Salem leaned in close, her tail twitching with a mix of curiosity and malice as she prodded Doug about his secret. "Bierce told me you killed a guy in there," she whispered, her smirk widening into something jagged and unkind. "Mr. Crum, the guy who was a killer of foxes, was it?"
Doug didn't look up from his tablet, though his grip tightened until his knuckles turned white against the plastic casing. "Bierce talks too much, and you listen too well," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous as he tried to focus on the flickering map on his screen.
Salem let out a sharp, dry cackle, circling him like a predator sensing a wound. "Oh, don't be like that, Dougie; I’ve always had a soft spot for the ones with blood on their hands," she teased, her eyes gleaming with the delight of a natural troublemaker.
Doug finally slammed the tablet shut and stood up, looming over the purple skunk with a weary, haunted stare. "It wasn't a choice, it was a necessity, and if you keep digging into things you don't understand, you might find out exactly what it feels like to be 'handled' yourself."
A sudden, sharp clap of hands echoed through the ballroom, cutting through the tension as Bierce glided toward them, her heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. "Now, now, children, let’s not let past indiscretions spoil the mood; we have a schedule to keep, and the clock is ticking," she remarked with a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and cold authority. Salem stepped back with a huff, her tail giving one last defiant flick, while Doug let out a breath he’d been holding, his shoulders dropping only slightly as he turned to face their "guide." Bierce gestured toward one of the towering portals, which began to swirl with a murky, stagnant green light that smelled faintly of damp concrete and decay. "The Stranger Sewers are calling, Doug," she announced, her voice dripping with mock-sweetness as she leaned in toward him. "A charming little maze of sludge and secrets where everything floats—including the things you'd rather leave behind—so do try not to get any of that water in your mouth; it's quite... ripe".
Salem stepped back with a defiant flick of her tail, but as Bierce gestured toward a towering portal swirling with murky, stagnant green light, the skunk’s eyes lit up with a new, sudden resolve. "Actually, I’m going with him this time," Salem announced, crossing her arms and looking Doug square in the face. "Mollie Macaw already got her turn helping him through Crazy Carnevil. He also had help from her, Baba Chops, and Poe in Mint's Hints." She huffed, her eyes sparking with a competitive glint that suggested she wasn't about to be outdone by a bird, a sheep, or a raven. "If they can handle his baggage, so can I; besides, I’m not sitting here rotting while everyone else gets a crack at these missions."
Bierce’s lips curled into a sharp, knowing silkiness as she watched the skunk’s sudden resolve. "A volunteer? How touching, though I suspect your motives are far from altruistic, my dear," she purred, gesturing toward the towering vortex that pulsed with a sickly, stagnant green light. "The Stranger Sewers are calling, and it seems you’ll have a shadow for this descent into the damp." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a mock-warning as the smell of mildew and rot drifted from the portal. "It’s a charming little maze of sludge where everything floats—including the secrets you’d rather leave behind—so do try not to get any of that water in your mouth; it’s quite... ripe." Doug looked from the portal to Salem, his jaw tightening as he realized he’d be facing the Dread Duckies with a partner who seemed more interested in his secrets than his safety. "And I am taking the gator nightmare critter with me for teeth." she added.
Alastor was fast asleep when Baba woke him up. "Get up, sleepy, you are going to the sewers with Doug and Salem."
He yawned. "Five more minutes Baba." he yawned. "Better yet, send Icky Licky in there. I'm too tired."
Baba growled, "I had enough of you." She kicked Alastor hard with her hoof and sent the stuffed toy sailing through the air and into the portal. "AAAAAAAH!" Alastor screamed right before he vanished.
"There, one gator fit for the sewers as you ordered!" Baba Chops shouted.
"And I am taking the gator nightmare critter with me for teeth." she added.
Alastor was fast asleep when Baba woke him up. "Get up, sleepy, you are going to the sewers with Doug and Salem."
He yawned. "Five more minutes Baba." he yawned. "Better yet, send Icky Licky in there. I'm too tired."
Baba growled, "I had enough of you." She kicked Alastor hard with her hoof and sent the stuffed toy sailing through the air and into the portal. "AAAAAAAH!" Alastor screamed right before he vanished.
