps hit harder on the floor. "I am not afraid. Nor am I weak."

"You should be able to access your more…monstrous form more easily now," Vexen told him. "And with less risk of falling apart in the process. That should carry you far."

"Victor, I see you more as a sniper type of guy," Deymos added. "Since you've got the guns. Heh, the guns! You know, like 'sun's out, guns out'? No? Okay."

"What role does Winston play in this?" Vincent asked.

The party halted before a particular door. And perhaps if Vincent and Victor had noticed they were being led to the mental ward, they would've figured it out earlier.

"You wish to know of your third companion?" Vexen asked smugly. "Why, he awaits you beyond this very door."

Then he and Deymos stepped aside.

Victor and Vincent exchanged a nervous glance.

"Chicken, chicken!" Xerxes teased. "Cluck cluck!"

With that, Vincent angrily stormed ahead, breaking out of Victor's grip and slamming the door open.

The room appeared to be empty. Only a lengthy couch along one wall and a desk across from it.

"What is this?" Vincent asked. "Why did you bring me to a therapy off – "

All of a sudden, a flash of movement, an entity rushing him full tilt, a frieze of white and black and red across his vision as a tremendous force knocked him on his back and a sonorous voice bellowed out:

"YOU LEFT ME BEHIIIIIIIIND!"

It took a moment for Vincent's senses to clear. In pure terror, he looked up from where he was now lying on the tile to see the person standing above him. Not Winston. Someone with straighter posture, with slightly shorter but wavier dark hair, wearing a pink vest and tie and distinctly long gloves –

Oh, no.

Victor said it before Vincent could: "Albert? Albert Krueger? From RMU?"

The third man stepped back from Vincent, giving Victor an almost hungry smile that highlighted the way his canines pointed into little fangs. His dusky eyes glittered in the dark. "Hello, Victor," he said with a pleasant wave. "Good to see you again."

Vincent, in utter rage, scrambled to his feet. "WHY WOULD IT BE YOU?" he roared. "YOU WEREN'T PART OF IT! YOU – WE WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

"You wound me, Vincent," Albert said smugly. "I thought you'd be happy to see me. After all, I was happy to see you. We haven't talked since our little phone call, and admittedly, while I remember we had such a conversation, I don't quite remember what it was about." He chuckled. "I'm missing a lot of memories, in fact. I would fail one of my own sanity checks. I don't remember being part of your operation, either, but Vexen and Deymos here have assured me that I was, and that we all suffered the same accident."

"No," Vincent growled. "We wouldn't have let YOU in – "

"But then again," Victor realized, "we don't really remember what happened. Or most of what we did around that time period. Perhaps we did welcome him into our ranks. Vincent, do you recall what you spoke to him about?"

"No," Vincent realized. "But that doesn't mean – "

"It means you could've invited me to join in on your quest for revenge," Albert said. "Which, by the way, you can't keep from me either way, because Vexen told me all about it." He smiled to Vexen. "I really must thank you for whatever you did. I may not be able to remember what mangled me so horribly, and I rather wish I could, but I've been putting my new abilities into practice, and I suppose I now owe you not only for saving my life but also allowing me to do so much more in the field of dream therapy."

That was when they all noticed that the silhouettes from earlier, the shining eyes, were gathering up in the room behind Albert, flanking him. Victor could see them the clearest with his newly-installed night vision: skeletal-thin creatures, vaguely humanoid, with ink-black bodies and pure white faces with red markings.

"Ah, so you've noticed my Dream Eaters," Albert said. "I used to need to be able to convert a host for them, but Vexen said that thanks to his research on someone named Subject X, he was able to allow me to draw them out of the realm where they reside without the need for a host body."

"You were already predisposed for such an adjustment," Vexen told him. "Your connection to the Realm of Sleep is almost unheard of. I would have said completely unheard of if not for one Doctor Destiny I happen to know. Yet your abilities differ still from his own. He cannot summon Dream Eaters, but you command them as easily as Maleficent does the Heartless."

"Those words don't mean anything to me," Albert admitted, "but I'm assuming that was a compliment, so thank you."

"Why do they look like that, though?" Deymos asked. "They did NOT look like that when we left you alone. They were normal! Cute cats! What did you do with the cute cats?"

"I redesigned them," Albert said. "This is what I used to create with the hosts in the physical realm. I of course had a hand in that aesthetic from the start. I did not like the pastel creatures you had me summon, so I altered their looks. Aren't they so much better now?"

"NO!" Vincent sputtered. "They are NOT better, and you were NOT part of our plan! Why would I ever invite someone whose existence was the most insufferable part of my university experience?"

"Maybe because you knew I was smarter than you," Albert said calmly, "and you knew you couldn't afford to let that factor fall to the wayside."

"I won't say he's smarter than you," Victor told Vincent, "but he is very intelligent, and more than that, cutthroat. I could see him as an asset to our team. His competitive nature might have made him our secret weapon."

"Why are you standing up for him?" Vincent asked dryly.

"Yes, why?" Albert echoed, leaning forward a little. Expectantly.

"I'm not one to waste a resource, is all," Victor said, and Albert noticeably drooped.

"Why would you want to engineer the fall of Myers anyhow?" Vincent hissed. "It isn't like you ever had a stake. You had a cushy position in the G2, ranking higher than I ever did for no reason at all besides nepotism."

Albert's expression soured further. "For one, I'm not sure it's accurate to say I had no stake," he stated. "I distinctly remember knowing Monsieur M. Now, how I knew him, I can't exactly tell you. The memories aren't there. But I know I knew him. And I know I was fed up with him for some reason. Perhaps because I was mistreated in a similar manner to whatever he did to the both of you. Or perhaps because he did not appreciate my expertise in marine biology."

"You mean he would not let you ramble on about trivia relating to fish?" Vincent said dryly. "You don't know the beginning of how he began to mistreat us."

"I really wouldn't make assumptions if I were you," Victor agreed.

"He tried to have you killed after you won the court case, did he not?" Albert said calmly. "You won for him, you pinned the blame on your chosen patsy, and he arranged for your death."

"He arranged to falsify my death," Vincent seethed. "To harvest my body without suspicion so he could hollow it out and turn me into a cyborg."

"I don't see the problem exactly," Albert told him. "After all, Vexen has provided me with several cybernetic benefits. They are serving me well so far. In addition to being able to summon Dream Eaters at will without the need for a host body, I also have much faster reflexes than – "

"IN YOUR SLEEP!" Vincent roared. "YOU DIDN'T FEEL A THING! AND THEN YOU WERE LEFT TO YOUR FREE WILL UPON AWAKENING! I WAS A PRISONER IN THE BASEMENT! I FELT EVERY CUT, EVERY ADJUSTMENT THEY MADE TO ME! I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT PAIN!"

Now Albert seemed to finally realize there was more here than he was aware of. "Oh," he said quietly. Then he backed away, pulling out the chair from behind the desk.

"What are you doing?" Vincent asked in exasperation.

"Well, we are in a therapy office, and I am a therapist." Albert knotted his hands together and leaned across the desk. "If you'll lie down, perhaps I can – "

"NO!" Vincent raced to the desk, slamming two fists on it so hard that it cracked. Albert flinched away. "YOU ARE NO THERAPIST! YOU WERE GIVEN A TITLE YOU NEVER DESERVED AFTER YOU PUT IN NONE OF THE WORK FOR IT! YOU ARE A DOCTOR OF FISH AND SEAWATER! YOU WANT TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW I LEFT YOU BEHIND? YOU WERE MEANT TO BE LEFT BEHIND! WHAT HAVE YOU ACCOMPLISHED SINCE WE PARTED WAYS? YOU BIOENGINEERED MONSTERS? THAT IS NOTHING COMPARED TO THE CYBORGS I HAVE BEEN REANIMATING! I WILL NOT STAND FOR YOU TURNING MY TRAGEDY, MY TRAUMA, INTO BASIS FOR ANOTHER OF YOUR EGO TRIPS!"

It wasn't the yelling that made Albert reticent to reply. It was the observation of the water welling in Vincent's eyes. Albert pushed the chair back further, putting some distance between the two of them. He maintained eye contact for an awkwardly long time, and it was clear he was uncomfortable. Then, at last, he said, "I couldn't care less about us parting ways. To me, it was a relief. A weight off my shoulders. But you and I both know that we spoke about something on the telephone, ten years past our graduation. I may not know what, but I hoped…" He let out a sigh. "It doesn't matter. We have a job to do." He rose from the desk. "And we should begin doing it. Oh, and the Dream Eaters weren't my only accomplishment, by the way. Nor are they true bioengineering products. They're Nightmares given form." He trudged softly across the room. "I'm not sure exactly why they wanted the two of you, to tell you the truth. After all, you were innocent. A picture of wholesome friendship. And me? I don't regret what I've become. But I don't think you'll like it very much."

He was about to leave the room when Victor blurted, "What do you mean you couldn't care less? You yelled about it when you rushed us."

Albert froze. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did," Victor asserted. "You yelled 'You left me behind.'"

"I didn't," Albert repeated with a liar's edge to his voice. "You misheard me somehow."

"Then what did you say?" Victor asked.

"I didn't even say anything," Albert said hurriedly. "Or if I did, it was something about the bizarre circumstances of waking up in an abandoned hospital. Yes. That is definitely what I said. 'It was bizarre for us to wake up in an abandoned hospital.'"

"That's not what you said," Victor asserted.

"Why do we even care?" Vincent huffed.

"Okay, OKAY!" Deymos yelled, throwing out his hands. "Guys, we're losing focus here! The hostage, remember? Xion? You guys have a whole gauntlet of experiments to battle and win against! You can argue about it later! Right now, we need a little bit of that teamwork to make the dream work!"

"Why should I settle for working with him?" Vincent asked.

"Because I want to give it a try," Victor said suddenly.

"…Why?" Vincent was taken aback.

"He may not have been our ideal choice," Victor stated, "but he is a familiar face. He knew Myers somehow. He has many valuable assets. And if nothing else, I think you can agree that making an enemy of a man who controls Nightmares is a terrible idea."

After a long pause, Vincent said, "If this is really the path you want to take, then I'll put up with it."

"It's not the path I want to take," Albert brought up. "It's not preferable anymore. All I'm going to do is take abuse."

"Don't act like you don't like dealing it back," Victor said. "If you walk out, who do you get to torment then? I remember a few things very clearly, and one of them was your constant need to pester."

Albert thought it over.

His decision was swayed when he felt a soft, cold tapping on his shoulder. "Dream therapist should stay," Xerxes urged. "Has much power. Evil power! Can help – "

Albert let out a joyous gasp; "What ARE you? Why, you're a marine marvel! You seem too short to be a conger, and a rubber eel would explain the air-breathing as well as the length but not the size of the eyes. Are you a hybrid between a rubber and a conger? Though neither of those would explain how you are currently flying and also able to talk. Tell me, are you in any fashion a Dream Eater? What scientific advancements led to you being such a fascinating creature?"

"Uhhh…magic?" Xerxes replied. "Xerxes not know a lot of details."

"Xerxes is a fascinating subject, isn't he?" Vexen broke in. "There are mysteries about him even I do not know. As a marine biologist with great magical potential, there should be plenty about him to discover. Of course, should you abandon the operation, you would not have the chance."

Albert already had Xerxes snuggled up, wrapped around one arm while his other hand scratched the eel's head. "I suppose that's enough to convince me," he said. "Well. That and the fact that if I walk away, you will likely shut me down and not allow me to leave. But let's ignore that factor for now, just to keep the peace."

"We have much to do to ensure you will be in top form to procure the hostage," Vexen stated. "Deymos and I have set up a gauntlet of obstacle courses around the abandoned district to test several of your attributes. Strength, speed – "

"And also lo – " Deymos attempted, but Vexen slapped a hand over his mouth.

"While you are at work," Vexen stated, "please do take a moment to take in your surroundings. You should recognize nearly immediately that we are in none of the districts you are familiar with. When you are ready to accept the true nature of the multiverse, I can explain more of the worlds to you. For now, let us just ensure there are no flaws in your adjustments. Make your way to the entrance. Two of my associates shall escort you to the first course."

Albert practically skipped out of the office with Xerxes at his side. Victor gave Vincent a pat on the shoulder, and the pair trudged after him. The remaining Dream Eaters skittered down the hall, either to follow or to make a mess elsewhere.

Vexen finally took his hand down from the mouth of Deymos, who sputtered, "Please?"

"No," Vexen argued.

"It'll be hilarious!" Deymos urged.

"I said NO," Vexen barked. "You'll risk widening the rift between them!"

"Or I'll fix it," Deymos said. "C'mon, we all know the reason they're fighting so bad is the unresolved romantic tension both of the non-Vincents have with Vincent. Just lemme do the Test of Love. I ask Vincent which of the guys he'd rather commit to for the rest of his life, he probably blows up, and we all get a good laugh out of it."

"What exactly is so funny about that?" Vexen asked.

"Right," Deymos realized. "You still haven't figured out what's amusing about your own outbursts. I forget you're on the inside."

"Are you saying you LAUGH at my irritation?" Vexen spat.

"Yeah, but not in the way you're thinking," Deymos said flatly. "You blowing up is a part of life and a part of your charm. It's the way of nature, y'know? We smile about it and we move on."

There was something about Deymos' earnestness in the statement that tipped Vexen off to a lack of true malice and simultaneously made him even more frustrated. "You cannot claim a test that requires Vincent to declare feelings for either of them, and that is FINAL."

"Eh, worth a shot." Deymos shrugged and left.

Vexen stared after him in disbelief, suddenly full of questions he didn't even know how to articulate. Mostly revolving around Deymos' odd demeanor around him. But in the end, he shrugged it off and headed out to ensure that the three replicas would not kill each other if left unsupervised.

...

Yzma, Wuya, Mera, and Prisma were not very happy at all to learn that Princess Sofia was not, in fact, at her home castle in Enchancia, but rather that her aunt Tilly had given her a mysterious tip to investigate a situation at an island called the Blazing Palisades, which was many miles away from Enchancia and actually in the opposite direction from it if one started out from the dandelion forest.

(Indus, of course, was happy about this, because it meant more adventure and bonding time with his new friends. No one else shared the sentiment.)

Once that several-hours-long detour had been corrected, the five ended up sailing toward the isle on a small ship with a billowing violet sail that bore an intricate embroidered pattern of Yzma and Wuya striking dramatic poses. The Blazing Palisades were an impressive sight: a tiered mountain of reddish volcanic rock rising from the ocean, trails winding up to the summit whose peak was carved in the shape of a dragon. Fires erupted from every crack in the stone, blazing and retreating at intervals. The trails were paved so as to not put those who used them in the path of the flames.

"Apparently the centerpoint of dragons on this world," Wuya remarked. "Remind me to bring George here. He'll have a fun slaughterfest with this one."

"If he doesn't end up immolating himself," Yzma grumbled.

"Ooh, I'm so excited!" Prisma clapped her hands, regaining her energy. "We're so close to finally capturing Princess Sofia!"

"That is a good thing for us!" Indus agreed.

The ship dropped anchor a few feet out. "I'll take us the rest of the way by magic," Wuya stated. "Wouldn't want to give the game away to the little one. Ah, there she is now…"

A purple carriage pulled by a flying horse was making its way to the isle.

Mera stood up, then, after feeling a particularly bad crack in her back, sat right back down. "Okay, the whole goose chase is giving me a bad case of the bone-hurty," she grumbled. "You guys good if I sit this one out? It's just kidnapping one stupid kid, after all. I'll be back on my feet for the hard part."

"But Lady Mera," Indus realized. "Did you not have so much trouble capturing that child we met in the museum?"

"First of all, shut up," Mera replied. "Second, in my defense, that kid was WAY too smart."

"I remember her being very dumb," Indus recalled.

"Noooooo," Mera corrected, "her EPITHET was Dumb. As in quiet or muffled. Not as in stupid. And also do I need to remind you about the maniac with the baseball bat?"

"Oh, I remember him now," Indus realized. "He made very good soup." A beat. "And now I am hungry for soup."

"It's okay if you need to stay behind, Mera!" Prisma said cheerfully, cutting off any further discourse regarding Indus. "Taking care of our boat is an important job, too! And we don't want you to hurt yourself!"

"Okay, are you SURE you're with us?" Mera asked in disbelief. "Like…you realize we're about to kidnap a child, right?"

"And it's going to be so much fun!" Prisma danced about the deck. "We might even make her cry! And then she'll use the amulet, and AZURINE will cry and maybe even disappear!"

"People who travel with glass himbos really shouldn't throw stones," Wuya said to Mera.

"I have no idea what you just said!" Indus stated with a broad grin.

"Can we just get a move on?" Yzma sputtered. "She'll get away otherwise, and I REFUSE to trudge any further around this stupid globe!"

Wuya snapped her fingers, alighting a trail of glowing energy that led from the boat to the shores of the Blazing Palisades. She then made a handspring and flipped, her bare feet landing on the energy trail, and she slid across it toward the Palisades, leaving sparks in her wake.

Yzma did a flip as well before landing on the trail. Indus tentatively tapped a toe onto it, then put his weight on it and allowed it to carry him once he was certain. Prisma gave a playful twirl like a ballerina as she scooted after him.

Mera leaned back on the deck chair she'd commandeered. "Welp. Beach day, I guess."

Now, what the enterprising villains did not know was the exact nature of Sofia's mission. Or the fact that her stepbrother James had tagged along on it. As it turned out, the Blazing Palisades were in danger of being invaded by a gaggle of sea serpents who wanted to colonize it. They planned to replace the Eternal Torch – the artifact that provided the Palisades with its blazing fires and made it a dragon's paradise – with the Forever Fountain, which would instead flood the isle with water and make it a natural sea monster habitat. Sofia had come to mediate tensions between the two – if nothing else, to protect the dragons' right to the isle, but secretly hoping there was a way they could all win.

Sofia and James began the trek up the mountain to warn the dragons. The sea monsters followed in hot pursuit.

From another trail, Yzma pointed at the two children racing up the mountain; "THERE THEY GO! AFTER THEM!" She took off running, with Wuya, Indus, and Prisma following.

