Chapter 12: Synchronicity

Charlie straightened her bowtie as she approached her new patient's room. While she was certainly going to be more lenient with him, this was definitely going to be a dressing-down. While she didn't doubt that innocent little Moonchild had been taken advantage of, she needed to dissuade this sort of behavior in the future. She had cooled off some since her initial explosion, already feeling the dull throb of regret and embarrassment for her lapse in demeanor, but she had enough to worry about without her very own staff actively corrupting her patients!

"Speak of the devil…" Charlie grumbled.

Niffty was standing outside Moonchild's door, her ear pressed against the carved oak.

"Niffty," said Charlie, her tone icy. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Not really, kitchen's clean," said the little insect demon, ear still to the door. "Awful quiet in there."

"Niffty." Charlie's tone was low and icy. "Be somewhere else."

Niffty went stiff and stepped away from the door like it was red-hot, her eye wide. "I-I-I was just–"

"Leaving." Charlie made for the door, reaching for the knob.

"Wait! He's not alone in there!" Niffty said, her tone urgent. "Moonie's spending some quality time with his girlfriend~"

Charlie stopped, processing this new information, before shaking her head and grasping the doorknob.

"I'm being serious!" Niffty exclaimed, smiling lasciviously. "Moonie's in there with a girl~!"

"Niffty, that's ridiculous! We're on that fifth floor, the hotel's locked down, if anyone got in we'd know." Charlie knocked and opened the door, peering in for a moment before turning off the light, closing the door and stepping back, her eyes wide. "That's Octavia Goetia."

"Pretty name," Niffty said, rubbing her cheeks. "And such lovely bone-structure."

"Prince Stolas' daughter is here, sleeping with one of my patients," said Charlie, flabbergasted, her hands to her face.

"Lucky! They sure are quiet lovemakers," Niffty said, before smiling and sighing wistfully. "Probably too busy smooching to make all those crude noises! How romantic!"

"What? No! I mean, they're both in there, asleep!" Charlie said, a little too loudly, before lowering her voice. "Clothes on. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"No~" Niffty giggled, a fluorescent blush in her cheeks. "I'm picturing it! Lookit me go! I think I ship it!"

"Don't you ship it!"

"Imma ship it!"

"No! Do you understand what this means?!" Charlie hissed.

"…They'd make beautiful children?"

"No… Well, they would pretty cute, but no! If Stolas finds out she's here, and if what we've heard about him is true… and if I know my father… either way, there could be some very bad trouble coming our way so long as she's here."

Niffty blinked and looked at the door to Moonie's room. "Want me to kick her out?"

"No, no, just… I need to sleep on this." Charlie sighed and rubbed her temples, suddenly very tired. "Any more disastrous news to drop on me tonight?"

"The washing machines are broken," said Niffty, smiling blithely.

Charlie turned to stare at Niffty, saying nothing, before turning away and trudging down the hall.

Niffty watched her go, waiting until she turned the corner before rushing back over to Moonchild's room, cracking the door open and peering in. "FishBird? HootGlub? Ooh! LunarOwl! Yeeesss… yes, that's good~"

Moxxie scowled as he looked through the high powered scope of his customized Barret M82. The crosshairs leveled straight on his target, portly balding man in his late fifties some mile-and-a-half away. The mark was U.S. Senator Micheal Bosco… or was it Edward Kovacs? He grit his teeth, he should at least know for certain the name of his target! Once again, their acerbic secretary had gone AWOL, leaving him and Millie no choice but to leave Gabriel behind to open their exit portal. First Blitzo ditched, and now Loona, leaving it to M&M to uphold the company's reputation!

Millie's voice crackled on his ear-bud. "Moxx, do ya have a solution?"

"I got eyes on him, honey," said Moxxie, following Senator Whoever with his scope. "But there's someone else in the office."

"So?"

"So, I'd rather not risk hitting someone else."

He could practically hear her smile and gentle eye-roll. "Aw, Moxxie, yer real sweet, but we gotta dust this creep if we wanna make it home in time for It's Dahm Good!"

"It's not my fault this guy had some unexpected company!" Moxxie said, sighing as the sweaty, rotund man paced about in his office; this all would have been so much easier if Gabriel was here. He'd have turned him into a document and put him through the paper shredder or something!

