And we're back with more... uh... whatever the Hell is story is at this point...

BTW

Hush = Yuya Fungami
Highway Star = Highway Star
Blue World = Abbachio

They're all from a fic by my good friend LordCaledus. His fic is Underbelly at SpaceBattles dot Com

Chapter 22: Numinous

The limo ride was silent, crypt-like. Octavia turned away from the anarchic cityscape and eyed up her uncle. Sallos was looking at her, his sad, harrowed eyes peering out from an otherwise impassive face. Next to him was Gallia, who looked as though she were sitting next to a timebomb, an uncharacteristic sheen of sweat barely visible on her sand-colored skin, a nervous jitter visible as her knee hopped in place.

"Via…" Sallos began to say.

"Don't," she cut him off, shaking her head. "I know. I… I want it to be you."

The limo shuddered as it tore through the fabric of reality, the Abyss a perfect flat black outside the windows, the thrashing, screaming form of a Luciferian messenger streaking by, white suite a beacon amidst the void. A moment later and they were in the courtyard of Sallos' palace, the terrible ziggurat looming over them like an oppressive mountain.

"Stay here, Via," said Sallos, getting out of the limo. "It would seem that our arrival was not announced ahead of time. You will have a proper reception, I'll see to it myself."

Octavia opened her mouth to respond but Sallos was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. She sighed and turned to look at Gallia, her usually cool, stolid demeanor giving way to a sullen, desperate dread, only barely kept in check by another alien emotion: indecisiveness. Her keen owl eyes detected something moving on her, just barely noticeable in her peripheral vision. She looked about for it, predatory eyes easily zeroing in on the source: a tooth. Around Gallia's neck was a ring of teeth. The ugly thing was hardly uniform, with fangs of all shapes, sizes, colors, and composition. This one was long, sharklike, and polished gold. In it she could see something moving.

Her reflection.

The tiny her in the glistening tooth was flapping her arms frantically, stopping and waving when she saw her notice.

Gallia, apparently chafing under her prolonged gaze, spoke up. "Run."

Octavia started at the sound of her voice, drawing away from her. "What?"

Gallia leaned forward, reaching out and taking her hand in hers. "Run, Via, please."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sallos will kill you because he thinks it's the only way to save you, but if he goes through with it…" Gallia reached into her pocket, producing a small vial of red liquid encased in polished platinum snakes. "Here, take this. It's ouroboros blood. Break it and it'll–"

"Send me anywhere I've been, I know," said Octavia. "What, you want me to run back to Charlotte? Run to Earth? Run where? Where can I possibly go where Lucifer won't find me?"

Gallia sighed and shook her head. "Lucifer has bigger things to worry about than a petty Decree. After a few days he'll–"

"He'll focus on sorting out this whole 'corpse' business, I know. Yeah, but say he does, then what?" Octavia sat back, crossing her arms. "Would Lucifer really just let me go? Would the fucking manifestation of Pride itself allow any of his subjects to escape him? Give him the slip? Defy him? If I run now, I'll never be safe. Always looking over my shoulder or hiding in safehouses for all eternity! I'd rather die!"

"Octavia, please!" Gallia exclaimed, turning away from her. "If Sallos executes you… I don't think he'll ever forgive himself. He loves you dearly, because out of all his nieces and nephews you turned out good, despite it all. Lucifer's doing this to punish him as well as your father, to torture him. I fear… if he goes through with this, I fear he'll change, stop caring."

Octavia scooted down the long limo seat, placing her hand over Gallia's. "Do you… love him?"

Gallia looked over at her before looking back out the window. "When I was alive, I was a princess, like you. The product of a joyless, hateful arranged marriage. Always stepping around court conspiracies and assassination plots and coups and endless wallowing cronyism. Then, I was pawned off the brutish ruler of a neighboring kingdom, and my life was just more of the same, only now I had status, experience, and power. Between the two of us, we reigned with terror and bloodshed, and when we were finally deposed and our heads were rolling on the cobblestones, I was sent here. I understood how it worked, gaining and holding power, diplomacy and dealmaking and backstabbing and throat-cutting. I became an Overlord and ruled for centuries, with all the coldness and brutality I'd been taught. For a time, I never even believed Heaven existed, because I'd never known so much as one decent, righteous person in my entire life."