Then Yzma, realizing she'd have to be on the same trail as the children to even have a chance at grabbing them, started searching out a place on the rocky divide where she could vault over. Spotting a low point, she veered.

"Yzma?" Prisma called out. "I don't think that's such a – "

"QUIET!" Yzma yelled. "I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!"

As it turned out, the low point was situated on a flame geyser. Yzma got ready to vault, but never actually made it, because all of a sudden there was an orange rush of heat and her gown was set aflame.

"AAAAAAAAAGH!" Yzma went running back down the mountain. "PUT IT OUT PUT IT OUT PUT IT OUUUUUUT!"

"YOU HAVE TO HOLD STILL FOR ME TO DO THAT!" Wuya yelled, racing after her.

"Let's keep going!" Prisma urged to Indus. "Maybe we can catch the children while they're taking care of the fire!"

The kids had by that point run into several of the dragons, who realized that in order to reach the Eternal Torch, the sea monsters would have to cross a particular bridge. Sofia lobbied for using underground trails to cut them off, then destroy the bridge. James, however, opted instead to have a dragon fly him directly to the bridge so they could bring it down more quickly. This turned out to be a horrible decision; the sea monsters spat water jets at the dragon from atop the bridge's apex, downing him temporarily and James as well. They then crossed without incident.

Indus had been watching, and he tried to time his leap from an upper peak so that he could apprehend James on the way down. Too late, he realized a few things. One: that James wasn't the child they were trying to catch. Two: that he'd mistimed his jump, and by the time he hit the bridge, no one was anywhere near it, not even the sea monsters who'd just crossed. Three: that due to all his muscles, he weighed a lot, and slamming down on the bridge with all of his force was not good.

The bridge shattered. Indus plunged to the bottom of the ravine below with a scream. In vain, he created a Barrier to replace the bridge, but since he had already fallen down below where the bridge would be, it didn't do any good. He smacked the stone below, noted that he felt the loss of some stamina, and then yelled "I'M OKAY!"

The dragons and the sea monsters came to a head in the midst of the trail to the peak, and, as is customary between rivals of a certain sort, began to duel each other in song, performing a flashy number about how each side thought the island should belong to them. Prisma hummed along as she scaled the handholds up the side of the mountain, nodding her head to the beat.

Everburn, chief of the dragons, scooted up to one of the sea serpents to declare, "I'M JUST WARMIN' UP MY SNOUT!"

"HA!" the serpent retorted. "WE'RE GONNA PUT YOUR FIRE OUT!"

Her friends backed her up with an "OHHH YEAH!"

Dragons stacked upon dragons and serpents upon serpents for the climax: "GO TAKE YOUR FINAL BOW, 'CAUSE THIS ISLAND – "

Prisma hauled herself up over the rocky ridge and onto the plateau where the two sides were singing, landing with an "Oof!". She then stood up and dusted herself off.

"EXCUSE me!" yelled Aqualina, leader of the sea serpents. "Do you MIND?"

"Yeah, we were havin' a song here!" Everburn yelled.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Prisma looked sheepishly at them. "I was just passing through, really. If you – "

The sea serpents didn't want to wait for an explanation, and spat four streams of high-pressure water at her. Everburn wanted to give her a scare as well, and so breathed a fireball that ended up steaming up the water jets.

Hit by the hot water, Prisma toppled back over the edge of the ledge.

"Is she okay?" the dragon Smokeley asked.

The reptiles all peered over to see that she'd grabbed on by a hand. "Don't worry about me!" she said with a rather grumpy wave. "In fact, just leave me alone!"

The dragons and serpents shrugged, then went right back to it: "GO TAKE YOUR FINAL BOW, 'CAUSE THIS ISLAND BELONGS TO US!"

With a growl, Prisma started swinging hand over hand to find a new ascension point.

Finally, Yzma was no longer on fire. She hadn't actually stopped to let Wuya get close; instead, she'd run all the way down to the sea and thrown herself in. Now that Wuya had conjured a giant blow dryer to get all the seawater out of her ensemble, Yzma was ready to try again.

"You don't mind if I fly ahead, do you?" Wuya asked, airborne and flitting over where Yzma was trudging up the trail.

"Oh, go ahead!" Yzma yelled. "You're probably our last hope anyhow!"

So Wuya charged through the air, up the mountain, using the trail as a reference to locate the kids.

The dragons set about building a wall of rock to halt the sea monsters from proceeding up the trail. Indus got the distinct sense there was a Barrier going on somewhere that he wasn't part of. Sofia and James watched on, but the ever-impetuous James had found an oblong boulder that he thought would work better as a rock wall than the meticulous crafting of the dragons. Without listening to his sister's protests, he shoved the boulder loose.

It hit the trail, rolling down at high speed. The dragons all flitted out of the way to avoid being crushed. The rock wall could not avoid being crushed. And up until a point, it was the only thing preventing Wuya from seeing there was a large boulder rolling her way.

The boulder busted through, and Wuya had enough time to say "Oh, beans – "

SLAM.

She raised a shaking hand; "I'm…fine."

The sea serpents made their way to the top of the mountain, forcing out the dragons. They intruded upon the chamber of the Eternal Torch, ripping the artifact from its stand and dousing the fires of the Palisades.

Wuya, Yzma, Indus, and Prisma regrouped, ascending the trail on foot very rapidly to the summit. (Where Sofia was not, but they were convinced she couldn't be anywhere else at that point.)

Aqualina rammed the Forever Fountain into the torch's stand. Immediately, a tidal wave's worth of water burst from it, washing over the island.

"Look!" Indus pointed. "It almost looks like a giant tsunami headed right for us!"

"I think that IS a giant tsunami headed right for us," Prisma realized.

All four of them halted. "Because what else could POSSIBLY go wrong today?" Yzma groaned in frustration.

The water hit, carrying the four kidnappers at high speed down the Palisades, all the way to the seashore, and soaking them to boot. Now the Palisades were bursting with water geysers, all of the isles' trails turned to canals.

Yzma sat up in the shallows, spitting out a stream of salt water and a tiny fish. "I have had just about ENOUGH of this!" she yelled.

"Well, the good news is they just installed whatever artifact did that," Wuya noted, wringing out her hair. "Meaning the only thing anyone can really do at this point is take it away and bring back the fire, so if we start climbing now, either we get what we see or our job gets easier halfway through."

"There!" Prisma pointed. "I see Sofia heading up the mountain!"

Yzma was immediately on her feet, pointing; "AFTER HERRRRRR!"

Once again, the chase was on. But Yzma, Wuya, Prisma, and Indus had to go all the way back up the mountain, and it had taken some time for them to get washed down to begin with. Meaning Sofia had enough time to work out a plan with the dragons, distract the sea serpents' attention with several fake fires, ascend the Palisades herself, and get ahold of the Eternal Torch. She and James resolved not to replace the Forever Fountain, but instead to combine the two artifacts, one stacked upon the other, and create a new isle that would suit both dragon and serpent alike.

"ALMOST THERE!" Yzma yelled when they were almost there. "Ooooh, I can feel our victory approaching!"

When the Eternal Torch and Forever Fountain were combined, the result produced a phenomenon known to many as the Sonic Rainboom. In other words, an aura of rainbow energy was produced by the mist of the flame and water, and it exploded outward as flames erupted from the upper half of the isle and the waters surged below.

"Is that our victory that's approaching?" Indus asked when the colors burst.

Yzma sighed. "No. That's a Sonic Rainboom about to knock us all out to sea."

Then the wave hit them, and all four went flying through the air, launched far from the Palisades into the far reaches of the ocean.

Finally, peace was achieved between sea serpents and dragons! The isle was redubbed the Misty Palisades: half fire, half water. Now both could live in harmony!

This, however, did absolutely nothing beneficial for Yzma and her team!

"I HAVE HAD IT UP TO HERE!" Yzma flopped about, holding one hand above her head as her head was kept above water.

"Actually," Wuya said, holding her hand level with the water, "it's up to here right now."

Yzma glared in response. "Your good looks are carrying you a long way right now. You know that?"

Wuya winked, licking her lips.

"We should return to the boat!" Indus slapped the water, and a solid amber platform materialized, floating atop. "We can use this barrier as a raft!"

The four very wet villains climbed atop it, and Wuya sent the barrier speeding back to the little boat where Mera awaited them. From there, they ascended, sopping wet, to flop down on the deck.

"The hell happened to you?" Mera asked. "Seriously, you were going to kidnap one kid."

"Yes, well, there was fire," Yzma replied.

"And falling rocks," Wuya added.

"And fragile bridges," Indus said.

"And spontaneous musical numbers," Prisma huffed.

"And a flash flood," Yzma added.

"And a Sonic Rainboom," Wuya concluded.

"And now the child is getting away," Indus said.

"Yes," Prisma said with a nod. "Now Sofia is – WHAT?"

Indus pointed. The others all looked up to see the purple carriage taking off, heading out from the Misty Palisades.

"Oh, WONDERFUL!" Yzma cried. "Now we'll have to track her all the way across the globe AGAIN! These shoes weren't built for hiking!"

"Okay, hang on." With a hefty sigh, Mera stood, clapping her hands together. "I'm gonna feel this one in the morning."

"Lady Mera!" Indus gasped. "Be careful – "

Mera threw her arms out to either side, then directed them upward, pointing at the carriage with both hands.

The others watched as the carriage shattered into splinters, sending two child-sized bodies plunging into the sea below as the winged horse kept on its course for Enchancia.

Mera immediately collapsed to the deck.

"MERA!" Prisma rushed to her, hands outstretched.

But Indus held her back with a hand; "Don't! Lady Mera cannot be touched when she is in this state. It would be very uncomfortable to say the least!"

Prisma nodded, dropping to her knees a safe distance from Mera. "That was very brave of you," she said.

"Hey, you wanna thank me?" Mera grumbled, her mop of lavender hair obscuring her face and muffling her speech. "GO GET THAT DAMN KID BEFORE I END UP DOING THIS FOR NOTHING."

After a brief hesitation in which they both regarded Mera with concern, Wuya and Yzma shared a shrug. Wuya conjured a new energy trail to where the children had fallen, and with a series of backflips, she and Yzma were on track.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Prisma asked anxiously as Mera started to pry herself up.

"Still no touchy," Mera panted, heaving herself into the chair again. "Just…stay around, okay? I need to be distracted without talking too much, so – " She lurched, her vision going white and her stomach churning. "So just ramble about whatever, okay? Shutting up now." She focused on breathing deeply, evenly, to offset the effects of the fragility coursing through her.

"I know!" Indus realized. "Why don't you tell us more about your past with your sister and the things she did to make you so angry? I would normally volunteer to name my top twenty dams around the world, but Mera has already heard that list several times, and also it needs to be updated with the new worlds I know about."

"AZURINE!" Prisma stamped a foot. "It all started when we were little girls! I made the most beautiful sparkling rhinestones for Mother, but she always preferred Azurine's because they were USEFUL for stupid busy-work things like the cooking and the cleaning! Mine were pretty! Isn't that more important? And Mother would never let me siphon enough magic to do anything REALLY impressive. She just praised Azurine for using what they allowed us to make silly little crystals that would speed up laundry cycles!"

Mera smiled, watching Prisma rant animatedly. This was a very good diversion indeed.

Meanwhile, James and Sofia popped out of the water, treading to keep afloat. "What happened?" James wondered out loud.

"I don't know," Sofia replied. "One minute, we were in the carriage, and the next – "

"Looking for something?" Yzma's voice cut in. "Perhaps…your precious carriage?"

With a gasp, both children turned to see Wuya and Yzma hovering in the air above them.

"Oh no!" Sofia cried.

"What have we here?" Yzma taunted. "Two for the price of one! Though we don't really need the boy. Wuya, darling, would you please – "

"On it." Wuya snapped her fingers.

James was immediately encased in heavy iron chains bound with padlocks for which no key had been forged. He had barely enough time to blurt "SOF – " before sinking.

"JAMES!" Sofia shrieked. She tried to reposition to dive, but before she could get below sea level, she felt the crack of twin whips – one held by Yzma, the other by Wuya – slapping around her, restraining her and dealing a good amount of agony in the process. She gave another scream, wordless.

"You know," Wuya said as she reeled Sofia in on her line, "she is rather small. You don't think this is going too far, do you?"

She then stared at Yzma until the two women broke down in absolutely raucous laughter.

"What do you want?" Sofia cried. "Why did you do that to James?"

"Do you recognize this?" Yzma asked, dangling the Amulet of Avalor before Sofia, swinging it like a pendulum.

"The Amulet of Avalor?" Sofia gasped. "I haven't seen that since…" She yelped; "YOU'RE WITH THEM!"

"Correctamundo," Wuya affirmed. "And our friends aren't too happy about everything that went down in Morgana's tower."

"But really, this isn't about them," Yzma dismissed. "This is about ME and MY empire!" A glance to Wuya. "And yours too, I suppose."

"No, I know what I signed up for," Wuya replied. "It's not Wuyapolis. THAT we'll be doing on another world, on another trip."

"Fair," Yzma resolved. "At any rate, little girl, you'll be using this amulet to summon a winged horse that will take us to the Mystic Isles! At which point, you'll outlive your usefulness."

Sofia gasped.

"I wouldn't go that far," Wuya realized. "After all…this amulet is quite the bag of tricks. I say we keep her around in case we need someone to activate it again…but her cell gets no creature comforts."

"Good idea," Yzma agreed. "After all…tracking down ONE good-hearted child to make the amulet work for us was enough work."

Wuya tucked Sofia under an arm and began to skate the trail back to the boat. "WAIT!" Sofia yelled. "JAMES!"

"Trust me," Yzma said dryly from behind. "You're better off without him. Male sidekicks never have enough brains. It's just a fact of life at this point."

Tears blinded Sofia as she was brought into custody.

There was, however, one saving grace. On the shores of the Misty Palisades, Aqualina and her sea-serpent sisters dragged up a small body bound in iron. They'd dove as soon as they'd seen him fall – but only had time to rescue one child.

Everburn used his flame breath, concentrated in a fine stream, to sever the bindings on James, and Aqualina called upon sea magic to expel the water from his lungs. James sat up in a flash, coughing harshly.

"Settle down, kid," Everburn said gently. "You don't wanna overwork yourself!"

"Sofia!" James sputtered. "They took Sofia!"

"No worries!" Aqualina replied. "There's still time to catch up with that…"

Yzma's ship had hoisted itself out of the water and was beginning to fly away from the Palisades.

"BOAT?" Aqualina's jaw dropped.

"I'll get it!" Everburn spread his wings.

The boat accelerated to a magical form of hyperspeed, shooting away from view before any dragons could get to it.

"NO!" James yelled, stretching a hand out after the boat. "Sofia…they'll hurt her! And she thinks I'm…she thinks…"

"But you're not," Everburn reminded him. "Which means she'll be happy to see you once you find each other again!"

"Where are you from, kid?" Aqualina asked. "I think a proper thank-you for making the Misty Palisades work for all of us would be to get you a ride back to where you need to be!"

"Can you really carry me all the way to Enchancia?" James asked.

"For you?" Aqualina laughed. "That's a cakewalk! Let's get you home, and then you can start work on rescuing that sister of yours!"

"Do it for all our sakes!" Everburn agreed. "We'll round up a force of dragons and sea serpents back here, too. Sofia is a friend to all of us, and we're not gonna let some jerks just get away with kidnapping her!"

...

First, Mozenrath was ushered to a small armory and forced to choose a weapon – but only one.

"Let me see if I understand you," Mozenrath said dryly. "You want me to take only ONE weapon onto the field."

He was met with silent nods from his captors.

"And…are you offering me to take one thing in this room with nothing else required of me, or if I take something here, do you want me to leave something behind?"

There was a confused glance. Then one of his escorts said "You just get a weapon. No need to trade."

They didn't realize the gauntlet was a weapon in and of itself. That, or they didn't care. "Just checking," Mozenrath said as he reached for a crude scimitar. No, he still wasn't skilled with a blade, but it was at least a familiar sight, and he wasn't about to pass on a resource.

From there, it was a long walk up a narrow hall to the sounds of a raucous crowd growing ever louder. There was light at the end of the tunnel, and then –

Mozenrath stumbled onto the arena. His escorts stayed back, a wall slamming into place to trap him on that side alone.

The arena was enormous, almost too much to take in. Row upon row upon row, then another set of rows upon that, stacked up from it, with the denizens of Sakaar – all manner of sentient creatures, dressed in what they could find from the scrap – filling every seat. Screaming, howling, cheering for blood. Above that, darkness in the closed arena.

There was one aberration in the audience seating. A glass windowpane, looking in on a private box. The Grandmaster's, Mozenrath figured, and he probably had his two lapdogs in there as well.

But the Grandmaster in the box was a secondary concern; now Mozenrath was seeing a gigantic hologram of the man projected into the center of the field. "Ladies, gentlemen, nonbinary folks…poor people," the Grandmaster began. "I am so excited to present this fight to you. So excited. As you can see, I'm literally jumping out of my seat." (He wasn't.) "See, I was going to have the underdog here killed in combat trials, but instead, you know what I thought would be a better decision? Incredibly one-sided match. This one's gonna be a bloodbath, folks."

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. "Oooooof course."

"Without any further ado," the Grandmaster announced, "who wants to watch an overly sarcastic little magic man die?"

The cheer was deafening.

"REALLY?" Mozenrath yelled. "WELL, I RETURN THE SENTIMENT ON LITERALLY ALL OF YOU!"

The holographic Grandmaster disappeared. In his place, a new light projection bearing the words

MOZENRATH

VS.

?

"Because that's so helpful," Mozenrath sighed. "Can we please just get this over with?" He transferred the scimitar to his left hand – non-dominant, yes, but having something sharp to cover his non-magical side seemed the best strategic move.

No opponent had yet showed up. Mozenrath was able to locate the point on the opposite wall where it looked like one would usually enter, but that was closed off tight. He was also able to see that in this open area, there wasn't really room to lay down a scrying-spell point that wouldn't be found eventually. Even the holo-projectors that had shown off the gigantic Grandmaster were gaudily visible once Mozenrath looked.

