AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was really unhappy with how the original chapter 15 was paced, as a well as a few of the scenes. So I'm pulling a George Lucas and posting a re-release with head- tilts and tacky CGI

Enjoy!

Chapter 15: Mandala

The Mustang Mach 1 screamed down the highway, cutting off other cars as it wove between traffic, leaving those that did't swerve into oncoming traffic in its dust. Blitzo hissed as he rubbed his still-tender belly. That fish-boy had really let him have it.

He popped another of the little glowing pills, swallowing it whole and sighing as he felt the warm, buttery glow of… whatever the fuck these things were. He understood that these babies had a much different effect on sinners than imps. Oh, it patched them up just fine, but demons could shake off just about anything anyway, so that was just a fun side-effect. No, it was the high; somewhere between heroin and a mother's love, and with an even worse dependency rate. Just as well it did shit for dick for the Hell-born, Blitzo probably worked with all the imps in Hell that could afford the little bastards.

But none of that mattered right now.

The Mach 1 skidded to a stop outside the IMP building, roaring into the mostly empty parking lot (they'd bought the building and evicted everyone else), still managing to smash into Moxxie and Millie's sensible four-door Sedan. Blitzo kicked the door off its hinges and scrambled into the building, racing up a flight of stairs to the IMP office.

"Where's my baby?!"

"Right here, sir," said Moxxie, standing next to a badly shaken Loona. "She's alright, or not hurt, at least."

Loona was sitting on a chair, a blanket over her shoulders and an empty mug in her paws, Millie stood next to her, her hand on her lap.

"Refill, sweetie?" Millie asked, her tone soft.

"Mmhm."

She waved over an armored, insectoid demon. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel nodded, waking over with a thermos, which he poured into her mug. "Here you go, Loony."

"Thanks, Gabe," she muttered, sipping the cocoa from trembling hands.

"Loony!" Blitzo cried, running over. "What happened?!"

Moxxie crossed his arms. "Well, first you ditched, then Loona was missing, and Mollie and I had to–"

Blitzo's hand clapped over Moxxie's entire face, shutting him up and shoving him backwards onto his rear. "If I want to hear from you, Mox, I'll fuckin' ask! Loony? Honey, what's wrong? Who hurt you? Where is he?!"

"H-he didn't hurt me…" She said, her voice low. "He said he was going t-to hurt you. Kill you."

"Who?"

She looked up at him, fresh tears rolling down her sodden cheeks. "Grand Duke Sallos."

A pregnant silence hung in the air, IMP stared at her, stunned, their eyes wide.

Blitzo turned to Moxxie. "Who's that?"

"Whu-SIR!" Moxxie exclaimed, pulling at his hair. "S-Sallos Goetia a grand duke of Hell itself! What's more, he's the primary peacekeeper of Lucifer!"

Blitzo blinked, first one eye, then the other. "…Kay."

"He's a demon royal! A Fallen Angel! He's powerful enough to make all those other ungodly assholes play nice! And-and he's after you because-b-because–" Moxxie cried, hyperventilating. "I-I think I'm having a panic attack!"

"Gabriel," Millie said to the towering Junior. "Go get your dad's Valiums… and arm yourself."

"Huh. Really?" Blitzo sniffed, pulling out his pistol. "Well, someone get Lucifer on the horn and tell him to put together an 'help wanted' ad, because that fucker's ass is grass!"

"You can't be serious! You have to run!" Loona said, shooting to her feet. "Dad, he's going to kill you! All of you! He's a monster! I-I tried to call St. Anger, but he couldn't help us unless I paid him, and I didn't have enough to-to-to–"

Loona buried her face in her hands and Blitzo pulled her into a hug. She clung to him and squeezed him tightly. He looked up at Moxxie and Millie, a huge grin on his face as he whispered: "She called me 'dad'~"

"Loony, look at me," Blitzo said, gazing into her eyes. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. If that royal asshole wants to tear down what I've built, what we've built, he'll have to go through me first! I've got a hundred-thousand rounds of Seraphim-Steel-plated 'Fuck You' and I'm aiming to shove it right up his cockhole!"

A voice came from the other end of the room. "Oh, he's going to love you."

They turned to see a single, tall, spiky demoness standing in the doorway. She was beautiful, with perfect humanoid features framed by a mane of chitinous, interlocking scales that sprouted into spikes as they ran down her spine. She was dressed in an impeccable black, three-piece suit, her arms folded neatly behind her back. Her orange eyes locked on the imps, her face drawn into a dour, stoic mien.

