Summary: Anti-Cosmo delivers HP some bad news, and Anti-Dove shows up with even worse news.

Okay, I finally came back to this story, so that's nice. And, we're back to the main plot, which is also nice.

Chapters Recommended Before Reading:

Pacify Her

(maybe) Baby Blues

Room 999

In Loving Memory

Of Bats and Men

Silence. No outburst, no questions, just silence and a stunned look on the Head Pixie's usually expressionless face.

After sobbing into his wife's shoulder for longer than he'd care to admit, he'd realized that HP should hear about this. It didn't seem right to leave him in the dark. The old pixie had been remarkably close to Anti-Cosmo's father, so he should hear the truth from Anti-Clark's son directly. Moreover, HP was practically family, having been something like an uncle to Anti-Cosmo.

Not that the anti-fairy would ever tell him that.

Shifting uncomfortably on the pixie's gray couch, Anti-Cosmo desperately waited for him to say or do something. Eventually, the Head Pixie, seated next to him, inhaled slowly and exhaled just as slowly, staring straight ahead as if in a trance. "Your father is dead."

His voice was monotone, matter-of-fact, but with an almost imperceptible crack. Anti-Cosmo silently begged himself not to cry in front of him. Instead, he swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yes."

HP tapped his fingers on his knee. "How?"

The image of his father's wide-open neck, the blood, the iron-laced rope-

"The look on your face tells me I don't want to know."

Anti-Cosmo shook his head and uncrossed his arms when he realized he was hugging himself. "You don't."

HP folded his hands, perched his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on top of his hands, perhaps intentionally hiding his face from Anti-Cosmo. The anti-fairy knew enough about pixies to know that they tended to hide themselves when their emotions started getting the better of them. They were a bit more open with those they were particularly close to, however, which explained why HP hadn't demanded he leave.

Anti-Cosmo suddenly caught a peak at the wings hidden under HP's dark gray sweatshirt. Had his wings...always had those purple marks? Or, was that new?

More silence followed, then HP asked in an almost shaky voice, "You're certain?"

"I know what I saw. The doctors confirmed it."

HP nodded and sat back up but still didn't look at him. "How's Anti-Dove taking the news?"

"She was…" Inconsolable. Devastated. A hot mess. "She wasn't happy. I'll say that." He sighed and laid his head on the back of the couch. "She doesn't need this. Not on top of a sickly fairy baby and a hyperactive anti-baby."

"Nobody needs this," HP said, absent-mindedly drumming his fingers on his knee. "He was a good man, your father. I remember when he became anti-fairy ruler. He came to me for advice."

Anti-Cosmo hummed in interest. He had yet to hear about this. "What did you tell him?"

HP shrugged. "Whatever I needed to. Whenever he didn't know what he was doing, he came to me, and I answered his questions the best I could." He gave Anti-Cosmo a meaningful look. "Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Anti-Cosmo smiled sheepishly.

Then, HP frowned deeper and looked behind him. "Uh, this may not be the best time, Anti-Cosmo, but what's up with your w-"

They both jumped at the exaggerated pounding on the front door. "Anti-Cosmo! HP!" Was that Anti-Dove? "I am respecting your privacy by knocking but emphasizing the seriousness of this situation by coming in anyway!" She threw the door open and bolted inside, a laptop in her hands.

"Was that door locked?" Anti-Cosmo wonder aloud.

"Yes," HP responded, equally stunned.

Anti-Dove looked like a wreck as she plopped down between them on the couch and opened her laptop. There were bags under her eyes, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair looked like it lost a fight against a balloon and a curling iron.

Anti-Cosmo was the first to recover. "How did you even know we'd be here?"

"Anti-Wanda told me," Anti-Dove said quickly, typing furiously at her keyboard and pulling up some kind of video. "Okay, this is footage from the security camera outside the ward."

"And, we care because…" HP drawled.

"Because I don't think it was suicide!"

Anti-Cosmo blinked and sat up stock-straight, but HP gave him a what-aren't-you-telling-me look and asked, "Don't think what was suicide?"

Blowing a particularly unruly strand of hair out of her face, Anti-Dove pushed her laptop toward her knees, allowing them full view of whatever she was trying to show them. "But, I gotta warn you guys; it's a little gruesome, even from a distance."

After seeing his own father's half-mutilated body, Anti-Cosmo was quite certain that he could handle "a little gruesome, even from a distance."

The video started out innocent enough. Anti-Clark was lying flat on his back, staring at the sky. Then, a pixie walked into the frame. Anti-Cosmo wasn't sure whether or not he knew that pixie. The entire species, even the brown-haired ones and the rare girls, looked pretty much the same. Darkness knows how the pixies themselves could tell each other apart.

"Pause this and zoom in on the pixie," HP instructed

Anti-Dove complied. Of course, Anti-Cosmo thought, the Head of the pixie race would surely have a better chance of recognizing the fellow. HP blinked twice and his eyes widened slightly. Oh yeah. He knew this guy.

"Do your security cameras have audio?" HP asked.

Anti-Dove shook her head. "Not in the budget."

HP hummed in disappointment. "Okay. Zoom back out and let's see where this is going."

