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.

162. Damned If You Don't

A/N: So this is only half what I wrote. It turned out double the length of a usual chapter, so I have the other half waiting to deploy as a second chapter. Anyway, a warning that Aghoul's side of the plot just takes a dive straight down into horror-comedy town with gore and Eldritch concepts, so be aware of that going in, please.

...

Needless to say, after boarding the train, Vexen had a few questions for Aghoul.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? WHAT KIND OF VEHICLE ARE WE EVEN ON? WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE MONSTRO'S SMALL INTESTINE? HOW WERE YOU ABLE TO SHOW UP WHERE AND WHEN YOU DID? WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR MISSION TO BRING DOWN LOKI?" He pointed up to the ceiling as the chorus of Aghoul's chosen dance party hit chimed in. "AND WHAT IS A VENGABUS?"

"An inter-city disco, New York to San Francisco," Aghoul replied calmly. "Aren't you listening?"

(Deymos had realized the genre of music and was discreetly handing Enmu's construct body a small purse of munny to request one very specific song.)
"That's the only one of my questions you're going to answer, isn't it?" Vexen realized.

"That would be pretty hilarious," Mim replied, "but we probably owe you some vague explanation at least. Come on, sit down and we'll talk."

"Do we have to sit down in the flesh labyrinth?" Deymos protested, obviously on edge.

"Cozy, isn't it?" Mim asked.

"Yeah, if you like the feeling of being digested." Deymos sighed as he trudged to the nearest seat. "STILL mad at my Heartless for picking Monstro of all places to chill out and giving me years' worth of stomach-o-vision when we reunified." He gestured to the seat, making eye contact with Vexen. "Well? I know you're gonna barge past me anyway – "

"Take the window," Vexen said sternly.

"Huh?" Deymos flinched. "The window's the best seat! Why would you – "

"TAKE IT!" Vexen yelled. "If the view means THAT much to you, then leave the innards to the biologist. Trust me, as unpleasant as this view may be, I've seen worse."

Deymos slid into the seat, scooting over to the window side, and Vexen settled in beside him. Mim and Aghoul took the seat in front of them, which lifted up on four feet and turned itself around to face Vexen and Deymos.

"Well, this keeps getting worse by the minute," Deymos groaned.

As Mim and Aghoul began the exposition dump, the other members of Vexen and Deymos' entourage mingled with Mim and Aghoul's. Immediately, Enmu, Carrion, and Albert all figured out they were masters of nightmare manipulation, and crammed into a seat (which, yes, involved Enmu's false body sitting on his real one, which made perfect sense as far as Albert or Carrion was concerned) to discuss it.

"I tend to use nightmares to conduct therapy sessions that rapidly become demented," Albert said excitedly.

"Amateur," Carrion scoffed. "I look to that which makes others mad by the very sight, then I simply nod at it in greeting. Then I forge it into a Nightmare of considerable strength."

"Now that sounds pretentious," Enmu replied. "I prefer the old-fashioned method of taking what is already being dreamed about and twisting it into a Dark wasteland that preys upon the specific fears of the dreamer!"

"I'm going to have to remember that one," Albert said. "Actually, both of those methods sound incredibly effective. May I…um…'borrow' them?"

"If you remember who taught you the ways," Carrion said proudly, "and say so when asked."

"You couldn't pull off my ideas better than I do anyway," Enmu said smugly, "so why not?"

Victor and Vincent had taken a seat together and were watching the three chat away. Vincent's blood boiled. Why did Albert always have to do this? Why did he have to take the spotlight in every room he walked into? Showing up Vincent immediately by going and making new friends at random and being the social butterfly of the ball.

But a creeping guilt ran through him. Why did he care? He'd just been staring at Albert longer than he'd paid any attention whatsoever to Victor. If Vincent had Victor, that meant he'd won. Victor was the only person whose attention he truly cared about, or at least that had been the case before the WHAM ARMY. But here he was, still angry about Albert, angry that other people were listening to his stupid rambles…

…Wait, was Vincent jealous? Was he feeling all this resentment simply because he wanted to be Albert's primary annoyance? No, no, no. There had been enough teasing about that when they'd been in school together, and Vincent couldn't stand any more of it. First of all, he didn't want to prove the old hecklers right. But infinitely more importantly, what a betrayal to Victor – to reunite with him at long last, to give himself over completely to the man he loved, and then stare at a pretty piece of eye candy whose main draw was being aggravating.

Vincent gave a sigh. He forced himself to look away from Albert. Told himself that Albert deserved to make new friends, people who went with him better than Vincent and Victor did. This was a good thing. He took a breath, intending to start a conversation with no relation to the topic. "Victor – "

What happened next confused Vincent to no end. Victor simply said "No offense, but excuse me" and got up, pushing past him. For a moment, Vincent wondered if Victor had caught onto his wandering eye.

But Vincent wasn't the only one burning with envy. Victor just hadn't gotten far along enough to put a name to it yet.

"Hey!" he said as he approached the nightmare trio. "After all we've talked about, board games and musical numbers, you're just going to drop us for some new friends you just met?"

Albert stared at him in disbelief. "This is surprising. And flattering. You want me to sit closer to you?"

Victor shrugged. "I guess it's your choice. But…" He looked to Enmu with a sly smile. "You've been the one behind the music, no?"

"Yes!" Enmu cried joyfully. "The train didn't actually have a sound system before I took over. I added it myself for the hellions who we're about to pick up." He gestured proudly to the roof, where the music was coming from several fleshy, misshapen ears growing right out of the ceiling.

"I haven't seen much of a nightlife since I woke up in that hospital," Victor said, "and I already know Vincent's going to be a stick in the mud about it." He put out a metal hand. "May I? Friend to friend."

Albert stared blankly at him. Then muttered "I don't know what to do. This hasn't happened before."

"Dance with me, silly," Victor replied. "I remember how good you were in university."

Albert still just stared, until Carrion picked up his hand and slapped it down on Victor's so Victor could pull him up from his seat. Then Victor and Albert started to dance in the aisle to the throbbing beats. Looking like the most natural thing in the world.

Victor gave a debonair glance to Vincent. "You know, this wouldn't be complete without my lover." He extended a hand –

Vincent slapped it away. "I'm not dancing."

"Come on now, Vincent," Albert urged. "Didn't we dance together in that coffee shop? Don't you want to try and prove how much more gracefully you move than I do?"

"I have nothing to prove and no desire to dance." Vincent folded his arms.

Victor and Albert exchanged glances and smirks.

"And if either of you seizes me against my will," Vincent went on, "the resulting scene won't be pretty."

"Vincent, I do love you with all of my heart," Victor said, "but you are no fun. It's an unfortunate truth."

"I'm not any fun either," Albert added, "but you're even worse than I am."

"Just continue doing what you were doing," Vincent told them both. "I'll…be content to watch." His expression softened.

"All right," Victor said. "If it suits you." Then he and Albert went back to spinning each other up and down the aisle. They really were such a graceful and energetic pair together, and watching the two of them, Vincent felt none of the envy he'd burned with earlier. No, he couldn't stop watching just how beautiful both of them were.

He knew Victor would always be the most beautiful to him. (Didn't he?) So he put his trust in himself and let his eyes admire the pair of them playing off each other. Having fun together like this, they almost looked like the more natural pair than Victor and Vincent did.

Oh, now Vincent actually started to burn again. But twice as hotly as before. He wasn't sure which of them he was actually jealous of this time.

Then he was utterly distracted by the sound of Simon yelling "THAT'S NOT HOW YOU SOLVE A QUADRATIC EQUATION!"

"Are you saying you're smarter than ME?" Sho yelled right back. "I'm a Reaper!"

"No, you're not!" Simon argued. "You're an EX-Reaper!"

"And I'm older and wiser than you," Sho went on. "Mathematics are my life, and they were my death! A stupid kid can't know more than me!"

"Okay, first of all, I turn eighteen in a few months," Simon growled.

"Really? Because I did the math – "

"I COUNTED THE TIME I WAS DEAD!" Simon yelled. "It's not like aging goes on pause when you die!"

"You're not even Simon 1.0! You're a double! And one who would've been OBLITERATED by his cult if they'd known how close you were to adulthood!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT THE APEX!"

"RULE NUMBER ONE WAS NO ADULTS!"

"No, rule number one was no TRAIN DENIZENS! ADULTS WERE RULE NUMBER TWO, AND I WAS IN CHARGE, SO I MADE THE RULES! And none of this changes the fact that YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THERE'S SUCH THING AS A PRIME MERSENNE! You're probably just looking up math terms on your smartphone to sound smart!"

"OH YEAH?" Sho bellowed. "If you're so smart – then HERE!" He began texting Simon math problems rapid-fire. "Answer THESE, egghead!"

"Oh, I will." Simon began texting right back. "But YOU better answer the ones I send! Because even if I am stupid, all I have to be is less stupid than you!"

"Glad they're getting along," Deymos said with a roll of his eyes.

Whisp settled in beside Tsumugi, who was sketching on a drawing pad. "Hey," she said. "Nice to have another girl to hang out with who isn't twelve."

"I'm pleased to meet you too!" Tsumugi beamed. "Though maybe I should put on a face that's less plain. If there were prettier girls around, you'd probably want to sit with them instead."

"Shut up." Whisp nudged her. "You're beautiful. Girls have gotta support girls, right?"

"Exactly!" Tsumugi beamed. "I'm so glad you get it!"

"What're you drawing?" Whisp asked, leaning over to see what was on the pad. A very suggestive picture of two boys making out and stripping, by the looks of it.

"They're two new original characters I just came up with!" Tsumugi said proudly. "They're very much in love. I know the drawing is a little spicy, but I assure you their passion for each other is pure and they would die for each other?"

"…Original characters?" Whisp raised a brow at Tsumugi. "Because those boys look familiar. In fact, they look EXACTLY like those two boys up there." She pointed to Valentine and Letheo, sitting a couple seats ahead.

"Well, that's the thing," Tsumugi said. "I would never fetishize real-life people. I only like to ship fictional characters! But my favorite way to come up with characters as of being on Team DanganRonpa is to see people who work as my ideal 'model' for a character, and then imagine what they'd be like if I hollowed out their brains and replaced them with personalities I came up with based on anime stereotypes!"

"So…you're thinking right now about what it would be like to rewrite Val and Letheo's brains so you can make them make out for your entertainment," Whisp reiterated.

"Yes!" Tsumugi chirped. Then it hit her: "Oh. No. Wait. That didn't come out right – "

"So much for girls supporting girls!" Whisp ripped the sketchpad out of Tsumugi's hands and started beating her metal head with it.

"Please stop!" Tsumugi wailed.

"Not until you surrender!" Whisp snapped.

"I'M PRETTY SURE 'PLEASE STOP' IS A SURRENDER CONDITION!" Tsumugi screeched.

"…and that brings us to where we are," Mim concluded.

"Why am I not surprised you got sidetracked by completely ridiculous shenanigans?" Vexen sighed.

"You're doing the same thing," Aghoul reminded him. "Vie de Marli had NOTHING to do with your mission. Also, wasn't that the name of that man you couldn't stand?"

"YES," Deymos said.

"…He meant me," Vexen said, a little taken aback. "But, barring the minutiae that his name is actually 'Marluxia,' the answer is still yes. What grudge did you have with him?"

"He was mean," Deymos grumbled. "I dunno, if you're right about the first me teaming up with him under Maleficent, we're probably fighting like cats and dogs and Prince Sideburns who's admittedly very visually attractive is just eating popcorn watching the whole thing. It's like I couldn't even lay down for a five-hour nap without that guy getting on my case about abandoning him on mission! Like I'm supposed to know who my mission partners were every day."

"Odd," Vexen said. "You never seemed to miss when we were partnered. Though perhaps…not so odd, knowing you for whatever reason wanted us to be friends."

"The point is, forget Marluxia," Deymos grumbled. "I wish actually putting him in Castle Oblivion WOULD make us forget about him."

"I wish exactly the same," Vexen growled. "I don't know what offends me more: his insubordination and disrespect, his delivering the order to Axel to do me in, or the fact that he couldn't be bothered to end me with his own hands!"

"Sucks that he killed you, of course," Deymos groaned, "but man, am I glad he bought it right after, 'cause I KNOW I would've been next! …Well, maybe not. We're forgetting the original feud."

"The original feud?" Vexen's interest was piqued. "Someone Marluxia couldn't stand, more than either of us?"

"You didn't KNOW?" Deymos gaped. "Think about it. Big ego, workaholic, show-off daily, just soooooooo determined to prove he was bigger and stronger and more competent. Had a field day when he learned Marluxia had gone traitor and claimed he always suspected."

"XALDIN," Vexen realized. "Their dispositions would have made them natural enemies!"

"I got them off my case sooooo many times by aiming them at each other," Deymos bragged.

"I should have realized it," Vexen mused. "Perhaps I could have saved myself great annoyance from them both by doing the same…"

"Well, I'm bored now," Aghoul said.

"Me too!" Mim agreed. "Why don't we join the dance party?"

"A sensational idea, corpseflower!" Aghoul crowed. He and Mim left their seat to go groove along with Victor and Albert.

"So, Dr. Albert Krueger!" Mim called over. "I hear you're a specialist in MURDER."

"Do you want to hear about the games I play with people to determine if they should die or be in my Dream Eater army?" Albert said excitedly.

"Do I EVER!" Mim squealed.

In Mim and Aghoul's absence, Enmu's construct slid into their seat, facing Vexen and Deymos. "We still haven't gotten down to business," he said. "Hell is a big place. What exactly are you looking for?"

"A guy named 'Arius,'" Deymos said. "Used to live in Radiant Garden and then got thrown out. He was the reason we were in Vie de Marli. That was his exile town."

"We require his Summoner powers in order to access an Aeon," Vexen explained. "An Aeon that will allow us to challenge a god. Much in the same way that Mim and Aghoul do now with Loki."