"I am Captain Gallia of the Ducal Guard," she said, her tone calm and even. "By the power vested in me by Grand Duke Sallos, Peacekeeper Primaris of the Luciferian Regime, I hereby command you to–"

"Hey, Tits, do ya mind?" Blitzo sneered. "We're closed for business. Or, if you're here for the succubi, they were across the hall before we evicted them! So, uh, yeah, fuck off!"

Gallia arced a scaly eyebrow, confounded. "What? No, I–"

"Does 'fuck off' mean something else where you're from, butch?"

Her mouth hung open in shock before breaking into a savage smile, a low, genuine laugh issuing forth. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Balls. Okay, I was going to just knock you all out, but you just went and earned a fight. Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you."

"Oh, you'll take it alright!" Blitzo said, reaching under his coat and pulling out a custom black and red FM SCAR-H, loosing a full barrage of full automatic fire. "Lie back and think of Satan, biiitch!"

Captain Gallia didn't seem to move at all, the clinking of spent brass and the roar of the rifle report echoing off the walls. The click of an empty chamber announced the abrupt end of the cacophony. The imps stood in silence as the tall demoness strolled forward, unfolding her arms from behind her back, opening them out in front of her. All thirty Seraphim-Steel 7.62x51mm rounds clattered on the floor as she strode over them, a wry smirk on her face.

An amazed smile spread across Blitzo's face. "I am super hard right now."

Captain Gallia bridged the distance in a microsecond, her talons fastening around Blitzo's throat as sh hauled him off his feet, the tiniest flicker of her demonic might manifesting as hurricane wind that scattered the other four about the room.

"Erghk…" Blitzo croaked, grasping her wrist, still smiling. "Really not helping with the boner situation."

Gallia arched a brow and looked down, her eyes snapping open wide at what she saw, an impressed smile on her face. "Nice!"

"KIIIAAAAIII!" Millie roared, glimmering, angelic kukris in both hands and tail.

Gallia ducked and stepped backwards, the leaping imp's arms going clear over her shoulders. Gallia stooped her head forward before swinging it back with a casual, almost gentle grace. The back of her head smashed into Millie's chest with a resounding 'crack', black blood spraying from her mouth as she was sent hurtling backwards, smashing a hole through the far wall.

"Millie!" Moxxie roared, drawing both his pistols on the demon captain. "You… bitch!"

He opened fire with the speed and grouping of a trained professional. Gallia wove herself and the imp in her grasp around the storm of Seraphic bullets, walking up to the furious Moxxie just as his clips were spent.

"Oh crumbs…"

She reached out and slapped Moxxie across the cheek with the back of her hand, lightly, as though she were swatting a mosquito. Moxxie's head snapped to the side as a fine mist of blood sprayed from his mouth. She swatted him again with an open hand, on the other cheek, with identical results. Before the barely conscious imp could topple over, she grabbed him by the chin and planted a tender kiss on his bloody lips.

"I'll be getting to know you real well, cutie," said Gallia, licking his oily black blood off her lips.

Moxxie's eyes rolled up in his skull and he fell back, unconscious. Blitzo wriggled in her grasp. "He's spoken for, creep!"

Gallia shrugged. "Not my first threeway."

"They're spoken for, creep!" Blitzo said, his tail adroitly reaching into his pocket.

"You know, it's not every day I'm told to take someone alive. Normally it's kill so-and-so or protect such-and-such," she said, her low drawl giving way to an outright gleeful lilt. "Not often I'm outright told to play with my prey. I hope you won't mind if I smack you chumps around a little more."

"Smug, privileged cunt!" Loona roared as she swung a metal chair at Gallia's head.

Gallia didn't so much as twitch as the chair exploded into a shower metal fragments around her head. The demon captain glanced over her shoulder at the stunned hellhound, her eyes glowing sun-orange as they narrowed. "Bad dog."

She turned around and strode towards Loona, her aura leaping off her body like solar flares, the air grew hot, dry, and electrified, a single bolt flashed out and sent Loona tumbling across the room, unconscious. "Bitch's a biter, have to put her down."

"Uh, ex-cuse you, bitch?!" Blitzo snarled. "My baby is perfect!"

Blitzo swung his lower body up as though to kick. Gallia smirked and dodged the strike, opening her mouth to mock him when a shimmering streak slashed up the Captain's face like a whip crack. Gallia roared in pain and outrage as the vision in her eye shorted out with a flash of light, the smell of her own flesh burning filling her nostrils as the sound of her sizzling meat echoed in her ears. She threw the imp to the ground and clutched at her face, a long, smoking bone-deep wound carved up her jaw to her forehead, her eye a bubbling ruin of purified tissue.