"There, one gator fit for the sewers as you ordered!" Baba Chops shouted.
Bierce’s laughter rang out like breaking glass, her eyes dancing with delight at the chaos. "My, my, Baba... I didn't realize such a violent streak lived under all that fluffy wool," Bierce purred, her laughter ringing out like breaking glass. She tilted her head, tapping a manicured fingernail against her chin as she watched the sheep huff in frustration. "Remind me never to ask you for a wake-up call; I’d hate to find myself launched into a nightmare realm before my morning tea. Though I must say, your efficiency is quite refreshing compared to Doug’s usual brooding."
Salem cackled, clearly enjoying the show, while Doug just stared at the spot where the gator had vanished.
"Great," Doug muttered, adjusting his tablet with a weary sigh. "My backup is currently a concussed stuffed animal floating in sewer water. This is going to be a disaster."
Bierce simply gave them a graceful shove toward the vortex. "Don't be such a bore, Doug. The Dread Duckies love a good surprise! Now, do try to catch up to your 'teeth' before something bigger finds him."
The transition was a sickening blur of green light and the smell of stagnant water, ending with a heavy thud as Doug and Salem hit the cold, damp concrete of the Stranger Sewers. Doug immediately pulled up his tablet, the screen flickering to life as he scanned the maze of rusted pipes and murky, waist-deep sludge that stretched into the darkness. Salem shook her fur out with a disgusted hiss, her nose wrinkling at the overwhelming scent of rot and old rubber. "Ugh, Bierce wasn't kidding," she muttered, tail twitching irritably. "This place is a literal dump."
A few feet away, Alastor Gator was sitting in a shallow pool of slime, his plush limbs tangled and his long snout covered in green algae. He groaned loudly, rubbing his rear end where Baba’s hoof had made contact. "That sheep has a seriously mean kick," the Nightmare Critter grumbled, his voice echoing off the dripping walls. "I think she actually dented my stuffing."
Doug tightened his grip on the tablet, the dim glow of the screen illuminating the grime on his face as he gestured toward the dark, echoing tunnel ahead. "Come on," he urged, his voice tight with a mix of urgency and irritation. "We need to get going and get out of here with that ring piece before the residents realize we’ve dropped in for a visit."
Salem rolled her eyes but followed close behind, her boots splashing through the shallow, oily water that lined the walkway. "Keep your pants on, Dougie; we just got here," she retorted, though her eyes darted nervously toward the shadows under the massive, rusted pipes. Alastor, still grumbling and occasionally massaging his bruised tail, scrambled to his feet with a wet squelch. He looked less like a nightmare and more like a soggy toy, but as he caught the faint, metallic scent of the soul shards, his pupils slit into thin lines and he let out a low, predatory hiss.
The heavy, rhythmic clang of a distant bell suddenly vibrated through the air, sending a ripple across the surface of the murky water. Doug froze, staring at the red blip on his map that had just started to move. "That’s the dinner bell," he whispered, "and in this place, we’re the main course. Alastor, get in front. Salem, watch the corners." SPLASH!
Doug stared in disbelief as Alastor flopped backward into the waist-deep, oily water with a loud splash. Instead of taking the lead, the Nightmare Critter simply bobbed to the surface, floating on his back with his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed comfortably. He wore a relaxed, toothy smile, looking more like he was on a tropical vacation than in a deathtrap.
"Are you kidding me?" Doug hissed, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "We are in the middle of a literal nightmare, and you’re treating the sewer water like a lazy river!"
Salem let out a sharp, jagged laugh, though she kept her eyes darting toward the dark tunnels. "Look at him go! Honestly, Dougie, I think he’s got the right idea. If you’re going to be stuck in a dump, you might as well be comfortable." She nudged the floating gator with the toe of her boot, sending him drifting further into the darkness. "Hey, swamp-breath, try not to fall back asleep. If a Dread Ducky decides to take a bite out of your tail, I’m not diving in after you."
Alastor just let out a long, contented sigh, his tail occasionally twitching to keep himself centered in the current. "The water’s fine, Salem," he murmured, his eyes half-closed. "Besides, if I'm floating, I’m not making any noise on the floor. It's... tactical relaxation."