"Well, they're losing to Loki," Enmu said flatly. "That's understandable. He's renowned for his vicious mischief. You're losing to Nergal. He's renowned for crashing his car into the rivers of the Underworld."

"HE IS STILL A GOD!" Vexen yelled.

"But I do think I can help you on this front," Enmu said with a coy smile. "The name rings a bell. There was some gossip about him not too long ago…"

"You know where Arius is?" Deymos' jaw dropped.

"TELL US AT ONCE!" Vexen yelled.

"Hm…you're being very rude to me," Enmu teased. "Maybe I won't tell you. I don't like being yelled at, after all."

Vexen was about to retort, but Deymos held up a hand; "Just…just let me do the talking." He turned back to Enmu. "Sorry for, y'know, being villains in a villain safe space, but we kinda need this guy's location. Now, you're a pretty savvy guy. You're a whole entire train! That's awesome! If you could just lend one little bit of your savviness to us so we can find our guy, that'd be great. Then we'll go back to letting you do all the hard work of…being a train, I guess."

"Flattery." Enmu smiled. "It goes a lot farther than yelling. This train is scheduled to make many stops, but I am going to add one more to our schedule: the realm of the demon Nightmare. Nightmare has certain connections to the world Arius was banished to, and what I've heard through the grapevine is that Nightmare is the one who accosted him. But I warn you…Nightmare takes trophies for keeps. You won't be getting Arius back without a fight."

"Seriously?" Deymos groaned. "Why is it always a fight? Why can't we outwit them with some kind of clever manipulation?"

"That might work on other demons," Enmu said, "but not Nightmare. It doesn't speak to others, and it doesn't reason with them. You won't be able to strike a deal with the devil on this one."

"Well, our warriors can step in and handle the situation for us," Vexen bragged.

"Your warriors?" Enmu repeated. "Oh, yes! You mean the two men dancing in the aisle, the one who's trying very hard to pretend he doesn't want to dance with them, the boy who's yelling about his ability to solve math problems, and the girl who's being hit with a sketchbook!"

"And also Agnus, Xerxes, and skekSil," Vexen grumbled. "Though I'm not certain I want to know what THEY'RE doing."

At the moment, Agnus was furiously taking notes while interviewing Coco. "You f-f-f-fascinate me to no end!" he gasped. "A R-Reaper…even a former R-Reaper…at such a young age, and with r-r-retention of most of your p-powers! I must know everything about you and how you work!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty kewl," Coco said with a big smile. "Got any more questions for me?"

"Let me s-see…" Agnus flipped through his notes. "You have used t-t-terms I have never heard b-before. They must be crucial to your existence. Can you define for me what 'g-g-glompage' is? What is the meaning of being 'p-pwned'? And c-can you explain to me the m-m-m-metaphor behind asking if you c-can 'has cheezburger'?"

"This is the best day of my life," Coco said with a wicked grin. "Those are all real important stuffy stuffz about being a Reaper! You'd better take real detailed notes on this one!"

As for skekSil, he seemed to have found a friend in Mendelson Shape. "Is good that Nightmare Lord is now respectful of your position," the Skeksis mused. "All the same, has committed grave errors, some of which are unforgivable. Hmmmm…"

"Sometimes," Shape hissed quietly, "I think about dismembering him in his sleep. I could even kill him. They'd just bring him back. But then they'd never stop giving me hell about it."

"Not if Shape wasn't caught…" skekSil said conspiratorially. "But of course, is only thoughts. Not plans upon which to act, hm?"

"What if I did want…plans?" Shape asked. "Just to think about as I fall asleep."

"Well, here is what Chamberlain would do if General were invited to WHAM ARMY…"

"Hey hey hey!" Deymos thumped the back of his seat. "Are you trying to start another mutiny back there?"

"Chamberlain is innocent!" skekSil called back.

"Yeah, like I buy that." Deymos slumped in his seat, crossing his arms. "Keep an eye on those guys."

Vincent was making a point of not looking at the aisle. He didn't want to dance. That was final. It didn't matter how beautifully Victor and Albert moved, how much fun it looked like they were having. Out the window his eyes were fixed, watching the hellscapes of different Underworlds roll by.

He was then aware of a new feeling that made even less sense: an overwhelming dread. Vincent whipped around to find Carrion sitting in the aisle half of his seat, giving him a glare.

"What do you want?" Vincent asked.

"I can sense nightmares of awe stirring within your mind," Carrion said. "What have you suffered?"

"The worst thing a man can suffer," Vincent replied. "I lost the one I loved the most. I lost my freedom. I was beaten down to nothing."

"Then you and I have much in common," Carrion said. "No wonder your nightmares are so dark."

"You can't be claiming you've suffered more than me."

"Do you wish to compete?" Carrion asked. "I was once a Lord of Nightmares. I loved deeply, passionately, but she was deceitful, leading me along to gain her own power. She threw me away for another to use, but it could yet have been repaired…had my grandmother not decided in my name to have her executed at her wedding. Revenge should taste sweeter than that, shouldn't it? I spent years pining for her, but at least I had my empire. Then my grandmother revealed her true plan: to overthrow me, destroy me, take everything I ever had. As though it had not all been hers two generations prior. But then, the worst of all. She raised me in the wake of the untimely death of my family. I learned she was responsible for this death, molding me into her pawn. She would not let my family pass to Heaven, instead binding them to the dolls that fueled her magic. She had destroyed my life from the very beginning of it all, for a throne she had worn out and bled dry already. I nearly drowned, then swam my way to exile, no destiny or purpose left as my world crumbled around me in the wake of her destruction. She all but ended the Abarat, leaving nothing but scraps."

"Then perhaps we do have that in common," Vincent said. "I was loyal to a boss, a mentor…like your grandmother, I suppose. He had me taken away to experiment on, keeping me locked in his basement, operating on me with no anesthetic, never letting me say goodbye to the man I'd never confessed to. The man who kept working in his office several floors up, and he never knew what had become of me. I starved. I nearly died of thirst. But I was unable to perish. My captor made sure of that." He held up a hand, skin peeling to show off a thin layer of gore and the metal underneath. "He made sure I was no longer human."

"We have both suffered fates even we never deserved," Carrion said with a nod.

"We have," Vincent agreed. "But I at least took matters into my own hands. I set out to destroy my captor, the same way he destroyed me. Every little part of his life. Picking off his circle of henchmen and making it clear he was next."

"I…saved the souls of my family," Carrion admitted, "but never came up with the opportunity for revenge."

"Tell me more about your situation," Vincent said with conviction. "I've had to think on my feet a lot. Maybe…I have some ideas about what you can do when you go back. A way to destroy your grandmother's empire and take back what's yours."

As Carrion and Vincent began to draw up plans of bloody mass murder, Tsumugi sheepishly made her way to Valentine and Letheo, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. "I wanted to apologize," she said solemnly. "I see now that trying to make fictional characters to be my playthings simply by imagining taking control of the bodies of the friends I have in real life is…not the foundation of a functional team. I'm sorry for thinking about erasing your minds to create new OCs, and I'm sorry I drew them being suggestive, because I guess I really was just sexualizing you two instead of the OCs, wasn't I? And I – "

"You did WHAT NOW?" Valentine yelled.

"WHY?" Letheo barked.

"Was…this not the right thing to do?" Tsumugi sputtered. "Whisp said I needed to apologize to you – and – " She looked back to Whisp.

Whisp, who was smirking because she'd convinced Tsumugi to admit to her crime.

"I said I was sorry?" Tsumugi squeaked. "No, no NOT THE BOOK – "

Letheo ripped the sketchbook from her hands and began beating her with it to the beat of her screaming "NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!"

Xerxes flitted around, chuckling. "Tsumugi in trouble!" he laughed. He'd just been circling the car, watching all the drama unfold, and how juicy it all was! But he'd seen enough of how the WHAM ARMY worked to know that this wasn't two factions at war. All the arguments, over mathematics and dance parties and mutiny and fetishistic drawings, were making the team stronger. They were villains; what were villains who didn't do awful things to each other every now and again, so long as they stopped before betrayal? These were the little spats that would liven up the warship all the more and fill it with sound.

A certain song's semi-mournful guitar intro, a strong backbeat betraying how it would soon become more upbeat about its somber material, resounded through the car. "This song again?" Vexen groaned.

"Again?" Deymos laughed nervously. "Where have you heard this – "

"At Nine Bean Hill. It's somehow on every time we enter. Any more and I won't write it off as coincidence."

"Well, do you…like it?" Deymos asked.

"I couldn't care less about it," Vexen snorted.

"Oh, now that's just too bad," Enmu said with a smirk and a wink. "After everything…"

Vexen's interest was caught. "What do you know? Are you related to this – "

Deymos wasn't ready to have his cover blown just yet, so he just yelled "I LOVE THIS SONG, BY THE WAY! I'M GONNA JOIN THE DANCE PARTY! YOU SHOULD JOIN THE DANCE PARTY TOO!" He got up, pushing past Vexen –

"I REFUSE to dance to this," Vexen snarled.

"Not you!" Deymos huffed. He seized Enmu's sleeve: "YOU."

Then Deymos and Enmu were on the floor, dancing along to "Revenge Is Sweeter Than You Ever Were." "What are you trying to do, give me away?" Deymos hissed.

"Do you not want him to realize?" Enmu said coyly and softly. "I thought that was the point. Judging by the song, you're picking up the pieces from a less-than-favorable ex."

"Not by having it spelled out!" Deymos hissed back. "He has to figure it out, okay? He's a recon guy and he has to be the smartest one in the room. When it clicks, it's gonna CLICK, but the slow burn I'm setting up also has to be a good way along. Trust me, I know how to get what I want, and I'm not gonna let you blow that for me!"

"And if he doesn't want you?" Enmu whispered coyly.

"You say that like it's gonna make me give up right now because it MIGHT happen," Deymos replied.

"That wasn't an answer," Enmu told him. "But then again, I suppose it doesn't matter unless that's his decision."

"Well, as long as I'm dancing, I'm gonna make the most of it." Deymos turned away from Enmu to groove to the beat, letting the music fill him as it always did.

Vexen definitely wasn't watching him for any purposes other than scientific. He just knew how important it would be to take stock in his ally's strengths, after all, and his ability to flow into the song itself, to look like everything fun and graceful and beautiful while he danced, was a strength worth noting. It would probably come in handy later.

"C'mon, guys!" Deymos waved around to the train. "Jump in here! Keep to the beat!"

"Aw, YES!" Simon leapt up to jump into the fray and start bopping. Sho wasn't long after, making a point of trying to show Simon up. Coco hopped in as well, executing every memeworthy dance she knew.

"Okay," Whisp said as she, Valentine, and Letheo surrounded Tsumugi. "The council has met, the council has conferred, and the council has decided to forgive you so long as you don't draw any more of us being your playthings."

"That's fair," Tsumugi said with a nod. "…I can still do it to the people with hero complexes who oppose us, right?"

"Those folks were MADE for disrespectin'," Valentine said with a grin. "I can give you names and faces ripe for turnin' into two-bit ripoffs. But how about instead of shippin', you use your little fantasies for some torture?"

"Oh, I LOVE character bashing!" Tsumugi gasped. "That's why I created Miu Iruma, you know. I wanted someone I'd actively regret creating so I wouldn't feel sorry about making her suffer indignities like being strangled by toilet paper."

"I have enemies I want you to draw suffering too," Letheo said.

"We all do," Whisp insisted. "The lesson here should be mirror-clear: no messing with your friends. Enemies are fair game for anything."

"I see now!" Tsumugi said cheerily. "And I really am sorry."

"All's forgiven, sweetheart," Valentine told her. "Now, what do you say we work out the rest of our issues on the dance floor?"

"I was hoping we could dance together again," Letheo told Valentine. "It was fun."

Valentine's heart caught in his throat. By now, his little shot of artificial love would have worn off Letheo, and now he was done living in his own fantasy. He supposed he could've used more, tried to rope Letheo into his control…but that would make him just as bad as Tsumugi. He couldn't do that to Letheo. And he definitely couldn't let Tsumugi catch him outplaying her at her own sins, because that would just be humiliating. The best he could do for now was just accept that he had a new friend, probably through thick and thin. "I'd love to," he told Letheo, more sincerely than Letheo could know.

"Let's go, girl," Whisp told Tsumugi. Then all four of them were bouncing around to the song.

The Veronicas breakup anthem ended, and on Aghoul's signal, Enmu changed the track to "Jump in the Line." SkekSil eventually had to give in to his hedonistic Skeksis instincts, despite wanting to pretend he was above it all, and he leapt on in, bouncing rhythmically and thrusting fists into the air. Xerxes wiggled to the rhythm, flitting up and down the car's length.

"I think it's about time we put an end to this charade," Victor told Albert.

"I knew you'd be thinking it too," Albert replied.

Moving quickly, stealthily, they reached in with lightning speed, grabbing Vincent's forearms and hauling him clear over top of Carrion to plant him in the aisle.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO," Vincent snarled, reddening.

"Were you really just going to sit there the whole ride and pout because you wanted to join in but your own self-image wouldn't let you?" Victor asked. "Before you answer, look me in the eyes."

Vincent scowled. He still just couldn't tell a lie to Victor's face, not looking him in the eye. So he made that contact and he said very begrudgingly, "I may have wanted to join in. But this is embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" Victor responded. "You? You're never embarrassing, Vincent. You're nothing if not poised and graceful in every respect, and I can't go a minute longer without dancing with you for that very reason."

Vincent allowed himself a soft smile, starting to tap his foot, nod his head.

"Unless you're a coward who knows he can't outdance me," Albert hissed from behind him.

Well, that sold it.

Vincent danced with Victor first, a perfect symbiosis, rising energy that played off each other so perfectly as an expression of joy. Neither of them noticed the way Albert had stopped altogether just to watch them, a wistful expression plastered across his face. Then Victor pushed Vincent toward Albert, and the two of them stared each other down while dancing, like two birds of paradise competing over a mate and growing ever more extravagant in their moves. It was enough to make Victor laugh gleefully; it was always amusing to see the two of them doing this, and they did admittedly have a strange chemistry that was fun to watch, each inspiring the other to get weirder and wilder.