"How… dare you?!" She bellowed.

"What can I say?" Blitzo said, the tip of his tail shod in a heart-shaped blade of angelic metal. "Bitches get stitches."

Gallia's hand snapped out and golden bands of lightning shot out, encasing Blitzo in agonizing arcs of demonic energy. Blitzo screamed as every nerve in his body was set ablaze, his muscles seizing so hard he felt his bones creak and crack. Lights exploded behind his eyes as his senses faded until there was only the pain in the world. The pain stopped and he collapsed to his knees, his breath exploding from his mouth in high, willowy shrieks. Her tall, sharp high-heels clicked and clacked as he strode up to him.

"You hurt me, imp. Wounded me," Gallia snarled, her smile cruel and hateful. "That's the best anyone's done in a good, long while. For that, I'll oversee your interrogation personally."

"Ugh, s-stilettos?" Blitzo groaned. "Those things are terrible for your arches."

With a snake-like snap of his wrist, Blitzo produced a Seraphic stiletto and drove it into her foot, pinning it to the floor.

"See?"

Gallia roared in pain and rage and reached down, grabbing Blitzo and throwing him hard over her shoulder. His body almost smashing clear through to the next floor before limply peeling out of the crater and bouncing on the ground, unconscious.

Gallia yanked the blade out of her foot and spun around to see Millie in the air above her, a massive shining hammer in her hands. The Captain braced before she was smashed through the floor. Moxxie and Millie took point around it, their weapons drawn.

"Mom! Dad!" Gabriel cried as he burst out of the armory, a huge Seraphic halberd in his hands. "I'll hold her off! Take Blitzo and run!"

"No!" Moxxie shouted to his adopted son. "It's us she's after! You get Loona and get out of here!"

"But–"

"It's okay, son!" Millie said, smiling at him over her shoulder. "We're still alive, which means that's how her boss wants us! We'll meet up with ya after we kick her ass!"

"Mom… Dad…" Gabriel said, tears in his eyes.

"Go," Moxxie said, gently. "We've got this."

Gabriel marshaled his courage and nodded, tears streaming down his face as he gather the unconscious hellhound off the ground. "I'll save you! I'll find help and save you!"

He ran out the door and Moxxie and Millie braced themselves as a painfully intense orange light emanated from the hole in the floor, the sheer demonic might of the Captain ionizing the air in an eerie blue glow that surrounded her aura like a halo.

"Win or die," Millie said, shooting her husband a sad, loving look.

Moxxie smiled and curled his tail around hers. "It's you and I."

The pink-haired man sat on the floor in the corner of the room, behind a chair, hugging his knees. All around him was upturned furniture, stacked about as barriers to his imagined attackers. On the other end of the room were an assortment of concerned demons.

"Y'know…" Niffty said, tapping her chin. "He's not nearly as sexy as I thought he'd be."

"I'm going to regret asking," Charlie said, watching the near comatose man closely, unconsciously rubbing her ribs. "But what were you expecting?"

"Taller? Not dressed like a sissy-Mary," Niffty said, tossing a piece of rubble at him. "And, y'know, I was kinda expecting him to at least try and disembowel someone."

"Yeah, what gives, Kid?" Husk said, turning to Moonchild. "He wasn't this way at the casino."

"He thought he was in the Requiem," Moonchild said, somberly. "He was… scared. Now that he's out he's just, I don't know, shut down."

"The what?" Vaggie asked, slapping a larger piece of rubble out of Niffty's hand as she prepared to throw.

"It's hard to explain…"

"Best I can figure, it was some kind of recursive reality loop that skewed probability towards fatal results, directed at the loop's fulcrum with an exponentially intensifying rate of occurrence as time went on." Octavia said, flipping through her grimoire, looking up from it as everyone stared at her. "What?"

"In Hellish, chicky-poo," said Angel. "A reversive realty hoop?"

"A recursive reality loop," Octavia said, sighing and shaking her head. "…I think? Look, from what I could sense, it was kind of like a curse, but instead of being just a misfortune magnet, upon activation it actually created a, I dunno, absence of fortune that caused the surrounding reality to warp, to try and destroy the fulcrum, the support structure for the effect, and reset to when it wasn't there. Moonie's other guy was made into the fulcrum for this 'Requiem', the focal point for reality to react against."

"Oh, yeah," Angel said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously."

"Wait, Via," Moonchild said, astonished. "How do you know about this? Can demons do something similar?"