"And then," she said, her expression distant, wistful. "I met your uncle. He was a powerful, terrifying royal demon, the kind the court priests would try and frighten me with to get me to behave. He drafted me into his service, promising me power beyond even that of the greatest Overlords. But the more time I spent with him, the more I saw of his family, your family, the more I thought of how he should be, should act, and the less I saw it in him. Your uncle was the first noble man I'd ever met in over five hundred years, and I had to come to Hell to meet him. Despite the Fall, despite your family, despite Lucifer's constant grind, despite it all, he's still a noble man. Please, please don't take that from him. Please, run."

Octavia was silent, glancing over at the tinted windows, seeing her uncle approach with a column of regally-dressed ducal soldiers. She then saw her reflection in the window move without her, its eyes wide and expression frantic as it shook its head vigorously. It paused and fussed about for a moment before holding up a small whiteboard that read 'STAY PUT STARFIRE'. The 'S' in 'stay' was backwards.

Octavia nodded and turned back to Gallia, taking her hand back. "No. I won't live on the run. And I won't let my family off the hook. Maybe after this, they'll all stop and think before rushing dick-first into things. Maybe it's time something hurt us."

Gallia opened her mouth to respond, only to have the door swing open and Sallos' massive hand reach in. "Octavia."

Octavia said nothing and took it, allowing herself to be led out, walking alongside her uncle, flanked by a small army of ducal soldiers standing at attention, dressed in their finest livery: a royal welcome.

A royal farewell.

Gallia steeled herself and followed after, gripped with a sinister realization that the following hours would shake Hell to its very foundations.

IMP lay in bed, the tattered remains of a Greater Envy Albatross scattered about the room, the plane-sized seabird stripped to the bone. The Duke's kitchens had been very accommodating. Blitzo lay between his employees, a dozy, half-lidded smile on his face as Millie stirred next to him, Moxxie fast asleep, the smaller imp snored softly as his head rest on Blitzo's chest.

He held up a fork and spun it on his fingertip, grinning as it slowed and stopped before whirling about, pointing to the empty corner near the huge meat dome cover, seeing himself in the reflective, polished metal. Blitzo winked and blew a kiss to the empty corner.

The fork tip tersely turned away until it was pointing at the door.

Millie rolled over as she woke, starting to say something before being softly shushed by Blitzo, who silently pointed at the still-sleeping Moxxie. Millie smiled warmly and reached over the side of the bed, producing a huge, lovingly crafted cigar. She stuck it between her full, black lips and winked at the tip, igniting it in a flash. She drew on the hand-wrapped cigar, the cherry glowing bright, before passing it to her boss. Blitzo smiled devilishly and craned his neck over, locking his lips over Millie's, kissing her deeply. He broke the kiss and Millie giggled, flushing a deeper shade of red.

Blitzo turned back to the imp asleep on his chest and leaned forward, thick, pungent smoke pouring out his mouth with his words. "Wake up, sleepyhead~"

Moxxie's face scrunched up as he inhale the cigar smoke, coughing lightly as he pulled away. "Ack! Ugh… good morning, sir."

"Sir?" Blitzo scoffed. "I've been inside you, Moxx. I think we can drop the formalities."

"A favor I returned several times, as I recall," said Moxxie, smirking. "I'd say I've earned the right to call you whatever I like, sir."

"Eh, I'm sure it'll grow on me." Blitzo said, wagging his finger at Moxxie. "Speaking of 'growing', it takes a great man to admit he was wrong, Moxx, and boy am I great! Damn, if you didn't turn that derringer into a punt gun!"

Millie giggled and walked her fingers up Moxxie's bare back. "My Moxx-Moxx might be more a thespian than a farmer, but he's always been more a grower than a shower."

"He's a thespian?" Blitzo said, grinning and pinching Moxxie's cheek. "And here I thought you were bi!"

Moxxie sat up and turned away, blushing. "Th-that's not–it's not… that's generous, you guys."

"Generous like your dick!"

Millie hopped out of bed and hunted around among the bones and half-eaten dinner rolls. "Anyone seen the menu? I'm thinkin' steak and eggs for breakfast."

Millie bent over in front of them, giving her husband and boss an eyeful as she pawed through the litter. Unspoken words passed between the male imps as wry, lascivious grins spread across their faces.

Millie squeaked as Blitzo's hands settled on her shoulders, his head resting atop hers, chin between her horns. "Sorry Mils, no steak for you. Alls we got is wieners ."

Moxxie stepped out in front of her, wrapping his arms around her hips, his smile just as lurid as his boss's. "Two, to be precise."

