Ratigan

There's some floating stuff, a guy talking, it's all pretty scary until you slam dunk into a door. That's your next stop...the Twilight Zone.

Though it had been a short while, Progress city had been well...Progressing well. Everything had been settled and Rod for the first time in his life felt a tiny bit less stressed. He even managed to “settle” things with Ratigan. He looked at the painting wrapped in canvas, the one he somehow forgotten.

“I wouldn’t say that the Professor hadn’t turned over a new leaf,” he confided to John in his office, “but I guess leaving me with this gift after turning down his island is a sign that he isn’t an absolute sociopath.”

“Hmm. Well...” John frowned. He hadn’t easily forgotten his fun time entering the Underworld where Ratigan threatened immediate experimentation after just dying. In the end, Ratigan was simply a slightly more intelligent rat after all. But not much. He couldn’t do much damage as say, Hades.

“I’m just glad to be done with that, everything in the past and moving forward. Though I feel we might have forgotten something….”

Meanwhile in the void, a lone man walked the halls of the Tower of Terror. He seemed pretty lost, “Hewwo…? Hewwo…? Did we get dose countwey beahs…? Hewwo….?”

John waved his hand, “I’m sure you’re worrying about nothing. I’m mostly curious to see what that rat left you as a ‘going away’ present.”

For some reason Rod suddenly felt a chill, like he was within one of his very own episodes. Better get this over with, right? Like ripping off a band aid. He neatly removed the material to find something that made both John and him’s blood run cold. It was a portrait. If portrait could be used in the loosest terms. It was ‘art?’ of Belle and Ratigan making out.

“Yes...well...should we just tell him...not to go to art school?” suggested John, trying to make light of the situation.

Rod however slowly turned it on its back, refusing to let its evil energies cast themselves to his face, “I have a feeling Ratigan isn’t the author. No, it’s much worse.”

The man of progress’ face stretched into a grimace, feeling the fear.

“Ratigan wanted to get rid of it. So I was the best choice,” what a fool he was. Even when Ratigan was being generous he could be an absolute tool. He should have known.

They heard the footsteps of a demon entering the office, uninvited, “Hey guys. What’s going on here?”

“Tcherno.” Rod said, slowly scooting in front of the painting so the toon wouldn’t—ah he saw it.

“What’s this??” He immediately flipped around the painting and slowly trickled into laughter. “This is rich. Is that supposed to be--”

“Yes.” Rod’s mouth might as well be glued shut.

“And--”

“Yes.” John cut in.

“And they’re--”

“We need to get rid of it, Tcherno.” Rod cut in, “Ratigan...left us this and we have no way of regifting it back to him.”

“Uh why?” the demon toon seemed cynical.

“We’d be sinking to his level.”

“So just burn the thing.”

“No.” Rod hissed. Twilight Zone didn’t make no fool. He knew that destroying something so evil could easily release something much more evil, “We need to put it somewhere. Somewhere no one will ever care to look.”

John stood up, grabbing it from Tcherno like one would take a wet napkin from a hamster, “I got it.”

Moments later all three were standing at the wall where it hung, back to the world. Rod nodded, “I think this might work.”

“The supply closet?” asked Tcherno.

“No one’s going to bother with the mundane in a theme park. This isn’t like a murder game.” Rod said.

“So...that’s it then! I think this deserves a brunch!” and John and the game merrily skipped to brunch. Except it was only John that did the skipping.

Two months had passed without incident when Tcherno did his daily bursting into his office, “Rod you got to see this.”

“Can this wait, Tcherno? I got budgeting to do..”

“Oh no you’ll want to see this,” he produced his wrist communicator, pulling up a webpage.

Rod didn’t have much patience for this, “It looks like just staff posting the same image of three men going in captions ‘I’ve had enough of this dude’ with the image being—oh my god.”

Tcherno cracked up, “It’s great isn’t it? They call it ‘means’. I think that was a good mean!”

Rod had to get to the bottom of this—literally. Sure enough at the supply closet someone flipped over the painting of Ratigan and Belle. How long was this like this? So many employees could have seen this...why did he think this could go away easily...he was such a fool…

Rod snatched the painting off the wall, “That’s enough. We’re going to where this nightmare began.”

As it turns out, Basil and Ratigan and their extended family did well for themselves. Rod and Tcherno felt flabbergasted when they saw the palace by the ocean. Connections to Greek demigods and sorcerers seemed to pay off well.
“Can you believe Ratigan wanted to give him a whole island?” he scoffed as they lugged the painting to the door.