"No." Octavia turned to Charlie. "Not demons."

All heads turned to Charlie, who drummed her fingers together and shrugged. "That sounds a lot like the work of an angel… an archangel."

A pause filled the air as they digested this information. It was Husk who spoke next. "So, uh, Chuck, when you say 'archangel', do you mean–"

"I mean Uncle Micheal, Uncle Gabriel, Uncle Raphael, and Uncle Uriel," said Charlie, sighing in exasperation. "And yes, my father, Lucifer."

"Fuck me dead, Chuck," Angel said, horrified. "Sometimes I, y'know, forget just who the fuck ya are."

Charlie smiled brightly. "Thank you!"

"I never forget," Alastor crooned, leaning over her shoulder, grinning.

"Ugh…"

"So, what was happening to this guy?" Vaggie looked over at him, at the blank, vacant look on his face. "He'd show up in a place and, what, die?"

"Again and again and again," Moonchild said, hoarsely. "In every possible way, with no escape, for almost twenty years. He remembers it all."

"Fuck." Husk spat, disgusted. "Dude was a bastard, a right psycho, but fuck."

"Can you help him, Charlie?" Moonchild asked, his eyes pleading.

"I don't know what I can do," Charlie said, turning to Moonchild. "But I'll try. I'll need your help, Moonchild."

He nodded and the two slowly made their way over.

The man started at the movement and scrambled behind a love chair, his eyes wide. Charlie pushed out ahead of Moonchild, cooing and soothing, hoping her more human proportions and appearance would placate the traumatized human.

"Shhh shhh…" Charlie said her hands open in front of her. "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

He cowered before her, trembling as she drew near, she relented and turned to Moonchild. "He won't let me in. I think this first part has to be up to you, Moonie."

"Alright," he said, nodding. "I'll get him out."

Moonchild stepped forward, a gentle smile on his face. "Hey. It's me, Doppio. It's okay, you're out of the Requiem, you're safe, now."

"The Requiem?" Diavolo blinked and inched forward. "Safe?"

"Yes, you're safe," Moonchild said, soothingly. "It's okay, now. I'm here. I'll protect you."

"You'll…" His green eyes narrowed as he extended his hand. "…Protect me?"

Moonchild sensed something in the comparatively small human, something that made his blood run cold, he could see that behind those eyes was no feral beast, no animal, but something far more savage and dangerous for its lucidity. Diavolo lunged forward, grabbing Moonchild's arm, a surge of energy passing between them.

"You'll protect me, Doppio?!" He roared, eyes blazing. "You can't even protect yourself!"

A red, studded fist smashed into Moonchild's solar-plexus, green blood spraying from his mouth as he flew backwards, crashing into the far wall hard enough to crater the plaster.

"Moonchi–urk!" Charlie began to say when another fist slammed across her face, sending her crashing to the floor.

"Now we're talkin'!" Niffty said, grinning.

"Charlie!" Vaggie cried, starting forward, only to be held back by Husk.

"He'd tear ya to pieces, Vaggie!"

"Moonie!" Octavia cried, rushing to his side. "Moonie, are you–oh, my God, Moonie, what happened to you?"

Moonchild stirred on the floor, hissing in pain as he rubbed his bruised chest, his clothes hanging off his slender, willowy frame like robes. "I'm… I'm back to my old self?"

"You've betrayed me! Betrayed us!" Diavolo hissed, a glowing, ephemeral form flickering into existence behind him as he loomed over Charlie. "You've divulged our past to these monsters! All this time, and you've been living like a dog! Cowering and begging and dragging yourself through filth! You expect me to debase myself as you have?! King Crimson!"

Charlie stirred on the floor, momentarily dazed by the force of the blow, the figure behind Diavolo flared into sight, a tall, red, armored humanoid, superimposing itself over Diavolo, hiding him from sight. "No, Doppio, mi caro. As always, it will be I who has to clean up your messes. I will start by ending this farce and exterminating these diseased vermin who've witnesses to your failure!"

King Crimson's steely fingers wrapped around Charlie's throat and squeezed. "I remember you. From before. You're strong, strong enough to withstand my King Crimson's might intact, but I will prevail! Cease your struggle, child, it will all be over soon."

"I… am…" Charlie croaked, gritting her teeth and grabbing the phantasm's wrists. "Way older than you."

King Crimson grimaced at her strength, feeling her start to pry away his fingers. He reared back and smashed his bare forehead into her nose with a crunch and squelch of blood, the back of her head smashing into the floor hard enough to shatter the concrete. Charlie's strength faltered for a moment and his fingers wrapped around her windpipe with renewed vigor, crushing her airway shut.