It had been odd, though. Very odd to be sure. The Senator had been enjoying an unenthusiastic fellatio from one of his prettier staffers when someone apparently entered his office, someone important if the Senator's reaction was any indication, hurriedly packing his chode away and shooing the young man out. From his vantage point, Moxxie could clearly see the only entrance to his office, and could not recall anyone entering the room. Since then, the Senator seemed agitated, nervous, his face flushed and slick with sweat. A few heated words directed at his guest and then he seemed to catch his death of fright, his piggy little eyes bugging out of his skull.

"What is going on in there?"

"Moxxie, take the shot!"

The Senator waddled over to the window and opened it, taking deep gasps of fresh air. He turned his back and walked away, talking to someone off to the side. This was it. Moxxie squeezed the trigger and the M82 roared as it jumped, a thumb-sized chunk of copper-jacketed lead streaked through the air, screaming across the mile-and-a-half distance.

…One…

Senator Kovacs/Bosco crossed his arms, scowling.

…Two…

Harsh words, recriminations, and instant regret.

'This apparently stressful conversation's almost over,' Moxxie thought, smiling. 'You're welcome.'

A huge, gloved hand shot out from high above the little man with utterly inhuman speed. Moxxie gasped and blinked, reacquiring the office in his scope. "What?"

Something shifted in his peripheral vision, the still-smoking bullet landing next to him with a metallic 'plink'. Moxxie looked up as a dark shadow was cast over him. A huge, muscular rabbit demon wearing a star-spangled top-hat stood astride the comparatively tiny imp, his flowing cape and blond curly hair shifting majestically in the wind. "Hello."

"Uh."

"What's an imp…" The huge rabbit demon began to say, before seeing the logo emblazoned on the side of the gun. "Ah! I.M.P.! Is Blitzo with you?"

"Hi-ya!" Moxxie screamed, swinging the .50cal sniper about, leveling it at the imposing demon. The rifle kicked as light and sound exploded from its barrel. The rabbit-demon swatted the speeding bullet away like a fly, casually kicking the M82 out of Moxxie's hands, shattering it in the process.

"No, no, none of that. I'm not going to hurt you, little one," the demon said squatting down and extending his hand. "Your boss is a friend of mine. My name is Danger."

Moxxie examined the gloved hand, hesitating for a moment before taking it. "Blitzo doesn't have friends."

"He has at least one," said Danger. "I presume you're here to kill Senator Kovacs?"

"Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all. Though I would like for you to hold your fire for a moment, I'm not quite done with him yet."

"DON'T YOU TOUCH MY MOXXIE!" Millie roared as she clambered up the side of the building, throwing herself at Danger, two Seraphic kukris in her hands, a third one in her tail.

Danger flicked his cape, obscuring Millie from view for an instant. When the cape fluttered back, the impess was gone.

Moxxie shot to his hooves and drew two pistols. "What did you do?! Where's my wife?!"

"Back at the office, don't worry." Danger's ear twitched, the distant sounds of sirens was growing increasingly less distant. "Hm. Look, I'll conclude my business with Kovacs and kill him. I'll leave your business card with the body so you can take credit."

"Uh…" Moxxie holstered his pistols. "May I ask what your business with the Senator is?"

"You may ask," said Danger, drawing his cape forward, enveloping Moxxie. The next instant, the imp was back in Hell.

Danger smiled and turned around, once more in the Senator's office. "Excuse me. I had some friends come in from out of town."

"Was that a gunshot?!" Senator Kovacs squealed, his shrill, tremulous voice unpleasant to Danger's sensitive ears.

"Yes. Now, to our business…"

"F-Former President Valentine, I can't help you! Not now, not with this! The Vault has significant pull in the Capital, and ever since you escaped–"

"Rescued." Danger turned around, his powerful, 8-foot frame utterly dwarfing the fat little man. "I did not escape. I was rescued."

"R-right…" Kovacs cowered, wringing his hands. "…L-look, Funny, i-if I had known you were in there, I–"

"Enough of that talk," Danger said, his tone gentle, almost friendly, but his stare was as cold and pitiless as the light of a distant star. "The Vault has lost the rabbit in its hat, any semblance of influence they maintain is simple inertia. To follow the example of Rome, to survive on plunder and slavery, is to court a similar fate. They will not be a problem much longer."