But still, no opponent.

"I hate to break it to you," Mozenrath called out, "but I think the person you hired to splatter my blood across the arena FORGOT TO SHOW UP!"

The first insect buzzed into the arena. It was no mere housefly. This was something extraterrestrial, dog-sized, with sickly skin and crashing mandibles. Its translucent wings shot it forth at a worrying speed.

Mozenrath saw it just in time. Cut it down with a blast from his right hand.

"He's only supposed to have one weapon, you know," the Grandmaster said from the center of the couch inside the box.

"Should we hold the match?" Topaz asked.

"Nah, let's see where he goes with it," Swackhammer decided. "If he goes down wieldin' two things at once, it's extra hilarious."

"Motion carried," the Grandmaster said.

Mozenrath was now trained to look for the horrid insects. And down came two more, attacking him from either side of his periphery. Two blasts and the bugs were blown to bits.

He knew this game, though. These were the opening act. And come to think of it, they were shooting down from above, so that likely meant –

The opponent wasn't coming from the opposite entrance. He was descending from above, down into the center of the field, and now Mozenrath saw him clearly.

A hulking figure that appeared to be clad in plate armor of green and purple – but it was not metal. Rather, an insectoid exoskeleton played the part of armor. His head was of a similar material, shining like chrome, with glowing eyes and a mouth that led right into a void. He descended on two pairs of enormous dark-green wings; in his hand, he clutched a golden staff. Worst of all, however, he was thronged by what seemed to be a hundred of the insects.

The opponent opened his mouth wide. Gave an inhuman scream, like a thousand mosquitoes in dissonance. Then aimed the rod directly at Mozenrath.

As a shot of blazing energy seared toward Mozenrath, he put up a spherical deflection shield of sky blue, wide-eyed and trying not to shudder. The shield went up only just in time to halt the blast, and even then, the rod's energy hit so hard that it cracked. Mozenrath quickly re-fortified it, and not a moment too soon – the moment he'd finished reparations, the insects were slamming down into his shield as a unified horde.

Mozenrath watched in pure terror. He was swarmed. Whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been this. This had to be cheating. Then again, it was the Grandmaster's tournament, so maybe he should've been more pessimistic walking in. Gods knew that man followed no logic.

As the bugs kept bouncing off the shield, Mozenrath was finally able to see that the logo above the arena had changed:

MOZENRATH

VS.

ANNIHILUS

Annihilus? He knew that name. Where did he know that name?

The bugs parted to allow another blast from the staff. Mozenrath's shield developed a web of hairline cracks. He poured all his energy into strengthening it, keeping it from shattering just long enough. Then, once the energy abated, Mozenrath took a calculated risk – dismantling the shield and re-forging the energy into a massive projectile. His left hand went to work wildly swinging the scimitar, and the insects were surprised enough by that to stay away from the flailing metal. The magic blast rocketed up toward the beast Annihilus, and for a brief moment, Mozenrath felt smugly secure that it was over –

It deflected. Scattered as though it had hit a shield. Mozenrath hadn't even seen a shield around Annihilus. Either it was invisible or using something other than traditional magic or even technology.

The staff swung back down, and Mozenrath had his own shield back up. How was he supposed to kill this thing if it was impervious to all attack? This really was a slaughter. Which, given that he was the only necromancer in all of the WHAM ARMY…

No, he wasn't going to think about that. He was going to think only about useful things. Like the fact that he knew the name "Annihilus." It sounded like an ancient beast, a forgotten god, and at first he supposed that it had taken its name from something of old that he'd read about in the Deserts –

Wait. That wasn't it. In a flash, he remembered.

("The beast was called 'Annihilus,'" Zemo had told him over coffee. Decaf, of course. "A horrible, inhuman creature, and yet Captain America would rather take his chances with it than allow me any freedom. Oh, and did I mention he was also willing to let me die in confinement rather than offer me the same gratitude as my fellow blackhearts? He calls himself a hero even as he acts so callous. Why, it wouldn't surprise me if this attitude led to some sort of…civil war among the Avengers. Do you think Tony Stark would be proud of his actions?")

Zemo. Annihilus had been one of the last things Zemo had seen in his Negative Zone prison before he'd been abandoned, and Mozenrath had invited him to Knowhere. Maybe not this one – Mozenrath understood that Zemo's Avengers weren't the Grandmaster's Avengers and those in turn probably weren't the ones that had been captured for this tournament. These worlds in general were a massive chain of parallels. But this was some permutation of Annihilus, and Mozenrath nearly broke down laughing then and there.

The Grandmaster never could have guessed that he would pit Mozenrath up against a creature he'd already heard exactly how to slay.

As he contemplated this, though, the bugs grew more aggressive, pounding and chewing at the shield until it started to crack again. With renewed vigor, Mozenrath fed a different sort of magic into his shield. It now pulsed, radiating a burning blue aura in intervals. The innermost layer of Annihilus' insectoid minions were incinerated on contact. The rest kept coming, and Mozenrath knew exactly why – they had no choice. And that was the key right there.

("Not such an intimidating monster, after the fact," Zemo remarked. "Once its staff was destroyed, its minions turned upon it. The staff was its method of control; without it, they hated it fiercely. It was never a true threat…only a small man who had gotten his hands on a powerful weapon. As so many warmongers are. Not you, of course, Mozenrath…you and I are different.")

If he took possession of the staff, then Annihilus couldn't control the insects anymore. Or use it to fire energy blasts. Maybe not even deflect attacks. But here was the rub: Mozenrath had to get past Annihilus' defenses first in order to get the staff. And he couldn't take those defenses down without the staff. A conundrum.

The shield continued to pulse, burning up more insects on impact. "Is he using a bug-zapper move?" the Grandmaster asked around a mouth of spicy popcorn-simulating protein meal.

"I mean, points for creativity," Swackhammer said, spraying crumbs of the same fake popcorn.

"They'll overrun him in minutes." Topaz was gleeful, and also spraying a lot of fake popcorn as she grinned. "He'll be torn to shreds. They'll rip him into ribbons and eat him piece by piece – "

"Topaz?" The Grandmaster held up his popcorn substitute. "We're eating."

"So am I," Topaz replied. "And so will they."

The Grandmaster sighed. "Topaz – "

"Just – just leave it," Swackhammer interrupted. "Don't even."

("Ah, yes, it claimed to be invincible," Zemo went on. "It repelled most attacks. But the defenses were quickly broken with technological interference of some sort.")

Technological interference. That was a good start.

Not so good: the insects were getting close to shattering the shield despite their dwindling numbers. And the staff was pointing at Mozenrath's bubble once again to finish the job once they'd worn him down enough.

If Mozenrath were going to break the defenses, he couldn't rely on magic alone. Not without knowing what sort of power emanated from the staff. He needed an assistance of some sort. A piece of technology he could commandeer. Something that could emit waves. If he overloaded it, then the machinery's assistance could break anything that was disruptable by technology.

His eyes widened. "Of course," he realized. "Grandmaster, your idiocy might just have paid off for me. Not as much as Zemo's prison stories, of course…"

He shattered his own shield. Quickly, so Annihilus wouldn't see reason to fire. That left him exposed. Thankfully, the bugs were halved from the zapper stunt, meaning he had slightly less to contend with, but still they swarmed.

He needed to focus on the hijacking he was about to do. Not on staving away the bugs. Meaning this next move would be an incredible risk. It had to be a simple movement he could keep up without really even thinking about it.

Mozenrath held the scimitar straight outward, then began to spin round and round, like a fan with only one blade. And it worked, better than he had even speculated. (Though he would be hard-pressed to admit he hadn't known it would be a success.) The bugs that tried to swarm him were getting sliced and diced, their guts staining the ground green.

Okay. Transfer the scimitar to the left hand – DON'T drop it – keep spinning – raise the right hand – yes, spinning makes this part difficult, but focus, focus on what you know you need to infiltrate –

The holo-projectors switched back on. First, they transmitted an image of a very confused-looking Grandmaster.

"Um…I didn't ask for this," the Grandmaster said, hastily trying to dust away the fake-popcorn crumbs from his robe.

But then the image shifted. Mozenrath poured his magical energy into it completely, feeling the pain wracking his body. It was now his image projected over the arena – not that of the Mozenrath spinning frantically to saw through bugs, but the image he wanted them all to see.

"This is MY arena now," the holographic Mozenrath declared. "MY show. And I'm betting you didn't even break a sweat for that staff."

The hologram erupted into black-and-white static that surged around Annihilus. Annihilus dipped and twisted in the air as the static pierced his defenses, breaking his concentration – breaking everything around him.

Now. Now was the time. Mozenrath stopped spinning and realized that in all his focus, he hadn't even noticed an entire bug latching onto his back and digging its mandibles into his right shoulder. Not hard enough, he thought angrily, still able to raise his right hand to make the final blow.

Annihilus staggered.

Mozenrath cast one more spell; "MAGNERA!"

The staff shot out of Annihilus' grip as though greased, careening right down toward Mozenrath, who caught it in his own right hand and used it to whack the insect that was feeding on his blood. Mozenrath then raised the staff high, calling out, "I AM YOUR NEW COMMANDER! I HOLD THE STAFF! YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!"

The insect horde immediately backed off, skittering to a respectable distance.

Mozenrath jabbed the staff at its former wielder; "AND I SAY ANNIHILATE ANNIHILUS!"

Slightly less than fifty sets of wings rose for takeoff.

Annihilus, for once, looked panicked. He emitted a quick screech, then tried to wing his way out of the arena.

The horde caught up to him first. They ripped and tore into him, and when they took too long to dismember him, Mozenrath tapped the staff's base on the floor, sending an energy blast upward to pierce through the remains.

Scraps of Annihilus hit the ground around him. He cringed. And the crowd burst into the wildest cheer yet.

"That…wasn't supposed to happen," the Grandmaster said. "We should've chipped him like for a Champion match. Champion-chipped. Anyway, hindsight is 20/20. Topaz, get something in there to kill him off, anything – "

"Now wait just a minute." Swackhammer put up a hand. "I don't think you're seein' the opportunity here."

"I'm seeing that a man I want dead, who also wants me dead because I want him dead because he wants me so on and so forth, is not dead," the Grandmaster stated.

"Why did we set up this whole thing again?" Swackhammer asked. "We already know the outcome. It ain't about the mascot title. It's about the show. And I'd say this show just got itself a new star." He gestured out the window. "An underdog clawed his way up. Crowds LOVE underdogs. And he did it with flair and panache."

More guards were surrounding Mozenrath to remove the staff from his possession and take him back to the dungeon. He responded by swinging the staff threateningly at them; "I KEEP THIS, OR YOU DON'T GET ME BACK IN THAT CELL AT ALL!"

"Think branding," Swackhammer went on. "The T-shirts. The figurines. They're gonna buy this guy up. He's got the looks for it, too."

"Hmm…yes, yes," the Grandmaster mused. "Okay, I can start to see it now. We keep this guy away from our Champion on the bracket as long as we can, build him up as a headliner…yeah, this guy is definitely a good advertising vehicle."

"There have been reports of rebellions and restlessness in the outer quarters," Topaz brought up. "It would save me a costly military strike if we could get all the rebels hooked on a new distraction instead. Especially a powerful one that wants to rebel against you in the first place and can pull the weight."

The Grandmaster nodded. "All right. You guys have won me over. I love you guys, you know that? No matter who else appears in my contact book before or after this, just remember that in this moment, I love you both. No, I do. And no Shinigami, Reaper, or fallen angel is gonna change – "

"Just make the announcement!" Topaz barked as Swackhammer rolled his eyes.

The Grandmaster reappeared in hologram form: "Surprise! I planned that from the beginning. Mozenrath wasn't supposed to die. That was just a red herring to get you guys thinking he WOULD die, and then I subverted your expectations. That's what good entertainment is all about."

Mozenrath shook his staff at the hologram Grandmaster; "I'LL DESTROY YOU FOR THIS!"

And the crowd went even wilder.

Mozenrath realized what it was they wanted. He raised the staff high; "FIRST THIS TOURNAMENT! THEN THE NUISANCE WHO RUNS IT!"

The Grandmaster looked visibly uncomfortable as he saw his people cheering for his demise by gauntlet. "Isn't he just a little spitfire!" he laughed. "Anyway, we'll have Mozenrath shirts in all sizes in the lobby in – Zilch, how long will it take to – in fifteen minutes, give or take. Stop by and pick up some definitely reasonably priced merchandise of your favorite sexy sorcerer." And with that, he winked out.

Mozenrath let himself be escorted out then, smirking all the way. "I'd call this a win-win in several respects," he said, running a hand over his new prize. "I'm now a brand name, the general populace supports my bloodlust, and…well."

He wasn't about to say it, but now that he had this staff in his hands, he wouldn't be needing that scrying spell either.

...

The Asgardian training grounds were a valley of flat stone tucked between wall and canal, with an earthen pit for sparring and several lit torches around the field for illumination and ambience. Loki, still in the guise of Odin, nodded as he walked through, observing every warrior that was practicing.

How unfortunate. He had once championed the superiority of Asgardians over humanity, and now was beginning to realize something disheartening: he no longer believed in the inherent worth of an Asgardian. No, his own people were becoming as soft-looking and undesirable to him as the folk of Midgard. There were some standout examples, but it seemed that around here, everyone was too driven by valor, by justice, by love.

Victor von Doom was only human and still so far evolved pat any of them, as far as Loki was concerned. A pragmatist. A man of ambition. Cold logic, cold deeds. As the world below needed. The world above – the place reserved for him and Victor – well, that could glimmer with gold and laurels to rest upon. But to get to that level, one needed a certain drive, a certain willingness to abandon code in favor of what the heart said.

And these warriors? Following code, every one of them. The former Odin's code, or even Thor's. They moved according to battle guidelines, memorizing choreographed routines that they would take into fair fights fought in the name of righting wrongs. Or at least wrongs they believed needed righting. In the end, it would probably boil down to motivations as selfish as Loki's own – but at least he had the good sense to be honest with himself about that. No, he obeyed himself. He wrote his own code. He took input only from his trusted: Doom, Maleficent, Jafar. Everyone else here was just an automaton carrying out a routine.

Except for the erratic movements of the warrior near the canal, the one with the long lavender mane. And the fact that one of the duelists on the earthen pit, the one who was dressed like a mall goth, had just kicked one of his foes in the stomach and subsequently the head in a method certainly never taught on Odin's battleground.

Loki maneuvered closer to the head of the battlefield, where his general of war oversaw. He'd seen no reason to remove Blackheart from the position; after all, the demon was doing so well at it, and was an expert at molding the automatons to follow routines that displayed true creativity in cruelty. And they bought it, hook and all, that he was one of their own, a trusted member of their good king's cabinet. A bit of a surprise, since he was so horrible at blending in, but Loki wouldn't take it for granted.

He leaned in to whisper in Blackheart's ear: "Is that who I believe it is by the canal?"

Blackheart nodded to the tall, overly voluptuous woman in shining armor that really looked more like something from England than anything Asgardian. "She registered under the name 'Lady Sniff.' Came with three friends. 'Sholstagg,' 'Cocogun,' and 'Fandraghoul.' And you say I have no sense of subtlety."

Loki had to bite back a legitimate laugh. "And how far does she believe she can get on this farce?"

"Actually looks like it's her boyfriend's idea," Blackheart clarified. "Which would make too much sense. She's just the only one who bothered to put on a disguise."

"I had hoped Imperious would have managed to deter them, if not destroy them," Loki grumbled. "And yet they have multiplied instead. I shall be having words with Imperious later. As it were, could you perhaps employ your…security force to rid us of the vermin?"

Blackheart grinned widely. "Here we were thinking we wouldn't get to play the game."

The other shoe wouldn't drop until a little while later, after Blackheart had moved stealthily around the field, making his moves. Aghoul, in the meantime, kept a sharp eye on the false Odin. All he needed to do was get close enough. Or one of his companions could do so and break the glamour for him.

Systematically, he chose opponents closer and closer to Loki, besting his foes in spars. The temptation to slice off their heads with his scythe or plant a bomb at a dirty trick of a time was immense, but he was trying to get Loki thrown out of Asgard before he was, so he refrained.

A chill hissed onto the back of his neck, and he froze. Because he was chilly all the time without even trying. If anything managed to make him actually feel cold, that something was a powerful deathly or demonic force indeed.

"Isn't it funny?" Blackheart whispered into Aghoul's ear from behind. "A field full of people should make it easier to expose someone's trickery. The audience is bigger. But there's so much going on here that it's hard to lose track of what's important. Like you did."

"I know perfectly well what I'm doing!" Aghoul spat in return. "I'm on course, and you can challenge me all you like, but you won't stop the truth from being revealed!"

"Then I'll give you a choice," Blackheart said, stepping out in front of Aghoul. "You can fight me. And if you beat me, you get to unmask the traitor. Is that fair?"

"That's not a choice!" Aghoul told him. "There's only one option!"

"You could walk away," Blackheart reminded him. "Most people would be so afraid…they would. Fear is such a funny thing. Mirage pretends she has the monopoly on it, but I've mastered it in a way she can never, no matter how many Boogeymen she subjugates. I wonder what it would take to make you really afraid?"

"You don't scare me!" Aghoul told Blackheart. "I've fought you once before and they pieced me back together, good as…well, I wouldn't say 'new,' but good as I can be!"

"I could slow you down," Blackheart taunted. "He'd get away while you were busy."

"How is that even a concern?" Aghoul huffed. "If you keep me tied up, then Mimsy will just…will just…"

Now he understood Blackheart's entire game, and Blackheart realized that it was sinking in. The demon gave Aghoul a sharp-toothed grin. "Figure it out yet?"

Aghoul desperately scanned the battlefield. They were all missing. Mim. Sho. Coco. He'd been so focused on Loki, so distracted by the chaos, that he hadn't realized they'd been taken away. Probably picked off one by one.