"Alastor!" Vaggie cried, turning to the leering deer-demon. "Do something!"

"Ah ah ah, my one-eyed admin," Alastor said, adjusting his monocle. "Our dear employer has made it eminently clear that dealing with recalcitrant patients is, heh, not my department."

"He's gonna kill her!" Angel exclaimed.

"Unlikely," replied Alastor, grabbing a chair and sitting in it, a bucket of popcorn appearing in his lap in a flash of static. "Now, let's sit back and study this bold new form of therapy: bareknuckle brawling! Go Charlie go! Rah rah rah!"

A pink blur streaked by them with a rush of wind. Moonchild bellowed as he streaked towards the figure strangling Charlie, his eyes glowing fuchsia as he wound back his fist.

"What?!" King Crimson growled. "Doppio, what are you–"

–Loosed a punch into the Stand's gut, sending him flying backward, crashing through the scattered furniture.

"Charlie!" Moonchild said, kneeling next to her. "Are you okay?"

"You know, Moonie," Charlie groaned as she sat up, rubbing the back of her head as she wiped the blood from her nose. "I know he's important to you, but I can't say I like this guy very much."

"Let me handle him," Moonchild said as he helped her to her feet.

Charlie looked him up and down, the sea-demon had physically regressed to his former state. "You, uh, sure about that, Moonie?"

"I think it has to be me," said Moonchild, his eyes set and determined.

Charlie put a hand on his shoulder and nodded, stepping out of his way.

Moonchild set off toward the recovering Diavolo, he dusted himself off and summoned King Crimson.

"I see," said King Crimson, rubbing the bare spot on his forehead. "Epitaph is with you, as King Crimson is with me, you can see what I do, even in erased time. Yet, you've retained its strength. How?"

"Because it's my strength," Moonchild said, fearlessly approaching his other half. "Always has been."

"Your strength?" King Crimson laughed. "A weakling like you could never wield the power to rule the world! A weakling like you is unworthy of King Crimson's might!"

He threw a crushing punch aimed at Moonchild's ribs, aiming for his heart. Moonchild's eyes flashed fuchsia and he caught the fist in his palm, grasping it implacably.

"What?!" King Crimson growled. "How?! You're nothing but a puny child!"

King Crimson's free hand slashed out with impossible speed, the sound barrier cracking like thunder, his hand open in a flat chop, aiming to bisect the effeminate fish-demon from collar to groin. Moonchild's other hand flashed out with equal speed, taking his wrist in his immovable grip. The two grappled for control, arms trembling as they poured all their might into the struggle.

"Weak, am I?" Moonchild snarled, glaring past the venom-green eyes of the Stand and into his other self's eyes. "That's what you've always believed, what I always believed. But who spent their life shut away from the world? Who abandoned his humanity to wall himself off, to cower in the corner, wrapped up in a blanket?! All this time I looked up to you, sought your strength, but all I could feel ever was fear and pain! Because that's all you are, fear and pain and misery!"

"I'll show you true pain!" King Crimson bellowed.

The leapt up and planted both feet on the demon's chest and kicked out, violently. Moonchild's grip broke and he was sent smashing into the opposite side of the room as King Crimson righted himself mid-air, leaping off the wall and propelling himself forward at speed.

"I'll put you in your place, Doppio!"

Moonchild braced, blocking a savage right hook while on the back-foot, the force of the blow sending him crashing through the wall, tumbling into the hallway. King Crimson followed a second later, clawing a gouge in the floor where Moonchild's head had been a second earlier, the demon scrambled along the carpeted floor as his human self pursued.

"Ungrateful whelp!" King Crimson roared, loosing a ferocious axe-kick, cratering the floor as Moonchild just barely rolled out of the way. "After all I've done for you! Who was it who took initiative? Who found the arrows? Who set us up to rule together? Me! I erased our past! I ensured our future! I would have brought the world to heel were it not for you!"

Moonchild shot to his feet and jabbed at King Crimson's head. "You ruined my life!"

"Our life was ruined the second we were born, Doppio!" King Crimson said, deflecting the punch and countering with snap-punch to the jaw, sending Moonchild stumbling back.

"I tried to tear out the weed of our existence, root and stem, that we might start anew! Were it not for your wretched sentiment, I would have succeeded!"

King Crimson grabbed the dazed demon and smashed his head into solid wood support beam, shattering it. He wrenched Moonchild's head back, green blood pouring down his dazed, agonized face.