The distant clanging of the bell grew louder, and a massive, yellow shape began to emerge from the fog at the far end of the hall. Doug gripped his tablet so hard the plastic creaked. "Tactical or not, if that thing sees a green pool float coming its way, we're dead. Get up!"
The rhythmic clanging of the bell grew deafening as a massive, waterlogged Dread Ducky emerged from the fog, its mechanical eyes locking onto the green shape drifting toward it. With a violent splash, the creature began a frantic, jerky beeline toward the floating gator, its beak snapping open to reveal rows of jagged, rusty teeth. Alastor didn't even flinch; he just kept his hands folded behind his head, drifting lazily with a faint, sleepy hum vibrating in his throat as the monster closed the distance.
"Alastor, move!" Salem hissed, her fur standing on end as the giant yellow head loomed over the water. But the gator just yawned, watching a drip of sludge fall from a pipe above.
Just as the Ducky lunged forward for a crushing bite, Doug lunged into the murky water. With a desperate grunt, he snagged Alastor by the scruff of his plush neck and yanked him out of the stream just as the Ducky’s jaws slammed shut with a metallic CLANG on empty air. Doug scrambled back onto the concrete walkway, dumping the soggy, surprisingly heavy Nightmare Critter onto the ground like a wet sack of flour.
"What is wrong with you?!" Doug panted, his heart hammering against his ribs as the Ducky let out a frustrated, distorted squeak and began to turn its massive body toward the ledge.
Alastor slowly sat up, blinking water out of his eyes and rubbing his rear end again. "Hey, watch the stitching, Doug! I was just getting to the good part of my nap," he complained, completely unfazed by the ten-foot-tall killing machine currently staring them down.
Salem stood over them, her claws unsheathed and a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Well, you've got its attention now, Dougie. Hope you're ready to run, because that rubber ducky looks like it wants a refund on its lunch!"
They rush through the tunnels as the dread duckie charged after the trio with a hungry look in its black eyes.
"In here! Move!" Doug hissed, shoving a rusted metal plate aside and ushering Salem and a dripping Alastor into a narrow, elevated crawlspace. They scrambled up a ladder, their hearts hammering against their ribs as the Dread Ducky slammed its massive beak against the wall outside with a metallic CLANG.
The secret room was cramped and smelled of old paper and stagnant air. As Doug leaned against the wall to catch his breath, the dim light of his tablet illuminated the jagged scrawl right above Salem's head: "Remember? Your ugly duckling."
Salem stared at the words, her playful smirk finally faltering. She looked from the wall to Doug, noting the way his face went pale and his eyes clouded with a sudden, sharp pain. "Hey, Dougie," she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she gestured to the writing. "This doesn't exactly feel like random graffiti. Who’s the 'ugly duckling' supposed to be? Someone you... flushed away?"
Doug didn't answer. He just stared at the text, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped the tablet. Even Alastor went quiet, the Nightmare Critter sniffing a pile of discarded documents in the corner with a low, mournful whine. The gator looked up at Doug, his usual hunger replaced by a flicker of recognition, as if he could smell the guilt radiating off the man.
"It's just a mind game," Doug finally choked out, his voice raw. "Bierce likes to play with the plumbing in my head. We stay quiet until that thing leaves, then we get the shard and get out. No more questions, Salem."
Outside, the bell tolled once more, and the heavy slap-slap-slap of the Ducky's feet began to fade into the distance.
Doug kept his eyes fixed on the door, his hand hovering over the latch as the heavy, wet footsteps of the Dread Ducky finally faded into the damp echoes of the main tunnel. "Coast is clear," he whispered, his voice still tight from the sight of the message on the wall. "Let’s move before another one of those things wanders by."
Salem didn't move immediately. While Doug was distracted by the map, she quickly swept her clawed hand across a nearby crate, snagging a handful of the yellowed, water-damaged secret documents. With a practiced, sneaky grace, she tucked the papers deep inside her leather jacket, ensuring they were flat against her ribs so the bulk wouldn't give her away.
"You coming or what, Skunk?" Doug snapped, looking back over his shoulder.