"So now you see the other choice," Blackheart chuckled. "And I get to see what really scares you."

Aghoul reached out, grabbing Blackheart's collar to pull him down low. Blackheart was more amused than anything. "WHERE ARE THEY?" Aghoul yelled. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?"

"Hide and seek," Blackheart replied, his eyes glittering red before reverting to black. "No hints. You find them, you get to escape with your freedom and never come back here because you know what will happen if you do. You don't find them? They're ours now. And I can think of a lot of things Victor wants to try with a Shinigami."

It was true. Aghoul was wide-eyed, visibly terrified. He released Blackheart's collar.

"Still wanna fight?" Blackheart put out his arms to either side. "Because I'd love to."

"Oh, go soak your head in the Nile!" Aghoul took off charging into the fray of the field.

Blackheart shrugged. "Good luck. You'll need it." He then returned to Loki's side to ensure Aghoul couldn't change course and plot a sneak attack in the midst of his rescue mission.

Aghoul couldn't imagine that his companions had been taken very far. Not if he was actively being challenged to find them. Not if this was a warning. Besides, any good tormentor knew how to use what was at hand. It didn't matter where you took them because any location had fixtures that would work well in the torture. And if you had magic, any location had places to hide.

For instance…

Aghoul jogged to the canal, sandals slapping. He peered over the edge, noting the turbulent waters at the base of the waterfall. A flash of purple and maroon was struggling against another entity, one translucent and slippery.

Aghoul jumped in, not needing to worry about holding his breath. Being undead had that perk to it, after all. As he sank, he now beheld the sight of Mim – back to her usual figure and her favorite dress – having an underwater fistfight with a man. The man seemed to be only half there, shimmering like he was made of water himself. What colors did show through were deep greens and the dirty blond of his ratty hair. He was fighting with his all, seizing and clawing and strangling, but so was Mim, and now that Aghoul really stopped to think about it, she probably wasn't the one he should've been worried about. After all, he could clearly see she'd sprouted gills, and every time her opponent tried to cover them up, she just moved them elsewhere on her body.

Mim caught Aghoul in her peripheral vision, giving him a nod. A little extra assistance and they could finish this off. He summoned an explosive skull, lobbing it to her. She charged her hand up with sparking magic.

The resulting blast sent the water-man reeling, clutching at his face. Which he no longer had, thanks to the bomb. Mim sped to Aghoul, seized his hand, and dragged him to the surface.

Once they breached, Mim taking a healthy gasp of real air, Aghoul asked, "Demon? Or Asgardian?"

"By the stink of him," Mim growled, "FALLEN ANGEL. Don't tell me our Reapers got taken by any more!"

"Well, then I suppose I won't tell you," Aghoul huffed. "You can figure it out yourself."

They hauled themselves out of the canal and sped off to find the next hiding place.

Blackheart and Loki moved closer to the canal, pretending to observe the other warriors. True to Blackheart's statement, the grounds were a place of distraction, and no one else had noticed the little scuffle going on.

Mim's opponent surged up as a jet of water, landing beside Blackheart, solidifying. He still didn't have a face yet, but one quickly bubbled to the surface, and he started poking at it with fingers to gently slide all the orifices into the right place.

"That was the most pathetic job I've ever seen you do, Wallow," Blackheart snapped, "and I saw you against the Ghost Rider."

"You didn't warn me she would actually try to drink me," Wallow hissed back. He dripped with constant water from every inch of his body, even while surfaced. "If she ignores the warning, then next time, I won't go so easy on her."

"At the very least, it is entertaining to watch them rush about in a panic," Loki chuckled. "Do you think they'll actually locate the others before it's too late?"

"All right, my dear," Aghoul panted. "If you were going to hide someone on a battlefield in order to torment them, where would you hide them?"

"Easy," Mim said. "Under the ground."

They both looked to the earthen pit.

Sho's opponent had submerged him. Without warning. He now waited in Leo Cantus form in a makeshift den beneath the battlefield, his Noise-feline eyes showing him a monochrome night-vision. All around him were tunnels. He'd tried to dig some, but most belonged to his assailant. Because every time Sho would try to escape –

He did it once more, just because he was feeling contrarian, and the entity rushed him again, shooting out of one wall to tackle him to the ground. The fallen, Gressil, was quite a different sight from Wallow: bald, dressed in a jacket that looked made of reptile skin, a little grainy to the touch. Gressil slammed Sho to the ground, slashed at him in a way that drew blood, and then tunneled effortlessly into the opposite wall.

Each time this happened, Sho could tell the structural integrity of his prison was being more compromised. He supposed the plan was either to die by the fallen's hand or to die in the ensuing avalanche. But he wasn't afraid so much as very, very angry.

A rumble came from above, at an angle. So that was the direction of the next assault. Gressil usually wasn't that careless, but Sho didn't question it, bracing up to maul whatever came through that wall of dirt.

When he saw the bright, glowing light, he realized it wasn't his attacker. It was a gigantic purple mole with an anglerfish stalk that glowed out front of her head.

"Took you long enough," Sho snarled. "Speaking of which, T minus three, two – "

Gressil burst from a side tunnel, and now the den was ready to break. Mim was quick to react, using a giant paw to sideswipe the fallen and draw a cloud of dust that was obviously analogous to blood. Then, as the earth shuddered, she and Sho started back up the tunnel she'd made.

As humanoids once more, they emerged to the surface. There was a rumble below.

"Well?" Aghoul urged.

"Oh, it definitely collapsed in on him," Mim related. "Another fallen. But this one was made of dirt, so all it will really do is slow him down."

"Dirt, you say?" Aghoul replied. "Earth, water…there's an elemental connection here. If we assume the traditional four, then whoever has Coco is either hiding her in fire – "

All eyes flicked to the nearest brazier that lit the field. There was no obvious way that anyone could be trapped in it. Blackheart, standing nearby, gave a playful shrug, trying not to laugh.

"Or air." Aghoul looked up, and Mim and Sho followed suit.

High above, it could've been so easily mistaken for a little pink-and-mint bird being harangued by a hawk. Two specks dueling in the air, with the larger clearly winning. But now, they all knew better.

"I AM SO ANGY AT YOU RIGHT NOW!" Coco shrieked, frantically beating her skeletal wings as she attempted to find a way back down to the ground. "WHEN I CATCH UP TO YOU, I'M GOING TO DO SOMETHING SO NSFL!"

The final of Blackheart's lieutenants, Abigor, blew past her as a cyclone, stirring her up and driving her still higher into the sky. Coco fought disorientation as she struggled to regain her bearings and figure out where Abigor had gone.

A triumphant cackle gave her the answer. "One who cannot be harmed by the fall can be destroyed on the RISE!"

He plowed into her like a bulldozer, bodies slamming hard enough that if she were human, a bone would've cracked. She went head over heels again, spinning still higher and all the dizzier for it. "kys," she growled. "kys kys kys KYS KYS KYS!"

"Now, why would you want him to go and kill himself?" asked a new voice. "That would mean YOU don't get to do it."

Coco's eyes lit up. "SAVED BY THE MIM!"

Mim was a giant ceiling fan on wings. Aghoul clung to her base; Sho winged alongside.

"You think SHE'S mad?" Sho growled at Abigor. "Because right now, 1-1,000-51-6-500!"

"Is that some kind of joke?" Abigor replied, slowing down so the others could see him. Long, dark hair; long, dark clothes. No undershirt. Very pearly teeth whose owner was proud of himself.

"Think about it like you're at 41.9028° N, 12.4964° E," Sho clarified.

"Rome?" Abigor replied. He thought it over. "Oh, I get it. 'IM LIVID.' Clever. But you can't – "

Mim's blades turned on full blast, and Abigor was shot halfway across the Asgardian skies.

"You good?" Sho asked Coco.

"Uuuuuggghhhh," Coco replied, staggering in flight. "Thankies. I think he was actually gonna drive me into the atmosphere. Talk about a dangerous high."

"Then I suggest we get back to low places as soon as possible," Aghoul urged.

Against all logic, they returned to the training grounds, only to find that Loki's tour had moved on as well as most of the warriors. Remaining here would make them bait for Wallow, Gressil, and Abigor again.

"We can't hold them off forever," Aghoul realized.

"So let's do something about it," Mim replied. "Anyone suited for the job?"

"Why, as a matter of fact, yes," Aghoul said with a smirk. "The whole point of this was to try and scare us off. Instill fear in the fearless. I think it's time we fight fear with fear!"

...

The door to Nine Bean Hill opened, and the first sound that any of the clientele could hear regarding the incoming party was "That's because electric eels aren't TRUE eels. That is to say, not of the order Anguilliformes. Electric eels are actually Gymnotiformes, which is closer related to the catfish. Which makes sense when you compare the physiology of the two. Does that make sense now?"

Simon dragged his heels as Albert wrapped up his tirade. "Okay, I get it," he grumbled. "Xerxes isn't electric. That's all you had to say. I didn't need the disseratation of fish facts."

"Actually," Albert corrected, "I wrote my dissertation on horseshoe crabs. Enigmatic creatures. Another misnomer, actually, since the horseshoe crab is closer related to a spider than a – "

"Is this what going to college with him was like?" Deymos grunted.

"Yes," Vincent affirmed. "Except he would also lord his knowledge over you at every turn."

"I don't think you have much of a right to speak, Vincent," Albert said, "seeing as you probably believed the horseshoe crab was a crab up to this very minute."

"There it is," Vincent sighed as Victor stifled a chuckle.

Vexen cringed as he realized how many people populated the café. Too many. Finding a table here would be a chore. It was all underscored by a new bubblegum-rock band blaring over the PA system, adjusted accordingly to be audible over the crowd. In other words, too loud. "I told you this place would be crowded at this time of day," he hissed.

"And I told you not to worry about it," Deymos replied. "Let's just order. Maybe by the time we all get our drinks, there'll be a table."

They lined up at the counter, where Lann greeted them. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey!" Tama chirped, floating behind Lann. "I remember you! You were the ones with the Dunka-Dunka-Dunkacino!"

Vexen gave Deymos a glare of exasperation. Deymos just looked proud of himself.

"Sorry about the crowding," Lann said. "We can't deliver to tables today. But if you give us your names, we can call it when your order's ready."

"Well, that's asking for trouble," Deymos groaned. "Anyway, I'll start us off. Gimme a vanilla latte, and can you carbonate the milk for it? You have one of those fancy soda fountains, right?"

"Carbonate the milk?" Victor repeated. "Deymos, my dear, you do realize – "

"I know what I want," Deymos said suddenly.

"But the milk – " Vincent attempted.

Vexen knew Deymos was well aware of what he was asking for, and as immature as it was, he found himself compelled to see it through. "DO NOT question his order," he hissed.

"Carbonated milk?" Lann repeated. "Never tried that. Is it any good?"

Jackpot. Deymos struggled to keep a straight face. "Yeah, it's addicting. Once you taste it, you never go back to regular milk again. Totally try it if your boss won't chew you out for sampling on the job."

"And your name?" Lann clicked a pen.

Without missing a beat, Deymos replied, "Mel. Mel Odious."

Lann scribbled that down. "Okay, next?"

"Black coffee," Vexen said. "For…Ansem."

"Ansem?" Lann repeated. "I feel like I know that name."

"It's far, far more common than you'd think," Vexen said, deadpan. He turned to look at Vincent; "I presume you will also be taking your coffee bla – "

"Two hot chocolates," Vincent demanded, stone-faced. "Give both of them foam art in the shape of a cat face if possible."

"Why, Vincent, you remembered our order!" Victor laughed mirthfully.

"For Vincent and Victor," Vincent concluded. "Don't carbonate the milk."

"Got it!" Lann said. "Next?"

"One chai latte," Albert said. "I would like foam art in the shape of a piranha, and I would like it to look considerably more detailed than either of the cats. I also do not want my milk carbonated. It's for Albert. Oh, and do you have any fish-based products?"

"We, uh…we have fish-based dog treats," Lann said.

"Perfect," Albert replied. "A side order of three of those for the name 'Xerxes.'"

"Xerxes has been getting strange amount of affection lately and doesn't know what to do with it," Xerxes stated.

"Cherry-almond smoothie," Simon demanded. "Simon."

"Okay!" Lann said, hurrying to catch up. "And you, sir?"

"HmmMMMMmmm." SkekSil thought it over. "Menu does not contain essence of Gelfling, so in absence…what would tavern tender recommend that tastes overindulgent and gluttonous?"

"I, uh…" Lann needed to think about that. "Peppermint Frappuccino?"

"Yes, yes." SkekSil stroked at his beak. "Gourmand would disapprove heavily of Chamberlain having such thing, so Chamberlain will have."

Lann jotted down one more order. "Okay! We'll call out when we're ready!"

Unfortunately, a table had not opened up in the meantime. "And what do you propose we do now?" Vexen asked Deymos.

"Sabotage," Deymos replied. "It has to be subtle enough that we don't get traced or thrown out, but at the same time – "

The occupants of the far corner table leapt up and screeched at the top of their lungs as they bolted out of the café. The red-stained Dream Eaters that had appeared and begun crawling around their table quickly ducked back into the shadows and melted away.

"You're welcome," Albert said. "I'd like to see Vincent do that."

Vincent was practically blowing steam from his nostrils.

They crowded in around the table, and Vexen sighed. "Deymos, you don't actually care about the order, do you? You just want to see him attempt to make it."

"And, best-case scenario, taste it," Deymos affirmed, keeping his eyes trained on the counter where Lann was going to work. "I'm not thirsty, but I need a pick-me-up. It's the little things, y'know?"

Lann attempted to pull the milk bottle from the carbonator. White foam erupted all over him and most of the workstation with a resounding pop. Deymos had to clamp his hand down hard over his mouth to keep his laughter inaudible.

"Must've done something wrong." Lann wiped a bit of foam off his shoulder, sticking the finger in his mouth to taste the milk. Of course, since the carbonation affected the acidity, all he tasted was what seemed to be sour milk. "UGH!"

"Lann!" Reynn hustled toward him with several rags. "What did you DO?"

"I don't know!" Lann protested. "You try it! You're better at this kind of stuff! Also, does this taste…off to you?"

Reynn swept up a bit of the foam. Tasted it. "ACK!"

Deymos was now stomping on the floor, doubled over and convulsing, and Vexen was strangely endeared to it all. Perhaps because he was having so much fun with others' misfortune, in a similar vein to how Vexen…didn't quite set out to inconvenience others for fun, but did appreciate when he got ahead while others fell behind.

Lann, with half the foam wiped off him and half remaining, rang the bell at the counter. "MELIADOUL!"

"That's me." Deymos bolted to the counter to collect a drink he had no interest in actually tasting.

"So." Victor flashed knowing eyes to Vexen. "You and him. Is it what I think it is?"

Vexen flinched. What was Victor even talking about? "What do you think it is?"

"I just sense a certain…connection," Victor said coyly. "One can almost see the sparks fly."

"He has been an…unlikely friend to me," Vexen stated. "We are still finding our footing. A past incident has left me uncertain of how far to trust him…and yet thus far he has not failed me."

Victor was the one chuckling now. "Oh, you're oblivious, aren't you?"

Deymos returned. "Hey! What're we talking about?"

"Unlikely friendships," Victor replied. "That is all." His cybernetic eyes were glittering, and not just because of the metal components.

"Right!" Deymos said. "So you guys." He pointed between Vincent, Victor, and Albert. "You knew each other back in the day, right?"

"In a sense," Vincent replied. "We were classmates at RMU. Victor and I were roommates, and…very close. For those four years, Victor was perhaps the only lifeline to my sanity."

"If anyone was an unlikely friend to me," Victor confirmed, "it was my Vincent. I remember it well – when we first met, I had thought we were destined to be enemies. He had such lofty aspirations of success and such disregard for those who didn't share his ambition that I…well, I got a little insecure, to say the least."

"You stayed out all night to avoid me," Vincent reminded him softly. "You collapsed."

"And you skipped your first day of class to nurse me, an ambitionless sloth, back to health," Victor said with a smile. "I should have known then how well we would get on."

"Wait a minute," Simon realized. "Were YOU TWO a thing?"

Vincent recoiled, blanching. Victor's face was tinted pink.

"I…don't remember," Vincent admitted. "I know he was…the only true friend I had at RMU. But beyond that…"

"I must say I don't recall either," Victor replied. "Perhaps that means we were only friends. Or perhaps it is simply something erased from memory. Though I would think any further discussion of the matter would have to be held behind closed doors."

Ding. "ANSAULME!"

"I SUPPOSE that is me." Vexen stormed over to pick up his coffee.

As he was absent, Victor leaned over to Deymos. "You and him…?"

"Not yet," Deymos replied in a hushed tone. "Let's keep that subject OFF the table. I'm still working on getting him to see it."

"Ah." Victor's eyes sparkled again. "I see now."

Vexen returned, coffee in hand. "Continue."

"Many things are missing from the interim," Vincent explained – though Vexen knew that part well. "There are bits and pieces, but the clearest memories come from our union to commit revenge upon Myers."

"I don't think I need to tell you why either Vincent or I was compelled," Victor added. "Vincent was put through a more horrible torment than I could ever imagine. And I could not let them get away with doing such things to my dearest companion."

"Chamberlain notices Therapist has been silent," skekSil broke in. "Has he nothing to add?"

Through a strained smile, Albert said, "I think it's quite clear that there's nothing appropriate I can contribute at this point."

Ding. "VINUSKAR!"

Vincent rolled his eyes. "I suppose that is me. Or Victor."

"Well, our orders are identical," Victor said, "so it isn't as though it matters."

Vincent rose to go fetch the coffee, and Simon poked the hornet's nest: "Albert has to fit into this SOMEHOW."

"There's nothing I can say here," Albert reiterated, one eyelid twitching. His smirk starting to fade.

"I disagree," Victor said.

"Oh, do you?" Albert retorted.

Vincent returned with his hot chocolate, taking a sip.

"That could've been mine," Victor told him with a pout.