King Crimson snarled and smashed Moonchild's face back into the tangle of splinters "Our mother!"

Smash.

"Our father!"

Smash.

"All who knew us!"

Smash.

"One by one I exterminated our history! One by one I conquered our past! Were it not for you staying my hand, I would have eliminated that wretched woman and ripped the accursed girl out of her belly!"

He wound back, preparing to pulp the weakling's skull against the green, bloody splinters of the support beam. Moonchild's eyes snapped open, wide and glowing.

His arms shot out, bracing against the wall, his bloody face stopping just short of the remains of the beam. "D-Donatella… Donatella, Trish, cara mia…"

"What?!" King Crimson said. "What is this strength?"

"My mother!" Moonchild roared, growing slightly taller.

He whirled about, his speed unbelievable as his fist smashed into King Crimson's cheek, sending him reeling backwards.

"My father!" Moonchild shot up a foot in height, his loose clothes filling out as he grew. He loosed another, crushing blow to the dazed Stand, sending him flying across the hall, splintering the opposite support beam.

"My hometown! Everyone I ever knew!"

Moonchild unleashed a rush of punches into the King Crimson's body, cracks spidered out across the beam and plaster of the walls as the pummeling intensified. The stand flickered and evaporated, revealing a stunned, battered Diavolo. He stooped forward, about to topple over when a huge hand wrapped around his throat, hauling him bodily into the air and slamming him against the wall.

Moonchild eyes glowed with fury, his massive frame towering over the beaten man despite Diavolo's feet not touching the ground, his mouth a gnashing rictus of stark white shark teeth. "My life with Donatella! The father I could have been to Trish! I could have been happy! You saved nothing! You took everything from me!"

"G-Get off of me!" Diavolo cried, lashing out with King Crimson.

Moonchild snatched the fist and squeezed, the bones in his hand grinding together painfully. King Crimson bit back a scream and struck out again, Moonchild's hand snapped from his neck and grabbed the desperate fist, holding both tight. Moonchild effortlessly spread King Crimson's arms wide, pinning him to the wall. The Stand struggled like a kitten, snarling and hissing vitriol. Moonchild roared in his face and, like ash in a stiff breeze, King Crimson evaporated, revealing the pale, terrified visage of Diavolo, screwed up in a rictus of terror, his eyes huge a wild. In the grasp of the much larger demon, he looked like a tiny, terrified child.

"That's you." Moonchild sneered, pulling his face away from the cowering man. "That's all you've ever been, a scared, hurt little boy lashing out at the world, desperate to feel safe. Secure. Well, I'm done being scared. I'm done hiding. I have friends, I've fallen in love, I have people who love and care for me. You always wanted to keep us safe, to protect us. Well, I'm safe, now, so I don't need you anymore."

With that he dropped the trembling human to the floor. Diavolo collapsed to his knees, rubbing his bruised, battered hands, looking up at the sea-demon towering over him.

"I'm done letting what was dictate what will be," Moonchild said, turning away from him and heading off down the debris-strewn hall, glancing back over his muscular shoulder. "I came here to move on with my life, but I can't do that without you. I can't force you to stay, but I can tell you this: whether you're here or on earth, you'll never find what you seek, what you crave. The only way to defeat our past is to put it behind us. If you want, I can help you."

"You'll… help me?" Diavolo muttered, his voice a hoarse whisper. "After all that, you'd help me?"

Moonchild turned around and smiled warmly, extending his hand. "You can't help anyone if you can't help yourself."

Diavolo looked down at his hands, bruised, bloody. He looked up at Moonchild, at the warm, genuine sentiment in his fuchsia eyes. His hands balled into fists, his face twisting into a sneer. "Sentimental trash! King Crimson!"

Time stripped away, crumbled, disintegrated, the bones of fate laid bare as King Crimson's power thrummed. Moonchild stepped back, eyes wide as Diavolo snuck around him, unbound by fate. The hulking demon that was his lesser half braced and blocked the strikes he would have made in the instants he had obliterated. The fool had let his guard down, hadn't been using Epitaph, he was just as blind as the rest of these sheep!

"That you thought for a second I would take this revolting charity proves you were never worthy to rule at my side. If only I could have excised your weakness from me and smothered it once and for all. Shattering your skull and escaping will have to suffice, I suppose. Goodbye, Doppio."

Time filled back in, the erased instant gone into the ephemeral void. Moonchild blinked in surprise.

"Perish, you craven detritus!" King Crimson bellowed, his hand slashing down onto his head in a powerful chop.

Moonchild wove out of the way, his expression that of tired resignation. "Disappointing."