Vexen shook his head as he watched this. There were still a few who hadn't given in to dance fever – Agnus was apparently taking research notes on how everyone danced, Carrion was watching the whole display with exasperation, and Shape didn't know the first thing about dancing, so he just tried to stay on the edge of it all and go unnoticed. Several times, Vexen cringed, because Deymos came close to him, and the man was sure to grab onto him and thrust him into the fray against his will –

Deymos just put out a hand. Vexen instinctually put up his own. Deymos slapped him a high-five, then went back to completely ignoring him, losing himself in the dance.

This was a relief. Vexen was sure Deymos would try and push his boundary, but it seemed Deymos respected his desire to not engage in such foolishness. This was a very good thing, and he was content.

For a moment, anyway.

A few more miles down the line, he found himself angrily wondering why Deymos hadn't even so much as invited him. Not that he'd ever actually want to. But it was tradition at this point for others to drag him into their shenanigans, no matter how much he hated it.

There was one conclusion he refused to entertain, because it frightened him to do so. The idea that, watching Mim shake her hips and Aghoul make himself look like a white dad despite being neither white nor a dad, Vexen might have actually wanted to be invited to it, and he was coming to terms with reaping what he sowed by acting disinterested.

...

Once upon a time, in the grand auditorium of the TCL Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, this screen played movies. It still did, but there was a difference. Not so long ago, it once played an ever-expanding catalogue of films that starred one actress in the lead, the L.B. Mammoth studio cash cow. Once, people had flocked here to see the fictional antics of the scripted alter egos of one Darla Dimple, a young girl who was simply the picture of innocence.

That is, until it came out that she was not only racist against anthropomorphic animals, but also willing to destroy L.B. Mammoth property in order to sabotage them. (The latter had been considerably more important to the studio than the former.) Since then, nobody wanted to cast her ever again. She was cancelled in a time before it was called "cancelled." The bright side was that she was promised a way to reconnect with the grandeur of the Chinese Theatre, a way to keep paying off the extravagant mansion she enjoyed as the reaping of her film profits. She'd jumped at the opportunity.

Then, only after signing the contract, found out that they meant for her to be the theater janitor. She'd be close to the film industry, all right – picking up trash during the credits. Surely there had to be child labor laws against this, but Hollywood never had been fair to the youngest ones, and Darla had certainly used this to her advantage in the past, allowing everyone to treat her like an adult.

On one fine afternoon, she was cleaning up after a particularly messy audience. There was popcorn in every aisle, and someone had laughed so hard at a joke that they'd knocked a drink completely over into the adjacent empty seat, soaking it through with sugary liquid. At least she was wearing the ugly janitor's uniform, meaning none of her good clothes would be wrecked by the mess – but was it really worth it to look in the mirror and see herself in this abomination against fashion? At least she kept her hair neatly curled in large ringlets, maintaining what sense of glamour she could.

The next showing wasn't for hours. Which was good, because she'd need hours to deal with this mess.

A sudden looming shadow overhead would've struck dread into the hearts of most, but this one belonged to Darla and was a source of comfort. "Max!" she snapped up at her personal assistant. "What took you so long?"

Max was perhaps the largest animal in all of Hollywood. Though he was a thoroughbred gorilla, he stood twice the height of any elephant. Though his footsteps shook the ground and it should've been obvious to hear him coming, especially since most doors weren't built for one of his stature, he still had a particular mysterious way of showing up wherever he wanted without making a sound of letting anyone see him enter unless he wanted them to. You see, if he wanted to make a scene, to really let someone know they were about to receive the wrath of Max, he would simply bust down the wall.

By all logic, Max could have broken free from Darla a long time ago. If he wished, he could kill her in one blow. But he didn't want to do that at all, even now that she was losing the fame they'd both ridden high on. He liked her. She was spunky, hard-headed, and a strange breed of friend to him. Yes, he had to cater to her every whim, but she still gave him a sense of purpose, of importance. He looked upon her fondly.

(But not in the way a lot of the older men who worked in these pictures looked at her. They were the ones he wanted to kill, because he knew what they were thinking, and it took all his strength to hold back from avenging the violation of his little friend that hadn't even happened. Still he was able to knock a few of the perverts back into line just by breathing down their necks. And now? Well, their career was over, so maybe his criminal record didn't need to be spotless anymore.)

"Your popcorn, Miss Dimple." Max lowered an overflowing tray of popcorn, drinks, and theater candy on one palm. "The line was long."

"Thank youuuu!" Darla said sweetly. "I've been at this for fifteen minutes already, and I'd say I've earned a nice two-hour break. Be a dear and take over for me?" She held out the broom and dustpan.

He exchanged them for the popcorn. At his size and with his level of cleaning experience, he could probably have the auditorium spotless in five minutes anyway.

Darla swapped out the projector with a different reel, a retired film from her own repertoire. "Darladdin," a Middle-Eastern-inspired fairy tale loosely based on Aladdin, in which Darla herself played a young girl native to the desert. Her character discovered a magic lamp containing a genie and proceeded to go to town with wishes.

Maybe it wasn't the most culturally accurate picture in the world, what with its depiction of harem girls, its off-brand sitar soundtrack, and its primarily white cast, but Darla didn't care. She had given it some of her best acting work, and always loved revisiting just how cute she looked in this one.

Sitting back and digging into the tray of snacks, which she devoured heartily, Darla just enjoyed the movie, completely not doing what she was punched in to do on her shift. Yes, this was one of her masterpieces, but what wasn't? She lit up the room. The songs were saccharine and upbeat, and her voice just sounded so perfect singing them.

Like most Darla Dimple films, this one had an obligatory scene in which Darla, instead of giving a villain just desserts, managed to charm him into redeeming just by batting her cute little eyes. A tussle with a sorcerer ended in Darla delivering, in the most innocent voice possible, "You don't have to be jealous of me, Evil Sorcerer! I see now that you were only acting out because you were hurting! From now on, I will be your friend, and you'll never be lonely again!"

The reel hit a flaw. It skipped back a few seconds: "From now on, I will be your friend!"

Then again: "From now on, I will be your friend!"

"MAX!" Darla yelled. "FIX THIS!"

Then it rewound further: "Evil Sorcerer! I see now that you were only acting out – "

Wait. That hadn't been the actor who'd played the sorcerer. Nor was that the costume he was supposed to be wearing. That was someone completely else, someone with dark and curly hair, wearing an extravagant set of royal-blue robes and a brown leather gauntlet on his right hand only.

"From now on, I will be your friend!"

"WHO'S MESSING WITH MY MASTERPIECE?" Darla bellowed.

The film froze, showing Darla extending her hand to the sorcerous stranger. Then she realized what else was wrong with the frame: the five extras in the background, wearing glitzy clothing in the style of what Hollywood thought a "harem" would dress like. As the rest of the scene held still, the five extras looked up and out the screen, directly at Darla.

Darla shrieked. "Max. MAX? MAX MAX MAX – "

With a shimmer, the five women stepped out of the screen and directly into the theater. Four humans, and what looked to be, to Darla's horror, a human-animal hybrid, as though a human being had impregnated an octopus.

"We're just here to let you know that particular scene is going to be the most ironic of your career," Yzma said with a grin.

Darla shrieked, jumped out of the chair (spilling all her snacks), and bolted for the exit.

In a shimmer of green light, the theater doors slammed shut and locked. Darla whacked into them at top speed. Wuya lowered her hand, rolling her eyes. "I knew this would freak her out."

"Oh, but wasn't it fun?" Morgana cackled.

"Hey, um, are these outfits…I mean…" Mera gestured up and down. "I'm white."

"And we're villains," Wuya reminded her. "We don't have to worry about our publicity here. Yet. Just enjoy the fashion show."

"I think you look gorgeous in it!" Prisma chirped, and Mera was definitely very pale, but upon hearing that, she gained a distinct shade of flustered pink.

Darla staggered away from the door, raising a hand to try and point at the five intruders, though her vision was swimming. "You…will regret…messing with…"

Max's immense foot planted in front of the five women. "Let her go," the gorilla growled, "or face consequences."

"Oh, put a sock in it!" Yzma told him. "We're here to help her get out of the janitor doldrums. That means you get to leave the valley of obscurity as well."

Max thought it over. "Carry on," he said, "but I will be watching." His lip curled.

"Just think of us as talent agents," Yzma went on. "We've been watching – "

"TALENT AGENTS?" Darla abandoned all inhibitions about the creepy entrance, and her dizziness also cleared up pretty quickly. She zoomed up toward Yzma, putting on her most innocent face. "I mean…talent agents! You probably heard about my little…mishap in Hollywood lately. I assure you, it was taken entirely out of context for the press! I'm the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, most adorable – "

"Actually, we're looking at you BECAUSE of that incident," Wuya said. "We want the angry Darla."

" – ruthless, competitive, ambitious, MEAN-TO-THE-CORE actress you'll find in this city!" Darla laughed. "So! What's the role?"

"How would you like to play the part of a little girl who helped a bunch of big bad villains take over the cosmos?" Morgana offered. "This little girl would be treated like a princess, since all of us are. She wouldn't have to hold her tongue anymore, everyone would know her name, she'd live in the lap of luxury, and most importantly, she'd have loyal fans, even on the days she was HORRID."

"I'm already a fan," Prisma said. "We watched all your movies for research before we came here. You're very good at playing innocent."

"I mean, they were all pretty schlocky in that old-timey way," Mera added, "but that's the charm, actually."

"I'm just hoping you really AREN'T like any of your characters in real life," Morgana said flatly, "or I'd have to drop you into the Pacific in the form of an ice cube."

"You make a compelling case," Darla said. "But what part of this is real life and what part's just the movie script?"

"Well, you see, it's not exactly a…film script," Yzma said. "We're inviting you to do the real thing."

"We've got a castle set up on a magic archipelago," Wuya continued. "We need a little girl who can play foil to the one that's trying to foil US. Not a lot of technical skill involved, but she'd need to be a very good actor, especially where it comes to charming people to her side."

Darla burst out into laughter. "A castle on a magic archipelago! That's a good one. You think I'm going to fall for that? LISTEN. To make it in this town at my age, you have to learn pretty quickly to tell truth from fiction, and you're not even trying! I didn't get where I am today by letting myself get pushed around. I had to fight off the advances of married men, see things NO ONE should see at my age, follow the most ridiculous and stringent rules imaginable, sabotage my peers so they couldn't possibly overtake me, and maintain perfection at any moment a camera was turned upon me! You think I'm going to just let five kidnappers come in here, sell me a fairy tale, and expect me to buy into it, only for me to end up one of history's greatest unsolved abductions? HA! THINK AGAIN!"

Yzma raised a finger. "Before I argue that point. You said you had to follow ridiculous rules and deal with horny old men?"

"Yes," Darla snapped. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"And you had to fight competitors," Yzma went on. "Am I getting this right?"

"What's the point of this?" Darla growled.

"Well, I just think that sounds a lot like getting pushed around, if you ask me," Yzma said with a shrug. "But what do I know? I'm not in Hollywood. Go ahead and explain to me how you submitting to the system was taking things into your own hands."

Darla opened her mouth, ready to let off a monologue. Then, upon realizing Yzma was right, let her face fall.

"You could try and work your way back up through a system that's stacked against you," Yzma told her. "Or you could do what I did. Cut through the red tape and just KILL THE EMPEROR!"

Darla stared at her blankly. Then blinked. "What?"
"She doesn't have enough context for that metaphor to work," Wuya sighed.

"I'm saying break through!" Yzma went on. "Show them all that YOU'RE the one doing the pushing-around now! And to prove we've been honest about this offer and about very little else we've ever said to prospective subjects, we'll start here. We'll do something, you choose what, that helps you take power here in Hollywood. Right out in public, no underhanded moves, and you have access to all of our magical prowess. By the end of it, I think you'll see we're quite sincere."

"Also I'm really not sure you have a choice here," Wuya added. "It's this or janitor. Forever. Think about it."

"You say…anything I want?" Darla asked sweetly. "Any old thing?"

"Any old thing," Yzma told her.

Darla was already formulating ideas. "I do get to keep Max on my payroll in this deal, don't I?"

"Trust me," Yzma groaned. "Idiot sidekicks are part of the name of the game."

"Not an idiot," Max grumbled.

"We left all our personal muscleheads back home to watch the castle," Yzma said, "but Max will fit right in."

"Metaphorically, at least," Mera said as she sized Max up. "Not sure about fitting into the actual castle itself."

Wuya shrugged. "I'll add bigger doors and vaulted ceilings. It's not an evil lair unless we keep redrafting it to fit our growing need for more luxurious space."

"And if I sign on with this…villainy," Darla asked, "would I need to work with…" She sneered. "Animals?" A pointed glare went toward Morgana.

"Hey, I'm not an animal!" Morgana yelled. "I'm a sea witch!"

"The point stands," Darla said.

"Yes," Yzma said. "You'd have to work with animals. Very soon, in fact, if all goes to plan. But you'll be fine. One of our founders didn't like furries either until we settled him down. Now he puts up with it."

"And there'll be plenty of human company," Wuya assured.

"Wait a minute," Mera brought up. "You hate animals, but you want the big guy to come along? What's with that?"

Darla flinched. "Max is special," she said defensively. "He's not like other animals. He's my partner in show business."

Everyone looked up to Max, who confirmed: "Other animals are below me. I look down upon them."

"It's too easy," Prisma muttered, shaking her head. "The joke is too easy."

"But let's get down to your end of the deal," Darla said. "I want you to make my name big in Hollywood again. And given the nature of your offer, it can be in fame or in infamy, but I have to headline every newspaper, and I have to do it by doing what I do best: acting."

