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From behind the tombstone, Tiana stares frozen as the graveyard erupts into a horrorshow. The carved profiles on crypt walls explode into demon masks that howl for prey. Voodoo dolls crawl up out of the turned soil, brandishing wicked pins in retribution. Lightning hammers the earth to crack it open to the festering pits of damnation below, and the ground ripples with the thunderous chanting of fiends from beyond this world. But even all of that can't drown out the screams of Dr. Facilier, clawing at the dirt as he is dragged shadow-first into the throat of the monster.

Judgment has a face. To look upon it is to lose your mind.

Tiana can't move, can't scream, can't run.

The spectacle reaches its world-shaking crescendo when suddenly a new sound, a blast of music soaring and heroic, bursts into the din like a cavalry on horseback, making every ghoulish head swivel. From behind Tiana a plot hole yawns wide and up from its depths leaps a small white dog, his puppy-sweet face knotted with the righteous determination of a kamikaze soldier, nearly bowling her over so that all she sees is the painted lightning bolt on his side streaking past.

Without a second's hesitation the blindly heroic dog plunges headlong into the chaos like a comet. Tiana has to duck aside again as a white-toed black cat and a roly-poly little hamster follow hot on his heels, and she can only gape at what happens next.

Dodging and leaping over the grasping, shapeless fingers that snatch for his shadow, his theme song blasting behind like the trumpets of the Second Coming, the white dog seizes Dr. Facilier's sleeve in his teeth and throws his full weight back against it, trying to pull him from the maw of the monster. The cat latches onto the dog from behind, the hamster takes hold of the cat's tail (so that her painful yowls mingle with the deafening threnody), engaging in a fierce tug-of-war.

The fury of the spirits envelopes them like an asteroid shower. The dog seems so very tiny framed in those blazing jaws, a snowball lost in the heart of Hell, but he digs his sliding paws into the dirt and keeps his grip. He hears nothing, sees nothing, but the terror of a human in need. For an endless minute it seems as if the axis of fate could tilt either way, but then the dog delves deep inside of himself for his pseudo-Hero powers and with a superdog effort gives one last mighty heave. The voodoo doctor comes free like Excalibur from the stone, the loss of resistance sending them all tumbling back, leaving the monster raging and gnashing its thwarted teeth. The spirits shriek their furious defeat before dissolving away like mist from sun, until only an echo remains.

Facilier lies unmoving, facedown on the cold grass. The white dog nuzzles him anxiously and licks his face until he stirs, rising stiffly on shaking legs. The Shadowman lets out a breath of epic relief before his glacial composure erects itself once more, and he brushes himself off as if it all had been nothing more than being caught in the rain. He leans down to pat the dog on the head, crooning "Goood little doggie." The dog rises on his hind legs to receive the patting like a medal (while the cat meows her displeasure, "What I am, chopped liver?") and, with a tip of his hat to them, Facilier strolls away into previously unplotted movie territory, dark and unspeakable new schemes brewing in his mind.

Watching the man go, Mittens sags with relief until she's little more than a puddle. "If we never do something like this again, I'll be happy."

"Aw, c'mon," Bolt says cheerfully. "This is what it's all about."

Rhino, still dancing with adrenaline, sings, "Dun-da-da-da, Rhino, Rhino's here to save the day, Rhino is be-awesome and he eats awesomesauce for breakfast and awesomeness is the lifeblood in his veins…"

"What's your favorite word, Rhino?" asks Mittens, sarcastic.

The three heroic friends trot off back to where the plothole awaits, oblivious to the entire animated city burning behind them.