"Keep your shirt on, Dougie! Just making sure my fur didn't get caught on a rusty nail," Salem chirped, her trademark smirk returning as if she hadn't just stolen a piece of his past. She stepped toward the ladder, her jacket crinkling slightly with the hidden weight of the files. Alastor watched her with a lazy, half-lidded gaze, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. He definitely smelled the old paper and the scent of Doug’s secrets, but he just let out a low, conspiratorial chortle and followed her down into the muck.
As they stepped back into the waist-deep water, the bell tolled again, closer this time. Doug led them deeper into the maze, unaware that his "partner" now carried the very answers he was trying to outrun.
"Oh, geeze," Salem groaned, her tail twitching as she squinted through the green haze of the sewer. "Pip, Chip, and Tiki. The Mollie Ahoy crew. I should’ve known they’d end up down here in the pipes too."
The three little pirates didn't look like their usual, confident selves. Their tiny tri-corn hats were soggy, and their feathers were ruffled and matted with grime. Pip the Parrot let out a frantic, distorted squawk, while Tiki the Toucan—her bright, oversized beak looking dull in the dim light—let out a mournful chirp that sounded more like a sob than a sea shanty. Chip the Cockatoo huddled between them, his yellow crest drooping flat against his head.
"They're not attacking, Doug," Salem realized, her voice softening just a fraction as she felt the secret documents crinkle under her jacket. "The poor little pests got sucked through a portal and lost their way. They’re looking for Mollie Macaw to protect them."
Chip hopped down onto a floating piece of debris, looking up at Doug with wide, pleading eyes, his tiny hook trembling. Doug let out a long, weary sigh, lowering his tablet. "Great. Now I’m a daycare center for pirate birds," he muttered, though he didn't shoo them away.
Alastor, still in Doug's grip, cracked one eye open and let out a low, vibrating chortle. "Mollie isn't here, feather-brains," the Nightmare Critter drawled, his long tail splashing in the muck. "But if you stay close to the lawyer, he might not let the big ducks eat you. Probably."
The three birds immediately scrambled toward Doug, perching on his shoulders and the top of his tablet, clinging on for dear life. "Oh, no!" Pip whispered tentatively, looking toward the dark tunnel where the Dread Ducky's bell was still clanging.
Doug groaned as the weight on his shoulders tripled, his tablet now partially obscured by Tiki’s large, trembling beak and Chip’s damp feathers. "Great, just what I needed," he muttered, trying to steady his aim on the map while Pip let out another shaky, high-pitched "Oh, no!" that echoed dangerously far down the tunnel.
Salem smirked, her eyes darting toward the dark water as the Dread Ducky’s bell tolled again, much closer this time. "Keep it down, feather-brains! If you keep chirping like a broken toy, that 'ugly duckling' out there is going to find us in five seconds flat." She shifted her weight, the stolen secret documents crinkling under her leather jacket, a sound she hoped the panicked birds wouldn't notice.
Alastor, still dangling from Doug’s grip like a soggy green rug, let out a lazy, toothy grin. "Actually, if the big duck eats the little birds, it might be too full to eat us," the Nightmare Critter mused, his tail splashing a rhythmic, mocking beat in the muck. "It's just math, Doug. Tasty, feathery math."
The birds let out a collective, muffled shriek and buried their heads under Doug’s collar. "Knock it off, Alastor!" Doug hissed, his boots squelching as he started a slow, cautious retreat. "We’re moving. Salem, stay close. If those birds see a soul shard, they better point it out instead of just shaking."
The green sludge rippled as a massive, yellow shadow began to emerge from the fog behind them, the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of webbed feet growing louder.
Doug shifted his weight, trying to keep the tablet steady as Tiki’s large beak clattered against the screen. Sensing their sheer terror, his expression softened just a fraction. "Look, calm down," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "Mollie isn't here, but she’s safe. She’s back in Bierce’s ballroom. If we get through this, you’ll see her again."
The three birds let out a synchronized, relieved chirp, their tiny pirate hats bobbing as they huddled closer to his neck. Pip let out a faint, "Safe? Truly?" while Chip finally stopped trembling enough to grip Doug’s shoulder with his little hook.