"In many things, I give as much to you as to me," Vincent replied. "And yet I have always maintained that it is better to live a meaningful life than die a meaningless death." Another sip. "This is one of the things that gives my life meaning." He didn't have to smile in order for the others to know.

"Do you know what else Vincent used to believe?" Victor brought up. "That only one's own actions decide their fate. That there was no such thing as fate or destiny. I wonder what changed his mind…" A playful wink. "Perhaps someone who is deprived of hot chocolate?"

"Perhaps," Vincent replied. "But in all seriousness, my meeting with Victor was the only thing I have ever considered to be a stroke of destiny at work. Which leaves me utterly puzzled as to what that makes this situation."

"Complicated for sure," Deymos assured him. "I can't emphasize enough how there are things with the multi-world stuff you just don't ask about if you aren't ready for the answer."

"I would say it is a stroke of destiny," Vexen stated. "We were fated to unite." Better to throw them as far off track as possible.

Ding. "VIKTORA!"

"This was mine," Vincent said slyly in reference to his drink.

"At least mine was closer than all of yours…" Victor rose to go fetch it.

"So what exactly was all this revenge stuff about anyway?" Simon asked. "I know they turned you into a cyborg, no anaesthesia. So what was the goal here? A coup d'etat?"

"In essence," Vincent replied. "I began by seeking out the core members of the Myers Corporation – those who signed off on my torment – and eliminating them. It wasn't often clean. Emanon…I was startled, and left a mess in my wake. Monsieur M was my final goal. But not my only goal. He sought to conquer the world with a race of cyborgs, the only predator above humans on the food chain. So I created my own cyborgs in return. I suppose you could think of it as the Biblical story of God and Leviathan. But where Monsieur M must believe he is God and I Leviathan, I prefer to see it the other way around. I was prepared to ascend as high as it would take to deliver judgment."

Albert stared, wide-eyed. "Well. I knew there was some sort of revenge scheme going on, but…that part I either never knew or had wiped from my mind. I have to say I'm impressed with you, Vincent, which doesn't happen often, but always brings me amusement. I didn't think you had it in you to do such grisly deeds."

"You said I wouldn't like what you had become," Vincent challenged. "Is it anything close to what I have become? They made me a monster. So I played the part."

Victor returned with his chocolate. "What did I miss?"

"Further discussion of Lawyer's trauma," skekSil related. "And surprise on the part of Therapist."

Albert looked to Victor; "You were in on it? Creating cyborgs, committing murder? And committing murder in order to create cyborgs?"

"I'd be careful what I say so loudly in a public place," Victor replied, "but yes."

"We're good," Deymos insisted. "No one's paying attention."

"Hmm." Albert thought that over. "I see."

"Do you wish to try and outdo me?" Vincent asked. "Or have you finally accepted that there is no way you can surpass the monstrosity I have become in the name of revenge? The monstrosity for which I only regret the motivation and not the end result?"

"Vincent," Victor hissed softly.

"You needn't consider yourself the same," Vincent replied.

"You know how I feel," Victor told him. "You and I are going down hand in hand. I have acted as much the monster as you have. But I would prefer to state the lack of regret with more confidence than you do."

"Not the result," Vincent reiterated. "Only the motivation. I'm glad to know I had it within me to strive for divinity. But…not at this cost."

"Did you mean to ask me a question you didn't want answered?" Albert broke in. "I don't suppose you care at any rate."

"No, I'm curious," Victor asserted. "What have you done that's so awful?"

Ding. "ALBERIC!"

"That answer will have to wait." Albert rose to stride over to the counter.

He left an awkward silence and thick tension in his wake. They all stared at one another.

"So," Xerxes brought up. "Weather is nice."

Finally, Albert came back with his piranha chai latte. "If you really must know," he said, "I'm a killer as well. I also have raised my own army. You saw the Dream Eaters. They served me before this turn as well, but in a less convenient way. I had to bond them to human hosts. Krueger Health Corporation served as a front for me to continue my work under the guise of 'dream therapy.' The obedient patients, those who were easy to work with, they became hosts. The rest were ground into feed for the Dream Eaters. I don't remember my end goal with it all, but I do remember enjoying the act of it immensely. Killing was fun for me where it was a necessary tragedy for you. Unless you developed a taste for the knife – or did you stop at satisfaction that your enemies were dead? A hollow satisfaction that ultimately only reminded you of the list left to go?"

This left everyone else dumbstruck. Albert gave them a window to speak. Eventually, Victor spoke up: "This…is unexpected to say the least."

"I told you that you would hate what I had become," Albert reiterated. "I don't, of course. I always thought the world could do with fewer mediocre people. And I became extraordinary."

"In the interest of my organization," Vexen broke in, "I will need you to tell me what is a 'mediocre person.' Is it merely a matter of intelligence?"

"No," Albert replied. "What I want is…a world of those who stand out. And of course, if everyone stands out in the same way, then it is mediocrity all over again repackaged as success. I want to be surprised. I want to be amused. I want to be wowed."

"Ah," Vexen replied. "Then I believe you shall get along well with the WHAM ARMY."

"You may have explained some of this to me on the phone," Vincent realized. "I don't remember what we discussed, exactly."

"Neither do I," Albert replied. "Maybe you told me about your exploits as well."

"Why did you call?" Vincent asked. "After so many years, I hadn't expected to hear your voice."

Albert bristled. "I suppose that would've come as a surprise, wouldn't it? After all, you'd washed your hands of me. All the same, I let someone talk me into it. Someone who played to my nostalgia. The only patient I ever had who didn't become a Dream Eater or feed for it in some form. But it doesn't really matter. Because as much as everyone here claims I was part of your story in the end, the memories don't back that up. I don't doubt it was a fact that I was there. But without memory, it may as well have never happened. And that's how you preferred it, wasn't it?"

"Why would I want YOU around?" Vincent spat. "All you ever were was a nuisance."

"I hated you," Albert said, voice dripping with venom. "I hated you more than I had ever hated anyone. But the patient, they – they managed to open my eyes to what it had been all that time, and now I realize I never knew what hating you truly was. Because it's what I feel NOW, more than ever before."

"What did I do to you?" Vincent barked. "All I ever did was SUCCEED. Why did that threaten you so much? It was me who was the victim! You outdid me at every turn! It was my actions that led to the success I had so craved, but you could have ended that if I'd let my pace slacken for even a moment! And what would have happened to you if you'd fallen behind? Still the CEO of your parents' corporation. Still the – "

"AND THAT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU?" Albert snapped. "With all your talk of FATE. I had mine designed for me. No matter what actions I took, I was never in control."

"I know," Vincent growled. "You made it clear at every turn that you had a DESTINY while I had nothing."

"I changed my major entirely and they still made me take the position!" Albert argued. "What else was I supposed to do but accept my fate?"

Deymos leaned over to Vexen. "Starting to think this is getting out of hand."

"Let them solve it," Vexen whispered. "We will intervene if necessary. As of now…think of it as another test of their will."

Victor cleared his throat. "Maybe I didn't know how much you felt tied down to your destiny," he told Albert. "My parents gave me almost the same ultimatum. That my fate was decided. I was lucky enough – yes, lucky – to find a way to break free. To choose a path that followed the person who truly mattered to me instead of them. My actions had little to do with it. I'm sure you know I was far behind both of you in every respect when it came to ambition or academics – though I like to think it was my social skills that advanced me, while the two of you were more or less inept. Vincent and I could've been enemies as well, had we not discussed the matter intimately. If I'd known…then…maybe I…"

"No," Albert snarled. He slammed down the cup and chai latte sloshed onto the table. "You wouldn't have. Neither of you. Because in the end, it was always just about each other for you. You would go down hand in hand. And what about me? You never cared. Like I said, I thought I hated you before, Vincent. And Victor? I always envied how easily you were able to make friends. I hoped maybe I could be one of them. After all, friendship didn't come easy to me. But in the end…did you ever realize that I waited for you for hours that night, only for neither of you to show up?"

Vincent and Victor exchanged glances. "What night?" Victor asked.

"Our GRADUATION," Albert seethed. "The party. We all reunited for one last hurrah – all but two. I didn't think I had reason to wait for you. After all, I hated Vincent. But I wanted to get in one last parting shot. Perhaps extend our rivalry, to continue after graduation. So I waited. I stored up insults of all sorts to hurl at you once I got the chance. I played out scripts of what would happen when I saw the two of you again. But it never happened. You never showed up. And after that…silence. For years. You left me behind. You didn't even notice because of each other! I had to be the one to reach out to you, because Taylor reminded me of you, Vincent, and how you would aggravate me and make me feel alive and – and Taylor made me realize that our rivalry made me feel AMAZING because you saw me as your goal to surpass! But I guess it didn't mean ANYTHING in the end. For years after RMU, I thought about you. I MISSED you, both of you. Victor as a friend and Vincent as…Vincent. But no amount of petty drawings on the back of Rorschach tests would ever make you feel the same, would they? And now we don't even remember what we talked about. Without memory…it might as well never have happened."

A heavy silence fell over the table. A silence only broken by –

Ding. "XERGIS TIN!"

"Xerxes, uh, going to escape awkward situation." Xerxes sped off to the counter.

Even the overhead PA system seemed to be sympathizing with Albert, the singer asking of her traitor if they were listening, if they cared. (Wait, wasn't this song on last time?)

SkekSil was the first to clear his throat. "It seems Therapist has been ostracized by his peers. Such shame…Chamberlain was same way among other Skeksis. But you realize this is opportunity. Opportunity to rise above and prove why you are superior of set, no matter what they attempt to make you believe."

Vexen flinched; "ARE YOU TRYING TO START A MUTINY?"

"Mutiny?" skekSil repeated. "No. After all, Academic is leader of troop, and am not suggesting Therapist overthrows Academic. Merely that he outshines Lawyer and Investor."

"You don't NEED them!" Simon banged his fist on the table. "All they ever did was resent you after everything you did for them! You don't have to take that!"

"HEY NOW!" Deymos yelled. "NO DECLARING SCHISMS AT THE TABLE!"

"Deymos, this is MY mission, and I will give the orders!" Vexen spat. "AND I SAY THERE IS NO DECLARING SCHISMS AT THE TABLE!"

"…Academic is right," skekSil said. "Perhaps is best to bury sword. To make bygones into bygones. To – "

Ding. "SIMURGH!"

"THAT'S NOT EVEN CLOSE!" Simon yelled. "WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

"Perhaps Chamberlain will ensure Apex Captain's order is correct," skekSil said. "Therapist should accompany."

Deymos and Vexen rose to point at him in unison; "NO PULLING HIM ASIDE TO START SCHISMS!"

"Why don't you let me decide on it?" Albert asked.

"And do I get a say in deciding if Albert gets to drive a knife into my back?" Vincent asked incredulously.

"Okay, LISTEN!" Deymos pounded the table, and a small tidal wave of water washed out over everyone present. Once everyone was soaked, Deymos was sure he had the table's attention.

Ding. "CHARLEMEND!"

"Chamberlain's order anyway," skekSil said. "Apex Captain, let us proceed."

He and Simon went to pick up their orders and also Xerxes, who was still reticent to rejoin the scene. In their absence, Deymos continued his rant; "So you guys messed up in the early stages! I get it! You feel betrayed! You feel unappreciated! You feel like you poured in all that effort and you got NOTHING for it! Believe me, I know that if things had gone different with me, I'd be where Albert is right now: planning a betrayal because I thought I deserved it! And you know how I know this? Because I DID THAT. Not the me you're looking at, but remember how I said there's stuff you don't question? I'm living proof that Vincent's right. Destiny doesn't have a total hold on you. I'm two different people because I made two different choices, and that's because people made different choices around ME. So forget destiny! Just spit in its face!

"What matters is that if you want something, you have to be able to step up and demand it! We're all the villains here, okay? And NO, Vincent, NONE of your jabber about how there's no such thing as heroes and villains! We just ARE the bad guys! Or do you really think you'd be hailed as a hero even if you made it to ruler of the world? No! They'd hate you! You KNOW you were deep in the Darkness and you LIKED it! So SHUT UP! Villains don't sit back and accept it when they get dealt a bad hand. The other me sure didn't. He picked running off and backstabbing the person he always wanted to be his friend, because he got a different person who showed him friendship! And you know what, Albert? Vex really means it when he says there is NO ONE mediocre in the WHAM ARMY. Even me! I underperform on purpose! And being LESS then average isn't mediocrity! Check and mate! If you really want to move on? You'll have PLENTY of pals where we're from. A whole catalog to choose from. And you other two guys can make other friends.

"But you know what I think you want? Albert, you reached out and called and then the accident messed up your brain and now you can't remember what you even talked about if at all. You STILL want this rivalry back, so step up and take it! And Vincent, don't be a jerk about it! Albert, you want to be Victor's pal, so make THAT the ultimatum! Victor, you pick NOW. Friends or enemies. Last chance. Because believe me, I KNOW what it's like to be trying to CONSTANTLY get someone's attention because you've figured out how similar you guys are. And I know what it's like for that person to not care. Other me did what he did because he tried and it didn't work, but I'm trying now, and it IS working, and finally, FINALLY I'm getting noticed by the person I just wanted to say that I was good enough! So yeah! I get it! But here's the bottom line. You might think I'm doing this for your own good or because I'm ultra-sympathetic to you guys. But at the end of the day, IF YOU SCREW UP THIS MISSION FOR ME, YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT KIND OF REVENGE I CAN PULL IF LEFT UNATTENDED."

Finally out of steam, Deymos panted a bit, then sat back down. "That's my piece," he grumbled. "Work it out or we'll solve it for you."

Vexen stared at Deymos incredulously. "All this time…you truly wanted me to validate you? That was all?"

"DUH!" Deymos cried. "Everyone knew you were tough to impress! The Vexen Seal of Approval was the hardest title to come by! Xemnas was obviously biased and playing favorites for an agenda, but you were just out for yourself, so when you validated somebody, you MEANT IT."

"None of the others bothered to commit to such an analysis," Vexen told him. "It is correct, of course. But the others saw fit to go without."

"All I know is you were book-smarter than me and you thought you were better," Deymos stated. "And that we were the outcasts and that we basically got sent to die on the front lines so they wouldn't have to deal with us anymore, and if Xemnas had any other choice, he'd sit us both on the bench while he went with what HE thought was the better choices. And I think you remember me trying to get your attention. You're a recon guy like me. You weren't oblivious."

For a moment, Vexen didn't know what to say. Which was an unusual feeling for him. "I know that you liked to pester me," he said. "I know that you liked to claim a label of 'friendship' where there was none, for your own amusement. Or so I thought."

"And you always said no."

"…An error on my part," Vexen muttered. "One of very, very few. Because as it seems, you were perhaps the only one within the castle walls who could keep pace with me in several respects. But you will need to remember one crucial factor, one that you, a 'recon guy' yourself, failed to take into account."

"And what is that?"

"Xigbar," Vexen said. "You will recall that you now know I was closer to him than I ever let on. And I discarded that bond almost immediately. It was never against you. There was no one I wanted close. Perhaps out of a desire for safety. And we have seen how long that preserved either of us."

"Are you saying you're sorry?" Deymos asked. "Because that's what I'm aiming for here."

"I refuse to apologize for taking the course of action I believed correct at the time," Vexen said. "What I will say is that this alliance now seems the correct course of action. Do with that information what you will."

"…Yeah, that's actually the answer I was looking for," Deymos muttered. "Like I said. When you validate somebody, you mean it." A pause. "Also we have an audience."

Vincent, Victor, and Albert were staring at the two of them, wide-eyed.

"Don't stop working things out on our account," Victor said.

"We are not your personal entertainment!" Vexen snapped. "Deymos was making an example to follow! He and I reconnected, and now are executing a solid plan of action. Therefore, you must either reconcile, agree to disagree, or resign your control in the matter to the two of us."

A shifting of fabric, and Vexen lay the remote on the table, a hand locking it down in place. "And I do mean resign your control," he hissed.

Victor was the first to spring into action, looking to Albert. "That night, the night of the party," he said, "Vincent and I…we agreed to have our own celebration with just the two of us. It sounded like a wonderful idea at the time, and I wouldn't trade that memory for the world. We went to a bar, I was sober for once while I got Vincent hooked on martinis…I think we bought our first cat after that. But there's something you should know."

"I think you've made it clear that you got along very well without me," Albert told him.

"No," Victor replied. "Vincent and I talked about a lot of our best memories from our years at RMU. The things we would miss. And do you know what subject came up a lot?"

Vincent was blanching. Knowing this was critical to have out in the open, but humiliated to admit it.

"It was you," Victor said. "We – to tell you the truth, we made fun of you a lot, but you always being around to compete with Vincent and pester the both of us and rattle off facts about the ocean whenever slightly prompted…it was a big part of what we remembered fondly about the school. It's true that Vincent and I made a bond that we kept from everyone else. But it's also true that we…well. I can't speak for Vincent. But I knew I would miss you. Even if you were just the foreign student from G2 who always had something to say about fish. You were a memory, part of our lives, and…I did consider you a friend, you know. I just didn't show it enough. And I'm sorry. Not for what Vincent and I did that night, but…for everything else."

Albert regarded him for a moment, and then said "If you thought of me as a friend at all, you wouldn't have left me behind. I appreciate it. But it's not enough."

He rose. Began to walk away.

Vexen raised the remote, aiming it at Albert's back.

But first, Albert felt a strong grip on his wrist, holding him back. He jerked at the contact, but was unable to break the tightening hold. After a few futile attempts, he realized that he was being held by someone with superhuman strength, and slowly turned to look over his shoulder at Vincent. "Oh. Do you have something to say?"

"Yes," Vincent sighed. "Victor wanted to attend that party. He wanted to see his friends. I'm sure he counted you among that number. As he said…we spoke of you a lot that night. I was mostly the one who brought you up. Because when you annoyed me…I maybe enjoyed it more than I let on. You gave me something to strive for. And occasionally something to laugh at. It was me who talked him into leaving. I didn't care for any of the graduating class except for him. I thought. I suppose it says something that I spent so much time at the bar talking about how you aggravated me, and laughing about it once I'd had a few drinks. But it was me who decided the two of us should leave, celebrate our graduation together. Because our bond was strong. Victor was – Victor IS the person I trust most in the world. Or worlds, I suppose now."