"W-well, what is it you want me to do?"

"Do? I don't need you to do anything but sign the support document, Senator."

Senator Kovacs looked at the ominous document on his desk. It was for a sweeping financial transparency bill that would upend the status quo in Washington DC. No longer would powerful third parties like The Vault be able to clandestinely influence policy with capital. That the bill had gotten far enough along to wind up on his desk would have required nothing less than divine intervention. Or, given the unholy creature tainting his office, less-than-divine intervention. His signature on the document would see the bill pass, the ensuing senate meeting was more or less a formality.

"A-alright. Yes, right away," he muttered, shuffling over to his desk, a simple, practiced signature and the deed was done. "There. How's that?"

"Excellent. Thank you for your cooperation, Eddie." Danger tipped his hat and extended his massive paw.

Senator Edward Kovacs hesitantly took the demon's hand, grimacing as his own vanished in the massive hellion's grasp. Danger shook his hand, his grip firm-yet-painless.

"Oh, and Eddie?"

"Yes, Funny?"

"Goodbye."

Danger's cape whirled about and enveloped the little man, as soon as he had vanished a shape plummeted past the window. Danger smirked and turned around, now in Hell. His plans were in motion, and if America was to survive, it would need him, for there were machinations in Heaven and Hell that could tear reality asunder.

He would need help if he were to prevent this.

He looked at the I.M.P. business card in his palm and smiled, closing his hand. When he opened it again, the card was gone

The second Senator Kovacs lost sight of Danger, he felt the world drop out from under him, his eyes squinted shut as bright sunlight scorched his retinas, tears running up his face as wind lashed about him. He was outside, somehow, buildings spouted up around him. Edward Kovacs rolled onto his belly as he fell, the sidewalk racing towards him at the speed of death itself. He managed to scream just before his body crumpled the hood of his white Camaro, bursting open like a bag of offal, blood and viscera splattering stark and red.

A woman was sprayed with hot blood and excrement and screamed, she wouldn't stop screaming even as EMTs loaded her into an ambulance. A cursory investigation would reveal the signed document of approval on his desk and a business card for a company called the Immediate Murder Professionals. A media circus ensued, conclusions were drawn in the public mind, and accusations flew. Edward Kovacs would be remembered as a martyr for anti-corruption, and his brazen assassination only bolstered the popularity of the bill he apparently gave his life for. In a few seconds of mortal terror, the meek, officious little man accomplished more than in his mundane, unremarkable lifetime.

Octavia mumbled as she woke, the room was dark but her strigiform eyes would soon adjust. She was on her side, her head rest on something firm and warm, it smelled familiar, pleasant. Her eyes adjusted and she could see what she was resting on, or rather, who. Moonchild, this new Moonchild, was sleeping next to her. No, not next to her, alongside her, her head resting on his chest, her arm draping across his abdomen. A blush formed in her cheeks when she felt his arm snaking down her back, his hand cupping her shapely rump. Octavia slowly rose out of the semi-embrace, not sure what to make of her pounding heart, the heady flush burning in her body.

Why?

This was Moonchild, after all. That meek, friendly little creature she'd grown so fond of, that she'd come to trust. She didn't think of him like… like that. He was still that silly, timid demon who hid in garbage! Having a new, ruggedly chiseled body didn't change that.

…She realized she was staring.

'Stop! It's not like that!' Octavia got to her feet and ran her fingers through her feathers. 'You're just… excited for him! Yeah! His therapy is really, really paying off, I guess? If he's happy, you're happy, and he's happy, right? What'd he say, it's a self-image thing? Well, his self-image must be amazing! I mean, just look at him! He's all fit, and healthy and-and… damn, it's like that tank-top is painted on…'

Octavia turned her head and summoned the grimoire. 'I should go. I need to go. I can't bring him down with all my bullshit. I'll just head home and…'

'Go! Go! Get out of my sight!' Her mother had screeched, throwing the grimoire. 'Go be with your precious peasant! Stay with him until the others find you! Go! GO! You're just like your father! GET OUT!'

