Location: Callista's home universe, Infinite Defense Headquarters, Dining Room
Time and Date: January 13, 2020, 4:06p.m.

(BGM: Michael Walthius - Dreaming in Stereo)

Universes away, in a three-story mansion that stood near the edge of a Michigan golf course, Aldonza Karate sat in a chair and stared out at nothing. She wasn't in the mood to deal with the typical chaos of Muffinville or Spamville, not after the events of the morning and early afternoon, so she had retreated back home entirely in order to find someplace to vegetate.

The handful of those whose duties lay with the space division were off working, while most of those who were employed around the county were also away. The rest of the staff were either on call in case a serious crime was reported or lazing around the property doing their own thing, leaving Aldonza alone. And for once, the social butterfly was happy with that.

"This is irritating as (censored)," Aldonza growled at nothing and no one. "I've tried my best to be a good friend to her, or at least a decent one, for what? Eight, nine years? And then she falls in love with the worst possible person ever. And here I thought I understood how the brains of humans worked. For all that talk about wrecking the wedding and totalling Maddhouse, we never really talked about the root cause of it all. Just what on Earth drove her to accept the proposition? Why did my contacts not tell me anything about it? Something about all of this smells rotten." She sniffed the air, and was briefly taken back by what she detected. "...Kind of smells like bourbon, actually."

"That's because it is bourbon," Zapana's voice drawled. Aldonza looked up to see the wolf nursing a bottle of the stuff as she sat down next to her. "And before you ask, you can't have any. This is property of yours truly."

"Wasn't going to, Zapana-chan," Aldonza denied. "I'm just a tad irritated at what's been happening, but not so much that I'd want to ruin my insides."

"Good thing my insides are already ruined, then," said Zapana before taking a swig, tapping her arm with her free hand as she did so.

Aldonza knew what she was referring to. When Zapana was still a pup, she was abducted by a delusional madman and had a serum injected into her blood as part of a process to turn her into his loyal super-soldier, which ultimately led to his death when he underestimated the scope of her rebelliousness. That serum had permeated her body and organs, strengthening them to the point where not only was it impossible for her to get drunk, but she could never suffer the ill effects of such. The day she reached legal age, she'd grabbed a can of beer and never looked back... but as she'd said from time to time, what had been done to her was irreversible.

Now if only we could prevent Circe's life from being ruined the same way. "I'm worried about her," Aldonza stated. "Something's wrong with her. Terribly wrong."

"You've said that something like fifteen times in the past six hours," Zapana said, annoyed. "I'm pretty sure everyone knows about it by now. When are we going to stop griping about it and actually do something about it? ... Oh, wait; we can't, because we specifically agreed to hold off on it until the wedding day. So-and I'm saying this as a friend-kindly shut up already and focus on how we can prepare ourselves in the meantime."

"Yes, but how?"

"Simple. Based on what everyone's said about Marc, and judging from what Circe's state of mind probably is, it's likely that it's all going to devolve into my specialty." Zapana grabbed a paper plate that someone had forgotten to throw away, crumpled it up tightly until it was about equal in size to one of her claws, then utterly incinerated it between her fingertips. "And that means getting ready for a hoedown la throwdown."

"...Sad thing is, you're probably right." Aldonza leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. "For all we know, he might have had something to do with this whole mess to start with. I mean, it's obvious that Circe wouldn't have agreed to marry him if she were in her right mind. A good fight might shock her back to her senses."

"It ought to, Aldonza-chan." Zapana followed Aldonza's lead, her expression turning melancholy. "It certainly did for me."

"Look at it this way." Aldonza's tail snaked over to Zapana's shoulder and gave it a few reassuring taps. "If we hadn't had that big blowup over the freeze gun incident, we wouldn't be friends now, right?"

This succeeded in putting a smile on the wolf's face. "Both of our lives are completely messed up, because that's not how friendship is supposed to work." She checked a nearby clock, jerking out of her seat in surprise. "Lost track of time... I gotta get to the multiplex. What are your plans tonight?"

Aldonza straightened in her seat. "I'm assigned kitchen duty during the dinner hour, and I was planning on watching the Pistons game later. What about you?"