"What?!" King Crimson roared as he over-shot, doubling back and loosing another powerful strike. "Die!"

"I don't even need Epitaph," Moonchild said, sidestepping the punch, which obliterated the heavy oak support beam. "Predictable and vicious, like an insect."

King Crimson erased time once more, leaping after Moonchild as he walked backwards across the hall, his arms crossed and his expression bored. He was going to weave in behind him and tear out his spine! Within the erased time, Moonchild's eyes blinked and followed him, a wry smirk spreading across his face.

"Impossible!" King Crimson sputtered, losing his grip on the flow of time.

"Tedious, really," Moonchild said.

King Crimson growled and swiped at his head, fingers hooked and ready to rend flesh from bone. Moonchild ducked out of the way again, wood splinters exploded into the air as King Crimson overextended. Moonchild's arm streaked out, smashing into King Crimson's gut, sending the Stand and its user skidding backwards.

"Stop fighting!" Moonchild said, his hands out in front of him. "With Epitaph I can see every move you'll make, your ability is useless against me. You can't win! Let me help you."

"I can't lose!" King Crimson screamed, smashing his fists into the floor, shaking the very hotel. "Not to a peon like you! I can't!"

Something flickered behind Moonchild's eyes, which snapped open in horror. "Diavolo! Look out, the ceiling!"

The smashed supports groaned and buckled, the ceiling began to sag. King Crimson smashed the floor again in a blind rage, sending vibrations surging through the structure.

"Diavolo!"

"DIE, DOPPIO!" He roared, sprinting forward.

The roof gave way with a thundering crash, heavy wooden beams and plaster succumbed to gravity. Diavolo glanced up, his eyes wide and terrified. "Wh–?"
Hundreds of kilograms of debris crashed down on the figure, smashing him into the ground before he could react. Moonchild stepped forward, his hands clasped to his mouth, his eyes wide. "No…"

"Moonchild!" Came a voice down the hall, it was Charlie.

Her and the rest of the staff ran down the hall, Octavia rushing up to him and pulling him into an embrace.

"Where is he?" Charlie said, looking around. "Where's Diavolo?"

Moonchild pointed to the pile of debris. "I should have looked further ahead. I should have…"

"It's okay, Moonie," Octavia said into his ear. "You did all you could for him."

"I'm so sorry, Moonchild," Charlie said. "The hardest part about redemption is that while everyone can be helped, not everyone will let themselves be helped. He was… he was too far gone."

"Look!"

From the debris rose a mist, dark and greasy, like smoke from a burning tire. It pulsed and undulated for a moment before rushing forward. Moonchild pushed Octavia out of the way just before it encased him. Black, heavy tendrils wove into his mouth and nostrils, seeping into his eyes and ears. Moonchild screamed, his eyes flickering fuchsia and green. He hissed and grabbed his head, doubling over. The sea-demon growled and moaned as his body swelled, grew, slipping into his unleashed form before shrinking back down to the slight, effeminate frame of his former self, his skin flickering between smooth and rubbery and covered in armored scales.

"He's hulking out!" Vaggie cried.

"Alastor!" Charlie said, turning to the sitting Radio Demon. "Now would be a good time for a sedative, don't you think?"

"No!" Moonchild bellowed in his unleashed form, his voice deep and gravelly. "I can do this! He's trying to take control but… I! Won't! Let you!"

With a final effort, Moonchild shrank down into his true self, sweat beading on his forehead. Moonchild stood, panting, staring at his hands. Charlie and the rest slowly made their way over, very pointedly keeping their distance.

"Moonie?" Charlie ventured. "Is it still you?"

"Yes…" Moonchild said, turning to them, a tired, wondrous smile on his face. "For the first time… I'm really me."

"Is he… gone?" Husk said, looking down at the body on the floor. "Like, for good?"

Moonchild shook his head, tapping his temple. "He's still up here, but I've got him under control. He's sleeping now."

"Are you okay?" Octavia said. "It can't be nice to have that asshole in your head."

"Understatement of the century, Via," Moonchild said, smiling wanly. "At least he can't hurt anyone in here."

"So…" Angel said, kicking the rubble. "What now?"

All heads turned to Charlie who, after some contemplation, offered a bashful smile. "…Hobby swap?"

The others all groaned and shook their heads, grumbling. Moonchild knelt next to the pile of debris that presently held his earthly remains, the still-warm body of someone who'd died decades ago. In truth, he died decades before the remains of his soul passed from the mortal plane. Who was he? Who could he have been? Moonchild suddenly felt a surge of guilt. What right did he have to be outraged for what had been taken from him? Who was he to claim ownership of this man's life? A fragment, a facet, a shard of a man broken by suffering. A man who deserved better.