Octavia winced at the memory and shook her head. Why did she confront her? Why now? What was she thinking? Mum had been through so much recently, with dad, and now with all the stuff with Uncle Sally, no wonder she blew up! Octavia sighed; she loved her mother, and her mother loved her. She knew this. Mum was a proud woman, steely and fierce, and intensely self-possessed. It's almost like she didn't even consider Moonchild might not appreciate her attention, that he might be too afraid to voice his objections. Being told as much, and being put on the spot, what else could she do but lash out?

'Does that excuse it, though? What she did to him for so long… She's too proud to admit that she was wrong… if she even believes it was wrong.'

She turned to Moonchild, who was still snoring softly. She felt a sharp pang of disgust with herself. Was she any better? Full disclosure, she absolutely was ogling before. Objectifying the progress he had made, leering like… like Dad! Well, no more! This was still Moonchild, that kindhearted, innocent, gentle soul that suffered so at the talons of her family. He was undergoing some kind of transformation, becoming a different, healthier person, and she had to be there for him! He'd been her patient confidant for so long, it was high time for her to pay him back!

"Get you some clothes that fit, for one…" She said, aloud.

"Snrk! Wuh…" Moonchild stirred and rubbed his eyes. "Hmm? Via? Oh, so I didn't dream that."

"Morning, Moonie. How do you feel?"

"Better, rested," he yawned, stretching as he stood up. "You stayed the night?"

"Yeah, I was, uh, pretty tired, too," Octavia said, her home life was hardly something to drop on him just now. "Figured why not, right?"

"I guess? I was meaning to ask before, what–" Moonchild began to say when a low, gurgling rumble issued from his belly.

"What?"

"Nothing, just, uh, I'm starving!" He turned to her, smiling as he offered his arm. "May I treat you to breakfast, Highness?"

She returned the smile and looped her arm under his. "We graciously accept your offer."

Breakfast was underway, the smells of grease and coffee hung in the air as Razzle and Dazzle busied themselves in the kitchen alongside Niffty. Niffty promised him a proper breakfast with her own special touch. Moonchild was thankful, in addition to drawing the wrong kind of attention, this new body of his was something of a calorie-hog, it seems. Or maybe it was the work-out he'd gotten the other night?

The other night.

He remembered everything of that night. The rage, the fury, the… fear? Terror was a better term for it. Everything had terrified and infuriated him. Everything and everyone was threat, a means of some unknowable torture and death that had to be utterly destroyed. And not just because they knew who he was, that was his alter-ego's all-consuming obsession, no, he had to protect himself from–

Wait, he was two people? Always had been.

Huh.

He remembered that, too?

He'd always known.

This revelation was hitting a lot softer than he remembered anticipating. Wait. He was anticipating him (Doppio, mi caro) finding out he (we) were (are)–

"How do you take your eggs, gorgeous?" Niffty chirped.

Moonchild blinked out of his stupor, answering automatically. "Sunny side up, please."

"Right away!" Niffty cracked the eggs on the side of the pan, Moonchild grimaced at the memory of a demoness's skull cracking open, her brains slithering out with similar ease. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

His skull suddenly felt too full. They weren't quite memories, these surges of understanding, rather flashes, impressions, knowledge, like the afterimage that results after closing one's eyes quickly. Who he was, what he'd become, coursed through him. Images of horror, feelings of wrath and hatred and fear, things that should have horrified him, would have horrified Moonchild, were blunted with a queer sort of acceptance. He had inflicted such terrible pain on so many people, caused such mayhem and suffering, but he had his reasons. Vicious, psychotic reasons, but there they were. His past justifications for his actions were absurd, the ramblings of a murderous paranoiac, but they cushioned the terrible guilt he'd have felt otherwise, helped him quietly come to a revelation that had been just out of reach for the past 20 years: He had been a monster, and now he was in Hell.

Deserved to be in Hell.

Belonged in Hell.

A plate slid in front of him, on it was six strips of bacon, four eggs, sunny-side up, a generous mound of greasy hashbrowns, and four blueberry pancakes. All thoughts of his sundry list of atrocities, his richly deserved damnation, was roughly ejected from his mind by a heady whiff of smokey bacon.