Millie giggled, her eyes wide and glistening. "Gee Bill…"

Without warning the door to their cell flew open, revealing Captain Gallia and a pair of ducal guards; the good captain appeared to be in a particularly foul mood. Moxxie squeaked in surprise and tried in vain to cover himself. Millie stepped out of Moxxie's arms and set herself between Gallia and her husband.

Blitzo grinned and set his hands on his hips. "Hey Pincushion! What's good?"

"Nothing." She muttered before looking around at the room, the state of it, glaring at the imps. "I see you've been enjoying yourselves. The food was acceptable?"

"Eh, the albatross breast was a little dry, but it kept us goin'," Millie said, folding her arms across her chest. "Say, be a doll and grab us a few menus, we're thinkin' breakfast."

Gallia snapped her fingers and one of the guards departed. "Do you animals think you can refrain from rutting long enough for the staff to clean your defiled cell?"

Blitzo grinned and shook his heads, both of them. "Nope!"

Gallia glanced down and smirked. "Make the most of it, then. The three of you are scheduled for the lathe at 10 o'clock."

Blitzo tapped his chin in mock thought. "That gives us, what, an hour? Hey, we can squeeze you in, if you're interested. You look like you need some spring in your step. Waddaya say, wanna make this sandwich a Big Mac?"

Gallia sneered in disgust, saying nothing.

"Sir, could you please stop provoking her?" Moxxie said as he peered out from behind Millie. "Also, no."

Gallia turned to look at Moxxie, a predatory smile on her face as her eyes wandered. "You, on the other hand, Cutie…"

Millie snarled and shoved Moxxie behind her. "Eyes above the waist, bitch!"

"If you weren't about to be painfully rendered into data, I'd say you were a lucky woman," said Gallia, turning to leave. "I'll be overseeing the process, personally."

Blitzo scoffed in outrage. "What? Is Sally too busy?"

Gallia stopped, casting a brief, sad glance at Blitzo over her shoulder.

"What?" Blitzo's eyes snapped open wide as the realization hit. "Oh…"

Millie gasped, her hands shooting to her mouth. "Oh no! Poor Sally!"

"Could you send His Excellency our condolences?" Moxxie said, still not stepping out from behind his wife.

Gallia said nothing and left. The remaining ducal guard set about tidying up the room, collecting the massive bones off the floor.

"Poor guy," Moxxie sighed, shaking his head. "Being forced to do something like that…"

"I just hope he can live with himself afterwards," Millie said. "He's a nice guy, despite, y'know, tryin' to kill us."

"Yeah, we'll send him a fruit basket," said Blitzo, tersely. "Are we not gonna acknowledge that Moxxie got hard the second Penny Pangolin started looking at him like meat?"

Mooxie cleared his throat awkwardly. "…She's scary-hot."

"Good thing for you, I'm the jealous type." Millie turned around to face her husband, her eyes glowing. "Cuz I'mma make you forget aaalll about her!"

"Damn skippy!" Blitzo said, marching over to them. "Now, where were we?"

"Oh for…" The ducal guard groaned. "Can you at least wait until I'm out of the room?"

"Nope!"

Moonchild stood, frozen in place, the shimmering magic encasing his body, flashing every time he tried to move. The spell had been suffused with the essence of a demon royal, a sinner like him could not hope to budge it.

Octavia.

Octavia gave herself up! Why?! She knew Sallos was going to kill her, so why…

'For you,' he told himself, his voice low and horrified. 'Her being here was putting us all in danger. Putting you in danger. She did it to save you.'

"Nnnn." The arresting spell made it hard to even speak. "Nnnnh!"

'That's stupid, Via!' He roared to himself. 'I'm not worth it! I'm just standing here, impotent, letting you walk off to get slaughtered!'

Moonchild's eyes glowed fuchsia, his muscles bunching under the glowing field, growing, bulging. His aura flared, red and pink and gold, the immobilizing spell sparked and shorted as his frame slowly, inexorably, started to move.

'Don't throw your life away for a useless… pathetic… COWARD!'

"NnnnnNNNNNNARRRGH!" Moonchild roared, bursting out of of the spell, his clothes exploding off his unleashed frame, only his pants maintaining any sort of cohesion, although they could now be classified as 'shorts'.

"VIAAAAAA!" Moonchild bellowed, his massive, ten-foot frame flexing, thew with brutal strength.

"Oh, hush," came a voice from behind him. "You'll accomplish nothing by screaming and throwing a tantrum."

Moonchild spun around, his face a toothy horror peering out from behind a thicket of writhing tentacles. On the other side of the room, sitting in a chez lounge, was Diavolo, a copy of Dante's Inferno in his hands.