"Octavia…" Moonchild said, turning to her. "I need a portal to Earth."

Octavia saw the look on his face and nodded. "Have anywhere in mind?"

He nodded. "My hometown."

His navigational skills were a touch rusty, but Moonchild had surprised himself with how much he remembered from his former self's ill-fated interest in becoming a sailor. The air was fresh and the sky was blue, with star white cumulous clouds drifting lazily overhead on the Mediterranean breeze. The wind rolled over the grassy knoll on which the ruins of the old church sat, untouched by the surrounding villagers. The site was considered cursed, haunted by whatever spirit malevolent enough to destroy a church. A pair of tall, oddly dressed young people stood at among the largely overgrown remains of the church graveyard, still partially maintained by those with relatives interred there. The young man, a robust, pink-haired lad who looked scarcely older than 20 despite his build, and beside him was a beautiful, statuesque young woman with dark hair and bright crimson eyes. In his arms was a carefully stitched bundle of fabric. Had anyone been watching, there would have been no mistaking a human corpse. He set it down next to a humble gravestone, a priest's grave.

"This place makes me itch," Octavia muttered. "There's still a little holiness about."

"He was a good man, my father," Moonchild said, gazing at the grave. "Kind and trusting. I know it's unreasonable to hold him responsible for what happened, but still some part of me does."

Octavia set a hand on his shoulder. "Some part of him, you mean?"

Moonchild shook his head, but then shrugged. "Both? I can't start making distinctions like that, not if I want to get better. We're the same soul, I have to start owning up to what he's done. Maybe this will help?"

"You really think so?"

Moonchild sighed and shook his head. "No idea. But he deserves this, regardless. The person we were, he was a victim, an innocent, and I'm sure he would have wanted to be buried next to his father."

His vast strength made digging the hole easy, but Moonchild still took care to not disturb the Priest's grave too much. His fingers burned as he clawed through consecrated ground, curling up the bundled body and setting it in the ad hoc grave. He patted the earth down with blistered hands, standing solemnly before the grave. Octavia said nothing, instead she looped an arm around his waist, pulling herself close. Moonchild wrapped an arm around her and returned the embrace.

"Paying respects to Priest Naso, yeah?" A voice said from behind.

The two started and turned around to see an older man with a bicycle, watching them from behind the dilapidated perimeter wall. He smiled at them, thinking 'Gracious, what a pair of lookers! And so young… not every day you see teenagers paying such somber respects, not nowadays, anyway.'

"Er… yes," said Moonchild, hiding his hands behind his back. "He was, uh, family."

"A great uncle or some-such, I take it?"

"Something like that."

"I was a lad when he ran this parish," the old man sighed and scratched under his cap. "He was a good man, Priest Naso, kind and gentle, generous and patient as a saint. Very involved in his community, yessir. Damn shame what happened to him. Damn shame. Him and his son."

The young man perked at this. "His son? I understood he never married."

"Oh, the boy was adopted. I knew him, you know. Good kid, quiet, but gentle as a lamb. What was his name? Solli-Sallido… eh, lost it. Both died in that horrible fire."

"Yes," Moonchild said. "I heard. Terrible, terrible tragedy."

"The town never quite bounced back from that one, no sir," He said, gesturing at the church. "Rumor has it, it was the devil's work, the fire, all the people who died. It all started here, and after that people just, well, moved away. Devil's work, devil's touch."

"Well, they weren't wrong," Moonchild said under his breath, before nodding at the man. "Thank you for the kind words. It means a lot."

"Of course," said the old man, doffing his cap. "You and the beautiful young miss have yourselves a wonderful day."

"Thank you," she said, nodding at him. "And you. Your country is beautiful."

"Oh, what a lovely accent!" He said, laughing as a heady blush burning in his cheeks. "Yet you speak so well! Your boyfriend is a lucky man, to have such a talented, beautiful young lady to hold!"

"Yes, I am," Moonchild said, smiling. "We best be off. Have a good day, sir. Enjoy your bike ride."

"And you, lad," he said, putting his cap back on, something flashed in his eyes for and instant, but was gone just as quickly. "And I will."

He watched the two make their way out of the graveyard, walking over the knoll above the bones of the church. He adjusted his hat and no sooner than he had taken his eyes off them, the couple were gone.

'What nice young people,' he thought to himself as he took off on his bike. 'I wish them the best.'