924: An Overabundance of Maps – OneshotPosted: January 2, 2015
Hello and Happy New Year, dearest Patrons! Hopefully you’ve had time to recover from whatever debauchery you indulged in and are ready to read some terrible writing!
…Man, I really need to work on my intros.
Today I’m bringing you a little gem I recently uncovered in the Cartoons section while hunting for oneshots to cleanse my literary palate. It comes from the Pinky and The Brain section – hopefully our Patrons know who these iconic rodents are but I’ll give the barebones details; there’s these two lab mice, Pinky (who is a good-natured doof) and the super-genius The Brain, who naturally wants to take over the world using various non-standard methods. There’s also a kickass theme song guaranteed to worm its way into your brain.
Now that I’ve successfully launched that earworm, here’s the best part – it’s a crossover with the Harry Potter series!
:waits for panicked screams of Patrons to subside:
And it’s a Humor fic!
:waits again for panicked screams of Patrons to subside:
Got that out of your system? Excellent – to the fic!
“We’re going to have to do something or we’ll lose the lab and our mad scientist licenses!” said one white-frocked man to the other.
:clicks fic stopwatch:
First sentence in and I’m already lost. Who is this man in the white dress? Is he a cross-dressing Colonel Sanders? Is this lab the science type, or a Labrador Retriever? Starting a work in media res like that is a tricky thing; you have to immediately hook your audience or they will just wind up wandering off because they have no idea what’s going on.
And do they even license mad scientists? Isn’t the whole point that they don’t follow the established rules and thus would not apply for this license even if it did exist?
“What should we sell? I’m sure there isn’t a big audience for defective hair growth serum,” the second white-frocked man replied.
:shrugs: Depends on what the “defects” are as to how marketable they would be; Play-Doh was a so-so wallpaper cleaner but makes an awesome toy. Does this serum cause too much hair to grow? Does it turn the user bright orange but give them the complexion of a prepubescent child? I want to know these things.
“We could get rid of all those lab rats; we end up testing everything on ourselves anyway,” said the first white-frocked man.
Oh, that’s a sound scientific method. I’m sure lots of researchers try out potentially dangerous chemical compound on themselves. And why would you even have lab mice if you use yourselves as test subjects?
“I guess. But who’s in the market for 150 white mice?”
I can give you the number of a cat food factory that doesn’t ask too many questions.
Why is there an ellipsis here? Is this a scene change?
“I’m, uh, here about the, uh, rats? That you’re selling?” a portly, twitching man said nervously. The two white-frocked men grinned.
So that’s a maybe on the scene change? There’s absolutely nothing in the way of a setting or establishing the characters, so this fat twitchy dude could have been here the whole time.
“Of course,” said the second white-frocked man. “Now, law requires that I inform you that these mice have been subjected to medical experiments and may be radioactive or dysfunctional.” The man bobbed his balding head quickly to show he understood.
They are doing this deal under the table, but are still complying with the disclosure laws? Weird, but I guess that’s good information to have – although I think you’re supposed to dispose of radioactive animals in a humane manner rather than let them run around contaminating everything – but Twitchy doesn’t care about the mice. He’s here for the rats.
“Great,” continued the other white-frocked man. “Now just sign this waiver releasing Acme Labs from all liability if the rats were to cause any sort of illness or injury due to radiation, rabies, et cetera…”
Now I’m confused. Is Twitchy buying rats or mice? And this is supposed to be some shady back-alley deal to help fund the lab, right? Why would you want a paper trail establishing that you sold these probably dysfunctional mice/rats to anyone instead of disposing of them as bio-hazardous waste? No wonder you’re failing as evil scientists.
The short man barely glanced at the paper before scribbling something on it.
:peeks: “For a good time, call 867-5309.”
“Good doing business with you, Mister…” the second white-frocked man glanced at the document in his partner’s hand,
Wormtail is buying mice/rats? That’s kind of weird; since he can turn into a rat that sort of makes him sort of like a slave owner. And why would he use his real name? Peter Pettigrew is supposed to be dead in the Muggle world, and depending on when this is set he’s either dead or a wanted criminal in the magical world. The entire scenario just isn’t very well thought out from either side.
Scene change! Probably.
No, :points to self: Ghostie. I don’t look a thing like Wormtail.
“Yes, my Lord?”
:looks around: Are we in a church? Does Wormtail hear divine voices like Jeanne d’ Arc?