What?

He was really hungry.

"Thank you, Miss Niffty."

"Gotta feed my boys to keep 'em big and strong," she said, winking (blinking?). "I have to say, though, your girlfriend eats like a bird."

"You've obviously never seen owls eat," said Moonchild, smirking.

He picked up his plate and made for the table. 'She thinks we're dating… good. Maybe she'll stop trying to spy on me in the shower.'

He took his seat next to Octavia, who was reading her grimoire while sipping some black coffee, a plate with a piece of jam on toast in front of her; she glanced at his mountain of food and smirked. "Peckish, are we?"

"A bit." He set into his meal. "Not hungry?"

"I'm good," she said, her eyes widening as she looked across the table. "What the…?"

Husk sat opposite her, idly flicking through a newspaper, oblivious to the world around him, the banner title and splash page picture catching her eye.

Octavia leaned over the table. "Excuse me, can I see that for a second?"

"Eh? Sure. I'm done with it."

He handed her the paper and she began to pore over it. Husk turned to shoot Moonchild and inquisitive look, but the brawny fish-man was lost in his breakfast, and would be for a while.

"Angel…" Husk whispered to the spider-demon next to him, who was pour syrup and whiskey into his coffee in equal measure. "Who's the chick?"

"Dunno, I thought she was witchoo."

"Why would you think that?"

"Pretty, feathers, frowny. Figgered ya called yous up a hooer last night."

"Angel, she's, like, 15 or somethin'!" Husk spat, still whispering. "What kinda creep do ya take me for?!"

"Well, ya ain't in Hell for teetotalin', I don't judge!"

"I can hear you, you know," Octavia said, not looking up from the newspaper. "Owl-ears. And I'm 18, thanks. I'm with Moonie."

Angel and Husk looked at each other, huge, toothy grins spreading across their faces, simultaneously turning to look at Moonchild. "Ooooooh~"

"Good on ya, Moonie!" Husk said, smiling unabashedly.

"Mwhuh?" Moonchild mumbled, chewing, looking up from his now mostly-empty plate.

"That's cute, that's so fuckin' cute!" Angel said, clapping his hands together lightly. "We always hoped ya two kids would get togedda–Who is she?"

"What?!" Octavia exclaimed, blushing. "Not like that!"

"She showed up in Moonie's room the other night," Niffty said, zipping about, refilling everyone's coffee. "She slept over."

"…" Octavia groaned, hiding behind the newspaper.

"Steak an' eggs for my boy!" Husk commanded.

Niffty shot into a salute. "Comin' right up!"

"What? What's going on?" Moonchild said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I don't need… actually, yes, please, thank you."

"Feed the beast!" Angel said, popping up behind them, draping his arm over their shoulders. "So?"

"So?"

Angel nodded at Octavia, who was doing her best to disappear behind the newspaper. "How didja meet~?"

"Hmm? Oh, I work for her father," Moonchild said, blithely. "Sorry, I wasn't listening before. What's going on?"

"The boss's daughter, eh–" Husk's eyes snapped open wide as the realization hit. "Ah, shit."

"What's up, Mittens?" Angel said, still grinning.

"Moonie works for Prince Stolas." Husk said, hoarsely.

"Oh yeah, yer like his secretary or somethin' ri–" Angel Dust's head snapped over to the owl-demon glaring a hole into her newspaper. "Get th'fuck out."

"Oh, here we go…" Octavia sighed.

Angel stepped back, his hands up, his eyes wide as dinnerplates. "Fugget I said anythin'. I didn't touch ya! Whaddaya mean? I'll just be–I'm just gonna–"

"It's fine," said Octavia, sipping her coffee. "I won't have you tortured… this time."

"She's joking!" Moonchild broke in, laughing. "You're joking, right?"

"Depends on how long we got these shippers on deck," Octavia said, arching an eyebrow at Husk. "Steak and eggs? A bit presumptuous, I think."

Husk fidgeted, avoiding her stare. "Uh…"

"To imply that Prince Stolas' daughter was up to such activities, aloud, and in her presence no less!" Octavia grinned, her eyes flashing purple. "How impolite."

Husk said nothing, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Via, stop playing with your food," Moonchild said, chuckling.