"I think you must love him," Albert stated. "I can see why. He's very lovable."

"He thought I was taking him on a date," Victor called over.

"So did he," Vincent grumbled. "But that's not the point. The point is that I…don't remember what we talked about, but I know I was happier than I thought I would be when you called. Albert…I miss the days when you were my biggest problem. Fighting to outpace you was invigorating, it – it was nothing like fighting a true enemy. Things were simpler then. I could never stand that you spoke of fate the way Victor used to, and to be honest, you still annoy me like no one else can. But after Myers…you have no idea how much things have changed."

"So many years," Albert reiterated. "I thought of you constantly. You never thought of me."

"That may be true," Vincent said. "But then you called, and I was…glad you did. And then you tackled me in the mental health ward of an abandoned hospital and I was…glad you did that too."

Albert did a double take. "Really?"

"Nothing is simple anymore," Vincent told him. "The horrors inflicted upon me color everything. I couldn't figure out how to…be us again, after all that happened. But even if it wasn't the face I was expecting to see…in all this oddity, it's a wave of relief to see a familiar face. Especially the face of someone who gave me a reason to keep pushing myself. God knows I need that now. If you walk out, it will only be the two of us, and I don't want to speak for Victor, but – "

Victor had walked up to the two of them. "No, I agree," he said. "You're a friend. And Vincent, my dear, if I may throw you under the wheel, I did want to see you one last time, and all the others. But I think you can see why he was able to persuade me otherwise. Shall we forge a new agreement now? The three of us, fighting for this WHAM ARMY, fighting against those who have wronged us." He gave a chuckle. "Deymos was right to compare us to himself and Vexen. We are all so much alike, loath as some of us are to admit it."

Albert swallowed hard. "Just so you know, I have seasonal allergies."

"Is that your excuse for a bout of tears?" Vincent asked.

"I don't cry," Albert reiterated. (While very slightly starting to cry.) "But if there's really a place for me among your mission…well. I can't say I fully forgive either of you."

Vincent sighed. "Do you…understand how what we have is…?"

"I suppose," Albert sighed. "It still hurt."

"What," Victor laughed. "Were you jealous of one of us for having the other? It was me for having Vincent, wasn't it?"

"Neither way was the case," Albert insisted. "It was just – the loss of two familiar faces I'd come to count on. But I wanted to say that I have a faint memory of…having known your Monsieur M, somehow. Krueger and Myers must have done business. I can recall his face so clearly, and…being exasperated with him for some reason. I'm not certain if he traumatized me or one of my own as he did you, or simply belittled me for my vast knowledge of the oceans."

"You mean he wouldn't let you be Dr. Fish Facts at the table," Victor snickered.

"Whatever the case," Albert said, "based on this fragment of memory – and not because I think either of you is my final saving grace – I think I can count myself in on your mission. If you'll have me. Which you should, because you know how much I can keep up with the two of you."

"If you mean you'll strive to outdo Vincent at every turn," Victor said, "to give our targets twice the hell he does…I'll gladly have it."

"Then I shall have to work four times as hard," Vincent said. "In fact, why don't we make an agreement right now? To see which of us will prove most useful on the current mission."

"I don't need a stake in this," Victor said with a smile. "Now, watching you two fight over it? That will be gratification enough for me."

"Prove to me that you're still the one who's always a step ahead of me," Vincent growled. "Prove to me that you haven't lost yourself along the way while pining for old memories. Prove to me that you can aggravate me as much as you ever did."

Albert grinned through obvious tears. "Only if you prove to me that you have the drive and motivation that encouraged me to stay ahead and be your goal post."

"Then it's done," Vincent said. "As planned. Today, the WHAM ARMY. Tomorrow, Myers."

"After all…" Victor clapped Albert on the shoulder. "We are friends, are we not?"

Vincent's mouth quirked into a small, sly smile. His voice took a melodic quality as he added, "And our interests are the same."

Albert caught on, nodding. "We collaborate!"

"And…trust in fate." Vincent nodded. "To parcel out the blame."

Victor threw a fist to the sky; "There are ends we've all got that can justify the means!" He was definitely singing at this point. They all were.

"We negotiate," Vincent said.

Albert leapt atop the nearby table of an unsuspecting couple, knocking over a coffee with his Victorian-style boot. "THEN FABRICATE THE FACTS BEHIND THE SCENES!"

Victor spun, throwing out his arms to gesture to the other two; "Keeping all the details vauge and secrets hidden!"

Vincent put a hand on Victor's shoulder. "Safe in the balanced sheet of those you trust!"

Of course, seeing this go on, Vexen and Deymos were less than pleased, and both of them were united in the cause of fervent hand-gestures to indicate that the three singing cyborgs should take it outside.

Albert caught on, giving them a nod as he headed for the door, signaling for Vincent and Victor to follow.

"I cannot believe this." Vexen sighed, lowering his head into his hand.

"I can," Deymos said. "Heart resonance. And also, WHAM ARMY. Anyway, we should go round them up before they blow too much of the plan."

Suddenly realizing that was a very real risk, Vexen gave a start, then charged out of the café at top speed.

Deymos gave a look around to the patrons and staff of the café as he and Xerxes backed out the door; "Professional flash mob troupe! All scripted!" He tossed a small purse to the table Albert had jumped on. "Sorry about the coffee spill; that should cover it. Anyway, we're also opening a show at Prima Vista, VERY limited run, keep your eyes out!"

Then he was gone, and Xerxes with him.

SkekSil and Simon stared, wide-eyed, after the scene. "Chamberlain will take opportunity to finish Frappuccino in peace," skekSil said, "and pretend he does not know others."

"Simon will take the same opportunity," Simon agreed.

Vincent, Victor, and Albert had moved to the promenade outside, skipping and twirling with extreme agility across the expanse owing to their cybernetic upgrades. "Because HISTORY IS A STORY TOLD BY THE WINNERS OF THE FIGHT!" Vincent declared. "You imply a little!"

"Lie a little!" Victor crowed.

"Testify and try a little dreamer!" Albert cried.

"Who's gonna question what goes on in the middle of the night?" Victor posed. "Not a villain!"

"Not a schemer," Vincent said.

"Not our victims," Victor picked up, "or the awful – "

"In demeanor!" Albert concluded.

Their dance took them into the nearby bookstore. Only by then did Vexen, Deymos, and Xerxes catch up to where they'd been. Vexen brought up his hands, curling them into claws of frustration, as he gritted his teeth and made a feral growl.

"Okay, but we can SO corner them in there," Deymos pointed out.

"And shop for books," Xerxes said.

"Um, no," Deymos said. "You buy one book and then you walk out with half the store. Better to just not – okay, FINE, Vex, I'm coming!"

Leading the prance down an aisle of books, Victor sang softly, slyly, "So we all are agreed! Let's be vigilant and wise!"

Vincent nodded, following, with Albert behind him. "We need not pretend, for we act as friends who deal in plots and lies!"

The three came into an open area and huddled up as though in conference. "For our plan to succeed," Vincent kept singing, "we must share but one treaty. Monsieur Myers stays and ends his days at the hands of WHAM ARMY!"

"Where the softest things he'll touch are walls and metal!" Victor hissed. "Deep in the lab where Vincent he would keep!"

Albert found himself experiencing an unknown emotion as he saw the way Victor and Vincent exchanged their conspiratorial glance. Victor, so willing to defend and avenge. Vincent, who put his trust in the other's hands. What must it be like to be either of them? To have either of them?

In order to not let such questions drown his good mood and cut off the song, Albert clambered atop a bookshelf to dance his way back to the front of the store. Victor and Vincent did so on their own shelves, and the three hurried back up front.

By the time Vexen and Deymos arrived, the trio had leapt and somersaulted in mid-air at such an angle to fly right over them and head back out the door.

"WHY?" Vexen yelled.

"YOU were the one who made them!" Deymos hissed.

"And YOU were the one who wanted Albert!" Vexen yelled back.

Deymos attempted to argue, but shut himself up. "Yeah, I got nothin'."

Xerxes had checked out of the chase because of an enticing-looking picture book display near the front. Rounding up singing cyborgs was too hard, and now that he'd opened the cover, he was too invested in what would happen to The Littlest Elf.

Dancing down the Promenade once more, Albert took the lead; "Because history is a story told by the men who break the laws!"

"We supply a little lie – " Vincent began.

"To help the gullible to buy a little fable!" Victor belted, getting ahead of the other two and holding his arms out bent.

Albert caught the hint as well as one elbow of Victor's. "What will become of the righteous men who fashion Myers' flaws?"

Vincent took the other arm; "The rich."

"And well-respected," Albert added.

Victor took off skipping, bringing the other two with him; "Are no more to be rejected at our table!"

They passed through a gate to a paved circus with a modern-art sculpture blossoming from its center. Albert spun off on his own as Victor turned to Vincent, running a metal hand softly down Vincent's pale face.

"I'll be a comfort in your time of grief and anguish," Victor promised. "I'll be my Vincent's ever-faithful acolyte…every night."

Vincent lay his hand over Victor's, giving him another small, soft smile.

His back turned to them, Albert pressed a hand to the monument, looking out into the city and wondering how he had known Monsieur M after all. Because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he had the sneaking suspicion the man had been his friend once. "And part of me wishes Monsieur didn't have to languish…"

He looked over his shoulder to where Victor and Vincent were approaching. "But I can see it's him or them." And he was happy with the choice he'd made.

"Let him sit there and rot until he's forgot!" Vincent snarled.

Victor leapt up high on the monument, digging a foot and a hand to the twisted metal so he could hoist himself into the air and cry "LET HIM ROOOOOOOOT!"

The final movement of the dance took them into the nearby park, where Vincent, Victor, and Albert harmonized; "HISTORY IS A STORY TOLD BY THE PEOPLE WHO SURVIVE!"

"Let me call upon Dream Eaters!" Albert crowed.

"We will win," Vincent belted, "if we're the cheaters in the story!"

Victor shrugged. "What if it costs us memories so the three of us can survive?"

"That's a price we have to pay," Albert said.

"To live and fight another day for love and glory!" Victor affirmed.

"No one will stand in our way!" Vincent stomped a foot down, raising a fist high. "The three of us arise this day!"

Albert put his fist up in response; "So goes the story!"

And Victor his own; "Stick to the story!"

They maneuvered to point their arms together as all three raised arms were lowered; "HERE ENDS THE STOOOOOO-RYYYYY!"

Three outstretched hands piled atop one another. Albert, Victor, Vincent. And then they threw their hands back up again to seal their pact.

Vexen and Deymos finally caught up to them, both panting heavily. "OKAY, ARE YOU GUYS DONE?" Deymos yelled.

"YOU…" Vexen pointed accusingly at them. "DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH ATTENTION YOU DREW TO YOURSELVES? Were you NOT well-versed in stealth before this day?"

"Well, to be fair," Victor said, "we've never felt the need to break into song that strongly. I don't suppose you know why we did."

"Friendship," Deymos sighed. "It's friendship! That's all the explanation you get!"

"I thought you might be glad," Vincent posed. "We are at an agreement, and furthermore, willing to work for you, so long as you uphold your end of the bargain."

"We get you what you want," Victor said. "And you get us what we want."

Vexen nodded. "That and more. Now let us return to our base of operations before – "

"Hey, HEY!" Simon was barreling toward them, holding his scroll aloft. SkekSil was trying to keep up, but naturally had a much slower gait, and was lagging behind. Xerxes was floating at the midpoint between the two of them, a definitely stolen book clutched in his jaws. "WHAM ARMY, we have a problem!"

"Oh, what now?" Deymos groaned.

Simon skidded to a stop on the dewy grass, holding out the scroll for them all to see. "The infiltration's compromised," he said. "The skirmish has to be NOW."

Plastered across the screen was a text from Tsumugi: "PLEASE HURRY theyre figuring it out!". Followed by an emoji with a baleful expression.

"For the final time!" Vexen snapped. "It is I who takes charge of this mission, and I who gives the orders!"

"WELL?" Simon posed.

After a brief pause, Vexen sighed. "The skirmish has to be now."

...

"All right. I'm coming out now."

The voice came from behind a fastened tent flap in the town of Lohgrin. Lohgrin was an interesting locale: a desert village of large tents with almost no architecture to be seen. The big exception was the fact that the entire town was created inside the ruins of an enormous tower. It had probably served a religious or military purpose in the past, Roman supposed, but now it was just a camping ground for the tent village. And for a place made up almost entirely of fabric, it wasn't as impoverished as one would think. Not only had the mythril trading sparked a new economic chapter for Lohgrin, but it had done pretty well for itself to begin with, having many a tent devoted to merchants and commerce. There was even a large tent cluster that served as an inn. It moreso seemed that the people had gotten used to the lifestyle of tents over buildings than anything else.

It wasn't hard to find a shop that peddled fabrics and sewing materials. Snatcher had purchased what he needed and gone to work immediately. And now, Symonne had slipped into the new garments he'd made her, changing in the out-of-the-way tent so as to keep decency. Her chaperones, of course, insisted she needed her privacy.

The tent opened from the inside, and Symonne stepped out. Really, most of her prior clothes had been fine; she was just given two extra pieces. One was a pair of lavender under-leggings that finished the job started by her stockings and shorts, so now she had no upper leg exposed. The other was a cropped blouse to sit beneath her leather top – a little fluffy, edged in purple ruffles, black with lavender plaid stripes, off the shoulder and still baring midriff.

"As far as costume design goes," she sighed, "this isn't terrible. I think I prefer it." Though her face was still blank as ever, she did truly appreciate the new pieces. She gave a twirl to show off.

Foulfellow gasped dramatically. "Why, Roman! You didn't tell me we were in the presence of royalty! And yet I see before me a little princess!" He bowed deeply. "My princess, I am at your command!"

"Can you even see or hear me?" Symonne asked.

"She asked if you can see or hear her," Roman translated.

"Of course I did," Foulfellow replied. "That was an absolutely unnecessary assumption on your part to insinuate that I – "

"I can see that he's addressing an empty space some five feet to my left," Symonne sighed, rolling her eyes.

"She knows you're full of shit," Roman translated. "You're looking at the wrong place."

"Well, I, er…" Foulfellow stammered.

"Roman, my love," Snatcher broke in, "let us give Mr. Foulfellow the benefit of the doubt. Surely he knows that Miss Symonne stands just there." And he gestured to another equally wrong place.

"Yes, yes!" Foulfellow turned to address that patch of air. "My apologies, little princess! Of course I know you're – "

"Oh, but it seems I've indicated the wrong place," Snatcher said smugly. "Mr. Foulfellow, you really should've corrected me."

Symonne gave a snort that could've been the spark of laughter.

"That wasn't fair in the slightest," Foulfellow harrumphed. "At any rate, I'm certain Roman's magic or whatever it might be called will kick in for me any moment now."

"Yeah, I have no idea on a timeframe for that," Roman admitted. "Judging by the lag, it probably works faster for boyfriends than practical strangers."

"We'll just have to muddle along until then," Foulfellow said.

"Well?" Symonne gave a shrug. "What happens now?"

"Now?" Roman repeated. "We loot the place blind. All we have to do is decide on the play."

"If I may!" Foulfellow chimed in. "Could we not make a contest out of it? We split up five ways, and we meet again here when we're all through. Whosoever brings the most valuable loot is the day's winner, and whosoever brings the items of LEAST value must put forward the payment for our next meal!"

"Yeah…yeah!" Roman's eyes lit up. "Okay. Thievery contest. Let's fuckin' go!"

So they split up.

After picking a few pockets for coin, Foulfellow ended up at a jewelry dealer. "Pardon me," he said, pointing to a topaz necklace, "but mightn't I have a gander at that lovely, beautiful piece there?"

The merchant handed it to him. Foulfellow turned it over in his hands, pretending to inspect it. "Yes, yes, a fine work of craftsmanship – though a little uneven here in the back, and I can see how the artist tried to cover for it. For that, I should think the price tag should read a little lower, don't you?"

"No," the merchant replied. "You're the third person to try that today."

"Don't you miss the days of the good old-fashioned haggle?" Foulfellow urged.

"No," the merchant sighed. "Do you want the necklace or not?"

"Well, yes, I do," Foulfellow replied, "but my coins are rather large. I hope you can make the change. That or you can decrease the price by just a little so it will come out more even – "

"Sir," the merchant sighed, "if I lower the price, that means I have to count back even more change. I'm not stupid."

"Very well." Foulfellow counted out the coins – but with a little sleight of hand, managed to show the correct amount to the merchant before paying the correct amount minus one large coin. And this time, he wasn't caught.

His change was dealt back. He counted it for himself, making another trick maneuver with a finger. "Oh, dear, I am so sorry to trouble you, but it seems you've shorted me by a fair amount!"

"You sure about that?" the merchant asked.

Foulfellow put the coins back down. "Why, it's here in glittering gold!"

Well, the merchant couldn't argue with the fact that those weren't the right amount of coins. Though he suspected some foul play, there was really no way to prove anything at this point, so he forked over the missing change and went about his business.

"Horrible, horrible service, mind you!" Foulfellow jammed the necklace into his jacket pocket. "I'll have the town know you are a purveyor most disreputable, for all you've scammed me out of my hard-earned money!"

As the fox stalked off, the merchant just gave a sigh – but did wonder, deep down, if he'd actually made mistakes during this transaction, since his customer seemed very agitated.

Foulfellow wasn't done, of course. A few minutes later and he was pawning the necklace in the back district of the tower – narrower walls, sparser in population, like an alley.

"Made it with topazes mined in this very desert!" he advertised. "I come from a long line of jewelers, you know. The art has been in our blood for generations! See how not a single gem is uneven?"

"Yes, I do!" the woman he was selling to gasped. "It's beautiful! How much does it cost?"

Foulfellow named her a fair price. Fair because it was exactly how much money he'd actually lost in the transaction to purchase it in the first place – a little less than market price.