"Yeah, truly," Doug grunted, refocusing on the flickering map. "But if you want to get back to her, you need to stay quiet and follow me. We’re getting that ring piece and then we’re out of this sewer."
Salem watched the exchange with a cynical smirk, her hand still resting over the secret documents hidden in her jacket. "How touching, Dougie. You’re like a grumpy mother hen," she teased, though she kept her eyes glued to the dark water for any sign of a yellow head.
Alastor, still dangling damply in Doug's grip, let out a bored sigh. "Less talking, more walking. My stuffing is soaking up more sewage than a sponge," the Nightmare Critter complained, his long tail dragging in the muck as Doug began to lead the group deeper into the foggy tunnels toward the glowing pulse of the next shard.
As they waded forward, the clanging bell of the Dread Ducky echoed from a side-pipe, and Tiki suddenly pointed her large beak toward a flickering gold light hovering over a massive, rusted grinder.
Doug’s boots splashed heavily through the muck as he followed Tiki’s frantic pointing, his eyes locking onto the fractured, golden glow of the Ring Piece wedged inside the rusted teeth of a massive industrial grinder. "There it is," he breathed, the light reflecting off his tired eyes. "Salem, your hands are free—grab it! I’ve got my hands full with a soggy gator and three pirate birds."
Salem didn't need to be told twice. She lunged forward with feline grace, her claws scraping against the cold metal as she snatched the glowing artifact from the machine. "Got it, Dougie! See? I'm way more useful than a—"
Before she could finish, the air in the sewer turned freezing, and the green sludge beneath their feet began to boil with a dark, oily shadow. A booming, demonic laugh echoed off the dripping walls, vibrating in Doug’s chest and sending Pip, Chip, and Tiki into a frantic, muffled huddle behind his neck.
The air in the sewer turned freezing, and the green sludge began to boil with a dark, oily shadow. A booming, demonic laugh echoed off the dripping walls, vibrating in Doug’s chest. Malak materialized from the fog, his towering, skeletal frame clad in a pristine black suit that looked disturbingly out of place in the muck. His red eyes burned like dying stars as he adjusted his cuffs, looming over the small group and blocking the only exit.
"How touching," the demon hissed, his voice a chorus of a thousand screams. "The lawyer, the thief, and their... menagerie. Did you really think I’d let you walk out of my domain with a piece of my prize?"
Alastor finally stopped rubbing his rear end and went completely still, his plush ears flattening against his head as he stared up at the Lord of Nightmares. "Uh... Doug?" the Nightmare Critter whimpered, his long tail tucking between his legs. "I think we're going to need more than just 'teeth' for this one. This guy looks like he’s about to sue us and eat us."
Salem tightened her grip on the Ring Piece, her other hand instinctively clutching the secret documents hidden under her jacket. "Hey, Suit-and-Tie! We were just leaving," she chirped, though her voice wavered as she stepped back. "No need to get all dramatic and ruin the fabric!"
Pip, Chip, and Tiki let out a synchronized, terrified squawk, with Tiki the Toucan snapping her large beak in a desperate, tiny show of defiance. Doug gripped his tablet, his finger hovering over the Teleport icon. "Not today, Malak," Doug growled, the screen glowing bright as the demon reached out a clawed hand.
"Not today, Malak," Doug growled, but before he could even twitch a finger toward the teleport icon, the demon adjusted his suit jacket with a chillingly calm motion. "A lawyer should know better than to interrupt a superior," Malak hissed, his red eyes glowing with a malicious flare. "If you want the prize, you must face the prosecutor."
With a snap of Malak's skeletal fingers, the stagnant water behind him began to churn and boil violently. From the depths of the sludge, a massive, mechanical nightmare rose, dwarfing the standard Dread Duckies. The Doom Ducky let out a distorted, earth-shaking squeak, its three-story-tall yellow body covered in rusted plates and its massive, blood-stained beak snapping rhythmically with the clanging of its internal bell.
Alastor’s eyes went wide as he stared up at the mountain of wet rubber and metal. "Okay, that's not a ducky. That's a dinosaur in a bathtub," the Nightmare Critter whimpered, his long limbs shaking so hard he nearly slipped out of Doug's grip.