"Fine." Octavia sniffed the air, eyes going wide. "Oh hey! Something smells good!"

"Steak and eggs!" Niffty cheered, setting the plate down in front of Moonchild with a 'bang'. "Four eggs, sunny-side up and 12 perfect ounces of red-rare ribeye, seasoned and seared to perfection by yours truly! Bon appétit!"

The steak steamed, juices both clear and red ran in rivulets from its surface, pooling about the slab of meat like blood. Moonchild and Octavia's eyes shimmered as they loomed over the steak.

"Moonie… could I try a bit of that?" Octavia ventured.

Moonchild cut the steak evenly in half, taking the other half and the eggs for himself. Octavia picked up the 6 ounce steak and, knocking her head back, swallowed it whole.

"What?" She said to the baffled staff and patients, wiping the blood off her chin. "I'm an owl, we don't really chew."

"Good morning everyone!" Charlie said as she entered the room, her smile only momentarily faltering upon seeing Octavia, who herself shot the princess a glare over her mug.

"Charlotte."

"Octavia." Charlie cleared her throat and resumed her cheerfulness. "So! As you can all see, we have a new guest! I want you all to give her a warm Happy Hotel welcome!"

Husk sipped his coffee. "Hey."

Niffty waved. "Hi."

Moonchild chewed. "Mmph."

Angel examined his nails. "Whatever."

"Wow. What a welcome." Octavia deadpanned, looking around. "Is that confetti?"

"Ha ha! Anyway, I trust everyone's had a good, bracing breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day after all!" Charlie said, pointing at Moonchild. "Moonie! How are you feeling today?"

"Good!" He said, finishing off his steak. "Hungry. I guess I worked up an appetite the other night."

A round of coughs and uncomfortable mutters circled the table.

"Ha ha ha… yeah…" Charlie's smile returned in an instant. "Well! I hope you're ready for today's program! It's the hobby-swap! We'll make it stick this time, I promise!"

"Hobby-swap?" Octavia said. "What does a hobby-swap have to do with redemption?"

"…And snap!" Husk said, snapping his fingers and turning the ten of clubs into a five of hearts and a five of spades. "Ta-daa! Now, how did I do that?"

"Magic!" Niffty cheered.

"Bullshit!" Angel added.

"Bullshit magic," Octavia grumbled.

A round of chuckles broke out throughout the circle, Moonchild, puffing out his chest somewhat, raised his hand. "I think I know."

Husk noticed Moonchild's sideways glance at the sour-faced owl and smirked. "Oh, do ya? Well, by all means, kid. Have at 'er."

He handed Moonchild the deck and, with uncharacteristic bravado, the young demon took them and shuffled the deck. "Here we go, here we go… there!"

Moonchild produced an eight of diamonds, showing it to all around. "As you can see, we have an eight of diamonds. Your standard card. Nothing up my sleeves, nothing in my hands…"

"Shit or git off the pot, kid," Husk said, smiling as he noticed the flicker of genuine interest on the princess' face.

Moonchild sighed and held the card out in front of him with both hands. "Now, all you have to do is call upon the Dark Gods of the Deep and Cthulhu ftaghn!"

He snapped both his fingers and in both hands was a four-card, one four of hearts and the other of clubs. Moonchild smiled at the round of impressed exclamations, his dazzling white shark-teeth visible in a confident smirk. Even Octavia looked impressed, a fact that made the young man glow.

"Perfect split-change," Husk said, proudly. "How'd ya do that, Moonie?"

"Oh, I layered three cards on top of one another, two fours with an eight on top, when I snapped my fingers…" Moonchild held up his hand, revealing the eight of diamonds tucked away in his palm. "…I slid the top card away while distracting everyone with the other two."

"No, I mean, you ain't never touched a deck before last night. How'd you do it?"

"Ya used yer powers! Yer future vision!" Angel cried. "Cheater!"

"Yes, well, no, well, kind of," said Moonchild, handing the deck back to Husk. "I used my past-vision. I can see 100 seconds into the past, but it's not just like remembering. I can slow it down, reverse it, zoom in, zoom out, enhance, even see things from different perspectives than just my own. I can see the whole thing over and over and over again, that's how I picked up the movements needed."