"Unfortunately, I'm going to be working late tonight. One of the ushers is out sick, so I'm going to have to cover for him. But before I go..." She favored Aldonza with a smile. "This is the part where you say 'thanks for taking the time to talk to me, I really needed that'."

"I don't need to," Aldonza answered, smiling in return. "You said it for me. See you in the morning down in the battle arena?"

"Sure thing. Sayonara."

As Zapana hypered off, Aldonza re-directed her thoughts back to Circe. This time, instead of frustration and irritation at the day's events, she felt nothing but a quiet determination. Be patient with us. Just a little over a month. Whatever's happened to you, we'll put a stop to it. Wait for us, okay?

And for them at least, life went on.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Location: Circe's Manor, outside Muffinville proper
Time: 7:22p.m.

Loud, pulsing music permeated much of the Manor.

The announcement of Circe's upcoming marriage in recent weeks had drawn a mixed bag of emotions among her staffers. Those who knew of Maddhouse or were familiar enough with their mistress' personality were suspicious and unsure, with some having warning bells going off in their heads. Others who didn't know of the potential dangers of such a union were thrilled that she was planning on tying the knot, and there was much gossip to be had.

One maid in the latter category had excitedly suggested to Circe that a bachelorette party just had to be thrown. It took some time and a fair amount of convincing, but with some reluctance she'd agreed. The end result of this was that one of the Manor's larger dining halls and some adjoining rooms had been rearranged to accomodate the party, and thus decorated accordingly. A stage large enough to accomodate a song-and-dance troupe had been constructed, the kitchens were locked in overdrive, the dress code was less of a concern, and the ones in charge of the party were making sure everyone was enjoying themselves without going too far.

An attempt to surprise Circe with a catgirl jumping out of a large cake backfired, however. The catgirl in question, the largely apathetic Abby Dubious, fell asleep at some point and failed to respond on cue. When she finally woke up and dug her way out the side of the cake instead of exiting through the top, she was booed and heckled by most of the onlookers. Circe herself found it more amusing than anything else, calmly dismissing the attempt and telling those responsible not to worry about it.

Abby, of course, didn't care.

(BGM - Castlevania Dawn of Sorrow OST: A Fleeting Respite - Remastered, by DavSound)

As the party went on, even those who were suspicious decided "why not" and opted to join in. Claire was not one of them. The conservative maid stayed as far from the proceedings as possible, throwing herself into her work to keep from dwelling on the goings-on. What with everything that was taking place, she couldn't bring herself to enjoy any of it. "Feels like I'm the only sane person around here," she complained to herself as she finished vacuuming a stairway. "Everyone's hanging around in there, having a good time, and they either don't know that things are going south or don't care..." She grimaced as she heard one of the songs being performed. "And I've always preferred the Backstreet Boys over NSYNC anyway."

Switching off the vacuum, Claire went to transfer its contents to the nearest wastebasket she could find...

"Not much of a party person, Miss de Loon?" someone asked. Claire gave a start, but relaxed when she saw the maid leaning on the railing up on the second floor.

Doris Sturm had more seniority than most of the staff, and was also the most identifiable. She had kept the appearance of the fictional reploid Pandora during her last transformation, turning herself into a gyroid. The downside of that decision was that her armor and helmet were permanent parts of her being, rendering them impossible to remove. Since she couldn't fit into a regular uniform as a result, she designed a new emblem-the same one that would later be placed on the wedding invitations-and had it emblazoned on the back of her helmet to identify herself as part of the staff.

Oddly enough, she was currently sipping some sparkling water. How she's able to drink despite being a living machine, I'll never understand. "It's not the party I dislike as much as the circumstances surrounding it, Miss Sturm," Claire answered, setting the vacuum aside and making her way up the stairs.

Doris nodded. "I hear you. It certainly came out of nowhere. Seeing someone's eyes turn to hearts in a cartoon is funny. Seeing it in real life? Not so much. It's too creepy for words."

"I see..." Claire murmured before deciding to raise a question that had been bothering her. "I have to ask, since you're helping her directly on this. How's Lady Circe's general temperament? Is everything... well, most everything... alright with her?"