"Let me guess." Yzma beamed. "You want us to fund an independent film starring you and push it at the theaters to prove you're still in the game. One in which we'd all play significant roles, wear elaborate costumes, and receive accolades aplenty!"

"You were just waiting for her to suggest that," Mera realized. "You walked in here and that's EXACTLY what you wanted. Can't blame you."

"Well, it's your lucky day, because that IS exactly what I want," Darla said. "But you know how production budgets are. For this thing to take off, you're going to have to really show me that you have actual cosmic magic that can cut through that little…limitation."

"Done," Wuya told her. "What's the plot?"

"It's not like I care," Darla said. "Anything where I'm center stage."

Mera cleared her throat. "So I…um…I got bored a lot when I was younger and I had to stay in my room so I wouldn't fracture my entire skeleton. They're a bit edgy-teenager-quality, but I did write a few hypothetical thrillers and script out a few of the scenes. You let me get my old journals back from my hideout and I just might have something for you."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Darla crowed. "It's time for Darla Dimple to retake her position in Hollywood! Lights! Camera! ACTION!"

The lights in the theater flashed dramatically, as though lightning had struck. Max had crammed himself into the projector room to toggle them.

"Yeah, he'll work," Yzma resolved.

...

The party train rolled on through the afterworlds and the realms of the demonic. The view out the window had changed to all sorts of gruesome things, some of which denied imagination, but now the sights were starting to become familiar to Aghoul. A jagged city of red, black, and white – though last he'd seen it, it had been red, black, and green.

"Apocalypse Heights!" he gasped. "It's been ages! Quite literally."

"You KNEW the Horsepeople of the Apocalypse?" Mim gaped.

"Well, three of them, anyway," Aghoul answered. "Death was always too much of a stick-in-the-mud neutral party, and being Death, he didn't get along too well with me being undead. The other three, though, they were pure evil. Though I heard Pestilence retired, the dear, and I'm supposing that's why all the green is white now." He took a second look. "Very tarnished white at that."

It was true. The white sectors of the city seemed to be blemished with dirty marks.

The train came to a halt; three people who looked human but were so much more stood at a small outdoor station. The door opened itself, and Enmu spread his arms; "Welcome aboard! It's a full house tonight, and you won't believe who's here!"

The first to board was a woman, tossing her beautiful crimson curls. She was dressed all in red, glowing like fire.

"Ah, War…" Aghoul sighed, his face betraying his wistfulness. "A beauty and sadism unmatched."

"UNMATCHED?" Mim thumped Aghoul hard over the head. "Beauty, sure, but you don't want that more than ugly anyhow! In sadism, however, I always take home the prize!"

War nodded as she passed Aghoul. "Now this is nostalgia," she said. "You know the drill. Hands to yourself." Then she moved back to sit beside the ones she assumed were the fiercest warriors.

Then, as though walking a runway, a glamorous man, his skin and his suit both deep and dark. His suave smile showed pointed teeth.

"Ah, and there's Famine!" Aghoul identified. "How goes the starvation?"

"Easier than ever these days," Famine cackled. "Everyone wants to be slim and beautiful, and it turns out they're literally willing to die for it. I've managed to overtake the diet scene…with a special regimen of malnourishment."

"So you're exploiting diet culture to make people starve themselves to death?" Deymos realized. "That's diabolical. Respect."

Famine gave a nod, then moved on to sit by those who he believed to be equally as classy as he.

"Now, normally Pestilence would round it out," Aghoul reiterated, "but since she's out of the picture, that means the last Horseperson is someone…new…"

His jaw dropped. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

The third Horseperson was gorgeous. He couldn't make out their gender, but they were non-masculine enough that he didn't really care. Their snow-white hair curled loosely around a warm-brown face, and their eyes were wide with amazement as their hands caressed the fleshy seats. They were dressed in regal white, though it was stained with all manner of things, a rainbow of slop.

"Why, hello." Aghoul was suddenly blocking the Horseperson's way. "I don't believe we've met. Ayam Aghoul's the name." He put out a bony hand. "And yours?"

They smiled brightly, like a mouthful of pearls, taking his hand. Their hand looked to be soft and shapely, but it was also uncomfortably sticky, like it hadn't been washed in a good while. "I'm Pollution," they said. "They/them. You seem very kind, but also very evil. I like that."

"Well, Pollution, my dear," Aghoul invited, "would you like to sit here with us as our guest of honor?"

"I'd love to hear all about your nasty tactics!" Mim added. "Is it true you've been the one influencing most of the megacorporations to dump runoff into clean water sources?"

"It's very true," Pollution responded. "Are you a fan?"

"You'd better believe it," Mim said, "even though I didn't know you existed until just now!"

Pollution looked at the seats, then tried to settle in as a third – not by Mim or Aghoul, but by Vexen and Deymos.

"NO!" Vexen yelled, cringing away. "The flesh train is one thing, but you are QUITE another! I can smell your absolute stench. You aren't just Pollution; you've tracked it all the way in here!"

Now everyone could see the muddy footprints left on the floor. Well, it was hopefully mud, at any rate.

"Sorry," Pollution said, putting a hand on Vexen's shoulder. Vexen felt it squish. "I'll try to keep it to myself." They took their hand away and what was left in its place was a handprint of…something. Maybe jam.

"That had better not stain," Vexen grumbled.

"Lighten up!" Deymos encouraged. "You just gotta look on the bright side. Even though you're sitting next to the grime factory…" He smirked. "At least I'M not."

"You're insufferable," Vexen grumbled. "Yet preferable to the slime stain."

"Don't say such awful things about our guest!" Aghoul snapped. "Pollution, dear, you're really a joy to have around."

"I agree!" This came from Enmu. There didn't seem to be room for his entire construct body unless he crowded Mim and Aghoul, so this time, he was just a head, craning down on a long, fleshy neck that connected to the ceiling like a wire. "Pollution has done a wonderful job since their ascension. They've been complicit in ruining the ecosystems of over a hundred worlds!"

"I'm not as good as Pestilence was," Pollution said meekly. "I hear she's still creating new plagues and loosing them as part of her retirement."

"Don't undersell yourself!" Enmu encouraged with a bright smile. "Even she was a nobody until she figured out the Bubonic. You're on a fast track to filling her shoes, especially with the ozone crisis!"

"That was one of my better ideas," Pollution said proudly.

"So let me see if I have this right," Vexen said. "In all worlds that come to an end, it isn't actually human nature or the Darkness that does them in. It's these three Horsepeople?" His derision was evident.

"Oh, no, we can't cause anything directly unless it's on a cosmic scale, such as if an Antichrist should show up," Pollution clarified. "But we do influence people and give them ideas. Scarlet – I mean War offers to sell weapons, and people always give in to temptation and buy. Raven, he's Famine, puts his diet on the market, and people buy in because they think losing weight will make them beautiful."

"Plenty of skinny people are ugly as sin," Aghoul said with a nod. "I should know. I'm one of them!"

"And I encourage people where to cut corners," Pollution went on. "I work on the crews of oil tankers a lot. And in factories. Everyone's always open to hearing my ideas because it always gets them something in return, like money or fame. It can get a little hard being so blue-collar sometimes…" They laughed. "Which is ironic, since my color of choice is white. I actually go by 'Chalky White' in the field when I have to pass as something human. But I like the factory work a whole lot. Once you're in a groove, it gets mindless, and I use that time to daydream about things. Like the legendary garbage planet of Sakaar or how much oil it would take to flood the Beach Bowl Galaxy. Do you ever wonder what the Enchanted Forest would look like if you cut it all down? Though I suppose that depends on which Enchanted Forest."

"What a lovely mental image!" Mim laughed. "Do tell us more about your daydreams! They sound positively charming!"

Vexen broke out into a coughing fit.

"Sorry," Pollution said. "Bad air quality. It follows me."

"Don't apologize," Aghoul told them. "It's Vexen, so it's hilarious!"

Meanwhile, War had taken a seat and managed to get between two passengers in particular: skekSil and Carrion.

"I'm afraid you won't be impressed by my prowess in war," Carrion sighed. "I was once a king and general who conquered all of night, ruling from midnight itself. But I was dethroned, my militia and territory passing into the hands of one who meant only to ruin them."

"When are you going to take revenge?" War asked. "Unless you were thinking of just letting her get away with it and not taking revenge. Don't tell me that."

"Actually, my new friend Vincent was advising me of how to do just that," Carrion revealed. "I had thought it hopeless. A fight I could never win."

"A fight you can never win is better than no fight at all," War encouraged. She looked to skekSil; "And you?"

"Oh, I am no warrior," skekSil said sheepishly. "I am merely an advisor."

"Yes, but that puts so much power into your hands," War replied. "After all, you decide where wars begin and end."

"Yes…yes, is true!" skekSil realized. "Though you may have been disappointed. I went out of way to destroy General in elaborate revenge plot, but next appointed General disgraced me completely! Oh, the humiliation! And General is gone, so no revenge is to be taken."

"…You could join me in my efforts against Motley," Carrion muttered. "Your strategic mind could be of use."

"Is interesting offer," skekSil said. "Will consider, but is probably yes."

Now, this was all well and good, but War didn't like when people got too chummy. She thrived on conflict, and so thought it would be fun to stir them up a little. "I'm glad you can put aside how much Lord Carrion must remind you of your General," she said slyly. "And Christopher, I'm glad you're in a place where you can trust the Chamberlain not to betray you at a pivotal moment, as he has with so many other people."

"We have just met," Carrion realized. "We are NOT in that place yet."

"Well, Chamberlain will play nice if Lord of Nightmares is respectful," skekSil growled.

"Why should I respect you?" Carrion barked. For reasons he couldn't really figure out, he felt angrier than usual. (Those reasons: sitting next to War, which would make anyone feel on edge.) "You are beneath me. You are a second-in-command by nature. If necessary, you may be disposed of."

"Oh, like Shape?" skekSil retorted. "Lord of Nightmares has already created mutinous Shape, danger to his well-being!"

"Shape, mutinous?" Carrion replied. "How would you of all people know? Have you been consorting with him behind my back?"

"So what if Chamberlain has?" skekSil barked. "Is only smart, to play all possible sides!"

"You TRAITOR – "

"Lord of Nightmares? No, Lord of NOTHING!"

"HEY!" Deymos yelled. "I SAID NO MUTINY! NOBODY IS PLAYING ANYBODY'S OPPOSING SIDE! KNOCK IT OFF!"

War leaned back. Now that was a lot better.

Famine sat across from Vincent and Victor, with Albert to his side. "I'm glad to have found actual intelligent conversation among the rabble," he said.

"The feeling is quite mutual," Victor replied with a smile. Vincent just nodded.

"If I may say so," Famine suggested, "the two of you – Vincent and Victor, was it? – you have such beautiful figures. Oh, but what a shame about just that little bit of weight on you, Victor. Almost perfect. I could help you with that, you know. And Vincent, surely you want to take measures to ensure you stay slim – "

"They don't need to CHANGE!" Albert yelled suddenly. "They're beautiful the way they are, and they're my friends, so I won't let you manipulate them! That's my job if anything!" He pointed to Vincent, then Victor. "Don't listen to him. He's lying, you know. This is how he spreads his famine. There's not a part of you that needs to be any different!"

Victor and Vincent looked back at Albert, gobsmacked. "…That part was obvious," Victor said.

"We weren't actually going to let him get to us," Vincent said.

"After all, I know I have no imperfections," Victor stated with a wink.

Vincent curled an arm around Victor's waist and nodded. "The two of us are resistant to such tricks. Why did YOU feel a need to defend us?"

"Yes, why did you?" Famine goaded. "That was quite a passionate speech."

"…Can a man not defend his friends?" Albert grumbled. "I haven't had friends for a good amount of time, you know."

"And it becomes more obvious every time you try to talk," Vincent said slyly.

"You think you're insulting me," Albert replied, "but I'm glad for the banter. Is anyone else hungry?"

"We're sitting next to the embodiment of Famine," Victor reminded him. "I'm guessing that has a little something to do with the chorus of growling stomachs."

"You gentlemen are resilient," Famine stated. "I respect that. But between you and me, IS there anyone onboard whose self-esteem is perhaps…lacking?"

"Tsumugi," all three said. Then punctuated with a sly smirk.

In an instant, Famine was sitting beside Tsumugi, who was now drawing a respectful picture of Whisp. "My dear," Famine said, "it would be a shame to lose the body you have now. I can help you keep it the way it is – "

"Oh, I'm a robot," Tsumugi answered. "I don't eat. And even though this face is plain, I wear it because I'm used to it. I can change it at any time. Thank you for the offer, though!"

Famine glared back at Albert, Vincent, and Victor. All three could no longer hold their laughter in, and they let it loose.

"Humorous," Famine scoffed.

"Yes, I'm sitting on a train with three of the harbingers of the end times," Vexen grumbled, "and we're all just having polite conversation about murder, starvation, and environmental devastation. Why does anything even surprise me anymore?"

...

The world on which Disney Castle was situated was huge. Though Disney Town was its focal point, and most people knew well of Duckburg and St. Canard, there was another metropolis famed throughout the world, one of luxury and industry. Nestled inside a seaside valley, locked in by cliffs that only had a narrow alley over the water as their exit, was the shining jewel that was Cape Suzette.

Our character of focus at this moment was not anywhere near Cape Suzette, and that was the problem. He and his crew were instead camping out on a deserted island out at sea, plotting how exactly they could gain entry to the beautiful city, because the populace was incredibly determined to keep them out and for good reason.

The two right-hand men of the air pirate crew, a tall and muscular dog called "Dump Truck" and the slender "Mad Dog" who was definitely more weasel than dog, were taking the opportunity to just kick back and lie on the beach. The sun beat down pleasantly. They didn't mind not doing any piracy for a while. It was just good to have a break.

But the sound of heavy leather boots stomping toward them, kicking up sand, was a harbinger that today wasn't going to be a having-a-break kind of day.

"DUMP TRUCK!" a shrill voice barked out. "MAD DOG!"

"Awwww, not this again!" Mad Dog groaned.

