Biggers City.

One week ago, the small city would go around happily boasting the fact that it was protected by a legendary hero. These days, they had nothing to boast about. Under a blood red sky, the notorious criminal Simon Barsinister ruled with an iron fist. With his flying throne, he could be anywhere he wanted, anytime he wanted; and he carefully kept himself out of arm's reach of his subjects.

Despite his aggression, his punishments and his non-stop orders, the supposed King had said one thing that was truthful: Underdog had not been seen in days. Nor had any of the other criminals, and nor had ace TV reporter Polly Purebred. Why wouldn't he be truthful? After all, it all was his orchestration.

While the supposed King governed his empire, his prisoners were left to rot in their laser cell. They were watched by Simon's assistant Cad Lackey—a veritable warden, and as crooked as any cop could be. Instead of truly watching the prisoners, he would kick back in a chair and fall asleep. Luckily for King Sinister, the mere threat of Cad awakening to alert the "ruler" was enough to stave off a revolt. From time to time, they were guarded by the much more intense Veronica Magus—she would only stay around long enough for Cad to run off and return with the prisoner's meager meals.

No—Simon was far too kind as to let his prisoners wither away. The King continually made loud announcements through the intercom to gloat about his success... and there was no one better to gloat to than the hero of Biggers, and the men he had betrayed to get there.

Still, a few of the more confident men (even Riff, despite his... everything) had attempted to flirt with Veronica enough for her to release them. Though, when a moderate amount of women attempted to do the same, playfully shadowing the guys to embarrass them, Veronica facetiously pushed her long ear behind her shoulder.

Underdog did not know how much time had passed, but the pain of his untended injuries, hunger, and exhaustion was beginning to get to him. He didn't dare sleep in front of the crooks—he couldn't be certain what they would do to Polly.

Although Polly did occasionally insist he at least lay down, if Underdog did sleep, he didn't feel it. The crooks were more willing to get rest, all of them having a certain "thief's honor" - though it was clear the conditions were getting to them, as well.

If nothing else, Underdog had Polly. He would never say she wasn't beautiful, but it was obvious despite her emotionless features that she was not thriving here. She had been kidnapped on one of her few vacation days, and was not dressed anything like the Polly the cameras were used to. Underdog was accustomed to this Polly—she wore a black tanktop with a stretched out-collar, torn-up red shorts, and black tights that shimmered under the light. She had long since tied her light jacket around her waist.

Day after wretched day and hour after gorey hour Underdog had to snarl at the criminals who rushed at him—rushed at Polly. Even when the insistent crooks did get Underdog into scrapes, he quickly sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. As if the time wasn't making the villains furious enough, their losses only soured them more.

Underdog had just sent another one scampering back—he thought it was the Pie Prankster. Instead of returning to his angry silence, however, he growled out a warning.

"If I must, I will fight until I fall," though his voice was rough with the snarl, it was still obviously tired. "Have no doubt. But if we do nothing but fight, we will never get out."

"And just how do you plan that?" Riff snarled back at him. His voice was much more intimidating, his throat not wrought from growling. He gestured angrily at the bars of their enclosure, "These damn things nearly cooked our goose— literally!"

Hiss honked weakly within the crowd.

Underdog sighed and shook his head slowly, pushing his quivering hands up his face. He looked around the outskirts of their prison to confirm that Cad was being as watchful as he ever was. Sure enough, he sat in a chair with his head tilted back and his hands folded over his stomach. When Underdog pricked his ear, he could hear the faintest snoring.

"Our captor sleeps," he stated, finally swallowing back his growl. "And though I am your enemy, together we can make a plan, if you side with me."

The gathered crowd was silent. In fact, Underdog didn't think the fires of vengeance against him had died down at all. He scanned the faces that surrounded him—he needed to say something that would remove the heat from his back, and place it on the true villain.

Underdog took a confident step forward. He unhunched his form and extended his arms slightly, hoping to look less like an enemy. He cleared his throat and tried to raise his voice to its normal octave. "Outside these walls, Simon Barsinister is running the show," he stated, "If we escape together and unite as a team, we can defeat our foe."

"That's what Simon told us," Overcat grumbled as he shoved his way through the crowd.

Riff huffed as if he still had cigars to smoke. "Yeah, 'n you're a good guy, you'd turn on us quicker than he would."

"As would you," Underdog said coldly, cutting his eyes up at them.

Eel let out a crackly laugh. "He's got a point, there!"