Pip, Chip, and Tiki let out a collective shriek of pure avian terror, with Tiki the Toucan nearly falling off Doug’s shoulder. Salem clutched the Ring Piece and the stolen documents to her chest, her smirk finally replaced by a look of genuine panic. "Dougie! Unless that tablet has an 'orbital strike' button, I think we're in trouble!"
The Doom Ducky raised its massive, webbed foot, casting a shadow over the entire group as Malak watched from the sidelines with a cold, expectant grin.
Doug signaled the group as the massive Doom Ducky lunged, its neck extending like a rusty accordion. "The pillars! Hide behind the pillars!" he roared, diving behind a thick concrete column just as the titan’s beak slammed into the stone with a bone-shaking CRACK. The giant machine let out a distorted, dying-battery groan, its head lolling as it was momentarily dazed by the impact.
"Now! The valves!" Doug shouted, pointing to the center of the chamber where two massive iron wheels sat encrusted in grime.
Salem didn't hesitate; she scrambled toward the first valve, her claws digging into the metal as she put her weight into the turn. "A little help here, Swampy!" she barked. Alastor, finally realizing that a nap wasn't an option if he wanted to keep his stuffing, latched onto the spokes of the wheel with his long, powerful tail and used his weight to help her spin it. "Fine, fine! But I’m counting this as my workout for the month!" the Nightmare Critter grunted, his teeth baring as the rusted gears began to screech and turn.
Meanwhile, Pip, Chip, and Tiki saw a smaller Dread Ducky wobbling toward Salem from a side pipe. "AHOY! PIRATE DEFENSE!" Tiki the Toucan shrieked, leading the trio in a frantic dive-bombing maneuver. They pecked at the smaller duck’s mechanical eyes and pulled on its tattered feathers, distracting it just long enough for Doug to reach the second valve.
With a final, collective heave from the whole team, the gears locked into place with a heavy THUD. A massive iron gate slammed down, sealing the Doom Ducky in its chamber—but the victory was short-lived. The entire sewer began to rumble as the titan started smashing through the back wall in a blind rage.
"Run!" Doug yelled, grabbing Alastor by the tail and scooping up the pirate birds. "Salem, keep that ring piece safe! We're not stopping until we see the portal!"
The sewer walls didn’t just shake—they exploded. With a deafening roar of grinding metal and wet concrete, the Doom Ducky smashed through the structural supports behind them, its massive yellow head snapping forward like a vengeful wrecking ball. "Go, go, go!" Doug screamed, his boots barely touching the sludge as he sprinted down the narrow maintenance corridor.
Salem was a purple blur beside him, her claws skidding on the slick floor as she clutched the Ring Piece to her chest. "This is a terrible vacation, Dougie! I’m leaving a one-star review!" she shrieked, ducking just as a piece of a rusted pipe whistled over her head. Behind them, the smaller Dread Duckies began pouring out of the side vents, their mechanical bells clanging in a chaotic, overlapping cacophony that sounded like a funeral march played at double speed.
Alastor, tossed over Doug’s shoulder like a soggy green rucksack, found himself staring right into the glowing red eyes of the pursuing titan. "Uh, guys? The big one just ate a support beam and it’s still hungry!" the Nightmare Critter yelled, his long tail lashing out to slap away a smaller Ducky that tried to leap onto Doug’s back. "Move those legs, Lawyer! My stuffing can't take a crushing!"
Pip, Chip, and Tiki were clinging to Doug’s hood for dear life, their tiny pirate hats flying off in the wind. Tiki the Toucan let out a frantic squawk, pointing her large beak toward a flickering green light at the end of the tunnel. "The portal! AHOY! THE PORTAL!" she chirped desperately.
The Doom Ducky let out one final, distorted screech, its neck extending to its limit as its beak snapped inches from Salem's heels. With a collective leap of faith, the entire group—man, skunk, gator, and birds—dived headfirst into the swirling emerald vortex just as the tunnel behind them collapsed into a pile of rubble and yellow plastic.
The group tumbled out of the emerald vortex and skidded across the polished marble of Bierce’s ballroom in a tangled heap of wet fur, soggy stuffing, and ruffled feathers. The heavy silence of the manor felt deafening after the mechanical shrieks of the Doom Ducky.