"Maybe if we pretend to be asleep," Dump Truck suggested, "he'll go away!"

So they both shut their eyes tightly.

"Dump Truuuuck," the voice wheedled. "Mad Dog. I know you are not sleeping. You had best not be faking the sleep to get out of listening to your captain's very important announcements, or your consequences will be the direst."

That got both the pirate grunts to bolt up into sitting positions; "WE'RE AWAKE! WE'RE AWAKE!"

They beheld their impatient captain. A tall, rather handsome wolf with orange fur, dressed in a many-buttoned blue jacket and white pants. A cutlass was lashed to his belt unsheathed, its blade glittering wickedly as an unspoken threat. This was Don Karnage, the most feared pirate to prowl the airspace around Cape Suzette.

Of course, truth be told, his reputation was a little exaggerated.

"Men," Don Karnage announced, "I have been thinking. As often happens when I am thinking, I have conjured a multitudery of great ideas! Most of all, I am tiring of the waiting around and the not raiding Cape Suzette. That city has been out of my reachings for far too long! And so, as your captain, I have decided that tonight, we attack Cape Suzette and finally take what it is we have been wanting!"

"That sounds nice," Dump Truck admitted. "How are we going to do it?"

"Yeah, what's the plan?" Mad Dog asked.

"That is the thing," Don Karnage responded. "I have decided we are going to be doing it, but I have not decided exactly the how of our going to be doing it. As lowly crewmates, that will be YOUR job!"

Both Dump Truck and Mad Dog groaned. So Karnage had come up with basically an impossible goal and expected them to connect Point A to Point B.

"Well?" Karnage beckoned with both hands. "Start with the planning already! We are not having all day! Only until it is night!"

"Isn't that the same as all day?" Mad Dog groaned.

"I WANT LESS OF THE COMPLAINTS AND MORE OF THE PLANS!" Karnage yelled.

So the two pirates thought it over, and gave him the best ideas they could work up on such short notice.

"Well," Dump Truck said, "we could send in a submarine."

"Already tried that," Karnage reminded him. "You were aboard it."

"Oh, that's right," Dump Truck realized.

"Have we tried dropping in on hang gliders?" Mad Dog asked.

"No," Karnage replied, "but that is for very good reasoning. That reasoning being the absolute stupidity of what you have just said."

"Well, we could try and excavate the Lost City of Tinnabula," Dump Truck suggested.

"And WHAT exactly is that having to do with Cape Suzette?" Karnage sighed.

"I don't know," Dump Truck admitted. "But it has to have something valuable we can steal."

"Can we just walk in?" Mad Dog asked. "Like how people get there over land?"

"Perhaps a few of us could do so," Karnage stated, "but that would leave us with no airship. No airship, no getaway vehicle, no transport for copious amounts of richness we are to gather up. The best of our doing in that case would be to rob a store of convenience, and I will not be sinking to that low!"

"Well," Dump Truck thought, "if we need a flying machine…we already do have one."

"Yes, yes!" Karnage replied. "Why am I not thinking of that? Oh, it is because every time we are flying the Iron Vulture close to Cape Suzette, THEY ARE MAKING WITH THE SHOOTING OF GUNS AT US!"

"Oh, that's right," Dump Truck realized. "But I have another idea. I heard there is a gala tonight being held at the Spruce Moose for the incredibly rich and uselessly wealthy."

"Hmm…" Karnage nodded. "The Spruce Moose. Largest airplane of Cape Suzette, used as nightclub of swank, only in the hijacking once by mobsters most incompetent. Go on…"

"We could walk to the Spruce Moose in disguise, dressed up fancy," Dump Truck said.

"And?" Karnage's eyes widened. "AND?"

"And that is the plan," Dump Truck said.

Karnage reeled. "HOW IS THAT IN ANY WAY A PLAN THAT RELEVATES TO THE RAIDING OF CAPE SUZETTE?"

"Oh, I didn't think about that," Dump Truck admitted. "I just wanted to go to a fancy party." He paused. "Could we steal the Spruce Moose while we're there?"

"Perhaps…" Karnage thought it over.

"We won't be able to!" Mad Dog whined. "They'll have too many rich people on board! And security! We couldn't fight them all!"

"An unfortunateness with which we must have contention," Karnage groaned.

"Boss, why don't we just give up on Cape Suzette?" Mad Dog groaned. "There are other cities! St. Canard has never been attacked by air pirates before! Right now, it's just that duck in the yellow jacket trying to run things, and we're better bad guys than him!"

"I do find that duck's voice particularly grating," Karnage mused. "But what is this you say? Give up? GIVE UP? The great Don Karnage, which is me, does not GIVE UP!"

Being that he had his back to the sea, he didn't see the little plane that was soaring toward the island. The other two did, and they pointed, but Karnage ignored it.

"What are you making of it that I am?" Karnage yelled indignantly. "Do you think I am just willing to spin round and round in place?"

The little plane was barrel rolling toward the isle, flipping over and over.

"And these ridiculous plans you are giving to me!" Karnage went on. "They are useless! We are just going round and round in circles!"

The plane was now tracing loop-de-loops in the air. Mad Dog and Dump Truck's eyes followed it, not focusing on Karnage at all.

"I may as well expect an answer from the clouds!" Karnage groaned. "I will yell to the sky 'What is the name of our plan of salvation?' and I can expect no answer – "

The small plane quickly skywrote an "RT" and a heart.

"But it will still be better than your ridiculous planning of simply sitting here and waiting for our bolt to drop out of the blue!" Karnage concluded.

The plane hit the ocean behind him with a SPLASH.

"Eh?" Karnage finally turned to see what was happening.

Seven very wet people were dragging themselves up from the crash site and onto the beach. The frontmost of them seemed to be very proud of himself despite being soaking wet. "You know, I've learned that as a gambling man, there are some bets I just don't take," Roman Torchwick announced. "But more importantly, there are some bets you just don't MAKE. And that includes thinking I won't actually do what I just did for fifty lien."

Archibald Snatcher was staggering, barely walking straight. "I understand your resolve was challenged," he sputtered, "but were the barrel rolls and loop-de-loops TRULY necessary?" He took pause to empty the contents of his whirling stomach into the ocean.

"Don't hate the player or the game," Roman replied. "Hate the GM. I just did what he said I couldn't." He put out a hand, palm up. "And now it's time to pay up!"

Giovanni Potage slammed his entire wallet into Roman's hand. "Fine. You win, and you schooled me. You happy?"

"Hey, Giovanni?" Tawna said. "No offense, but SERIOUSLY NEVER BET ROMAN WON'T DO AERIAL STUNTS AGAIN."

"Ain't we blamin' the wrong guy?" Pinstripe asked.

"No, no…" Snatcher panted, catching up with the group again. "Roman was compelled. It was the only outcome."

"I'm just amazed I didn't manage to spill this while we were inverting," Giovanni said, cradling a large ceramic tureen.

"Well, don't SAY that!" Foulfellow barked. "That's your cue for the very thing to happen, don't you know!"

"What is all of this?" Karnage asked no one in particular. "Weirdness and strangeness is what it is!"

"Ah, Captain Karnage!" Roman jogged up to him, putting out a hand.

"Is DON Karnage," Karnage corrected.

"Don?" Roman repeated. "Really? I thought you were a pirate captain. I didn't think you did landlocked organized crime."

"I am both don AND captain," Karnage specified, "but 'Don' sounds better, yesno? Is more intimidating. 'Captain' sounds like I could be driving a military vehicle designed to stop pirates like my own self."

At this point, Snatcher found himself trying to piece together what accent Karnage had, exactly. European for sure. In the end, he resolved Karnage must've hailed from a nation directly neighboring the fictional one he'd conjured for Madame Frou Frou's origin.

"Well, I'm Roman Torchwick," Roman said as Karnage took his hand and shook it. "You could think of me as a pirate captain in my own way. Except instead of overtaking airships or boats, I controlled small forces of underground crime in a landlocked metropolis."

"Is sounding more like a don than a pirate captain," Karnage remarked.

"Yeah, isn't that weird?" Roman replied, letting go of his hand. "Anyway, I have an offer for you lovely gentlemen. Word on the street is you've been on a bit of a losing streak."

"Any word about me is in the skies, not on the streets," Karnage corrected. "But…mmm, yes, is maybe SOMEWHAT correct."

"We haven't looted anything good in months!" Mad Dog yelled.

"BE SILENT!" Karnage yelled at him. "Ahem. Mr. Wick of Torches, what exactly is this offer you are being offering?"

"Right down to business," Roman said with a grin. "My crew here and I are in the mist of a heist-slash-rescue-mission on another world entirely. Focus on the 'heist' part. Also, please tell me I don't have to explain the cosmology to you."

"I am hearing all about peculiar children and their enormous house keys," Karnage replied. "I am knowing of these other worlds. Perhaps is more luck to be had in piracy there…"

"My thoughts exactly!" Roman replied. "But the thing is, you need insurance that we're the real deal, and we don't just wanna pass through here without seeing some of the sights, if you know what I mean. So is there anything, anything at all, you've had your eye on? Something we might be able to make happen? Because, trust me, we can make it happen, or your money back."

"Anything, you say?" Karnage replied. "I, the great Don Karnage, was only JUST reminiscing – or was it ruminating? – on the fact that we have yet to have raided the obscenely wealthy city of Cape Suzette! For reasons I am not knowing, every time we make attempting, we are expected well in advance."

"Those reasons got anything to do with makin' so much fuss and noise that people know you're on your way?" Pinstripe said flatly.

"No, that cannot be it," Karnage dismissed.

"Doubt it," Tawna said.

"Reasons don't matter," Roman dismissed. "What matters is that we're taking that city tonight. Or at least giving it a night it won't forget. We're kind of old pros at this."

"And are you having plan for this?" Karnage asked. "Because closest plan I am having is no plan at all! Yes, it starts off well, with arriving at the Spruce Moose gala in disguises. If we were not outnumbered greatly, we could perhaps overtake the Spruce Moose and use it to carry out our raid most fabulous! But it would take resources we are not having. Specifically a maker of convincing disguises, someone better with the guns that are rapid-firing, someone improvisational when it comes to thinking standing up, a one-person fighting machine that is preferably team token female, someone to bring sustenance and team morale, one silent but deadly type, and most importantly a charge leader who has expertise in lying, cheating, stealing, and surviving!"

There was silence. Then Giovanni put out a hand and gestured to the group he was part of.

"AHA!" Karnage realized. "Provided that is sustenance in that fancy tureen, and one of you is a master of disguise – "

Snatcher put up his hand.

"Then you are exactly the team of necessitation!" Karnage realized. "We will board the Spruce Moose and take her for our own!"

Tawna stomped a foot in the ocean and pointed to Roman; "NO. BARREL. ROLLS."

"Talk to the rest of the group," Roman told her. "So long as no one bets me a good amount, you'll get what you want."

"Disguises of course would need to be of ultimate concealment," Karnage mused. "We must pass for incredibly rich and uselessly wealthy. NO ONE must realize that I, Don Karnage, am I, Don Karnage!"

"Have you any qualms against dressing as a woman?" Snatcher asked.

"Hmm…" Karnage thought it over. "Would ballgown have lots of ruffle and sparkle?"

"I would do nothing less," Snatcher responded.

"Then of qualms I am having none," Karnage replied.

"Just a heads-up, I don't do drag," Giovanni said flatly.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not wanted here, then!" Snatcher told him. "You've nothing to worry about."

"But. Um." Giovanni looked away. "If you're making the costumes, I was wondering if I could…request something. Like, I don't do drag, but I do…like…skirts? But I have to still look like a guy! That's non-negotiable!"

"Mr. Potage," Snatcher sighed, "if you're going to act as though you're giving me a challenge, then give me a CHALLENGE. One quite masculine party gown can be arranged."

"YEE!" Giovanni squealed happily.

"So do we have a deal, then?" Roman asked Karnage.

"Hmm…" Karnage paused. "Am still thinking it over."

"Why?" Roman asked. "We literally just ironed out the perfect plan."

"I am needing more to prove you are recognizing true genius of Don Karnage!" Karnage said. "Otherwise how am I to know you are not thinking of me as a low rung in the staircase?"

"Mr. Potage?" Snatcher gestured to Karnage. "If you will."

"My time has come." Giovanni puffed out his chest, then marched up to Karnage, holding out the tureen. "Behold! Our offering to your evil geniusness!"

Karnage examined the tureen from all angles.

"Smells like food," Dump Truck realized.

"GOOD food," Mad Dog added. "Open it up! I'm hungry!"

Karnage lifted the lid to reveal a red liquid with several luscious ingredients floating. "What is this?" he said. "Is Mediterranean-style tomato soup with what is appearing to be shrimp and scallop both." He then took a big whiff of it. "Flavored quite heavily with dill. Oh, I love dill! It all smells quite del-i-ci-ous! But is missing something, hmm, the je ne sais quoi – "

Giovanni handed him a spoon. "Taste it."

So Karnage did, taking a large spoonful of the still-hot soup and delivering it to his mouth. He smacked his lips and tongue several times to get the taste. Then his eyes widened. "Is also containing ORZO! In great amounts!"

"Well?" Giovanni urged. "What do you think?"

"I am thinking we shall feast on this most feastable of soups," Karnage proclaimed, "and then we shall be preparing to filter the party of the uppermost crust!"

"Filter?" Foulfellow repeated.

"You mean 'infiltrate'?" Tawna said dryly.

"Yes, yes, is exactly what I said." Karnage waved a hand. "Come! Let us begin with the feasting and the scheming!"

...

When the scenery outside the windows started to turn to colorful landscapes made of construction paper and felt, Aghoul cringed. "Oh. I forgot we'd be picking HER up."

"Her?" Mim asked. "Another ex? She'd better not be making the claim of more gruesome than me!"

"Believe me," Aghoul said as he squirmed in his seat, "I'm hoping you can outdo her. I'll need it!"