Their knocking was answered, not by a servant, but by a familiar girl with brown hair and eel familiars. She leaned against the doorframe, giving a cynical squint.

“...yes hello Marnie, I was wonder--”

He was soon met with a solid kick to the shin, sending him buckling.

“Ratigan, it’s for you!” she called out.

“...good to see you too, Marnie.”

“We went over this,” a prim voice called out sing-songy, “I’m not home ever. Especially if it’s someone to see me~”

“Ratigan I’m not holding the door you jerk so get down here before I call everybody!”

“Oh you’re just bluffing...”

Both Tcherno and Rod stood awkwardly to watch this weird drama play out.

Marnie silently waltzed out of view before crying out, “HEY! ROD’S HERE!”

“BLAST YOU CHILD, YOU MAY AS WELL WAKE THE DEAD WITH THAT VOICE!”

“WELL GOOD THING YOU’RE HERE ALREADY.”

Basil, wearing his ‘way too tired for this’ sleeping robes, dragged his feet, “...does this involve me in any way?”

“No,” Rod said, “This has to do with me and Ratigan and his horrific painting.”

Basil was already leaving at the word go when he heard painting. “Painting? Did you say--” he called out to Ratigan, “...didn’t you say Freddie and Ariel’s wedding gift was ‘as good as hung’?”

“It was...” Ratigan trailed off, “...but it looks like an insufferable automaton had to meddle once again in our affairs.”

“First off that painting isn’t even yours to regift!”

“You really wish to hang that infernal thing that pretends to call itself art?!”

Rod had only been here for a good two minutes and he felt exhausted, “How do Ariel and Freddie sleep through all this?”

“They’re not here,” Basil corrected, “They’re off on a business venture. Something about an illusion show.”

Elsewhere in Marveland which is what the actual superheros called their very real and canon theme park don’t look this up...Ariel and Freddie were currently being ticketed by the Thing, well a themepark cop in a Thing costume.

“I’m telling you I’m really Scarlet Witch and she’s really Black Widow!”

The Thing squinted over at her, “...uh huh and Black Widow always carries around her trusty...forks?”

Ariel gave an apologetic shrug.

“It’s ok,” she gave a reassuring shoulder touch to the mermaid...before whirling around and firing a cloud of smoke in the Thing’s costume.

“Gaaah! What the hell you put in my face?!”

“Witch, baby!” Freddie and Ariel ran off, hand in hand.

Back to Rod’s predicament, “I simply want to get rid of this thing. Will you please take it back.”

Ratigan finally sauntered in, saddling up to Basil, “You know, regifting is extremely rude.”

“It wasn’t yours to gift in the first place!” Rod grimaced.

The more Basil looked at the painting, the more his face became contorted in a ‘do we really have to?’ expression. It was just...so ghastly. Everything about it from the enlarged eyes to the bizarre choice in Ratigan’s size screamed Wrong.

“Must we keep it though? I’m sure the original gift was a joke.”

Rod just wanted to go home. Wasn’t experiencing Walt dying enough for you people?

The demon toon was staring at the horizon when a giant demigod popped from the ocean, “I believe I may have a way to help your predicament.”

“Goodness that’s big,” commented Tcherno.

“You heard us the entire time?” Rod asked.

“Of course, I need to look out for my Ariel. Back to the matter, if you must divest of your...cursed trinket...then just this once for...” gestures to the rodents and the witch, “...Airel’s family, I will open Tartarus and cast the painting in there.

So the group watched as Triton cleared a path in the oceans and open a way to Tartarus as evidently he could do that now? The painting fell into the black nothingness forever, away from their lives. As it closed, Rod turned to the whole group, “None of you must ever speak of this—especially you, Ratigan and Marnie.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Marnie shrugged.

“...that’s the best I can get I suppose. Well, me and Tcherno have a park to run, so long.”

“Oh hey, is that Rod?” Freddie walked in with a full cast of the Thing’s head.

“Stopping by to say hello, I believe,” Basil eyed the Thing’s head, “...where did you get those costumes?”

“Costume shop?” Ariel shrugged.

Elsewhere in the void. A lonesome Berry Boggswoggle continued to wander alone when a painting smacked him right in the face.

“Oh owww...” he held up what appeared to be a portrait of gal and a giant rat making out, “Huh a paintin? Why, you could be my new fwend. You don’t twust dose beahs do you? I knew you didn’t...”

“I have a feeling I just did something terrible,” Rod said.

“Not me,” Tcherno countered.

“I never do,” Ratigan joined.

“Nope,” Freddie said.

That was enough of a day for Rod.