She gave him the money, and he now was back up to where he'd been before he'd acquired the necklace. Then she put it in a bag and turned her back to him to walk away.

"A pleasure doing business with you!" Foulfellow tipped his hat, then walked in place, starting out by practically stomping but making his steps softer and softer to make it sound like he was walking away from her. Then he quietly slipped after her, reaching out into her bag with an expert hand.

Then the necklace was his once more, and he darted away with his prize.

"Ill-gotten as the payment was," he cackled, "NOW I can say this gorgeous jewelry is well and truly stolen! And with profit to spare!"

Back in the main district, he passed by an artisan's booth that was selling nesting dolls traditional to this part of the world.

"Each is hand-painted with a unique design," said the artisan to her clientele. "Not a single one had artes involved in its construction. As you can see…" She opened up one of the dolls. "Huh? HEY!"

It was empty. The inner doll had been removed.

In a panic, she pried open the next doll. Also empty. And the next, and the next.

Gideon gave a wheezing laugh as he made off with the inner dolls from all of the sets.

Snatcher looked over the wares of a weaponsmith. The smith was all smiles and quite vigilant-looking, so this would take some finesse. Snatcher cleared his throat loudly; "My good sir, I've got inquiry upon inquiry related to these fine articles of craftsmanship!"

The smith approached him. "How can I help?"

"Well, to start with," Snatcher began, tapping at a pair of metal, bladed fans. "What advantages have these over what we could acquire in the cities to the south?"

"Well, you see, we have a mythril ore purer than anywhere else in the world," the smith began.

"Yes, yes." Snatcher nodded, with all the trappings of rapt interest. "I see."

"And mythril is highly resistant to damage – "

The smith rambled on and on. Snatcher nodded and gave commentary at all the right moments, but was really calculating when he could divert the man's attention. All it would take was the slightest of slips and –

No. He'd been betrayed.

At the counter behind the smith, Roman was tucking a shortsword into his jacket. Giving Snatcher a wink.

Using Snatcher as his diversion? Now that was cheating. Snatcher fired him a venomous glare.

Roman put out his tongue playfully, then turned it into a sultry lip-lick. He turned to make off with the loot –

Symonne's outstretched staff slammed into his ankles and Roman went spilling across the stone. "OW! FUCK!"

"Oh!" The smith hurriedly turned to see if Roman was hurt. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine – "

As the smith helped Roman to his feet – not feeling the stolen sword in his coat – Snatcher took advantage of that diversion to swipe the metal fans. He looked briefly to Symonne, who returned his gaze.

She nodded. And was that the beginning of a smile?

He nodded right back.

The three of them reconvened some paces away from the shop. "That was foul play and you are WELL aware," Snatcher informed Roman.

"Um, no shit?" Roman replied. "Darling, we never laid down any rules for this contest, and I'm simply taking advantage of all my resources. Also, what YOU did was even worse."

"Why, I never asked Miss Symonne to do such a horrid thing!" Snatcher replied, his voice laden with false innocence. "I merely…took advantage of my resources once you'd already been felled."

Roman gave him a playful shove, and then the two of them were snickering at one another.

"If you two are done with your lovers' quarrel," Symonne said, "I'm off to claim my own prize." Away she stalked to a shop in the back district.

"Why?" the vendor of expensive cooking instruments was sighing. "Why did you have to tell me about the stampeding elephant flock? Now I'm just gonna be worried about it all day!"

"But the elephants can't possibly penetrate the walls of Lohgrin," the customer replied. "And it's better to be informed than ignorant!"

"Well, I say what you don't know can't hurt you!" The vendor crossed their arms.

Except that the thing they didn't know was that Symonne, shielded from view by Maotelus' blessing, was approaching at a brisk walk. Since no one could see her, she was able to walk right up to the tent. And no one knew that she was setting it on fire right in front of them.

The entire district was soon thrown into a panic, bringing buckets of water to put out the flames that threatened to spread to the next few tents down. Symonne walked away with a bulging bag full of silverware that was made of real silver, and of materials even more enviable than that.

The group reconvened at the designated tent. Foulfellow did a double take; "Ah, THERE you are, your highness!"

"So you can actually see me this time," Symonne scoffed. "The perfect chance to tell you that I do NOT appreciate being cast in the role of the princess."

"Then what would you rather be?" Foulfellow asked.

"Is it not obvious?" Symonne spat. "The villain of the tale."

"Then I shall call you 'your HEINOUSness!'" Foulfellow resolved.

They put forth their goods. Symonne was the clear winner, and after some discussion of appraisal, Gideon the loser. But then Foulfellow made the drastic error of admitting that he'd picked up profit on the side by regaining the stolen funds he'd used to acquire his loot, Gideon started pummeling him and wouldn't let up until Foulfellow agreed to use his extra cash to pay for lunch instead.

They went to a temporary booth manned by traveling merchants. Two of them – fraternal twins, redheads with green eyes and wearing matching uniforms of blue – manned the front counter.

"Hi!" greeted the young man. His cinnamon hair was swept over one side of his forehead, making him look eerily similar to a younger and shorter Roman. "What can we get you?"

"Five of your finest non-dairy entrees," Roman replied.

"You're in luck!" the young woman chirruped. "We've had trouble getting milk in our stock anyway, so we've been testing out our new vegan recipe for mabo curry buns!"

That sounded agreeable, so an order of the tofu-curry-filled buns was placed on the counter.

"That'll be five hundred gald apiece," the woman said, "so for five orders, twenty-five hundred!"

Foulfellow went digging in his pocket, but also went to work with his words. "Actually, some of these delightful treats look less than – "

"Oh," the woman went on, "and you better not try to trick us or steal any of them like we've been seeing you do all over town."

"Trust me," the man said. "You don't want us to come after you."

Roman, Snatcher, Foulfellow, Gideon, and Symonne gaped. "What the f – " Roman shook his head. "Okay, you little brats better not say a goddamn word, or else I'll – "

"Snitches get stitches!" the woman chirped. "We won't tell."

"It was kinda impressive, actually," said the man. "Though the fire was a bit much. Nobody got hurt, though, so that was good."

"Actually, that's an anticlimactic disappointment," Symonne stated.

Roman leaned in to point at each of the twins. "You two better keep your mouths shut," he snarled, "or this won't end well."

"Hmm…I think I can make this better," the woman said. She leaned back in to whisper to him: "A high-profile man visited this town an hour ago, and everyone thinks he went back to Pendrago. But he was committing certain…violations, so we had a contract on him. He's still around, but he won't be going anywhere." She leaned back, grinning. "You don't tell on us and we won't tell on you."

Well. She'd just openly admitted they had a body buried somewhere. "…Okay," Roman resolved. "Honor among thieves."

His group turned away, voraciously tearing into the mabo curry buns.

"I would say this outing was a success," Symonne said.

"Do you worry about those assassins in shopkeepers' clothing?" Snatcher muttered.

"Not really," Symonne sighed, tossing her hair. "If I remember correctly, they're affiliated with the Scattered Bones. An assassin's guild that disguises itself as merchants by day. I thought to warn you…but it seems that their associates spilled the beans themselves willingly. A hive of idiocy if you ask me. If it came to blows, we could eradicate them easily, but I truly do think they admire our work."

"Did anyone else realize the similarities between that young man and our own renowned Roman Torchwick?" Foulfellow asked around a mouthful of curry. "In the physical sense."

Gideon nodded fiercely.

"Don't be daft," Snatcher countered. "Roman is far more handsome."

"Facts are facts," Roman agreed. "Also a better dresser."

Then, without warning, he was practically blinded by the horrific pain that resonated through his head.

When the Heathens finally reached the great tower that contained Lohgrin, Eleanor gasped, pressing both hands to her mouth. "It's LOTHRINGEN!" she cried.

"Huh now?" Yang replied.

"Lothringen," Eleanor replied. "A tower used for Abbey training. I spent a month here once." Her eyes traveled up the tower to where its top had been demolished, opening it up to the sky. "The floor my room was on…it's gone."

"Well, a millennium will do that to a place," Magilou said with a shrug. "No use crying over it."

"It ain't bad if she's gotta cry over it, though," Harley noted.

"I don't need to cry!" Eleanor sniffled. "Well, okay, maybe just a little!"

"Just let it out," Giovanni told her. "We're here for you."

"Apparently they connected this tower to the Earthpulse," Velvet reminded everyone. "Let's go find it and get this over with."

They weaved through the tents inside the demolished tower, stopping to ask for directions a couple times. They were instructed to ascend the great stairway to the side, and from here, Velvet could really see that this was the tower she'd explored before, the one where Melchior had lured Eizen with false promises in hopes of stealing precious artes.

Up they went to the second floor, which contained the room where that very incident had happened. It had been converted to a garden, and in the center of it all, a towering monolith.

"I can feel the strength of the Earthpulse here," Laphicet noted. "It all channels into this monolith."

"So…how do we get it out?" Molly asked.

"We don't," Laphicet replied, extending an arm. "We're the ones who go inside, to it."

He opened a silver rift in the air, leading from the garden to a darker plane of existence.

"Yep, there it is!" Rokurou crowed.

"Aye," Eizen agreed. "It's unmistakable."

"ONWARD!" Giovanni proclaimed. "TO THE SCARY-LOOKING PLACE!"

They filed in, leaving the rift open behind them. They seemed to have passed into another realm entirely: one of dark stone paths beneath an all-encompassing darkness overhead, where cliffs dropped off the side to a surging electric green below.

"Uh, boss?" Crusher said nervously. "I think this place might be a little…too scary."

"Nonsense," Giovanni told him. "But if you're scared, then just stick by me. I'll clobber any cosmic-horror monsters that leap out of the shadows to rip our heads off."

After hearing that vivid mental image, all of the Blasters decided to crowd around Giovanni.

"So what's the big multiverse explanation for where we are now?" Harley asked.

"The Earthpulse remembers all the history of the planet," Laphicet explained. "That was as far as I knew before I became Innominat. But now that I have the knowledge of the Empyrean, I can tell you more clearly. Every world has a heart, and hearts require veins and arteries, even if what they carry is not blood. The Earthpulse is the network of veins that ferries the energies of the heart – Light and Dark – throughout the world it represents, whether it's one planet or many. You can tell from how it looks that it's adjacent to the Realm of Darkness, and serves as a divider line between Dark and Light. But you can also see over the edge of the cliffs that mark the path that there is a cast of green. That's residual from the Fade, which is also close to the Earthpulse. Be careful not to fall in. You won't be dead, but you'll end up somewhere it's difficult to escape from."

"Gotcha," said Rokurou.

"You were wondering what it would be like to swan-dive into the green, weren't you?" Eizen realized.

"No," Rokurou replied. "…Maybe. I wasn't gonna DO it."

Onward they pressed, down the stone path, until a shining bubble of rainbow light rose before them. "This should be a memory relevant to one of us," Laphicet stated.

The bubble burst, becoming a hologram, a projection of an animated scene. Velvet strode down the claustrophobic halls of the Titania prison, a dungeon in every sense of the word, with her face set in a scowl of rage.

"Dear me!" someone else cried out. "Not a word of apology?"

Velvet looked this way and that, attempting to locate the speaker. Then she gasped, sensing a presence behind her. She drew her blade, spinning on a mischievous Magilou.

The memory-Magilou ducked the blade, grinning all the while. "HMPH!" she sneered. "What is WRONG with you people?"

The rest of the scene played out with Magilou introducing herself to Velvet, then walking away dramatically when it became clear Velvet was disinterested. The hologram then dissolved, becoming a fine rainbow mist.

"Ohhh, I REMEMBER now!" Magilou yelled. "That's how we met! Or how you met the first me, anyway. We were both locked up in that stinky prison, and you were starting a riot that you intended to send to the dogs so you could escape! But I was too smart for you!"

"And you followed me home," Velvet replied, smiling softly. "At the time, I was less than pleased. But now I'm glad you did."

They proceeded a few steps to the next rising bubble. In the same dank prison complex, Velvet watched Rokurou slay an onslaught of daemons and prison guards alike. Hearing Velvet's approach, he turned toward her, red eye gleaming. "More?"

A redheaded woman who accompanied Velvet in this memory warned, "This one…he's a daemon!"

"GET READY!" Velvet growled.

Blades were drawn. In the memory, Velvet and Rokurou dueled, until –

"I've gotta reclaim Stormhowl," Rokurou said.

"Stormhowl?" Velvet replied. "That sword we found?"

It was as though a switch had been flipped. Rokurou dropped his shortswords, rushing Velvet to shake her by the forearms. "YOU FOUND IT? WHERE?"

In the Earthpulse, Magilou remarked, "Thaaaat's the Rokurou we know."

"Both sides are of the same coin," Eizen corrected.

They watched as Rokurou ran off to collect his sword, yelling his gratitude. And the memory dissolved.

Rokurou – the real one – flinched. "Oh, hey. I remember that now, like it was actually me. And maybe it was. I dunno how this whole Nightmare thing works. But seeing that put a lot of context back in my head. I remember now how Shigure had me thrown in jail for trying to kill him." His brow furrowed. "I remember a lot about Shigure now."

And so it went – they saw Velvet and Rokurou coming at odds with Eleanor in the snowy village of Beardsley, where Harley remembered they'd picked up Electro. Then Eizen's memory came, his ship running them aground near Eastgand – close to where they'd entered the Earthpulse just now.

"Okay, so, like, no offense or anything," Giovanni grumbled, "but are we seriously gonna walk around trying to gather a year's worth of four different people's memories? Because that's gonna get real old real fast."

"Yeah, gotta agree on that one," Yang said.

"Okay if we split up?" Harley asked. "Maybe everyone who needs memories stays in here, and the rest of us go bum around town and get some knickknacks."

"I suppose I can live with that," Magilou sighed – with a wink.

"It's the plan that makes the most sense," Eizen stated. "There's no reason for everyone else to waste their time here."

"You're not afraid of needing extra hands for battle?" Velvet asked.

Eizen made a fist, running the other hand over the knuckles of it. "I wouldn't underestimate how strong these hands are. The four of us who need the memories, we were able to take down an Empyrean, and that was before we were granted added powers as Dream Eaters."

"Okay, we can go back to town, let's GO!" Giovanni turned and charged back to the rift. "LAST ONE THERE'S A ROTTEN EGG!"

"NOT ME!" Yang took off after him, pointing her arms behind so she could fire off Ember Celica for a quick boost.

Harley, Velvet, Laphicet, Molly, and the Blasters all took part in the race. Almost to the rift, it was clear Molly was falling behind, and about to lose.

"Hey!" Car Crash hissed. "Hey, BEN! One of us needs to make sure the kid doesn't lose!"

"Why not you?" Ben snapped back.

"C'monnnnn, I've been the rotten egg the last five times!" Car Crash protested.

"And I'm the team Butt Monkey!" Ben argued. "Which works out for me because insults make me stronger, but still!"

The problem was they'd both stopped to argue, and Molly was able to breeze right past them both. This resulted in the two of them getting into a mild brawl at the end of the course, until Ben finally got the upper hand and hurled Car Crash out into the garden.

"HA!" he yelled, pumping his fist. Then realizing he'd shot Car Crash right over the finish line. "NO, WAIT! FUCK!"

Everyone got a good laugh out of that as they descended back into town, minus Rokurou, Eizen, Eleanor, and Magilou.

"All right!" Harley clapped her hands as she looked out over Lohgrin. "The town is our oyster! Now let's go find some pearls!"

"Where do we wanna start?" Yang asked. "Personally, I could go for – "

Then she saw it. The unmistakable color palette, the silhouette she would know anywhere. She froze, her whole body overcome by a white-hot chill.

It was him. No, not Adam, thank the gods, but an evil nearly as potent. No, no, no, he should've been dead. How was he here?

As Yang stared at Roman Torchwick from across the town, all rational thought dissipated in favor of blind rage. The chill became intense heat; she lit up in a single motion, aflame and burning in the midst of plain view.

"YANG!" Harley flinched. "What's goin' on? You okay – "

Yang launched herself clear across town, propelling herself supernaturally far on each step. She drew back a single fist, building energy higher and higher, with a mounting roar of "AaaaaAAAAAAAGH!"

He didn't even see her until it was too late. He was chatting away, curry bun in hand, when her fist slammed into his head, sending him collapsing and skidding like a stone skipped on the lake.

"WHAT IN THE FLYING FUCK?" He struggled to peel himself off the ground. "Ugh, my HEAD, WHY?"

Instantly, Snatcher loomed over Yang; "YOU'D BEST APOLOGIZE FOR THAT, YOUNG MISS – "

Yang shoved him. Still burning with energy, with enough strength to send him tumbling backward onto the stone of the street. "YOU," she hissed as she advanced upon Roman.

Roman finally got his bearings, looking up to see who was approaching. "Oh…shit."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Yang screamed. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? MAYBE THAT'S NOT SUCH A BAD THING, BECAUSE NOW I GET TO DO THE JOB MYSELF!"

A streak of yellow and pink shot past on a jet of tomato-scented steam. Giovanni planted himself in front of Yang; "WhoawhoawhoawhoaWHOA! I'm all for a revenge mission, but you gotta tell us the context first!" He held his hands out toward Yang, holding back just half an inch from actually touching her.

"Giovanni," Yang seethed. "Get the fuck out of my way. I have someone to KILL."

"Eheheh…" Roman was well aware he was in trouble. He scrambled to his feet, not even bothering to go for his dropped hat. Forgetting about the Cudgel entirely. Palms out, he sputtered, "Look, Goldilocks, I think we – there's been a misunderstanding. Let's just calm down and talk this over – "

"TALK IT OVER?" Yang held her metal arm high. "YOU'RE ONE OF THE REASONS I HAVE THIS!"

Roman gaped. Pointed. "Soooooo. Definitely didn't know about THAT. Whoever did that wasn't me. Though let's be honest, it's pretty damn hilarious, and I WISH I'd had something to do with – "

"RRRAAGH!" Yang shoved Giovanni aside roughly.