“I thought I told you to kill them, Wormtail.”
… So this is more of the Ed Gein version of hearing voices, is it?
“I… I thought I shouldn’t be-because it might’ve started an investigation; we might’ve been caught-“
And because you’re a spineless yellow coward. As a whole, the quality of Voldemort’s henchmen is really substandard. No wonder he gets his ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers who don’t even have a cool van or a talking dog.
“Yes, my Lord?”
Will you get to the frickin’ point already? If you aren’t going to establish anything or move the plot forward, then this scene has no purpose!
“You gave them your real name.”
Yeah; I thought that was weird, too. Just the fact that he had to give a name at all was strange, but then to go and give his real name? Totally substandard. You should upgrade to the ninja package.
“I… I mean, well, Sir-my Lord, the only people who know I’m alive are Black, Potter, and Lupin, and no one listens to them, so I thought-“
You forgot Ron Weasley, and there’s likely a few others who know.
Like Dumbledore! And anyone in the Order of the Phoenix. As secrets go, Wormtail’s is pretty open.
“If Potter knows, you can be sure the old fool does, too.”
Well, yeah. Harry doesn’t really try to keep it a secret, and Remus and Ron were both there as well.
All Peter could do was mumble a deflated, “Sir.”
“Well. Let’s just hope that stupid old know-it-all doesn’t think to look for clues in a Muggle science laboratory that exists on an entirely different plane of reality.”
Wait, what? The Muggle world doesn’t exist in a different plane of reality, it coincides with the magical world. I guess crossing into another canon could be considered reaching another plane of existence, but there needs to be something in the narration establishing it as such.
And thus ends another pointless scene. Time for another one!
“I’ve just got word of Voldemort’s most recent headquarters,” Dumbledore said to the group gathered around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. A chorus of “How?”‘s and “Where?”‘s followed. “A good friend of mine informed me that a man named Peter Pettigrew purchased a large quantity of lab mice and had it shipped to a certain address. I had it checked out and it’s the right place.”
Wow, a whole paragraph. That’s a nice change from the sentence clumps.
Since Acme Labs is a Muggle establishment, and possibly on another plane of existence, then this friend of Dumbledore’s would have to be a Muggle and/or from this other plane. I don’t really see that happening, since nearly everyone he interacts with over the life of the series is a wizard or witch. I cannot recall him ever speaking directly to a Muggle, but that doesn’t mean that he never did. I just cannot remember it. Even if this friend of Dumbledore’s is infallible, how does buying a large quantity of lab mice from a Muggle source indicate that this location is Voldemort’s hideout? Wormtail can turn into a rat, so maybe he’s buying himself some friends.
“Yes!” cried Harry. “I’m gonna kill that bastard so hard-“
he cut short and coughed sheepishly. “I mean, uh… why lab mice?”
:flips through programme: Tonight the part of Harry will be played by … Not-a-Harry. That explains things.
Hermione looked at him pityingly, as she would a small, cognitively deficient child.
Wow, Hermione’s flavor text is an insufferable smarty-pants. It doesn’t really match up with the tone of the rest of the narration.
“Well, I’m sure testing new Dark spells on humans gets rather expensive, don’t you?”
Since when does Voldemort care about the cost of human lives, especially if they’re Muggles or Mudbloods? Besides, they are both wizards – they can transfigure inanimate objects into living creatures, like teacups into rats. It’s probably easier to buy them, but they don’t have to.
So exactly who is in this “everyone” character blob that is agreeing with Hermione? And why are they all agreeing with her? Doesn’t anyone have an alternative theory as to why Voldemort would need that many mice/rats? He is a Parselmouth, you know; he could be amassing an army of snakes to do his bidding and paying them in slightly irradiated rodents.
“We shall begin making the preparations immediately,” stated Dumbledore.
The preparations for what? What exactly are you planning on doing now that you know where Voldemort is? The only thing half-way resembling a plan is Not-a-Harry’s “kill the bastard so hard” suggestion.
… Oh, hell.
That’s it?!? That’s all the set-up the audience gets?
“Um, Brain?” asked Pinky.
No, you don’t go first – the Brain does! Now ask the question, Brain! ASK IT!
“What is it, Pinky?” answered Brain. “I’m trying to sleep.”
That’s not it!
Sweet mercy, it’s a simple formula. How can you mess this up? The Brain asks Pinky if he’s pondering what the Brain is pondering and then this happens;
Get it right!