"If you mean 'has she been any different', no. ...Wait, that's not quite true," Doris admitted, shaking her head. She took a few steps to the side to allow Claire some room on the railing. "It would be more accurate to say that her treatment of us as individuals hasn't changed. She still treats us with as much respect as we deserve, and there's no more changes in her speech patterns or emotions than usual. But when it comes to anything pertaining to Mr. Maddhouse, you might as well be talking to a wall. She's rather thoroughly convinced that he can do no wrong."

"You've already tried to talk to her, then?"

Doris chuckled bitterly. "I was on hand at her Shop when Marc proposed to her. You should've heard the fuss that her pet mouse raised... anyway, I tried to talk her out of it both before and after he left, but Lady Circe was hearing none of it. The only reason they didn't get married right then and there was because I was able to at least convince them to have a proper public ceremony, and those events require plenty of time to prepare." She sighed. "Really should've tried harder to talk her out of it..."

Claire gave Doris's hand a consoling pat. "You did what you could. Your efforts mean that we still have a chance to stop her from making a serious mistake."

Doris regarded Claire suspiciously. "None of us have been able to talk sense into her, no matter what we say. Do you know something that I don't, Miss de Loon?"

"...Before I answer that, is there anyone else in the immediate vicinity?" Claire inquired cautiously.

Doris's eyes shifted through the color spectrum; Claire recognized this as the sign that her internal hardware was blazing away. "The party is active 450 feet away, and Lady Circe is present there. Any maids still at work are elsewhere in the building, and those left are in their quarters. No one on the first and second floors is within earshot. We're clear."

Claire nodded. "Good. I took the liberty of getting into contact with the Infinite Defense this morning."

"The Infini... oh. Miss Metallium's old faction." Doris downed the rest of her drink and placed her glass on a nearby shelf. "She and those friends of hers should've gotten their invitations today..."

"They did, and they weren't pleased about it. They and the heads of the Brotherhood and Forces of Nature intend to sow chaos on the wedding day and make things as problematic as possible in the hopes of dissolving the marriage."

It was a rare thing to see Doris, whose electronic brain could formulate responses to any statement in less than a heartbeat, stunned into silence. "...I was under the impression that those two groups hated each other's guts."

Claire idly wiped off the railing with a dust rag. "That they do, but apparently their hatred for Maddhouse supercedes that. Missy Shanelle doesn't want competition as an antagonist. Lady Viridi already viewed him as a blight on the earth, and being tapped as the wedding party's flower girl didn't help matters any."

Doris processed this before turning to regard the 1st floor below. "I have to assume Lady Circe knew that when she told me to send an invitation to Shanelle. They're business associates only. Our lady even told me when I was temporarily assigned to Brotherhood HQ on cleanup detail that she didn't like her. Is there something I'm not seeing? If she's so dead-set on marrying Maddhouse, why is she making it possible for high-profile people to join forces against him?"

"I can't claim to understand any of that." Claire steeled herself before speaking. "What I do understand is that I'm going to do everything in my power to assist the alliance wherever I can."

Doris immediately turned to Claire, facing her with no small amount of fury. There was a fair bit of 'evil' and 'violence' in her due to the current nature of her existence, though most days she was good at keeping them under wraps. "It's one thing to express discontent with what our Lady is doing," she hissed, eyes glowing as she summoned her staff out of thin air. "It's quite another to actively work against her wishes. I cannot let you do that."

Claire summoned all of her decorum and willpower, not backing down in the face of Doris's anger. "Answer me this, Miss Sturm. As someone with a CPU for a brain and heart, what sounds most logical to you: to willingly support Lady Circe as she goes through with a decision that means the complete loss of who she is, of who we are... or to work against her with the intention of keeping her best interests alive, to ensure that she is able to strive towards them another day?"

There was still rage in Doris's eyes, but it was faltering. "Miss de Loon..."

"You've heard the rumors about Maddhouse's treatment of women," Claire stated emphatically, her own anger filling her voice. "As of today, I can confirm that the rumors are true. I heard the words straight from Ambush Cat's mouth."

Doris's weapon immediately vanished back into nothingness. "So... to clarify...?" she asked hesitantly, the glow in her eyes dimming.