"Oh, you're AFRAID of her." Mim's eyes twinkled. "You're so adorable when you're afraid. I think I'll see where this goes."

"She isn't sitting by me," Vexen growled. He'd finally gotten space to himself, because Pollution was chitchatting with Sho about the intricacies of garbage art while Deymos was mediating between skekSil and Carrion to guide them toward an uneasy peace.

The train halted. And nobody came aboard.

"Maybe she isn't home?" Mim suggested.

"No, no, wait for it," Aghoul whimpered.

As he said that, a pair of inky black hands were making their way around him from behind. Literally inky; they were dripping black goo. The hands suddenly tightened around his throat, pulling him back against the seat, as their owner's moon-pale face rose up behind him, framed by a multicolored mane of hair that was admittedly quite expressive. Contrary to her terrifying exterior, she was wearing a white dress adorned with childish doodles.

"What's your favorite idea?" she asked, singsong, in a pleasant British accent. "Mine is revenge on perverts! You know how I get the idea? It arrives when I look at the pervert. Take a look at this Ayam Aghoul! He needs a special lesson after school!"

"P-Paige – " Aghoul croaked. "So good to see you again?"

"I'm a work of art, and you broke my heart," this person, Paige, insisted. "It very nearly tore me apart. I think I should take YOU apart!"

Then, all of a sudden, she let him go. "But that's in the past, and grudges might last, but lucky for you, I've found someone new, so my murderous plans go to back-burner pans."

"Dare I ask what the story is here?" Vexen sighed.

Aghoul rubbed at his neck. Not that it would've done anything to harm him anyway; it just hurt. "Paige and I were an item back in the day, but she, much like my dear Mimsy, refused to submit. She wasn't nearly as wonderfully gruesome as Mimsy, though, so I tried to call it off…with the help of a deadly poison and several sharp blades." He sighed. "But she's already dead, and even harder to wipe off the board than me."

"Ayam Aghoul has found someone new?" Paige tilted her head, looking to Mim. "Am I to assume that that someone is you?"
"You know it!" Mim told her. "And I'm ten times the girlfriend you'd ever be. If you want to fight about it, then I'm raring and ready!"

"Now you, I think I like," Paige said. "If you want, make the first strike."

"Not now." Mim waved it off. "We're all having a nice time and this train isn't big enough."

Enmu's head snaked on down. "Paige is a demon, almost like me," he said, "though she wasn't always. In the living world, she was a teacher, and she looked a lot stranger than this."

"Stranger than THAT?" Vexen said in disbelief. "How could she possibly – no, wait, I don't want to know, do I?"

Without so much as a warning, Paige suddenly was a different shape entirely. Vexen thought she'd just disappeared until he heard the "Hello!" from the floor. She was now a generously-sized notepad with a face drawn on, her hair in the form of yarn that spilled from the seam of her pages.

"I once taught creativity!" Paige proclaimed. "But that wasn't quite the job for me. Three students went rogue, and I got the blame for all their gory ideas! Isn't that just a shame? First I was retired, then met punishment capital. I got sent to Hell, and there, I said 'Screw it all!'." She was humanoid again. "I got a new body, a new bag of tricks, and the best friends I ever could think to have picked!"

"We love you too," Enmu assured. "Paige has given me plenty of spicy ideas for how to make dreams into hellscapes."

"But then one more thing gave me greatest of joys," Paige said dreamily. "You weren't there to see that I got my new boy!"

Aghoul saw him right away, rising up behind Vexen's seat. It was Vexen who didn't notice him at first, and the Iceman's blood ran colder than ever when he heard "Time makes us fools. It's time that you wasted. These times have changed and it's time that you faced it."

He was tall, slender, his skin a bright blue and his hair shaggy and dark. Across his face was spread a strange marking of red – clock hands whose connecting point was on his nose. He wore a classy black coat and a colorful bow tie.

"Well, he's handsome," Mim remarked. "A bit TOO handsome if you ask me."

"Like my lover, this body is new," the strange man said. "Is this bizarre enough for you?"

And then, again without warning, he was a clock. A normally wall-mounted model, except with uncannily bendy arms and legs. The blue was the color of his face, and the red clock hands were now literal. He did a little dance on the back of Vexen's seat.

"I was a teacher much like my dear Paige," the clock explained. "Then they ruled that I should be removed from the stage. All I wanted to do was teach about time, with my quaint little lessons and quaint little rhymes, but some don't appreciate the raw demonstration. I aged three to death and killed my own reputation. They sent me to Hell, and I met my beloved. Hell's my paradise; wouldn't want to be above it. While Aghoul has been out, I joined with his flock." He bowed. "And that is the story of Tony the Clock."

Mim clapped. "Oh, wonderful, wonderful! Normally I despise cutesy inanimate objects that teach children in rhyme, but these two have such a vile streak to them!"

"Are you saying we're IN Hell right now?" Vexen asked. "The place we need to be?"

"Not anywhere near where YOU need to be," Enmu corrected. "We needed to cut through this sector to get to all our stops. Trust me, it's faster this way. But Nightmare is clear across the plane, so hold your horses and stay in that seat."

"I will stay in this seat if I get it back to myself," Vexen growled at the dancing clock.

In an instant, Tony was human again. Humanoid, anyway. He still stood on the back of the seat, but backflipped off, moving out into the aisle. He offered an arm to Paige. "Shall we, my dear?"

She linked hers into his. "Let's go spread some fear!"

They skipped off down the aisle.

"Paige really is fun at parties when she doesn't have a vendetta against you," Aghoul explained. "This Tony seems to be going a long way to mellow out her grudge against me. That's good for now, at least."

"They seem like a cute couple," Mim remarked. "I normally hate cute, but this is an exception I'm willing to make."

"Keep them far away from me," Vexen seethed through gritted teeth.

Paige broke away from Tony and twirled on over to plop down next to Tsumugi. "What are you drawing while you're withdrawing?" she asked.

"Fanart – I mean a portrait of my new friend," Tsumugi said. "It's strange to draw real people for once, but I think I'm getting the hang of it! It looks exactly like the real thing!"

"The real thing?" Paige winced. "That rather stings. When you draw reality, you're not being CREATIVE!"

"I'm feeling in my element, though!" Tsumugi said as she continued to sketch.

She gave a shriek when a rain of ink drizzled down from above, soiling her drawing surface and covering up Whisp entirely. "You didn't need to do that," Tsumugi grumbled.

"I'm encouraging you to think CREATIVELY!" Paige asserted.

"What did you want me to do?" Tsumugi asked. "Color her green?"

Paige shook her head. "Green is not a creative color."

Coco suddenly popped up, leaning over the back of the seat, between Paige and Tsumugi's heads. "I'm plenty creative," she said. "Destroying cities just isn't the same if there aren't some rainbows in the explosion."

"A rainbow makes an explosion more cheerful!" Paige agreed. "The explosion will make the rainbow more fearful! Tell me more of how you're CREATIVE!"

"Well," Coco mused, "I've designed plenty of pins for the Reaper's Game." She dug around in her pocket, retrieving them and holding them forth. "None of them ever got picked up by the big brands, so they don't actually count, but I'm proud of them anyway."

Paige sifted through the handful. Then started plucking pins out and throwing them haphazardly into the aisle, making sure to flip the pin out and turn each into a needle projectile first. "No. No. No. No. No – oh, now THIS one is CREATIVE!" She pinned her favorite to her own dress.

"Keep it," Coco said. "Just remember to tell everyone you got it from Coco Atarashi, worlds' most adorable Reaper!"

Tsumugi picked up a pin that had rolled to her feet. "Can I keep this one if I give you the credit?"

"Sure, thx," Coco replied.

Tsumugi fastened it to her blouse. Then gave the sketchpad a sigh, flipping to a clean page.

"Remember to be creative this time," Paige suggested.

"Yes, yes, I'll be creative!" Tsumugi snapped. "But you have to remember I'm a fanartist by trade, and most of my OCs came from pre-existing designs!"

"If you want ideas," Coco said, "Sh0's great at making nonsense art I don't understand."

Tsumugi slammed the book shut. "I'm going to talk to him, then."

She made her way to the back of the car, where Sho and Simon were sandwiched between Pollution and Tony.

"Hey, I got a question," Sho said to Tony with a leer. "When a person dies and comes back to life, does the time they spent dead count as their age? Follow-up question: when a person dies and is cloned, does the time the real one spent dead count for the 2x?"

"I'm not a clone!" Simon argued. "I'm a perfect REPLICA!"

"This is a problem most easily solved," Tony said with a nod. "Simply his age needs to further evolve."

The next thing he knew, Simon was rapidly becoming an adult, then shooting right past that into elderly territory, his skin wrinkling up. "HEY!" he yelled. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Now there's no question," Tony stated. "This solution's the best one."

"Please don't age Vexen's replica to dessication!" Tsumugi pleaded. "You as an Eldritch Abomination might be able to counter his tantrums, but you're not the one who has to be part of his mission team after we get off this train!"

Simon felt himself going back the way he'd come, de-aging down to the age he had been. "I always meant to play it cool," Tony teased. "He is a friend of a friend of Aghoul."

He then turned to look at Sho. "It seems time does not affect you the same. I'd put you through the very same game."

Sho was proud as could be. "Just because I'm alive now doesn't mean I don't have all the powers of a Reaper! And that means I get to stay in my prime for ten-squareds of years!"

Tony discreetly put all Sho's golden years back where he'd found them.

"Excuse me?" Tsumugi said. "The other one just ruined my drawings until I can learn to be…creative. I think she just wants me to draw nonsense, but it's that or no drawing at all. You're good at nonsense art. Can you teach me how?"

Sho scooted, pushing Pollution against the wall. He patted the seat on his other side. "Come and learn from the god of art!"

Tsumugi settled in. Pollution watched intently as Sho guided Tsumugi through what he called "Lesson 1.0."

"Just move that pencil around wherever it wants to go," Sho encouraged. "Defy rules! Defy lines! Nothing can hold you back now! You don't believe in the borders they put up to keep you down!"

Tsumugi was drawing a circle.

"Hey, that's still a shape!" Sho lightly whacked her wrist. "Show me something unique! Show me something YOU!"

"Okay…" Tsumugi started scribbling, trying to go as mindlessly about it as possible.

"Now get messy!" Sho told her. "Make it big, make it bold, make it something they'll never forget!"

"Can't you be more specific?" Tsumugi asked. "How am I supposed to make a drawing messy?"

"Well, you can start by doing this." Pollution reached over and pressed their fingertips to the paper, leaving smudges of varying darkness. "There! It's beautiful!"

"No shapes," Tsumugi repeated. "Make it messy. Big and bold." She set the pencil to the paper again. "Actually, I'm getting an idea, but can I get a few more of those slime stains?"

Pollution reached over Sho's lap to trace their fingertip around the paper, leaving it greasy and rancid.

"Yes, just like that!" Tsumugi said. "It would be even better if we had some actual blood, but that's a little too much to ask for, I think."

Paige was suddenly in the seat in front of them, looming ominously as she watched. "Now that's what I call CREATIVITY!" she said, beaming. The air around her seemed to sparkle. "But it still needs a little something. I think I know just what thing!"

Another splotch of ink blotted out the entire page. Except this time there were bits of red matter floating in it. Tsumugi and Sho both glared. Pollution stared wide-eyed.

"Oops," Paige said with a titter. "A little too much, as such. Let's start over!"

...

"Well, ain't this a fine kettle of me!" the Lobster Mobster complained as he skittered through the hallways of Yzmatopia. "I'm the one who got those gals to the top, and they say I'm nothin' but a dumb sidekick, eh?"

Shrimp, Undertow, Cloak, and Dagger floated alongside him. Indus trotted along merrily.

"Yeah, what's the big idea, leaving us out?" Undertow growled. "Do they think we can't make it in Hollywood or somethin'? I don't even know what a Hollywood is, but I know we can crush it!"

"I, for one, trust Lady Yzma's judgment," Indus said. "We have obviously been given the far more important task of making sure the castle does not fall into enemy hands."

"Yeah, that's the way to look at it!" Shrimp agreed. "It's such a pretty castle, too."

"Well, y'know what I say?" the Lobster Mobster declared, having reached a particular door. "I say since the dames thought they could leave us out while they took over…we're gonna find somethin' to take over ourselves, see?" He rapped the door with a claw. "And it's behind this door, see?"

"Actually, I can't see," Shrimp informed him. "There's a door in the way."

Lobster Mobster went for his hat – but Cloak was first to whip Shrimp with a tail.

"Now, see, this is why we make a functional unit," Lobster Mobster told the chuckling ray as he adjusted his hat. "Hey, Teeth! Break down this door!"

"It's not gonna know what hit it!" Undertow crowed before barreling into the vault door at full speed.

"Well, of course not," Shrimp said. "It's a door. Doors don't know anything."

Dagger whipped him this time.

Undertow bounced off the vault door, spinning through the air. "Ow! What kind of magic is this?"

"Let me try." Indus walked up to the door, cracking his knuckles and flexing.

"Have at it, Muscles," Lobster Mobster told him. "Not like you can do any better than the – "

His warm-up done, Indus reached out and simply turned the door handle. It opened. "Will you look at that?" he said. "It is unlocked! Which means it is no longer a barrier! Have I ever told you that my Epithet is Barrier?"

"Shuuuut uuuuup!" Lobster Mobster said before proceeding into the vault.

It was filled with treasure, strange artifacts of all kinds, but with one thing in common: each was locked away behind a different mechanism. Usually grids of metal that crisscrossed at odd angles.

"These items must be very dangerous if the Protectors don't want them getting out," Indus mused.

"They ain't bein' kept in, you dolt!" Lobster Mobster yelled. "They're keepin' US out! This is the good stuff and they don't want us to get our claws on it!"

"Now I just wanna break it all outta spite!" Undertow yelled.

"You keep your pointy teeth off my loot!" Lobster Mobster retorted.

"Silly lobster," Indus laughed. "You meant to say 'our loot.'"