Salem was the first to scramble up, her heart hammering against her ribs. As she stood, a few of the water-damaged secret documents slipped from the bottom of her leather jacket, fluttering toward the floor like dying gray moths. Her eyes went wide, and with a speed that would have made a professional thief jealous, she snatched them up in a single, fluid motion and shoved them back into her lining before Doug or the birds could process what they were seeing.
"Ugh, my fur is going to smell like a wet basement for a month!" she complained loudly, smoothing her jacket and casting a quick, nervous glance toward the others to see if they’d noticed her "extra" cargo.
Doug climbed to his feet with a groan, dripping green sludge onto the pristine floor. He didn't even look at her; his eyes were fixed on the Ring Piece still clutched in her other hand. "Just... give it here, Salem," he panted, wiped a smear of grease from his forehead. "We got what we came for."
Alastor lay flat on his back, his plush limbs splayed out like a starfish. "Never. Again." the Nightmare Critter wheezed, his long tail twitching weakly. "Next time, tell Baba to kick me into a bakery or a mattress store. My rear end is still ringing from that first portal drop."
Pip, Chip, and Tiki didn't wait for an invitation. The second they saw the familiar gold and velvet of the ballroom, they let out a triumphant "AHOY!" and took flight, heading straight for Mollie Macaw, who was perched near the statues.
Bierce glided toward the group, her heels clicking rhythmically as she looked over the muddy mess they’d brought back. "Back so soon? And with a few stowaways, I see," she purred, her gaze lingering just a second too long on the suspicious bulge in Salem’s jacket. "I trust the sewers were... illuminating?"
Salem stepped forward, tossing the glowing Ring Piece toward Bierce with a casual flick of her wrist. "Here, take the shiny junk," she muttered, her eyes already darting toward the shadows of the massive marble pillars lining the ballroom. Bierce caught the artifact in one hand, her sharp eyes tracking the skunk's hasty retreat. "My, such a hurry to dry off," the enchantress purred, though her gaze remained fixed on the suspicious bulge in Salem’s leather jacket.
Safe behind a towering column, Salem slid down the cold stone until she hit the floor. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she reached into her lining and pulled out the damp, yellowed secret documents. Her claws trembled slightly as she smoothed out the first page, the ink bleeding into the water-damaged paper.
As she scanned the frantic, handwritten notes, her smirk vanished. The documents weren't just random blueprints; they were medical records and legal filings—the paper trail of a man who had traded his soul long before he ever met Bierce. One page stood out, a faded report detailing the "unfortunate circumstances" surrounding a young girl named Tammy.
"So that's the 'ugly duckling,'" Salem whispered to herself, her tail twitching in the dim light. She looked over the edge of the pillar at Doug, who was currently busy wringing sewer water out of his shirt, completely unaware that his past was currently being read like an open book.
Alastor suddenly poked his snout around the corner of the column, his eyes glowing with a sleepy but curious light. "Whatcha got there, Skunk? Smells like old lies and cheap ink," the Nightmare Critter drawled, his long tail sweeping the floor behind him.
Salem quickly pulled the papers back against her chest, her eyes narrowing as Alastor’s snout twitched near the edge of the page. "None of your business, swamp-breath," she hissed, her voice a sharp whisper that barely carried over the sound of Doug's heavy breathing across the room. She wasn't a hero, and she certainly wasn't about to start a support group, but the names on the papers—Houser and Tammy—felt like lead in her paws.
She looked up at Bierce, who was currently admiring the Ring Piece with a cold, triumphant smile. Salem’s tail flicked irritably. She didn't trust Doug, but she trusted the woman in the sequins even less. These documents weren't just trash; they were leverage, and Bierce had almost certainly left them there for someone to find. It was a game within a game, and Salem hated being a pawn.
"Just some old legal junk," Salem lied, stuffing the damp papers back into her leather jacket with a forceful shove. "Bor-ing. I was looking for treasure maps, but all I got was a headache and a wet tail."
"Uh, huh." Alastor said as he left. "I'm looking for a quiet place to nap."