"HEY!" Giovanni faceplanted on the stone. "What was that for? Friendly fire?" He scrambled to his feet as well. "Yang, seriously, you're out of it! I'm not saying he doesn't deserve what you're bringing down on him, but you just shoved one of your crime syndicate to the ground! And that one was ME, so that's especially bad! You need to take two steps back and calm down!"

Snatcher, in the meantime, had hurried back up to Yang to grab her fiercely by the arm, his other hand brandishing one of the fans he'd picked up. "This is your FINAL WARNING."

"GET OFF ME!" Yang pushed him away again. Further. He felt the scrape of the stone as he tumbled.

Foulfellow and Gideon had decided the safest path was to stay right out of it. Symonne, however, wasn't about to let this woman get away with harming her salvation. She slowly raised her staff, aiming it at Yang's back.

"This is your denouement," she hissed.

And all of a sudden, a flash of red and black was in the way.

"YANG!" Harley practically tackled Yang from behind, latching two arms around her waist. "Yang, sweetie, what's wrong? You can't just take off and scare me like that! I was afraid you – "

Then she noticed Yang's target. She dislodged one arm to wave at him. "Oh, hi, Romy! What's up?"

"THE HELL, HARLEY?" Roman yelled. "CAN YOU GET YOUR BITCH ON A LEASH?"

"Hey!" Harley scowled. "Don't talk about my girlfriend like that!"

"GIRLFRIEND?" Roman spat.

"You KNOW him?" Yang yelled.

"Yeah!" Harley replied. Then she realized. "Oh. You knew him too, didn't'cha? Heh…Remnant's a smaller world than I thought."

"He was THERE!" Yang screamed – but she let Harley restrain her back long enough to explain. "Beacon FELL because of him! He tried to kill me – and RUBY – and my whole team more times than I can count!"

"Four," Roman said flatly. "It was four. And if you can't count to four, you have issues."

"So, uh, this is kinda awkward," Harley admitted, "'cause I kinda…made friends with him sorta. I mean, we had a rough start, with that whole part where he smacked me off a flyin' eel and told me to eff off while I fell onto a world that was blowin' up, but we worked through – "

"YOU DID WHAT?" Yang burned twice as bright.

"Yeah, real smart idea there, Harls," Roman groaned. "Get her even madder at me."

"I don't have ANY reason not to bash your head the fuck in until your brains bleed out your nose!" Yang roared.

"YEAH YOU DO!" Harley hugged her tight. "'Cause he's my pal!"

"Don't fall for it, Harley," Yang snapped. "This is like with the Joker. All he'll ever do is bring you pain."

"But ya don't get it!" Harley protested. "He had his own person pullin' the strings! It was that Cinder lady who made him go to Beacon!"

"Look," Roman said flatly, "for what it's worth, would we have been friends without Cinder in the mix? No. Would I have done the same thing if you and your little black-and-white-and-red-all-over ensemble had gotten in my way, personally? Yes. Would I have bothered if you and I had kept our distance? Yeah! You just let me do my thing and we'd have NO beef. The Bitch Queen steered us together, and she's the bad guy here."

"YOU THINK THAT CLEARS YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID?" Yang roared. She jerked forward, trying to break out of Harley's grip.

"Nononono WAIT!" Giovanni ran back up to Yang, clutching her arm tightly. "I get it, okay? We pal-ed around with him in Twilight Town after you went to the slumber party! He didn't know we knew you and you didn't know we knew him, and honestly, he and his whole WHAM ARMY syndicate are a little too hardcore for us Heathens to make a permanent alliance, but we can still have epic team-ups because we're all villains who understand the meaning of flair! And it doesn't sound like he was THERE there when you lost your arm or anything. Actually sounds a lot like he just kinda blundered around and then died in that fight – "

"Thank you for the ringing endorsement," Roman told Giovanni flatly.

"But end thesis," Giovanni said, "he's dating my girlfriend's dad, so I need you to NOT turn him into pavement juice!"

That had given Snatcher enough time to get back on his feet and reposition himself. He skidded right between Yang and Roman, both fans akimbo. "You've made it very, VERY clear this is a declaration of war," he told Yang. "I, of course, am a gentleman, and will welcome one FINAL chance to talk things out peacefully. If not, however, you must understand that going after him is more or less a signature on your death notice."

He caught a glimpse of Symonne taking a more advantageous position, aiming at Yang so she wouldn't hit Harley or Giovanni in the process. Snatcher gave her a nod; she understood to hold until he signaled her.

"THEN I GUESS YOU DIE TOO!" Yang shrieked at him.

"Well then," Snatcher said. "It's decided."

He was about to signal to Symonne.

But then the gates to Lohgrin exploded.

The entire town was cast in a dark shadow of malevolence, the likes of which hadn't been felt there in too long. Everyone – Heathen, WHAM ARMY, and villager – turned to look at the source of the disturbance, the entity that had blocked out the sun for them.

Heldalf strode into the town, standing taller than anyone present, radiating Darkness off his very being.

"A hellion?" someone called out.

"No!" someone else yelled. "It's impossible! They're all gone!"

Symonne dropped her vantage point. She rushed to Roman's side, her confidence again cracked.

"It's him," she said, voice quavering. "I've betrayed his memory, and now he's found me!"

Roman instinctively reached down to pull her close. "Not on my fucking watch."

"Listen to my declaration," Heldalf said in a booming voice. "The Lord of Calamity has returned to this earth. And shall not be stopped until nothing of this miserable planet remains."

He raised both arms high; Darkness rippled forth in squidlike tentacles, reaching out across the village. Tents were shredded; merchants' counters were smashed to splinters.

Instantly, panic set in. But that only became worse when the immense green dragon swooped down from above, peering in through the broken ceiling to breathe a fire that alit most of the main district of Lohgrin on fire.

"Okay, you know what?" Yang turned away to face Heldalf. "Screw you, Roman. You're not off the hook, but I am still a Huntress." She clicked Ember Celica into the ready position. "And this can't fly."

"Awwww, HELL YES!" Giovanni scooted in to one side of Yang while Harley struck a pose on the other. "Now all we need is – "

The blur of red and black shot out in front of them. "Tell me you weren't about to have all the fun without me," Velvet said with a toss of her dark mane.

Laphicet levitated herself down to one side of Velvet. Molly scooted in on the other, striking a pose. And with that, all of the Banzai Blasters filed in behind Giovanni, Harley, and Yang, striking even more ridiculous poses.

Heldalf gave a deep, throaty laugh. "You think your meager forces can stand against the Lord of Calamity?"

"Lord of Calamity?" Velvet's eye twitched. "Well. I was going to tear you apart on principle, but now that you've taken my title, it's PERSONAL."

She launched into the air, claw extending. And the rest of the Heathens charged along with her.

"Gentlemen and your heinousness," Foulfellow said hastily. "Might I suggest we…make an exeunt?"

"You've taken my line," Symonne replied.

She, Foulfellow, Gideon, Roman, and Snatcher turned to bolt away – only for the dragon Zel'xed to shoot a wall of flame right in front of them, cutting off their exit.

So they turned back – and Zel'xed boxed them in with another wall of fire.

"Wonderful," Roman sighed.

Velvet's claw extended, swiping at Heldalf. He countered her strikes with his own hand, blocking her from landing a single hit. Then, with a single backhand stroke, he flung her across the district. Laphicet was next to take her place; he charged a white-hot beam of energy, firing it directly at Heldalf. Heldalf was suddenly no longer there, reappearing elsewhere in town. Zel'xed descended, aiming directly for Laphicet.

"I see you remember how the game is played," Laphicet muttered. Once, he'd been halted by a dragon who had been able to match his power level.

He briefly wished Silva's soul to rest in peace before he set about attempting to incinerate Zel'xed the same way he had Silva.

Harley, Giovanni, and Yang hit Heldalf at the same time. Two baseball bats, two gun-encased fists. Heldalf took the whacks without even flinching, even when Yang finally released all her pent-up power. Even when Giovanni hit him the thirteenth time. Tendrils of Darkness encircled the waists of all three, hoisting them up.

"NononoNONONO – " Giovanni yelled as the tendrils threatened to throw them into the raging inferno Zel'xed had set.

Then the one holding Giovanni dissolved, dropping him suddenly to the stone below. Then Harley, then Yang.

"GO!" Molly yelled. She'd been able to Dumb down the Darkness, dispelling the tendrils. "YOU GOTTA RUN AWAY!"

"NO!" Harley yelled back. "That's what YOU gotta do! This guy started it with us and we gotta finish it!"

"Okay," Molly resolved. "Then if you guys fight…I'll fight too!"

"WHA – BEAR TRAP, DID YOU SMACK YOUR HEAD ON SOMETHING?" Giovanni yelled. "YOU CAN'T JUST – "

She'd found a mythril dagger, toppled in the cataclysm. She swept it up, then rushed Heldalf. "I CAN'T JUST SIT AROUND AND DO NOTHING!" she yelled.

Heldalf laughed at the sight of her. It took only one shot of Dark energy to send Molly toppling head over heels, nearly impaling herself on her own blade. She could feel that her stamina had been decreased significantly.

"NEW PLAN!" Giovanni yelled. "PROTECT BEAR TRAP!"

"WATER BUFFALO MANEUVER!" Harley screeched.

She, Yang, and Giovanni assembled at equidistant points around where Molly had fallen, their backs to her and weapons out.

"BOSS NEEDS OUR HELP!" Crusher yelled. "LAST RESORT, LET'S GO!"

He, Flamethrower, Darkstar, Spike, Ben, and Car Crash surged forward. They noticed, however, that there were others joining the fight. The twins who'd run the traveling merchant stand, along with a man in a dark ponytail and the same uniform. And a man who looked closer to middle age, in a brown leather vest and a loose white shirt.

"NOBODY MESSES WITH THE SCATTERED BONES!" the male twin yelled.

"NOBODY MESSES WITH THE BANZAI BLASTERS!" Crusher echoed.

All ten of them descended on Heldalf, striking quickly with knives and guns. It didn't do much damage, but it did confuse Heldalf a fair bit, as though they were a swarm of gnats and he had to decide which one to slap first.

"Nice stab!" Crusher yelled to the man in the leather vest.

"You aren't too bad with that little Siegfried yourself," the man replied in return.

Crusher supposed "Siegfried" was this world's word for "gun." "I'M CRUSHER!" he yelled.

"Eguille!" the man yelled back with a winning smile.

"HEY!" Flamethrower yelled to the male twin of the Scattered Bones, the one who looked like Roman but obviously less handsome. "I can get you up high for a downward stab!"

"Then let's do it!" The redhead ran to him. "I'm Talfryn, by the way!"

"Call me Flamethrower!"

He squatted. Talfryn reached him. Flamethrower lifted up the soles of Talfryn's feet, and he hurtled through the air, flipping twice before he attempted to stab Heldalf in the head. Heldalf, of course, batted him away like he was nothing. "AUGH!"

"TALFRYYYYYN!" Flamethrower ran after his new friend.

"HEY!" His twin rushed Heldalf, her dagger aimed for his heart. "That was my BROTHER!"

Heldalf reached for her next, only for her to be shielded by Darkstar. "I gotcha!" he barked.

The blow knocked them both back – but the woman caught a glimpse, just for a second, of the same man who was bowled over atop her standing on Heldalf's other side and getting in a few good shots. But then he wasn't there. Trick of the light, perhaps.

Darkstar leapt back to his feet, throwing down a hand. "Don't worry," he said. "I – oh. WHOA."

He'd just realized how beautiful his new ally was. But he shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time, and he believed in respecting women anyhow. Letting her know he had just checked her out wasn't respectful, even if it was actually just her face.

She took his hand. "Felice," she said with a grin. "It's my name."

"Uhhhh…" He choked. "Stardark. I mean. Starkdar. DARKSTAR!"

Felice giggled as she was helped to her feet. "Don't worry. I think you're cute, too."

The man with the dark ponytail had managed to latch himself to Heldalf's back, driving in his blade over and over. Small spurts of Darkness erupted from each wound, but the injuries quickly closed over. Heldalf then reached a meaty fist back to grab him by the neck, holding him out front, dangling his feet over the ground.

"N…no…" The man struggled against the fist, grasping at the claws with his own fingers. He was losing air quickly.

Then Heldalf, to his surprise, was punched in the face, and it caught him so off guard that his grip loosened. The man he had hostage dropped to the ground. Heldalf's assailant, Spike, quickly grabbed his hand to drag him away.

"This rescue is brought to you courtesy of SPIKE!" she yelled.

"Spike?" His voice was husky, his eyes wide with awe. "I'm…I'm Rosh."

"Nice to meetcha!"

A great Dark aura emanated out from Heldalf in sphere form, hurling all of the gnats away from him. Blasters were blasted; Scattered Bones were scattered.

He intended to return his attention to destroying Lohgrin, but then a spark of magic caught his eye. A burst of water, dispelling the nearest wall of flame. Through it leapt a familiar silhouette, plum-colored hair, pallid skin.

It was her. Her name…what was her name?

Something to do with the sea.

No, "Symonne." It was "Symonne."

She came to a cold stop when her eyes locked with his. And he knew what he had to do. She'd always been at his side, she had taken blows for him, she had been the most devout follower of his cause –

(His charge. He couldn't let her get away.)

"Symonne," he grumbled. "You will return to your proper place."

Symonne trembled. Nearly faltered. But then felt two hands on her shoulders – one gloved, the other long-fingered and graceful.

"No," she said sternly.

"And if you have a problem with that – " Roman began.

"You can take it up with the two of us," Snatcher said smoothly.

Heldalf raised his hand high. Darkness gathered.

Roman tossed Foulfellow the mythril sword he'd stolen. "You might want this!"

"NO I DON'T!" Foulfellow sputtered.

But Gideon had already outpaced him, enormous hammer drawn back.

Heldalf rushed the crowd. Roman, who'd finally had the good sense to retrieve the Cudgel, sent burst after burst of Burn energy right into the hellion's eyes. This allowed Foulfellow and Snatcher the opportunity to disperse to either side of him, slashing with mythril sword and fans. Gideon managed to crawl up onto Heldalf's broad shoulders and whack him repeatedly in the head with the mallet, THUNK THUNK THUNK.

Then came the piercing scream. All halted to look up to the sky.

They'd forgotten the dragon. Symonne was being dragged away by Zel'xed.

"ROMAAAAAAN!" she yelled. "ARCHIBAAAAALD!" Then steeled her confident façade. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR EMPLOYEES!"

The two she'd named rushed to where Zel'xed had taken off, but the dragon had already gotten too high up.

"ERM, EXCUSE ME!" Foulfellow yelled. "YOU'RE LEAVING US RATHER IN THE LURCH!"

Heldalf then grabbed him and Gideon with a hand each, slamming them both into the stone of the ground. "I have had enough of this foolery," he snarled.

Then came the blizzard.

It was sudden: a hail of snow and ice that fogged into Lohgrin, raining hard on the flames. Putting them out immediately. Sharper, larger hailstones redirected their path toward Heldalf like little darts. They stabbed into his skin, releasing more bursts of Darkness, and it seemed that this was the first blow to really hurt him.

A ramp of ice materialized into Lohgrin, with two people riding upon it as it manifested. Both women. One had deep red hair, clothed in a red tunic, white leggings, and a short jacket. She withdrew two shortswords from sheaths at her back, pointing them at Heldalf.

"Are you serious?" she barked. "How many times do I have to kick your freakin' butt?"

The other woman was obviously the one creating the ice trails. And probably the blizzard. She was clothed in pure white, blouse and pants with diaphanous layers of fabric billowing as inset gems sparkled. Her platinum-blonde hair was bound into a thick braid. She threw her hands out toward Heldalf, beginning to encase him in a thick block of ice from the ground up.

"YAH!" The redhead leapt at him, stabbing into one shoulder each with her swords.

"You…" Heldalf's eyes widened. "I remember…"

"You better!" the redhead yelled.

"The Shepherd's right-hand," Heldalf realized.

"Yeah," the redhead confirmed, "and you're lookin' at the new one!"

She backflipped away, her daggers ripping out of him in spurts of Darkness. The ice continued to rise, with another wall of it forming around Heldalf, spikes pointed inward on him.

Before he could be completely frozen, Heldalf called a pool of Darkness beneath his feet – a Corridor. He sank right down into it.

High above, Zel'xed gave a roar and winged away. Those who watched could see flashes of magic, as though something in his claws was fighting to get out.

Roman, Snatcher, Foulfellow, and Gideon knew exactly what.

"No…" Roman breathed hoarsely, watching the dragon disappear.

Now that Heldalf was gone, the Darkness lifted. The blizzard had put out the fires, and was abating. Steam rose from the ground; the Lohgrin citizens began to peer out of the hidey-holes they'd found.

The two women who'd come in for the save dropped off the ice ramp, which melted and splashed to the ground. "Dang it!" the redhead yelled, swinging a fist and stomping a foot. "He got away!"

"I think this was the best outcome we could expect," the blonde replied. "We don't even have the powers of the Shepherd yet! There was a good chance one of us wasn't going to survive that fight, but here we are. And now we have the chance to try again."

"Yeah, I know," the redhead pouted. "Still sucks, though."

Heathens, Blasters, and Scattered Bones were returning to the scene of the crime as well. "What happened?" Harley asked.

"The boss!" Talfryn yelped.

"What now?" Giovanni turned to look at him.

"No, no, no!" The redhead stomped a foot. "I'M the boss!"

"Oh." Giovanni turned to look at her. "I see the confusion now, as I, Giovanni Potage, am also a boss."

The redhead nodded. "Rose. And they're mine." She gestured to Talfryn, Felice, Rosh, and Eguille.

"Those ones are mine," Giovanni said as he pointed to Crusher, Car Crash, Flamethrower, Darkstar, Spike, and Ben.

"Does anyone mind explaining to me what the HELL is going on?" Roman yelled.

The blonde woman sighed. "That…probably falls to us."

"You tell it," Rose urged. "It's your story anyway."

The blonde nodded. Then addressed the gathered crowd. "My name is Elsa. And I'm here to save the world from the man you just fought."