"Uh…yeah, I did," Lobster Mobster said quickly. "Certainly. Now, which of these things should we spring first?"

Then there came a new voice. Masculine, but a little high-pitched. "Hey! You guys lootin' the joint?"

A little rat came bounding up to them. A white diamond pattern was visible on his dark fur. "'Cause I've been tryin' to figure out how to spring some of this stuff for ages!" he said. "If we work together, we can split the profits!"

"Now hold on," the Lobster Mobster broke in. "Who're you and why should we trust you not to stab us in the back and run off with the loot?"

"Name's Twitch," the rat replied. "I've been hangin' around this vault a few weeks now, stayin' outta sight so the Protectors don't even know I'm here. I want some of the magic stuff they got locked away, see?"

"I see, see?" Lobster Mobster replied.

"I do too," said Shrimp, "'cause the door's open now."

Cloak and Dagger tag-teamed the whipping on that one.

"I dunno how I can prove I trust ya," Twitch said, "but I noticed all the Protectors went down in a big musical number not too long ago. I respect the pageantry. But most importantly I was glad you got 'em outta the way so I could pull off my big heist! Say, you guys got any idea what kind of animal could bust through these locks? Most of these alcoves are magic-bound, but maybe there's some kinda creature that could get through!"

"Have you tried a platypus?" Indus asked.

"No," Twitch realized. "I ain't tried that one yet!"

"Where're you gonna get a platypus at this hour?" Lobster Mobster asked.

"Ohoho, watch and be amazed!" Twitch's outline sparkled with magic, and then – POOF! He was a platypus, bearing the same diamond marking on his back.

"Hey, that's a pretty neat party trick!" Undertow told him. "Can you do a shark?"

"Nah," Twitch responded. "I mean, I could, but I don't got the spell you guys're usin' to breathe outta water, so I'd just be floppin' around all useless."

"You couldn't be a better shark than me anyway," Undertow replied.

"Don't doubt that!" Twitch responded. He had to start buttering up his new partners in crime, after all. "But yeah, I'm a Strangeling. That means I can change into all sorts of things!" In puffs of glitter, he rotated through a few forms. Skunk, beetle, horse. Then back to platypus. "Let's see how this does against the wall guardin' the BIG prize."

"Did you say 'big prize'?" Lobster Mobster asked. "As in…somethin' we could take over to prove we ain't just dumb henchman muscle around here?"

"Sure, sure!" Twitch told them. "They say it's filled with ancient magic. That's gotta be enough to split a few ways. Follow me!"

As he waddled over, leading the band of people convinced they weren't dumb henchmen, Undertow asked him, "So what's your real form look like?"

"Don't got one," Twitch replied. "We Strangelings, we can shapeshift even before we were born. Ma was a cat at the time, and I came out as a little baby turtle. We can be anything we want, and there ain't no tellin' what we were in the womb. I prefer to be a rat, myself, but there are times a rat just ain't useful. Oh, hey, we're here!"

A magic-reinforced metal grid of a wall rose before them. A crystal lock held it all together, preventing anything from opening. Through the holes in the wall, the group could see what appeared to be an ornate cupboard, almost a vanity, whose doors were glass. Inside, a golden locket was clearly visible.

"There it is!" Twitch pointed. "The Locket of Vor. The most powerful thing in this place!"

"The locket of what?" Undertow was confused.

"Oh, I know what vore is!" Indus said proudly. "Lady Mera once commissioned that appraiser with the golden eye to draw her a picture of it. I do not understand why there's an entire genre label for drawings of people being eaten, but it was a very good if strange drawing. Then Lady Mera hid it in her personal files, but I do not see why, since it was just an innocent drawing of cannibalism."

"Yeah, that's nice," Twitch said. "The point is, that locket has unimaginable powers! Or so I heard from the Protectors. They were a little skimpy on the details, but hey, that's the breaks when you're eavesdroppin'. That's the one thing in this place they wanted guarded most carefully out of all of it! Which means WE gotta get it!"

"You still haven't proved we can trust you, y'know," Lobster Mobster pointed out.

"Have I proven you can't?" Twitch asked.

Lobster Mobster thought that one over. "No, I guess not…"

"He has a point," said Indus.

"Might as well go with it," Undertow suggested. "If he turns on us, I'll eat him!"

"That is another example of vore!" Indus stated.

As a platypus, Twitch was trying to engage with the wall, but all he could really do was try and climb up it a little bit before sliding off. "It's no good. Whose dumb idea was this, anyway?"

"Well, you didn't even tell us what we were workin' with!" Lobster Mobster said indignantly. "This ain't a platypus-type situation! Looks more to me like if you were a little worm, you could get in that lock and pick it."

"I dunno how," Twitch responded. "Believe me, I thought of that! But the crystal levers go every which way and I got no clue how to arrange 'em!"

"Have we tried just bashing it?" Undertow suggested.

"No," Twitch replied. "Not sure that'd work on a magic security system."

"I say we bash it!" Undertow laughed.

"I will bash it also!" Indus said. "We will bash it at the same time!"

"Ready?" Undertow asked. "One…two…"

"Now hold on, gentlemen!" Lobster Mobster tried to interrupt.

"THREE!" Undertow yelled. He and Indus barreled toward the wall at full speed.

Lobster Mobster and Twitch barely had enough time to scream and dive out of their way. Cloak and Dagger laughed with great hilarity.

As it turned out, the Protectors had been so concerned with magic-related theft that they hadn't actually built their wall to withstand the combined weight of a strongman and a large shark. It all came crashing down, the crystal lock pinging off the floor a few times.

Twitch, as a rat, was immediately scampering up the side of the vanity to open the glass cupboard doors. "We did it, fellas! We're gonna have so much power!"

"When the dames get back," Lobster Mobster said, "we can tell 'em that even after they underestimated me, I took over the locket!"

"Just don't hog it!" Undertow growled.

Twitch seized the locket, dragging it out of its confinement. Almost immediately, Cloak whipped his tail around it, snapping it away.

"HEY!" Twitch yelled. "And I'm the one you thought you couldn't trust!"

Cloak deposited the locket into Indus' hands, making eye contact with Twitch the whole time.

"Of course!" Lobster Mobster realized. "If there's one person we can count on to divide the power up fair and square, it's our muscleman!"

"I am not sure how to divide a locket," Indus said.

"We gotta figure out how to activate its power," Twitch said, "and THAT'S what we divide!"

Indus did the obvious and flipped the locket open. There was someone waiting for him: a green face in the form of a theater mask, floating in an abyss. The locket was a window to this sight.

"I am the sorceress Vor," the mask said. "Who would you be?"

"I am Indus Tarbella, and my Epithet is Barrier," Indus answered. "You do not seem to have anything to do with cannibalism."

"Like I haven't heard that one before," Vor groaned.

"We were told you had a lot of power," Indus said. "We would like that power so we may split it amongst ourselves and prove to our bosses that we are not stupid!" He lowered his voice to a whisper that was still very audible: "Even though I do not doubt them, but it seems my friends need a self-confidence boost."

"You wish for my power?" Vor asked. "I think that can be arranged. In this very vault, there is a ring set with a green gemstone. Find it and bring it to me."

It took another wall being brought down, but the ring was located. Indus held it in his hand alongside the locket. "Now what do I do?" he asked.

Vor gave a soft laugh. "Put the ring on," she told him.

"But I wish to share this with my friends in the WHAM ARMY," Indus said. He looked to Twitch. "You are part of the WHAM ARMY now, are you not?"

"That's your gang?" Twitch clarified. "Yeah, sure! Why not? We're pals now!"

"And you are part of the WHAM ARMY too, vore necklace face," Indus told the locket.

"I would be more than happy to help the WHAM ARMY reach their ultimate goal," said Vor. "But my powers cannot be unleashed and divided amongst you unless one of you wears the ring. I would suggest the one with fingers handle the task."

"All right," Indus said. "But I really want to make sure everyone gets a piece of the power."

"You don't need to worry about that one little bit!" Vor said. "In just a moment, all of you will have exactly what you deserve."

"Oh, man, this is it!" Undertow said excitedly. "We're about to come out on top of the food chain!"

"You already were on top of the food chain, my fine friend," Lobster Mobster reminded him.

Indus slipped on the ring, admiring its enormous green gem.

"Yes," Vor said excitedly. "That's it, that's it! Now that you're wearing the ring, it will be easy for me to…"

A green mist emitted from the locket, flowing into the ring's stone. From there, a change began to overtake Indus, his hand turning a bright green color.

"Huh?" Indus raised that hand, watching the green travel up his arm. The fingers waggled a hello at him. "I am not doing that."

"Hey, what gives, lady?" Twitch barked. "You said the power was for all of us!"

"Oh," Indus realized. "I suddenly don't feel very good – "

In a flash, the transformation was complete. His skin was green as a Granny Smith apple, and his face was someone else's altogether, that of a woman with square features. Indus' body was now clothed in a flowing gown and a cape, topped off with a hood and a tall golden crown.

"Hmm, let's see…" The voice that came out was not Indus' dulcet baritone, but Vor's bold alto. She patted her upper half, which was Indus' upper half, but Indus wasn't home anymore. "A little barrel-chested for my liking, but it beats the shark. It will do."

"This, ah…" Lobster Mobster's knees, all of them, were knocking. "This is the part where you join the WHAM ARMY and share your power, right?"

Vor threw back her head and laughed, a piercing sound. "You FOOLS! I have no interest in your army! Now that you've given me what I want, the Mystic Isles will belong to ME!"

"Oh, no, she didn't!" Undertow growled. "You're gonna regret this, lady!" He braced to charge. "I'm-a-comin'!"

"No you aren't!" Vor said, singsong. She raised her hand up to her face, blowing gently. Green smoke billowed off her palm.

It expanded rapidly, engulfing Lobster Mobster, Shrimp, Undertow, Twitch, Cloak, and Dagger. Immediately they froze, a glazed look in their eyes.

"Say," Lobster Mobster said, "weren't we here with somebody else?"

"No, we're Vor's minions!" Undertow argued.

"Always happy to serve Vor," Shrimp droned.

"Anything we can do for ya, Master?" Twitch asked.

"Master," Vor repeated. "I always did want to be called 'Master.' And yes, my loyal henchmen, there is in fact something you can do for me. Lock yourselves in those cells over there." She gestured toward a set of cells obviously designed not for holding treasure but prisoners. "It's crucial to my plans, you see, and you'll all be rewarded handsomely."

"You heard the lady!" Lobster Mobster said. "Get in the slammer!"

Obediently, they all locked themselves away in their prison.

"Now," Vor said as she stalked out of the room, "to see about all this garish purple…"

"Say, fellas," Shrimp said woozily. "Dunno why, but I got this weird feeling. Like maybe we are the dumb henchmen after all."

"Why am I thinkin' the same thing?" Undertow wondered out loud.

"Shut…" Lobster Mobster shrugged. "Oh, what do I care? Go ahead and keep talkin'."

...

"Okay," Deymos prompted. "What are we NOT going to do again?"

"Inspire mutiny or infighting among WHAM ARMY," skekSil sighed. Had his beak allowed for it, he would certainly have been pouting.

"Very good!" Deymos snapped. "And YOU. What are WE not going to do again?"

"Trust a Skeksis," Carrion spat.

"Wrong," Deymos sighed.

"Allow Shape to live," Carrion grumbled.

"Still no," Deymos replied.

"Allow others to scheme behind my back without Nightmares watching them at all times."

"Wrong again. You're just messing with me at this point."

Carrion pointed at the ceiling. "It isn't as though I'm the only one who would be putting up Nightmare surveillance."

Deymos looked up. When he saw the black-and-white creature that had fastened itself there upside-down, he flinched and gave a scream. "ALBERT! Can you NOT? For like FIVE SECONDS?"

The Dream Eater scuttled down to the seat behind Deymos, skekSil, and Carrion. Albert nuzzled it with a hand, dismissed it –

"You were NOT sitting there two seconds ago!" Deymos yelled at him.

"Well, it just occurred to me that this was a situation that might require a therapist's touch," Albert said.

Deymos thumped the seat. "Okay, do the thing so we can talk to each other."

The seat uprooted itself and turned around; Albert directly faced Deymos and the two patients. "I think we should start with a general sanity check," Albert began. "Chamberlain skekSil, what is two plus two?"

"TOO EASY!" Sho yelled from the back. "IT'S FOUR! NOBODY'S THAT DUMB!"

"…Lord Carrion," Albert attempted. "What is five squared?"

"TWENTY-FIVE!" Sho yelled.

"PLEASE stop undermining my session," Albert sighed at him. "Which one of us has a doctorate?"

"Yours is in marine biology," Sho said with a roll of his eyes.

"Mine is in d-demonology!" Agnus said cheerily.

"No one asked!" Deymos snapped at him.

Paige, Tony, and the Horsepeople had crowded together, Enmu's head hovering on its esophagus-cable overhead, and they were having quite a good laugh at the whole scene. "Mortals are so funny when they argue," War giggled. "It would be even funnier if we gave them guns."

"What's your favorite way to be creative with guns?" Paige asked. "Mine is Super Soakers that shoot deadly ammo! You think it's a game until they're gone like wham-o!"

"Dear, my dear," Tony said with a sincere smile, "I love when your vision's clear."

Famine rolled his eyes. "Must it always end in violence with you, War?"

"What were you gonna do?" War asked. "Invite them to the worlds' worst banquet?"

"I want to spill more things on them," Pollution said with a mile-wide smile.

"Paige?" Enmu urged. "You still have more ink and blood at your disposal, right?"

Paige held up her hand. Bright red, sticky, too-thick blood bubbled out of it, with chunks of viscera floating. "Now or later?"

"Don't turn traitor," Tony warned her. "Think of Aghoul."

"Right," Paige realized. "It wouldn't be cool." She stuffed the red mass into her pocket. There would be plenty of opportunity to use it at Ozzie's. "Oh, look, outside! Not a bit of light! I think this party train's entered HER domain!"