While Doug sat on a velvet lounge chair, his brow furrowed as he scrolled through the Stranger Sewers map on his tablet, Salem seized her moment. She drifted toward Bierce, who was standing by the central altar, turning the newly acquired Ring Piece over in her hands with a satisfied, hungry look in her eyes.
"Nice office you got here, Lady B," Salem murmured, leaning casually against the gold-trimmed stonework, her hand resting over the hidden documents in her jacket. "Though I’ve gotta say, your filing system is a bit... damp. I found some interesting reading material down there in the sludge."
Bierce didn't look up, but a sharp, knowing smile played on her lips. "Is that so? I’ve always found that the most revealing truths are the ones people try to flush away," she purred, her voice dripping with mock-innocence. She finally turned her gaze toward Salem, her eyes glinting like cold stars. "Tell me, little skunk, did you find what you were looking for, or did you just find more of Doug’s ghosts to play with?"
Salem’s tail gave a sharp, rhythmic flick. "Oh, I found plenty. 'The Ugly Duckling' ring any bells? Or maybe you already knew that was waiting for us." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You’re not just sending him in there to save his soul, are you? You’re making him walk through a museum of his own failures."
Bierce let out a short, melodic laugh that sounded like breaking glass. "He’s a man of many regrets, Salem. I simply provide the stage; he’s the one who chooses to perform. But I suspect you and I share a certain... appreciation for leverage." She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on the suspicious bulge in Salem's jacket. "Just be careful. Some secrets have teeth, and unlike your lazy gator friend, they don't sleep."
Salem cackled softly, her confidence returning as she looked back at Doug, who was still blissfully unaware. "Don't worry about me, sequins. I’m a professional trouble-maker. I just want to know how much the truth is worth in this house of mirrors."
Salem leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper that barely carried over the hum of the ballroom. "Cut the cryptic act, Sequins," she muttered, her hand pressing firmly against the damp documents hidden in her jacket. "You didn't just 'find' Doug. You knew exactly what was waiting for him in those pipes. You knew about the fox-killer, and you knew about the 'Ugly Duckling' before we even stepped through that portal."
She narrowed her eyes, her tail giving a sharp, agitated flick. "Do you already know all of Doug's darkest secrets? Or are you just enjoying the show while he digs them up one by one like some pathetic, guilty dog?"
Bierce didn't flinch. Instead, she slowly turned the Ring Piece in her palm, the golden light reflecting in her cold, dark eyes. "My dear Salem, I don't just know his secrets; I own the ground they’re buried in," she purred, a sharp, jagged smile pulling at her lips. "Doug Houser isn't a mystery to me. He is a book I’ve already finished reading. I know the blood on his hands, the lies in his heart, and the names of every person he failed long before he stepped into my manor."
She leaned closer, the scent of her perfume momentarily masking the lingering stench of the sewer. "The real question is, now that you have a few pages of that book in your pocket... what do you intend to do with them? Are you a seeker of justice, or just a scavenger looking for a piece of his soul to call your own?"
Salem cackled, though there was a flicker of genuine unease in her eyes. "I'm a troublemaker, not a saint," she retorted, looking back at Doug, who was still hunched over his tablet, oblivious to the fact that his two "allies" were dissecting his life. "I just like to know who I'm working with. And it turns out, our 'hero' is a lot filthier than the water we just waded through."
Salem tucked the damp documents deeper into the lining of her leather jacket, her claws smoothing the leather flat to ensure the bulge was invisible. A sharp, jagged smirk crossed her face as she looked back at Doug, who was still focused on his tablet, oblivious to the fact that his "partner" was now his silent investigator.
"Insurance," she whispered to herself, her tail giving a satisfied flick. If the Stranger Sewers held this much filth on the "hero," she could only imagine what was buried in the next nightmare. Salem wasn't interested in redemption or saving souls; she was a collector of leverage, and the manor was full of it.
Bierce watched her with an expression of cold amusement, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the golden Ring Piece. "A wise choice, my dear," the enchantress purred, her voice dropping to a silken crawl. "In this house, information is the only currency that doesn't lose its value. I look forward to seeing what other 'scraps' you manage to scavenge from the wreckage of his life."

End of Chapter