"Cheater!" Angel reiterated.

"That's really cool, Moonie!" Charlie said, clapping. "It'll make picking up hobbies easier!"

"What, exactly, does all this have to do with redemption?" Octavia said. "Isn't this place supposed to be, like, a rehab clinic or something?"

All heads turned to Charlie, who set her pen down on her notepad. "Kind of. Down here, the soul comes first, in that they inform the body. Things like drug addiction, or emotional imbalances, mental illness, that sort of thing, these can be worked out of the soul with the right kind of positive reinforcement!"

Octavia stared at Charlie for a moment, incredulous. "So, you can change people's souls with… card tricks?"

"Well, there's more to it than that, but I think it's important to tailor treatment to the patient, help them through their journey while giving them wholesome alternatives to their sinful behaviors."

Octavia nodded and set the newspaper down on the coffee table with a 'slam', on it was a splash page full-color photo of the 'Red Nightmare' dynamically emerging from a crowd of panicked demons, the ones closest to him reduced to raw meat and strips of fabric by a blur of claws and fists. The title read 'Azathoth Abattoir: Who is this Sexy New Celebrity?'

"Oh, it's working great," Octavia sneered. "Real wholesome. He's on, what, the Fifth Level? Five grand buy-in? Let me guess, one of you geniuses thought 'hey, the kid sees the future! Let's take him to the most dangerous casino on the West Side, that just so happens to be run by the father of Charlotte's archenemy, and cheat us up some money'!"

"Well–" Husk grumbled, stumbling over his words for a moment before deflating. "…Yeah."

"What are you implying, Octavia?" Charlie said.

"Oh, was the subtext too subtle?" Octavia rising to her feet. "How about this: Moonchild never went to casinos before coming here, he never underwent mysterious transformations before coming here, and he sure as hell didn't slaughter hundreds of people with his bare-fucking-hands before coming here! Oh, and don't think I didn't notice the fucking Radio Demon skulking about in the shadows!" She turned to the unusually deep, dark shadow cast by a nearby folding table. "Yeah, I can see you, asshole! Come out!"

A pair of red eyes and a yellow fanged grin flashed in the darkness, Alastor's shape manifested out of a mass of writing vantablack tentacles as he rose from the abyss, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "Royals."

Octavia jabbed a finger at Charlie, her eyes blazing. "I don't know what you're up to, Charlotte, but I won't let you drag my friend into another fucking gangwar, like your last patient! Keep this stupid fucking scam away from Moonie!"

"Octavia!" Moonchild said, rising to his feet, his hands extended. "It's not like that! Last night, it was an accident, we–"

"What were you even doing there, Moonie?" Octavia said, her hands balled into fists. "Some more 'card tricks'? Or, what, did they pretty you up and put you out there for sale? Is that why you snapped?"

Angel Dust slowly backed away from the increasingly heated exchange, whispering: "ight imma head out…"

"Octavia, please!" Moonchild pleaded, setting his hands on her shoulder. "They're my friends. This is all a big misunderstanding!"

"Friends?! Moonie! Friends don't run friends over and take them home! Friends don't drag friends to casinos and use them to cheat, or worse! Friends don't hide in vents and perv on friends! Friends don't expose their friends to the fucking! Radio! Demon!"

Alastor nudged Charlie with his elbow. "She has a point."

"This isn't normal, Moonie! This…" Octavia gestured at Moonchild's body, then at the towering horror on the front page. "…That! You're changing, Moonie, she's doing something to you and I can't let it go on!"

Charlie shot to her feet. "Octavia, you obviously care very much for Moonchild. And I know how strange this must all seem to you–"

"Oh, shut it, you blond bint!" Octavia snapped. "Smiling and playing nice, when really you just want to sucker people in for your pet projects, no matter who gets hurt or killed!"

Before Charlie could retort, Octavia wrapped one hand around Moonchild's hip, pulling him into a tight embrace, raising her other hand. It glowed purple as a grimoire materialized in it. "We're leaving!"

A shimmering portal opened up under the pair, the other side a busy street. With a yelp, Moonchild and the princess slipped into the vortex.

"Moonie!" Charlie cried, rushing to where they had been a moment earlier.

They were gone.