"Of course we have!" Enmu chuckled. "We couldn't do this without her, now, could we? Or her friend."

Deymos looked out the window on his end. There was only deep, all-consuming blackness outside. Not even Darkness. The empty void, the sort that drains you of all hope simply with one glance.

"Aaaaaand we're in the void now," Deymos groaned as the train pulled to a halt. "Because why not?"

"Who lives here?" Mim asked.

"Oh, you're going to love her," Aghoul gushed. "The most beautiful, alluring, Eldritch, and absolutely wretched entity – "

Mim whacked her fist over Aghoul's head.

"SECOND most absolutely wretched entity that existed across realities!" Aghoul coughed.

They never saw her actually get on the train. One minute, she wasn't there, and the next, she was. She looked the picture of beauty and innocence, her voluminous orange hair done up into two buns on top and two pigtails below. Dressed in the white formal garb of a princess, with the tiara to match, the woman started down the aisle, flashing a soft smile to the other passengers.

"Ah, Nehema!" Aghoul greeted. "Always a pleasure!"

Nehema's expression soured as she looked to Aghoul. "Perhaps to you, here and now, it is a pleasure," she said flatly. "Nothing is ever 'always.'" She made a show of blinking. "No, you aren't pleased at all in a variety of circumstances, and in one, it ended in blood."

"If you're here to tell me you had a sordid past with my Ghoulie," Mim said, "then I'll have you know I'M his primary woman now and I'll fight for that position!"

"A fight you could not win," Nehema said sourly. "Fortunately for you, I have no interest in Ayam Aghoul." Blink. "No, none at all, no matter where I look. He is tolerable company and little more. Not a mate I would desire to capture. Are you his primary woman in all cases, though?" Blink. "Doubtful."

"Nehema sees into a multitude of timelines and realities that occupy the same space," Aghoul explained. "She can even enter and exit some of them at will. She calls it the power of 'eversion.'"

"I hope she doesn't think it would save her in a fight," Mim huffed.

Then a black pincer on a segmented leg was suddenly at Mim's throat, clacking ominously. It was coming from somewhere in the folds of Nehema's gown. "I warn you that I am not what you see," the princess growled. "My true form is incomprehensible and inherently unknowable. I am a product of all realities converging." A tentacle joined up with the pincer, spikes emitting from its tip. "I am too large to be contained by this train and too small to be harmed by anything larger than a germ. The body you see before you only serves as bait to capture food or companions. Would that I weren't prone to loneliness I might consider myself a perfect being."

"Oh, I see," Mim realized. "Well, then, it would be a waste of time to fight. Carry on." She was absolutely unfazed.

"You are not afraid?" Nehema countered. "I can end you in so many ways more than a quick and merciful death. You will encounter a thousand years' worth of torment in the span of a second at my limbs."

"Try me," Mim said.

Nehema glowered, almost looking like she was about to. Then she withdrew her appendages. "I respect you." She nodded to Aghoul. "You've chosen well…in your reality."

"That's the best I can ask from you," Aghoul replied.

Enmu's head snaked down. "Nehema? Whatever happened to your lover?"

"Lover?" Aghoul flinched. "I DEFINITELY missed that!"

"An ephemeral moment to my immortal self," Nehema stated coldly. "I had proposed to him the concepts of eternity and infinite possibility, allowing him to transcend his form and reality. He then decided his arbitrary sense of morality did not align with me and he wanted nothing more to do with me. But he'd already signed his entire existence to me, so I had to enjoy him in a different way."

A second mouth opened up on Nehema's body. One spanning the entire upper curve of her stomach. The teeth were sharp and too many; the tongue lolled and dripped saliva. "He tasted like cowardice and hypocrisy," this mouth said. "I seasoned him with stardust and blueberry syrup. I haven't fed that well in a while." Then the mouth closed up and disappeared.

"That's a pity," Enmu sighed. "I thought you two would stick it out. Oh, well."

"Nehema, dear," Aghoul said, "do refrain from making a meal of anyone else riding Enmu today." He chuckled at his own innuendo. "You are being ridden by a GREAT many now, aren't you? Lucky you!"

"If only they were all beautiful men," Enmu sighed. "But of course, I shouldn't talk about such things. After all, there is now one man – or 'demon' perhaps – who takes up my heart. You missed that also."

Aghoul's jaw dropped. "WHAT? WHEN? We're coming back to this." He pointed at Nehema. "At any rate, everyone onboard is one of my friends and protected."

Nehema nodded. "Understood." Blinked. "Completely understood."

She moved to take a seat in the back. Aghoul turned to point at Enmu; "Now tell me all about this dream man!"

"You think I kiss and tell?" Enmu winked.

"A name at least!" Aghoul begged. "The curiosity will just bring me back to life if you don't!"

"All right, a name," Enmu relented. "But then we go back to talking business rather than pleasure. His name is Asura."

"Asura?" Aghoul repeated. "Feel like I've heard that somewhere before, and not just in Indic cosmology."

"Well, I promised you the name and nothing more, so that's what you get!" Enmu teased.

Aghoul folded his arms. "Curiosity revived the cat, and in this case, there won't be satisfaction to bring it back down to where it should be."

"That isn't at all the saying," Vexen sighed, "and I know there's no point in correcting it but it doesn't even make SENSE in that iteration."

"Making sense is overrated," Mim said haughtily.

"But don't you want to know who else got on our train when I stopped?" Enmu asked. By now, the train was rolling full speed again. "I think you'll be glad to see her face again."

"Someone else boarded?" Aghoul was baffled.

A mouth-backed hand snaked down to join Enmu's head. It pointed.

Aghoul turned around, finding himself staring straight into the face of another woman, sharp-toothed and far too close. Her eyes were shrouded by the rim of a bowler hat.

Aghoul gasped. "As I don't live or breathe, ALYA? ALYA UCINATION? You always did know how to give me a heart attack!"

"Nice to see you." She straightened up, unnaturally tall, with two ordinary arms and a third that was more clawlike. She was dressed in surprising garb for a demonic entity: a glittery red jacket and shorts, a bow tie, a pair of high red heels, and her bowler topping it all off. "But I go by a different name these days. One of my favorite victims coined 'Helen Highwater,' and I felt it fit."

"Helen Highwater!" Aghoul burst out laughing. "What a TERRIBLE pun! It's perfect!"

"And who is SHE?" Mim barked. "If you say she's more ruthless than I am, you'll be sleeping with half your pieces on the couch tonight and the other half in the bathtub! And I won't make it an even bisection."

"Compared to you, Helen is downright tame," Aghoul answered.

Helen pouted. "That hurts. But I understand. You need to flatter your woman. If only you were this respectful in any other sense." She gave a hissing sound that was obviously supposed to be a giggle.

"She specializes in driving people mad by appearing to them on a hallucinatory plane," Aghoul explained. "Usually in dreams, but those with impaired vision or mental disorders also have a gateway to her realm. The more they believe she just might be real, the more she IS real to them."

"That is tame," Mim told her. "No withering flowers? No goring people in the form of a rhinoceros? That's pitiful."

"Oh, I know I just couldn't compare to you!" Helen answered. "Especially since you tied Aghoul down and made him behave. I think we all owe you for that!" She laughed as she stalked further into the car.

First, Nehema passed Carrion. Catching a vision out of the corner of her eye, she paused before him. "Lord of Nightmares," she said demurely. "My loneliness is boundless as the Abaratian sea. I long for little more than a hand to hold – "

"I am through pursuing princesses," Carrion said venomously. "You may be a more powerful entity than I. However, I am more than willing to test the theory. Stay away or it will come to blows."

Nehema shrugged, moving past him to sit down beside Agnus instead. "I had to try at least."

Agnus had his notebook out already. "You just HAVE to t-tell me all about this 'eversion' of yours!" he babbled. "I've n-never heard of anything like it! D-d-do you see the images in an overlay, or do you c-cycle between them?"

"The way I perceive multiple planes at one time is indescribable to those who have only seen through mortal eyes," Nehema responded. "However, I do tend to focus on the one I occupy so as not to confuse those around me. I open my sight to others when it would be valuable to evaluate the differences."

"What c-constitutes these other r-r-realities?" Agnus was taking notes furiously.

"You might call them 'worldlines,'" Nehema answered. "You would have to cross space to enter another. I see them all aligned, each in its place. There are no boundaries for one such as I."

"C-c-can you give me an example?" Agnus asked. "What d-do you see now?"

Nehema blinked. "This train is whole. This train is dessicating. Enmu lies eviscerated on the aisle of his own body. This train is crashing into a frozen lake, preserving us for eternity. The squabbling pair there – " She indicated skekSil and Carrion. "- have murdered each other. They have made amends. They are kissing passionately. They have worked together to kill the one called 'Shape.' Shape is a woman. Shape is a man. Shape is neither. Shape is Letheo and Letheo is Shape. Letheo's insides are on the outside. Sho's the one who made it that way. Simon's the one who made it that way. It's Simon's birthday. He's made us celebrate. He's turning eighteen. He's turning fifty-two. We're eating lemon cake. We're eating vanilla cake. We're eating Albert's internal organs. He protested. He doesn't mind. The train is covered in confetti. The train is an ordinary train and Enmu its driver. He is wearing a ballerina's tutu. He is wearing human skin. The skin came from Valentine, who is a human. Valentine is still a vampire. Valentine is a sea monster. Tsumugi is a fluffy kitten."

"Fascinating, fascinating!" Agnus's pencil couldn't move fast enough. "And you s-s-said you can t-tr-travel to these other r-realities? Is that correct?"

Nehema nodded. "You want me to demonstrate."

"Of course I do! In the name of science!"

Nehema simply disappeared. She was gone for two full minutes, then returned holding two items: the corpse of a demonic baby with deer antlers protruding from its bashed-in head…and the lemon cake from Simon's birthday party. It had extra whipped cream on it.

"…M-may I keep the c-cake?" Agnus asked softly.

She passed it to him, rolling her eyes. The mouth on her stomach opened up, she tossed the baby inside, and no more questions were asked about it.

Meanwhile, Helen came strolling down the aisle. Vincent cringed away from her into Victor's protective arms. Coco and Whisp gaped at how beautiful they found Helen.

Albert was in the midst of his session when he noticed her: "Would you say you suffer from paranoia that someone might – oh, hello, Helen. It's been a while."

"Hi, Albert," Helen replied.

Deymos pointed from one to the other, awestruck. "You two KNOW EACH OTHER?"

"He's no fun to torture," Helen replied, "but he is fun to talk to. His sense of humor is depraved like mine."

"Oh?" Carrion leaned around. "Is that you? What name are you using now?"

"'Helen Highwater,'" Helen replied.

"YOU KNOW HER TOO?" Deymos gaped.

"She features prominently in my nightmares," Carrion said with a nod. "A recurring character, a center-stage actress."

"And Christopher is a fabulous director," Helen said with a grin. "May I sit in? Is this another session of dream therapy?"

"I'm trying to reconcile the murderous desires of these two toward one another," Albert explained.

"Easily done," Helen stated. "Whatever's happened, War set it up to be sure. She never could resist a good fight to the death."

"War couldn't have forced the Chamberlain to fill my underling's head with traitorous thoughts," Carrion grumbled.

"Is true!" skekSil argued. "But on same coin, Chamberlain could not have forced Shape to turn traitor, could he? Traitorous thoughts already there!"

"Mortals." Helen was probably rolling her eyes, but no one could see them under the hat. (And they were all beginning to get the sense that no one wanted to.) "Such a shame that when they die, it's for keeps. I couldn't imagine having to tiptoe that carefully around my friends. Nehema and I bicker to the death once a week, but neither of us can truly die, so the argument always becomes moot after one of us gets the killing blow. It's very cathartic."

"Shape has already come back from the dead once," Carrion said.

"Can you come back the same way?" Helen asked.

"I suppose…" Carrion muttered.

"Then what does it matter if you two want to kill each other?" Helen shrugged. "Perhaps you were really meant to be friends all along once you get that issue worked out. Of course, since you're mortal, you'll have to find a workaround for the death blow."

"I'm working on it," Albert said.

"Has he made you play the shell game yet?" Helen asked.

"No," Albert said with a pout. "No one will lend me an eyeball for it."

"But how could that be?" Paige yelled from across the train. "You never asked ME!" And she lobbed an object across the train.

Albert caught it with cyborg-quick reflexes. It was an eyeball that had two irises fused, two pupils bleeding into each other. "This is better," he said. "Now we can proceed to the very important and therapeutic step of playing the shell game." He paused a long time. "…I don't have any cups either."

"Take these." Nehema handed him three cups of punch from the birthday party that didn't exist.

Albert offered them forth to Deymos, Carrion, and skekSil first. "Drink?"

Over the PA system, through the pulsating ears on the ceiling, there came the opening notes of what seemed like a soulful ballad: "What an amazing time. What a family…"

Helen gasped. "I'll be back. I want to see how this comes out in the wash." She got up, thought better of it, sat back down, slammed all three of the cups of punch in one go, leered mischievously at the people who'd been offered them, then leapt out of her seat. "NEHEMA! PAIGE!"

"Oh, goody, goody!" Paige jumped into the aisle as well, bouncing up and down.

Nehema rolled her eyes. "I suppose."

The three of them lined up as the music slammed into electronica with a "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!". Then broke into a chorus line right there in the middle of the train car, using old-fashioned moves to the modern song. Performing a Charleston on the chorus; "What you waiting, what you waiting, what you waiting, what you waiting, what you waiting for?"

"At this point I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out I was just dreaming all this from an inn in Vie de Marli," Vexen muttered.

"Oh, but it gets better!" Aghoul urged. "Our recruits are at our next stop. Don't worry, you don't need to get out of the car; Mimsie and I will handle that part. But we're also going to phone up one of my oldest friends of them all! You might know him as…the ghost with the most!"

Vexen stared blankly at him. "I think I would prefer a ghost with less, thank you very much."