"Why didn't you stop her?!" Moonchild bellowed, his voice clotted, flanging. "You could have stopped her!"

"Why would I do that?" Diavolo said, glancing up from the book. "Her uncle was going to level this place and everyone in it to get to her. That includes you and, by extension, me."

"Coward!" Moonchild spat, stomping over to the reclined phantom. "What happened to all that big talk about wanting to see the Duke again?!"

"In due time," said Diavolo, evidently unperturbed by the massive demon looming over him. "We've a long way to go, you and I, but I am confident that there's nothing we can't overcome. However, at this particular moment, it would be simple suicide."

"So…" Moonchild said, his form deflating as his willpower sapped away, his eyes wide and wet. "You're not going to help me? Not even you?"

Moonchild turned away from him and set off towards the bed, gingerly scooping up a discarded toque, Octavia's toque, and held it against his chest. Diavolo produced the coin, a large sterling silver coin bearing the smug face of Mammon on one side and the leering face of Lucifer on the other. He flipped the coin, his eyes flashing as the infinite fractal of the future splayed out before him. With some concentration, the mosaic of time divided into two options, with a brief shimmer visible at the edge of probability.

He chose.

The coin hit the floor with a metallic 'ping', bouncing off the hardwood a few times before, improbably, landing on its side, spinning slowly on the hell-oak panels.

"…Really?" Diavolo muttered as he read the immediate future of this outcome. "Very well."

With that he phased his legs through the chez lounge and walked over to his despairing doppelgänger, adroitly scooping the coin up off the floor. "Enough sulking. Let's go."

"What?"

Diavolo swept up alongside Moonchild, slipping the coin into the pocket of his tattered pants. "Let's go save your girlfriend. There'll be no living with you if we don't."

"But–" Moonchild began to say when he noticed Diavolo putting the coin into his pocket. "Hey, what's with the coin?"

"Oh?" Diavolo said, as innocently as he was able. "It's a sterling silver dollar I pocketed from Alastor."

"No, I mean–"

Diavolo said nothing, tapping his wrist as though a watch were there, glancing meaningfully at Moonchild.

"Shit, right." Moonchild made off for the door. "Let's go."

The smirking specter followed closely after.

Moonchild descended the staircase, stopping upon seeing the assembled staff and patients standing in the lobby.

"Moonchild…" Charlie began to say.

"Charlie! Octavia, she–"

"We know, kid…" said Husk, stepping towards him. "I'm sorry."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Moonchild looked around the room, a look of horror spreading across his face as none of them (save Alastor) would meet his eyes. He turned to Charlie, who was rubbing her arm, eyes cast downward. "Charlie?"

"Look, Moonchild," she said, setting a hand on his shoulder. "It was Octavia's decision, and we have to respect that."

"She's going to die, Charlie!" Moonchild exclaimed. "We have to–"

"Do what, exactly?" Alastor said, standing next to Charlie, his hand on her shoulder. "It's one thing to uphold a claim to sanctuary, quite another to kick down the door of Lucifer's primary Pinkerton and take names! Charlie has others to look out for, Moonie, you among them. Sorry kid, but treason is a little above our pay grade."

Moonchild turned to Charlie, his eyes wide and pleading, only for Charlie to turn away from him, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry…"

Moonchild turned to the others, the silence in the air was deafening as they couldn't meet his pleading eyes. Eventually, he gave up, deflating and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, too."

Charlie blinked, shaking her head slowly as the realization hit. "No, Moonie, please don't."

"Charlie, I'm withdrawing from the program and leaving the Happy Hotel," he said, his voice flat and cold. "Thank you for your time."

"Kid, wait!" Husk cried, running forward, hand extended as he tried to–

–Husk's face pressed into Angel's fluff, the spider's mascara running as he sobbed, stroking the back of Husk's neck. "–You don't hafta–shit! He skipped out! Chuck, c'mon, we gotta go get him before he gets himself killed!"

Charlie said nothing, slowly walking away from the group and up the stairs.

"Chuck? Chuck, c'mon, he's out there makin' a bee-line for Sallos! He's gonna get shish-kebabed! Chuck!" Husk said, following after her, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "Charlie?"

"Husk…" Vaggie said, quietly. "Enough."

"What? Snatch, I-he-we gotta…" Husk stammered as Charlie pulled her hand out of his, wordlessly heading up the stairs. "Shit…"

Moonchild ran full-speed down the sidewalk, shoving sinners and imps out of his way, his gaze set and determined, flashing when he found what he was looking for: a taxi.

