"I'll visit him soon. Don't worry. I'll visit my client after we've taken a look at the surveillance footage and paid a visit to his darling Oracle. I'd go to him now if I wasn't so anxious for answers. But I'll go to him soon. I'm not afraid of seeing him anymore, especially with us having taking so many steps closer to the truth."

"Why don't you leave that to me?"

All eyes fell on Alto Cantanta. Alto stepped back indignantly, offended by how his decision surprised them.

"What? Someone has to apologize on behalf of the Twilights, and on behalf of our Most High Lady. I would like to know what's up with his wild and crazy imagination, but I'll ask about his weird fantasies another time. And once I'm done with Gavin, I'd be more than happy to escort you to the Market. Won't be too hard to find the Oracle our pals went to, as Dusk told me all about her."

"Something's wrong. None of this is making any sense."

Apollo knew he couldn't run on an empty tank forever. Without a bit of fuel in one's cauldron, one was bound to drop sooner rather than later. Especially when one was racing against time to save an incredibly precious life. But even through eyes yearning for even just a minute of sleep, he knew two and two weren't making four-they conspired to make twenty two. He could've spent the next thirty minutes staring at the footage, and the world still would've been a tangled ball of wire.

Detective Strideo Atticus's eyes were glued on the same riddle-the Kit Kat Lounge's surveillance footage. The flames in his engine had become embers, but with a lifetime of running on embers under his belt, remaining focused on the case was like reciting the alphabet. Unfortunately, untangling the surveillance footage wasn't anything like reciting the alphabet. More like trying to reach the moon in a cardboard box. "I see where you're goin', kid," the detective murmured, eyes and mind working to untangle an impossible riddle. The footage had been watched twice, but neither showing shed any light on an avalanche of darkness.

"The Twilight Notes told us our client was with them at the time of the murder, and the footage proves it. If we take it at face value, it also proves he's guilty, case closed."

Restarting the footage on the detention center's many monitors, Apollo watched every second of it like a hawk stalking its prey. "The Celebration of Music was supposed to start at 8:30 pm," the attorney recited, not only to the detective but to himself, to a judge and jury no one could see. "At 8:20 pm, our client and the band were gathered on the stage, making final preparations for the performance. At 8:25 pm, the lights went out."

"Red flag, kiddo," Atticus said, his tone softening in acknowledgement of Apollo's rising frustration. "At 8:20 pm, the footage also shows our client alone in the room with Mr Soprano."

"We still can't connect the dots because we're missing too many dots," the attorney snarled, pounding his fists on the control panels. "The lights not only went at in the main arena, they also went out where the victim and our client are shown to be! It's as if someone intentionally shut them off so the act could be committed in complete and total darkness, masking the culprit's identity!"

Atticus blew on his whistle gently. "Stop right there, Grasshopper. Before we dig any deeper into the rest of this equation, let's look at one gaping wound of a problem. Our client's shown to be right there in the backroom, with the victim. The way things are now, kid, we've got no cards in our deck."

"But in watching the footage prior to these events, we see our client making his way to the stage," the attorney pointed out, eyes still locked on the footage. Rewinding to earlier events, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath and dove into the murkiest waters he had ever encountered. "We don't encounter the problem of seeing our client in two different places until 8:20 pm. And we can't forget what Mr Bridges told us-Mr Gavin-"

Ah. Back to formalities. Not to mention Apollo's continuous refusal to visit his client.

"-had spent the last hour with the band. That solidifies everything we're able to see in the earlier footage. And closer examination of the footage reveals our client's decision to attend the performance, despite being under the weather."

It was as clear as day, the rising discomfort on Prosecutor Gavin's face. Atticus noted it, Apollo noted it, the whole world would note it. "If we turn up the volume, we can hear our client's wish to perform, despite his obvious condition," the attorney continued to testify, purposefully speaking over Prosecutor Gavin's dialogue in the footage. Coincidence? No, not likely, considering Apollo looked fit to blow up the entire universe, then rip apart the remnants with his bare hands.

"He very well may have been under Elysium's influence-or the faux Elysium's influence, I should say. At no point in time does our client convey any intention of taking a life."

"I take it you're not just going off the footage with this," the detective remarked soothingly, landing a hand on his friend's shoulder. Apollo, not at all facing him, eyes still glued to the footage, replied with a tone made of icy steel.

"Previous encounters with the client confirm his determination to attend the performance. So there's another way around this-the footage has somehow been modified. Changed to make it look as though our client was in the room with Mr Soprano at the time of the murder."

Atticus clapped, not out of agreement but in attempt to reel Apollo away from the edge. "Come back to me, kiddo. We still need to explain why and how our client ended up in the room with this Neo Soprano. You're saying the footage might have occurred at an earlier time? How do we explain our pal's fingerprints being on the murder weapon?"

"Simple," Trucy's brother nodded, still at the helm of the control panel, studying every nook and cranny. "Whoever set this up was intent on making sure no stone was left unturned, just as we are. The mastermind modified the time of the footage and made sure to rub our client's hands on the murder weapon. Our client being under the heavy influence of a drug made his or her job a thousand times easier."

None too comfortable with Apollo's repeated usage of the phrase 'our client', Atticus gave him a compassionate smile. "We've got to pinpoint the motive at some point in time," the detective informed him, patting him on the back gently. "The prosecution's definitely gonna throw one at us, and we've got to be able to counter it. Don't think the court will let us slide with 'the defendant just wanted to get on stage and sing his pretty heart out', button."

Apollo finally turned to face the detective, but then ran a hand over his face. "Detective?"

"What is it, Grasshopper?"

Hand still glued to his face, Apollo groaned out his thoughts. "Do you remember me asking Dusk and Alto about other forms of magic?"

"Yeah, how could I forget? They were as blank as my grandmother's face whenever I brought home my report card."

"Do you remember Alto mentioning one of the Twilights wanting to offer a sacrifice to their Goddess?"

The attorney suddenly felt fifty years older. "Once we visit this Market they're so fond of, we might be able to find out these other forms of magic," Apollo went on, melting into his chair-and not out of contentment. "If I had gotten this case even a year ago, I would've laughed myself right into a mental institution hours ago. But now…looking at the way everything's unfolding, I realize something. There's something much, much darker than their precious Twilight Moon magic, or whatever they refer to it as."

"Where are you goin' with this, kid?"

"Saying the surveillance footage was modified, and the fingerprints forced-all fine and well, but something's telling me to look deeper. We obviously can't ask Mr Soprano anything, with him being the victim of the case, but we're going to have to swim into much darker waters. Think back on the surveillance footage, Atticus. How many people did you see entering the backroom, prior to 8:25 pm? Or even 8:20 pm?"

"One, just Soprano."

"Yet, right at 8:20 pm, our client conveniently shows up and says 'voila, time to commit murder'? How many people did you see leaving the room after 8:25 pm?"

"None, muffin, the lights were out."

"Exactly. The only thing we're able to note in the backroom, after 8:25 pm, is the brilliantly loud music in the room. Music that strangely grows much louder as time progresses, and it's not a backdrop to create ambiance in the lounge because the rest of the lounge would be playing it as well. So unless this really is nothing but a nightmare, and Klavier has the ability to pop in and out of nowhere in my dreams, it's time to take a pretty cold swim in some pretty dark waters. And I think our best jumping off point is going to be the Oracle's."