“I think this place is magic!”
Brain sighed. “And why would you think a thing like that, Pinky?”
Ummm, it’s Pinky. Did you not watch the video?
“‘Cause, lookit, Brain! They’ve got magic wands and potions bubblin’ away!” he cried excitedly.
And you’re a pair of genetically engineered lab mice who can talk and construct elaborate schemes for world domination. How is that less magical than some fancy sticks and a kettle boiling?
“Really, Pinky?” Pinky nodded emphatically. “Pinky, come here. Closer. Closer.”
Well, that was sad. Let me show you how it’s done;
Oops. Wrong one. I’ll just get some interns in to take care of that…
“There is no such thing as magic, Pinky. It is simply a myth created by idle children and lonely adults.”
Which coincidentally is also how most badfics are created.
“Well, then, Brain,” Pinky replied, rubbing his cheek, “what do you call it when somebody points a shiny-sticky-thingy at somethin’ and makes it fly through the air with the greatest of ease?”
A remote-controlled helicopter?
Seriously, though; without knowing what is flying through the air, there is no way of knowing if this is unusual or not.
“Sometimes I wonder, Pinky, if one of those experiments really killed you, and you’re just a walking…” Brain’s eyes bulged as he stood next to Pinky and witnessed what the less-intelligent rodent had been seeing all along.
A walking what? Finish that thought!
Tall men in black robes were, indeed, levitating and moving objects across the room. There were, indeed, cauldrons boiling with brightly colored liquids.
Which could possibly be explained by science such as the aforementioned remote-controlled helicopters and, I don’t know, Bunsen burners?
Brain turned away from the strange sight. “Come, Pinky, we must begin the preparations immediately.”
Not you, too.
“Narf! The preparations for what, Brain?”
That’s what I want to know! What the hell is everyone preparing for?
Brain rolled his eyes. “Pinky, I know this may be a difficult concept for you, but try to think back. What have we been doing all our lives? What do we do almost every night?”
Ooh! Ooh! :waves hand in the air: Pick me! Pick me! I know!
Hitting him again would have been too much effort.
But you would do it anyway because he’s Pinky and you’re the Brain. Right? RIGHT?!?
Son of a bitch!
“Hey, Brain!” Pinky shouted, waking Brain from his slumber. Again. Pinky had a knack for that sort of thing, it seemed.
Wait, what? Pinky just did this! Why is he waking Brain up again? They were supposed to start these “preparations” that the audience is still in the dark about. Has there been a timesquiggle?
You can’t timesquiggle through one of Brain’s plans!
“What is it, Pinky?
“We have a guest, Brain!”
“A guest, Pinky?”
“A guest, Brain!”
Brain rose from his bed and walked over to Pinky. There was a visitor. Brain made a mental note to not hit Pinky again for the rest of the day; he had been right two times in a row.
So there wasn’t a timesquiggle? Then why was Brain asleep instead of scheming?
Make sense, dammit!
“Welcome, stranger, to our humble abode,” Brain said to the round, brown rat. “May I be so bold as to inquire after your name?”
Who wants to guess what it is?
…I really doubt its name is Meatball, Shinobi-san.
Well, yes; that is a good name for a round, brown rat – but I don’t think that’s what it is.
:yet more whispering:
It’s just a feeling.
“I am called Wormtail,” said Wormtail.
:pats sad ninja on the shoulder: Sorry, Shinobi-san.
Oh! I know what’ll cheer you up, Shinobi-san. :hands over Xenodoken Gun: Have fun!
“I have been watching you the last few days. You seem to be much more intelligent than the other specimens.”
Well, these rat/mice :points to Pinky and the Brain: have managed to construct furniture in their cage from discarded trash while those rat/mice :points to generic rat/mice floating in the Void: tried to mate with the food dispenser.
Brain recognized Wormtail’s voice, though it was usually stuttering so much as to make it hard to understand the words.
That awkward sentence structure is making it hard to understand the words.
Logically this makes no sense; if Wormtail went from a large person to a small rodent and still managed to retain his ability to speak (which Animagi emphatically do not) then his voice would change dramatically in tone, pitch, and resonance. He’d sound nothing like his former self.
He seemed much more calm outside the presence of his Master.