Moonchild waved it down, but the cab kept on moving, beginning to accelerate away when–

–Standing in the middle of the street was Moonchild, his hands hooked into the wheel wells of the taxi as he lifted it clean over his head. He looked up, snarling at the cabdriver, a short, willowy imp was trying their level best to vanish behind the steering wheel.

"Taxi."

"Hey?"

"A ride, please."

"Kay."

He set the cab down with a resounding thud, the cabdriver eyed him up and down as he marched around the taxi and let himself in, a wry smile on his face. "That's one way to hail a cab. Where to, Beefcake?"

"Grand Duke Sallos' palace, as fast as possible."

"You got it, hotst-" The cabdriver's eyes snapped open as the words died in his throat. "You what now?"

"Duke Sallos' palace!" Moonchild repeated, gesticulating frantically. "Come on, come on!"

The cabbie chuckled and shook his head, taking his hands off the wheel. "Okay, hunk, where's the camera? I'm gettin' punked, right?"

"What? Just take me to his palace! I'll pay double, no, triple!"

The cabbie's eyes went wide as a look of horror and disbelief spread across his face. "Christ's nuts in a grail, you're serious! You actually want to go to Sallos' palace? What the fuck for–wait! Is this a sting? A test? Fuck! Uh… No! I'd n-never lead anyone to Sallos' palace, especially not a lunatic like you! I-I'm loyal to the Inner Circle! Praise Lucifer! Get out of my cab, psycho!"

Moonchild almost got out a retort before the cabbie pressed a button in the center console, causing the roof to swing outwards as a pneumatic piston under the back seat hissed to life, launching the fish-demon high into the air. Moonchild screamed as he somersaulted through over the street, tumbling and flailing, bracing as he sped towards the hard, filthy asphalt. He bounced painfully on the road, tumbling and rolling to a stop. He stirred and shook his head, squinting as headlights bore down on him, a shit-brown Sedan streaking towards him, the driver grinning maliciously.

Enough of this.

A roar of frustration and rage split the air as Moonchild unleashed a rush of punches upon the oncoming vehicle. Fists and talons shredding metal like paper, the car vanishing into the flurry of shredded metal like a stump into a woodchipper. The driver sat in the middle of the road, surrounded by the metallic confetti that used to be his ugly car, the steering wheel still clutched in his hands. He looked up to see the towering, ten-foot frame of the Terror of the Azathoth, the Red Nightmare. Pedestrians took notice, pulling out their phones. The traffic behind them ceased its bleating, with vehicles now smashing into one another, desperately trying to turn round and get into another lane.

"It's the fuckin' meat-grinder!"

"Oh shit."

"Aww man! His pants stayed on this time!"

"That guy's gonna get so fucked up! Channel 666 here I come!"

Moonchild glared down at the petrified demon. "You."

He seemed to try and get smaller, hiding uselessly behind the dislodged steeling wheel. "N-n-nuuuh…"

"I won't hurt you," Moonchild growled, reaching for the cowering demon. "If you tell me what I want to know."

Pathetic hope spread across the demon's face. "R-really?"

Moonchild loomed over the demon, his face an obscured horror of teeth and tentacles. "Tell me. Where is Grand Duke Sallos' palace?"

The demon stopped trembling, his expression going from terror to serene acceptance. "Yup. No. Squish me."

"What?!"

"Fuckin' Hell, Red Nightmare, you're askin' me to sell out Sallos? Ha! Nothin' doin', brother! Go ahead, rip me up, it'd be a cakewalk compared to what that monster does to traitors! Go ahead! Splatter us all! You'll get the same answer from anyone here!"

Moonchild looked around, the crowd, the drivers, even the homeless wretches digging around in the garbage, all of them had the same look on their faces: he had made the mistake of naming a far greater evil, a far greater power not one of them would risk crossing, not even for the famously brutal 'Red Nightmare' standing before them.

"Hey man, this is great!" One of the pedestrians said, stepping forward, his phone recording. "Good run-time, this'll get me fat stacks to be sure! But hey, when you snap this dipshit in two, can I ask you do it like a Kit-Kat, length-ways? Wanna get all those organs to spill out, yanno?"

Moonchild grit his teeth and snarled like a–

–The street was empty safe for the former car-owner and the cameraman.

"Shit!" The cameraman mumbled, putting away his phone. "There goes my bonus."

