The limo slid up to the hotel, its lights flashing across the balcony where Mai stood. She blinked, temporarily blinded, and moved out of the range of the headlights until it could park.
The limo driver appeared, a very short silhouette in a chauffeur's uniform. He moved to the door, opened it and let out a very tall silhouette.
Mai watched them calmly, a glass of wine in her hand. She moved the glass to her lips to sip, as the tall silhouette moved into the hotel lights.
The wine went spitting out into the bushes beyond the balcony.
"What the fuck?" Mai said, staring. "Krizalid?!"
Krizalid turned, his ridiculous fur coat making him look perfect for an arrival to a masquerade ball. He smiled at her and said, "How is the party so far, Shiranui? That is a lovely costume you're wearing there? What are you supposed to be?"
"An angel," Mai said, in a low controlled voice. "See the wings?"
"That's part of the costume?" he asked in a loud voice. "Why, I just thought you were made in heaven!"
Mai had no response to that.
As Krizalid disappeared through the doors, the short chauffeur stepped lightly around the car back towards the front door. There was something oddly familiar about the thin little figure's gait...
"Isn't Krizalid supposed to be dead?" Iori said, appearing beside her, dressed in no costume whatsoever.
She stared at him. "Did we forget the definition of a masquerade ball?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Whoops."
"I guess you already look clownish enough, huh?"
He peered out at the limo. "I know that walk. The straight posture, the boy-band little steps--"
"There are too many dead people at this party," Mai said.
She sprang forward, her left foot bouncing off the rail of the balcony, and she hurtled over the parking lot, landing beside the limo.
The chauffeur, his face shadowed by the hat, turned to look at her.
"You're supposed to be deceased, little man," she said.
"Rumours of my death and all that," the chauffeur replied. He flicked his hand and a cigarette appeared. He lit it and in the flames of the lighter, large childish eyes stared back at her.
"Well, I'm not impressed," Iori's voice came from the shadows. "You weren't anything but a younger, hipper version of Kyo."
"It's tremendously unfortunate," the chauffeur said, "but I think my trendy days are over -- I'm forced to wear this all-black ensemble every day."
"Bit of an improvement over your purple shirt, there, buckaroo," Mai said. "Now tell me why you're here... Chris."
In the light of the cigarette, Chris's lips spread open into a smile. "You may not have noticed," he said, "but a big evil genetically enhanced clone just walked into the hotel."
"Krizalid. I saw him."
"And white pants?" Iori said. "What the fuck?"
"Iori," Mai snapped. "For god's sake, your pants are tied together!"
"At least I can colour coordinate."
"Right," Mai said, running a hand through her hair. "Right. So. Krizalid is back, and he's here, and you're back and, for some reason, here. Why, exactly?"
"Oh gee, sure, Mai," Chris said, "let me just spill all my secrets to you. Jesus. And my shirt was blue. God."
He flicked the cigarette into the bushes and climbed into the limo and drove off.
"Little shit," Iori said.
"Kyo!" Krizalid shouted merrily, slapping Kyo on the back. "How are you? Ha ha!"
Kyo stumbled forward, spilling his wine over the front of Yuki's dress. She gasped, stepped back, staring at the ruined fabric.
"And you, Mary!" Krizalid continued, punching Mary in the arm. "Looking gorgeous as ever!"
"Jesus fuck," Kyo said.
The dancing had stopped; almost everyone was staring at Krizalid, as he wandered towards the stage and the musicians.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Terry asked.
Krizalid walked up onto the stage, passing Vice and Mature, who watched him, mouths hanging open.
"Oh, wow," Krizalid said, taking the mic from the stage and speaking into it, his voice flying over the crowd. "Look at you all. I know some of you better than others, I guess. Some of you killed me, remember? Ha ha! Man, good times, good times."
Silence, except for the musicians, who kept on playing.
"Oh," he said, leaning in. "In forty-eight hours from now, you'll all be dead. Right! Enjoy your dancing!"
With that, he stepped off the stage and disappeared through a side door.
Every one turned and stared at each other.
"Jesus fuck," Kyo said again.
---
"Krizalid."
Krizalid sat in the hotel lobby, legs crossed. He looked up at Mature, smiling. "Yers?"
"That was, uh, an interesting little announcement there."
"Wasn't it, though?"
"Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
"Aren't you?"
"Care to elaborate on the whole forty-eight hours dead thing?"
"Not particularly?"
"What if myself and some interested parties threaten to kick your ass?"
"You can certainly try. By the way, I'd like to take a room."
"Rooms are only for registered teams."
"I'd like to register a team then."
Mature blinked. She turned about and walked up the stairs and around the counter. "Right," she said. "Team name?"
Krizalid stood, very slowly, and smiled. "Let's call them the Nightmare team."
"Righto. And where are they?"
"They're coming."
"Forty-eight hours?"
"Ohhh, much less than that, Mature, much less than that."
"Right, and they're going to kill us all?"
"Down to every last man, woman and child-"
It happened so fast; Mature watched Krizalid fly up through the ceiling, and then through it, bits of drywall fluttering down from the hole.
"Damages, damages," Mature muttered, writing down a note.
Krizalid crashed into the night air, falling along the balcony floor, choking, grasping at the bit of leather around his neck.
"Oh, Krizalid," Whip said, yanking him towards her. "What fools we mortals be."
A blue light flashed and the whip snapped in half, flying back towards her. Krizalid stumbled back, choking and coughing.
"What are you doing here?" Whip said, walking towards him.
"How about-" he said, coughing. "How about I answer that question with an ass-kicking?"
He launched himself towards her and find himself confronted with the massive figure of Seth, who swirled down in a long elegant coat and hurled Krizalid over the edge of the balcony.
Whip watched the godling fall and crashed onto the roof of a parked car. The wind flew up, fluttered her hair. "Who knew he'd come into this?"
But Seth was gone, already rushing back into the hotel.
"So much trouble," Whip said, gathering the leather whip back to her, "for such a small thing."
And then Benimaru fell across the doorframe, slammed into the door by Angel, who ran her nails down his back, leaving red trails, and plunged her tongue into his mouth. He tried to flail and get away, but she pursued, and they both fell out of sight.