I’ll give the author that; Wormtail is a nervous wreck around Voldemort so it would make sense that he would calm down some if the Dark Lord wasn’t around. But why isn’t Voldemort there? Shouldn’t he be standing around monitoring whatever experiment is going on?
“Depends on which of us you were watching,” Brain said with a sidelong glance at Pinky.
Elitist snob. He might be an idiot compared to you, but Pinky can talk and use tools – which makes him far more intelligent than normal mice.
“My Master has commanded me to train you in the art of anti-animangi so as you, Brain, can serve him more ably.”
:blinks: The art of what? Why does Voldemort want mice/rats to serve him? Where is the logic in this plan – even the over-the-top cartoonish logic of Pinky and The Brain?
“What ’bout me?” Pinky sniffed. “Don’t I get to be trained to paint anti-flalimgangi too?”
:blinks again: Huh?
I’m assuming that it is supposed to be Anti-Animagic, but it makes no sense. An Animagus is a wizard who can turn into an animal at will; if you are a mouse-wizard then a human would be considered an animal to you so the ability to turn into one would make you an Animagus.
“Pinky shall be your personal assistant. That is, if he can master the Art,” replied the rat.
How do you know either of them can do it? Intelligence doesn’t translate into ability. Neither Pinky nor the Brain have shown any hint of magical ability in the fic, and it has been shown in the source materials that this ability is an inborn trait. You can study magic all you want, but without that trait you cannot so much as light a birthday candle without a match.
And why do they need to even learn magic AT ALL if Voldemort just wants convenient test subjects/slaves/lackeys to serve him? Just transfigure them into human beings as needed. It’s probably against the law to do so, but this is Voldemort so he wouldn’t care.
“His success is doubtful. But perhaps he will somehow kill himself in the process and I shall be rid of his stupidity,” Brain said dryly.
Given his past track record of surviving dangerous things, I’d find that very unlikely. And it’s not like they would start with the dangerous magic right away, you’d need to learn the basics first. (Assuming that you can.) Only a terrible teacher would actually agree with the Brain.
Wormtail nodded. “That is possible.”
Change classes, Pinky. Change now!
“Then what are we waiting for? Narf!”
I don’t know, honey; something resembling a point?
“Um, Sir?” Harry asked uncertainly.
“Yes, Harry? Do you not understand the Plan?” asked Dumbledore. “It is very cunning, and cunning plans are often confusing.”
Oh, I am not going to like this.
Don’t get me wrong; Dumbledore is an excellent chessmaster – but he wouldn’t tell Harry his cunning plan. That’s not his style.
“No, I understand the Plan – Moody turns me into a vegetable
and Tonks changes her appearance so as to look like Lucius Malfoy and smuggles me, disguised as the tomato,
Tomatoes are fruits, not vegetables. Also; that’s probably illegal.
into the lair and offers my… my sweet, red juiciness to Voldemort,
He’s gonna offer his :clears throat: sweet … :coughs: red …:struggles to maintain composure: Juiciness … To … Voldemort?
:Ghostie falls out of her chair:
—SOME TIME LATER—
Dammit, I’m a semi-professional person! I can get through this sentence!
who, you have on good account, loves tomatoes.
…Okay? That’s an odd personal fact to know about him, but why does Harry need to be the tomato in question? Couldn’t he turn into something that wouldn’t potentially get eaten and/or squashed?
Tonks will then transform me back and thus I shall take Voldemort by surprise, giving me the edge I need to defeat him once and for all,” Harry recited.
I don’t think that’s gonna work, tomato boy. For a myriad of reasons. Pretty much any plan that begins with “First we turn the boy into a fruit…” is doomed to fail.
Dumbledore nodded encouragingly. “Excellent, so what was your question?”
Have you finally gone senile?
Harry looked down at his toes and fidgeted. “You don’t think you could come up with a cunning plan that’s a bit less… stupid?”
Oh, that’s also a good question!
:blows dust off cookie tin:
I hope these are still good, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to give one out to anybody.
:give Not-a-Harry a redemption cookie:
“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
I don’t think he could make it plainer than that unless he got out the sock puppets.
“Look, I’ve been thinking… well, it doesn’t say anywhere in the prophecy that I have to use the Killing curse specifically does it?
I don’t think it does, come to think of it. Just that “either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives” – method of death isn’t specified at all.
I mean theoretically, I could just nab an AK-47 and blow him away, right? Theoretically, I mean.”
Taco? Is that you?