Still, Riff snarled. He pulled his blazer back onto his shoulders and ran a hand through his mussed up hair. "I know you can get yourself out of a tricky situation as much as the rest of us," he told Underdog, then raised his voice to speak to the crowd at large. "But I don't know about this. Team up with you? I've got a status to maintain."

"Nyeah, me too, see?!" responded a criminal Underdog had never seen before in his life.

One of Riff Raff's Gangmates, a pretty vixen named Dyna Mite, stepped up beside him. "How are we going to look, teaming up with you? You dedicate your life to ruining our fun."

"He probably has fleas," sneered Phoney Baloney, a small dog in a massive fur coat.

Underdog heard a rush from behind him. For a moment he feared another criminal was trying to catch him off guard, but the fear quickly faded as he felt a thin hand be placed on his shoulder. He looked up to find Polly—her eyes were blazing, and her lip was raised in a snarl to rival Riff's own.

"You fear your reputations?!" she shouted in disbelief. "Simon is the one who fooled you! He lured you here and locked you up just like the tools you all are. If you want to reclaim your glory, you'll have to take him down." Polly's hand tightened its grip on Underdog's shoulder. Her voice became rough with every piece of sarcastic praise she said. "Your legacies of dread and terror fade every moment you're waiting around here."

"And I don't have fleas," Underdog added weakly, "Let's not spread rumors, please."

Though the crowd was silent, Underdog could see the consideration and shame in their forms. In front of him, Dyna and Riff had pinned their ears. Dyna picked at the collar of her dress while Riff fiddled with the buttons of his suit.

"...that's a good point," the wolf eventually muttered.

Dyna nodded, her sparkling gaze meeting Polly's. "Let's take down King Sinister."

Polly took a step in front of Underdog and pointed her finger to the ground like she was commanding a naughty animal. "Eel," she ordered.

Eel was standing off to the side, one of his arms crossed and the other to his chin as he pondered her words. Nevertheless, when Polly commanded him, he sauntered up to her without complaint. In fact, a wicked smile crossed his face, revealing his glass-sharp teeth in all their glory.

"I think your powers could free us," Polly stated, "Underdog's cosmic-ray vision doesn't do anything, and neither do anyone else's powers. But!" She turned away from him to look thoughtfully at the lasers that surrounded them. She gestured at them with her hand as she spoke, "I'm pretty sure that these lasers are electric. If you give them a huge zap, you might just confuse them for long enough for... at least some of us to get out."

"Hold on!" honked someone. Polly and Eel both glanced back to find Dr. Hiss, pushing their way through the crowd to scold them. "Does this mean we aren't going to ssss-stomp on Underdog again?!"

Everyone ignored them.

Eel beamed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. As he did, the static of his magic built up in his grasp until little currents, hardly bigger than a pencil-line, sparked out of them. He finally pulled his hands apart with a noisome crackle and a bolt of light. He wiggled his fingers as the currents that danced between them grew bigger and bigger.

"Worth a shot," he chuckled as he took a few steps back. Polly and the crowd copied him, none wanting to be in the blast zone if her plan didn't work.

Polly gripped onto Underdog as she returned to him, despite it all, a massive smile on her face. Underdog had his doubts, glancing toward Eel as Polly moved to watch. Eel had never done anything for him—none of the other crooks had, either—but Eel was the worst offender. Underdog shuddered to recall his and Eel's history.

Finally, Eel pointed his palms at the prison bars. Two huge bolts of lightning shot from them and struck the lasers. The lasers crackled and snapped under Eel's force, letting out an ear-grating KKZZRTTT that drowned the crook's reactions . A shower of white sparks dissipated into the concrete below, but the lasers still held firm.

Even Eel gulped in worry, dropping his easy-going smile and furrowing his brows as he forced the electricity out of himself. After what felt like hours of mining away at the lasers, a small current finally burst out from the prison and struck the opposite wall. Eel panted as he lowered his hands while the crowd around him cheered.

What Eel had carved out was a circle. It was taller than it was wide; barely bigger than Eel's own shoulders, and a foot off of the ground. Slippery creature that he was, Eel stepped carefully through his hoop. Inside the prison, not a soul dare breathe.

At last, Eel's right foot touched the ground outside. He turned stiffly around to the prisoners, his smile small and modest for once, as if even he couldn't believe he'd escaped.

"Great plan, lady!" he exclaimed, returning to his confidence. He waved his hands for the prisoners to follow and continued. "Come on, everyone! Let's take down this 'King' Sinister!"

