Double Trouble watched the first explosions erupt from the Fright Zone forge, swinging their legs at the top of a tower a safe way away. What a spectacular finale. Emotional. Iconic. A true tour de force. It was the cheap seats, sure, but the show was big enough.
They idly wished for popcorn.
Another blast sent a crooked smokestack toppling. Double Trouble wondered what it must look like from the inside, Hordak and Catra locked in furious, emotional combat. The mere thought was delicious. They grinned.
The thing was, nobody ever understood it from an artist’s perspective. Everyone always got so caught up in their own glory that they forgot the bigger picture. You needed proper direction to make plain old drama into a story. It didn’t always quicken on its own. Someone had to steer it all; writing, weaving, conceiving the plot.
Thank goodness for Double Trouble.
Take Hordak, for example. Left to his own devices he would have kept himself locked up in his dusty old lab and wasted away to nothing pining for his lost princess. Double Trouble could always spot the piners. Now, thanks to their intervention, the old turnip had conflict. The latched window was open. The confrontation burned.
A series of distant booms sounded and a long plume of smoke rose into the sky. Oh, Double Trouble thought, if only they really had been able to meet this Entrapta character. Everyone on both sides of the war had something to say about her, and never the same thing twice. They thought she was an open book, but did they know what page to turn to?
What a headline Double Trouble could have written for her. A powerful mad scientist with a dark lord on her arm — you didn’t get that kind of material every day! At least they’d managed to wring a good tragedy out of it all.
The skyline smoldered. The smoke thickened. Small contraptions rolled across the ground below, trying to escape the conflagration.
Double Trouble stood, and went to find the center of it all.
It was time for the next act.
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