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “Yes, well, I suppose theoretically. Riddle has a new body and it is not yet an immortal one, that much is true, but I rather think we should stick to my plan. It’s quite cunning, you know.”
Technically he is immortal, due to the whole “divided his soul into little pieces” thing with the Horcruxes, which Dumbledore should know about. This entire plan is both stupid and suicidal.
The cunning-tomatoes plan. This needs to be added to the Library’s card deck.
just out of curiosity, where is his lair? Just out of, you know, the uh, the curiosity I mentioned earlier…”
:a ninja opens the door and pokes its head in:
Ah, good. Try not to do too much damage, if you please.
:ninja waves and returns to the hall:
It’s good to see members of the clan taking such pride in their duties.
“Oh, why, what a coincidence! I happen to have with me a copy of a very detailed map that shows one the exact route to Voldemort’s headquarters. Assuming, of course, that one was to use Twelve Grimmauld Place as a starting point. Here, Harry, take it. I must have a hundred more in my office.”
Hmmm, I guess that’s where the fic get’s its title from.
Well, that’s not at all suspicious. Kind of makes me suspect that the cunning-tomatoes plan is an elaborate cover and Dumbledore is manipulating Harry into following another plan that is a secret from everyone.
“Um, thanks,” said Harry uncertainly, taking the map from Dumbledore’s outstretched hand. He decided to push his luck. “Um, just out of, you know, the same… the same curiosity as before…you wouldn’t happen to know of a gun shop, relatively close to here, that would sell a fully-automatic rifle to a minor and not require any kind of background check, or any kind of ID at all, and also not have a waiting period?”
“Oh, why, what a coincidence! I happen to have with me a copy of a very detailed map…”
HA! I knew it! The cunning-tomatoes plan is nothing but a ruse! But, wait … This plan doesn’t make any sense, either. If anything, it makes less sense than the cunning-tomatoes plan.
The wizarding world has an almost pathological dislike of Muggle devices, so Dumbledore would never plan on using a gun to off Voldemort. Even if he wanted to, England has exceptionally strict gun control laws so there’s no way a teenaged boy is going to walk into a shop and buy one. Dumbledore could, he’s more than old enough, but he has no Muggle ID or Muggle money to use. He could conceivably find a back-alley somewhere where an enterprising entrepreneur has set up shop, which carries its own risks, but then how would Dumbledore have a map to the place?
:muttered Japanese cursing: This is getting really old.
“C’mon, Brain, it’s not that hard, just let your inner human come out!”
It must be a really tiny human to fit inside Brain.
Brain watched in annoyance (and envy) as Pinky transformed quickly between his normal self and a tall, gangly, cross-eyed human male.
See? Intelligence has no bearing on magical ability!
“I don’t think I have an “inner human”, Pinky. I’m rat all the way through.”
He’s a mouse, not a rat. They are both rodents but there’s a few taxonomic differences between the two species, you know.
“Brain, you must be able to perform this task. The Dark Lord has plans for you, plans that will make you very powerful. A very powerful man,” said Wormtail pointedly.
I’m still questioning why Voldemort would ever have green-lighted this plan. He holds human wizards born to Muggle parents in contempt, so wizards that used to be rodents would probably be even lower in his esteem.
“Lookit!” cried Pinky.
“Hey-” Wormtail squeaked. “How’d you-give that back!”
What happened? And where are they? I need some setting, dammit!
Pinky, it seemed, had gotten hold of the fat man’s wand, and what’s more, it was working for him!
Well … Yeah. It’s a wand, that’s what they do. They work better if there’s some affinity between the wizard and the wand, but a determined enough wizard can use any wand.
If Brain would have all that… that magic at his disposal when he was a human…
Assuming you can transfigure yourself into a human, that would mean you already have magic inside you. Changing your form doesn’t automatically grant you special abilities.
Brain made a startled sound as he opened his eyes to find himself six feet taller than he used to be, but he quickly suppressed his surprise.
Honey, if I managed to turn myself into a wizard then Delta would probably hear me screaming on the other side of the frickin’ world.
“Pinky, give me that wand…”
Might want to re-think that statement; Pinky’s pretty literal so he might give you that wand right between the eyes.
Argh! All these scenes are way too short and vague; just about the time things are getting established enough that the audience is starting to get an idea of what’s going on, the scene shifts somewhere else.
“Why did we tie up that man, Brain?”