She did so, and the video resumed. Anti-Clark and the pixie appeared to be talking for a moment or two, then Anti-Clark stood up, and the pixie led him to a tree. Wait, was that...the tree Anti-Cosmo found his father's body under? No, it couldn't have been. Could it? The two of them spoke a little more - Anti-Cosmo wanted so badly to know what they were saying! - then the pixie pinged up...a rope.

Anti-Cosmo inhaled sharply and shrank back, a hand springing to his mouth. "Uh...HP?"

The Head Pixie ignored him, staring blankly at the screen, though his gray-violet eyes glowed dangerously.

After a bit more discussion, Anti-Clark looked like he was trying to leave, but the pixie must have said something that convinced him to stay. And, then the pixie somehow convinced to put the rope around his own neck? The pixie grabbed the other end-

"Turn it off!" Anti-Cosmo begged, unable to stomach any more of this. With a sympathetic glance at him, Anti-Dove paused the video. Anti-Cosmo massaged his temples with shaking hands. "I don't understand this."

"He was tricked," Anti-Dove explained. "It's the only explanation!"

HP shut the laptop. "Anti-Dove, why don't you head home. Let us deal with this."

Anti-Dove blinked at him in confusion. "But-" HP grabbed her by the arm and half-dragged her to the door. "Oh, uh, okay." She stepped outside and turned around. "By the way, Anti-Cosmo, what happened to your w-"

HP shut the door in her face and stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, before facing a still-stunned Anti-Cosmo. "His name is Lenderman Dahmer."

That brought Anti-Cosmo out of his trans. He stood up and walked up to his friend. "I had feeling you knew him."

HP nodded, his eyes returning to normal. "I'm familiar with the man. Too familiar, actually. Let's just call him a smooth-talking ass and move on."

Anti-Cosmo hummed in thought. The name didn't ring any bells, but he was obviously very dangerous. And, if Anti-Cosmo had any say in it, very likely to get his head chopped off. With a very sharp piece of lead.

"Hey," HP said, bringing a hand to his chin. "This may or may not be related, but does the name 'Mary Alice Doombringer' mean anything to you?"

As if there wasn't already a whirlpool in Anti-Cosmo's stomach. "I've dealt with her, yes."

"So have I. And, I seem to recall her mentioning a 'semi-reliable source.'"

Anti-Cosmo quickly processed what he was implying. "Stars above. You don't suppose…" HP shrugged. Anti-Cosmo ran his hands through his hair. "I mean, Doombringer seemed to positively loathe magic. Why would she work with a pixie? Unless she's just using him for information and plans to dispose of him later. But, what does this have to do with my dad? What's the connection? Is there even a connection? Or, am I simply ranting about nothing?"

"Uh, I realize this isn't the best time," HP interrupted, "but I'm pretty there'll never be a good time to ask this. And, something tells you don't know about it, but have you looked at your wings, lately?"

His...wings? Anti-Cosmo brought one wing in front of him, and his heart paused. Green lines. He checked the other one. Green lines. The markings had spread to his wings. He laughed loudly and clapped once. "Lovely! How bleeding lovely! This is exactly what I need right now! Not only has my father been killed, but now those damn markings are spreading. Isn't that just lovely, Ross? Isn't it? Uh…"

HP had removed his sweatshirt, revealing a torso and wings covered in markings like his, only purple. HP's face gave away nothing.

After gawking for a moment, Anti-Cosmo shook his head clear. "Merciful Goddess, what does this mean?"

But, the Head Pixie just shook his head helplessly. "Your guess is as good as mine, AC."

"So, when does the real enjoyment begin?" Lenderman asked, leaning his elbows on the metal table and resting his chin in his hands.

Mary Alice took her eyes off the three prisoners who were encased in a large, magic-proof dome. "Soon, my little lab partner, soon."

The little square one started banging on the dome with both tiny hands. "Let us out now, and I'll consider letting you keep all of your limbs!"

Rolling her eyes at his useless antics, Mary Alice kicked the dome hard, sending him reeling back in shock. "Shut up, cube!"

"Hey!" the anti-fairy with the Southern accent shouted. "Only I can tell my son to shut up!"

"Mother, you're not helping," the square said.

"Shut up, Foop."

The pixie, Samson or whatever his name was, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Patience is a virtue."

Lenderman flew up to the dome. "Look, all three of you need to be quiet and let the adults talk."

"I hate you," the imprisoned pixie deadpanned.

"The feeling is mutual, Sanderson." Oh, right. That was his name. Lenderman casually leaned his back against the glass and crossed his arms. "Ready when you are, Mary Alice."

"You'll never get away with this!" the Southern one exclaimed in defiance. Then, she asked, "What are you not getting away with, exactly?"

Mary Alice grinned, anticipation making her heart race. "Oh, you'll see. But, I'm not quite ready yet."

Lenderman peered at her curiously over his shades. "Why not? We have more than enough power with these guys. Surely, we can get the ball rolling."

Mary Alice bent down and gave him a look that made him swallow hard. "What do you mean by…'we?'"

To Be Continued...

Uh, this took a slightly different turn than I thought it would. So, I guess we're doing it this way now. Fun. Review to see what happens next!