Underdog was the first to rush after him. He grabbed Polly by the wrist and dragged her alongside him. It strained his aching arm but Underdog couldn't find it within himself to care.

Merely a footstep away from the exit, someone pushed Underdog away by his shoulder. He grunted as he stumbled into Polly, who squeaked as she was shoved. When Underdog looked up, he found that it was Dr. Hiss—who hadn't even turned back to taunt him.

Just then, Eel let out a wicked laugh and raised his hands, currents of electricity sparkling around them. "Or not!" he exclaimed as his bolts once more struck the prison.

Hiss ran head-first into the lasers just as Eel's current dissipated. The bars had returned to their original shape, crackling angrily. They crackled even more as Hiss touched them, letting out a massive shout as they, again, were fried. This attack did not last as long, and did not stink as badly. As Hiss fell back, Underdog thought they resembled a puppet.

Underdog stepped back, shuffling Polly back into their corner with his arm struck out protectively. She did not protest, and Underdog didn't have to look back to see the shock on her face—it was mirrored in the expression of every criminal. The hero scanned the crowd. Already, a few of the crooks had turned to anger, flickering their gazes between Eel and Polly. Underdog met one's gaze while baring his teeth and raising his hackles.

Underdog continued to watch the criminals, looking out for any of them that might come charging at Polly. However, one face stood out—it was Eel's most faithful follower, a trout of some kind; Underdog thought his name was Ishmael. His form was stiff with disbelief, but his eyes were wet with heartbreak.

Eel chuckled, and every eye fell on him.

"I'm off to beat Barsinister myself, you dimwits!" he exclaimed. He struck his arms out, electricity dancing between his fingers artistically as he moved to address his fellow crooks. "C'mon. What do you think would happen if we charged into battle with the mutt in a cape himself? Any guesses?"

Eel clasped his arms behind his back, tilting his head low as he paced back and forth in front of the imprisoned crowd. It was a taunt— Underdog could almost smell the sarcasm wafting off of him, and he could certainly see the way that his golden eyes kept flickering back to see his reaction. Even despite his betrayal, the criminals became thoughtful at the question. It didn't take long for even more angry gazes to fall upon Underdog and Polly.

Eel continued despite the fact that few watched him. "As soon as we took down Simon, he'd have us all arrested! No more jail for me, losers!" That quip earned him a few hardened stares. Regardless, he went on with all the cockiness in the world. "I'm taking down Simon and taking the throne myself. KING EEL!"

He sent off a dramatic bolt, momentarily darkening his face. Somehow, his smile got bigger and his teeth got sharper. He laughed to himself and padded through the building, placing his hand on one of the brick walls that seemed to lead out. He stopped to glance over his shoulder with a wink.

"Sounds nice, right? Or maybe King Electric. Or maybe I rebrand! King Zappy!" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully before concluding, "Nah, too friendly. Anyway, don't any of you worry! When I'm in charge, I'll make sure none of you are in here for too much longer."

Despite how hopeful it sounded, something dark shone in Eel's light eyes, and his glass-sharp teeth clacked against eachother as he chuckled wickedly. Finally, he blew a kiss over his shoulder.

"But don't you worry, Fish! Ol' Eel won't let nothin' happen to you," then he ducked behind the wall with a beam shining on his face. "THANKS, LADY!"

The prisoners waited. Underdog could hear the crickets and Cad's snoring in the quiet. Then came the SLAM of a heavy door, shut so intensely that it shook the ground in its wake.

Suddenly Underdog felt a million little embers land upon him like gunfire. A shadow slunk out of the crowd, nearing him slightly bent and with deliberate, heavy footsteps.

"Great work, Miss Polly," hissed Battyman. He was shadowed as he approached them, his eyes perfectly circular blood moons. As his anger rose, his eyes narrowed until they were barely thicker than the membrane of his wings.

Riff stomped up beside him, less calculated in his anger as he waved his arms and snarled. "Yeah, look how much better a place we're in thanks to your brilliant idea!"

"SEIZE HER!" Batty shouted.

Polly shrieked, but Underdog hardly heard. He let out a bark and rushed to meet the incoming tidal wave of criminals. They received him just as easily, readily pulling his ears, punching in his nose, cracking his wrists and stomping his feet. Underdog didn't care—he hardly felt his wounds being reopened in the heat of his anger.

They would never touch Polly. Not while he was around.