If this was one of the many slashfics I’ve found for this canon, then this phrase would have a very different connotation.
“Hush, Pinky. We are nearing our destination,” Brain said harshly, stopping in front of a set of ornate double-doors.
Which would be where, exactly? I’m still waiting for something resembling a plot to happen.
“Now listen closely, here is the plan.
Let’s hope it’s slightly better than the cunning-tomatoes or “shoot ’em up!” plans.
The map Wormtail had in his pocket clearly states that this Dark Lord lies beyond this door.
Huh? They were already in Voldemort’s liar, wherever that is, so why does Wormtail have a map to it? Does this map show the location of everyone inside a structure, like a knock-off of the Marauders’ Map? :rubs forehead: This is very confusing without some kind of context.
We shall take him by surprise and tie him up using the Magic, then force him to relinquish his power to me.
You’re gonna tie up Voldemort – the frickin’ Dark Lord himself – WITH MAGIC and force him to give you his magic? For one thing, the magic in the Potter’verse doesn’t work like that, and for another thing … Well, there’s a reason he’s called the Dark Lord. I predict many bad things in your future.
I shall rule this strange world, Pinky, you can bet your bottom dollar,” the man formerly known as Brain the Rat grinned evilly.
MOUSE! IT’S IN THE FRICKIN’ THEME SONG, BAKA!
“Egad, Brain, that’s a spiffy plan, that is. But oh, no, wait. There’s one problem. I don’t have a dollar.”
Characters that actually behave like their canon counterparts!
:flings confetti into the air:
Redemption cookies for everyone! Shinobi-san! Load the Cookie Cannon!
Oh, nertz. It was just getting good!
“And I helped, didn’t I, Brain?” said Pinky, sounding much like a small child who had just “helped” their mother bake cookies.
Helped him do what? Did they manage to capture Voldemort? HOW?!? That’s something I’d actually like to see!
“If by “help”, you mean “tripped over your own feet and knocked him to the ground”, then yes, you helped a great deal.”
Ah, so you won with sheer dumb luck. That does seem to be Pinky’s greatest superpower.
“So we won, Brain? Did we finally win the world? Didwedidwedidwedid-“
Ummm, no. No, you did not. Voldemort isn’t the ruler of the world. You knocked out a wanted criminal. :slow clap: Congrats.
“No, Pinky, not yet. This Master,” he sneered at the man tied up in the corner, “must teach us all the magic he used to control his minions. Like that one that-“
Little problem there – Voldemort didn’t use magic to control the Death Eaters; he used fear and intimidation and manipulated their own prejudices and greed. Most of them claimed to be under the Imperius Curse after the fact, but they probably weren’t.
At that time the door caused a slight distraction by flying open with a violent bang.
“Slight” distractions don’t usually cause violent bangs.
A loud sort of popping noise was heard and the man the mice had worked so hard to capture screamed once, jerked viciously, and was still.
They didn’t really work hard to catch him, Pinky tripped and knocked him out cold. They put as much effort into Voldemort’s apprehension as the author did into this fic.
I’m not one hundred percent sure what happened to Voldemort; the loud pop could be from a gun or from the Killing Curse. It’s just impossible to tell which without more information.
“That’s right, bitch,” screamed the boy (who had been the source of it all). He then scampered back out the door, cackling.
You know, from this angle Not-a-Harry looks a little like Sports Shades.
Pinky and Brain stared for a while at the empty doorway.
Yeah, that would be kind of hard to absorb all at once – assuming you realized the importance of what you just saw. However, Pinky and the Brain, being recently transfigured lab mice, should be ignorant of the deeper ramifications of the act they just witnessed.
Brain sighed. “Come, Pinky,” he said, pulling from his pocket a piece of paper that read “Secret Death Eater Headquarters to Acme Labs” at the top. “We must return to the lab and prepare for tomorrow night.”
…Okay, I’m going to assume that’s another map. It’s just easier that way.
Did Voldemort really name his lair “Secret Death Eater Headquarters”? That doesn’t seem like him at all. And why does Brain have a map showing how to get from the lair to the lab? They don’t live at the lab anymore; the science-weasels sold them! And why show only the path from the lair to the lab?
“Why, Brain? What are we gonna do tomorrow night?”
:moves to edge of seat:
“The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!”
That’s all for this oneshot, Partons! See you next time with something brand spanking new! Possibly with some spanking in it.