"I am loyal and dedicated to my Lady," Claire stated with absolute confidence. "I always have been, and always will be for as long as she and I live. As one of her maids, it is my duty not only to do all the work that is expected of me, but to protect her against any discernible threats to the best of my ability. And the scum that is Marc Maddhouse is very much a threat."

Save for the distant party, the hall was silent for about six seconds before Doris chuckled softly. "Someone told me once that if you'd been part of the first wave, you'd have been the Manor's head maid. I'm starting to see why that was said; you're shining like a searchlight right now."

"A-anyway," Claire stammered, blushing at the compliment, "since I've been selected as a bridesmaid, I still can't openly sabotage the ceremony. What I can do for now is to push things in the right direction simply by doing what is asked of me. Does Miss Madison know who's going to be handling the catering yet?"

Doris shook her head. "I don't think so. I think she and I are both under the assumption that us maids would be taking care of it."

Claire smiled. "Good. I have an idea as to who to get, but I'd like to run it by her first before I make the call. Is she at the party?"

"Yes. Thankfully, I don't think she's drunk any booze yet."

"Even better. Bring her out here, if you could." Claire's eye twitched as she remembered the cleanup Doris had interrupted. "...Well, as soon as I get the vacuum cleaner put away."

Doris's laughter echoed behind her as she went back downstairs to finish her task.

...

And for them, at least, plans were made.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Location: Viridi's suite, The Mungojerrie
Time: 11:35p.m.

(BGM: Ground Theme - Super Mario Bros. 2 [Remix] - Super Smash Bros. Ultimate)

"Three to go! You're slipping, nature girl!"

"Let's see if you're still saying that to my Sho-o-o-ryuken!"

"Rrrghh...! Back in the game, Belmont, back in the game-[censored]!"

After being successfully resurrected by Ambush Cat years before, Viridi had claimed one of the ship's empty suites for her own use. The interior had been redesigned so that it had a similar feel to her long-destroyed sanctuary from ages past; though it could never truly replace what she'd lost, the suite felt more and more like home with each passing day.

That wasn't to say there weren't a few technological odds and ends, however. The massive television and Nintendo Switch in the living room were two of them. Even stranger was the fact that Viridi and Missy, two vicious archenemies, were seated on cushions side by side and settling their frustrations in Smash Ultimate instead of the battlefield. Given what time it was, it was essentially a warped sleepover.

Viridi's chief lieutenant, the also-resurrected Phosphora, was sitting on a vine-turned-hammock in one corner of the room, watching the scene with no shortage of amusement. Missy's secretary, a meek sheepgirl who looked borderline exhausted, was far less enthused as she poked her head into the room. "How long have they been at this? I thought they were going to stop an hour ago!"

"That used to be the plan, Bahija, but it ain't happening now," Phosphora confirmed with a nod. "This is the tiebreaker round to decide whether or not they play their final match on Dracula's stage. After that is a best-of-three to see whether Missy plays that match as Luigi or Bayonetta, and another best-of-three to see if I'm allowed to join in for it. I'm sitting off a loss right now."

Bahija facepalmed heavily as she walked in. "I had the feeling that proposing that ceasefire would be the worst decision of my life..."

"They hate each other," Phosphora said with a shrug. "They still wanted to fight, and this is the next best thing. Chances are after their 'final' match, they'll get into another argument over whether the victor won fairly or not, and have another few rounds to decide who was right."

"And I'm going to have to put up with this for over a month?!"

"Sure will." Phosphora gave Bahija a challenging smirk. "You have a problem with that, muttonhead?"

Bahija's hands tightened at the implications of those words, and a little bit of her normal self shone through. "Fine. One game after they're done, sparky. And if I win, you have to not just promise to stop playing when the rest of us have to sleep, but to keep that promise for the duration of the ceasefire!"

"And if I win, I get to shave you bald and turn your hair into a sweet throw pillow." Phosphora held out an open hand. "Deal?"

Hand met hand and slammed themselves together. "Deal!"

...

...

Over an hour later, Bahija once again found herself thankful that triggering her Jusenkyo curse also restored her hair.

/-/-/-/-/-/

And for them at least... ah, forget it.

And so a month passes...