"Your bonus?!" The former driver spat, waving his wheel. "My fuckin' car!"

"Dammit!" Moonchild growled in the alley way, punching a head-sized hole in a brick wall. "We're wasting time! Via could be dead by now!"

"Did you see that?" Diavolo said, something like wonder in his voice. "Not a single traitor. Not a single one. To be able to terrify so many so thoroughly, to command such fear and respect… I take it back, I would very much like to meet this Duke."

"Diavolo!" Moonchild cried. "Try to be at least a little helpful here!"

"We should exchange notes…" He muttered before blinking, turning to Moonchild. "Hm? What?"

"Help me!"

"Ah." Diavolo reached down and reached into his pocket, producing the coin from before, showing him the sides. "How about this? We leave this alley and if it lands on heads, we go left, tails, we go right. How does that sound?"

"What the fuck are you babbling about?!" Moonchild roared. "Don't you lose it on me! Not now!"

Diavolo flipped the coin, green eyes watching as it tumbled through the air. His hand snapped out and swatted Moonchild's hand away when he tried to catch it.

"Hey!"

Diavolo smirked, Moonchild saw it, on instinct seeing the nauseating maze of possibilities that came with this new perspective on the future. Only now, there were two distinct factions, one where they went left, and all the infinite results therein, and one where they went right with similar but different results. He felt Diavolo… reach? There was no word for the sensation, but with it came a third option, one with but one outcome as opposed to the mosaic-like fractal the other options held. The coin landed on its side.

"Ah., see?" Diavolo said. "There's our choice."

"W-what was that?" Moonchild muttered, suddenly very tired.

"Three of a Perfect Pair." Diavolo beckoned for him to follow as he walked out of the alley. "Come. Time's wasting."

The battered, scuffed old Grand Carnival van took the corner with surprising aplomb, given its appearance, though it was by no means a smooth ride. While its ramshackle visage was a direct consequence of abuse, it served a valuable secondary function in facilitating observations of the clandestine sort, a drab duckblind set against the dingy backdrop of Pentagram City. At the wheel was an astonishingly handsome wolf-demon, his beige fur fluttering in the wind as he managed the bulk of the minivan. To his right sat a purple salamander-demon, a huge map laid out on his lap. In the back seat, sitting opposite some very expensive listening equipment, identical to the driver save for his purple and black quilt-patterned fur.

Hush's fingers drummed anxiously on the wheel as they turned another corner onto a small side-street. He noted ruefully that despite his flawless tracking abilities and perfect sense of direction, he was a less-than-stellar navigator. Or rather, every time he looked at a roadmap of Pentagram City, he went crosseyed. The damn things looked like an M.C. Escher painting fucked a magic-eye picture. As such, that job went to the tallish demonic salamander to his right, his snout buried in the huge, eye-assaulting map.

"You sure, Blue World?" Hush said, glancing away from the road. "I know we're avoiding traffic, but sometimes these 'short cuts' of yours are, like, a million miles longer, and gas ain't cheap, for some reason."

"We'll get there faster without all the stopping and starting," grumbled Blue World, not looking up from the map. "More bang for your buck gas-wise, too."

A flat, monotonous voice came from behind them, a wolf demon identical to Hush, Highway Star. "Eyes on the road."

Hush rolled his eyes, his life as a biker had broadened his peripheral vision to the point where he could fully read the street signs while facing entirely away from the road, and Highway Star knew that. "Look, Blue, this lead is time-sensitive. We have maybe two hours to–"

"Eyes on the road, please," his doppelgänger in the back repeated.

"We'll get there on time, trust me." Blue World tapped the map with a short, black claw. "See, we just gotta pull a left, a right, another right, hang a uey on this street and head up this one-way for a few hundred meters, then a left and we're on a straight heading for the I-80."

Hush did a double-take and leaned over, poring over the map. "The I-80?! That'd take us to PC-Central, our lead is in West-Central! Why don't you just turn on the HPS?"

"Those things never work! They're designed to fuck with you!" Blue World spat. "Besides, I have it on good authority that Cherri Bomb is gonna start some shit near the Caym overpass around ten. That's a gridlock we want no part of. I'd like to see one of those fancy gadgets factor in shit like that! So, backroads it is."

"But–"

"Look out," Highway Star droned, pointing ahead.

"Will you shut up back there?!" Hush snapped, turning back to his double. "I can see the road just fine, you know I can see the–"

"JAYWALKERS!" Blue World cried, pointing ahead.

"Shit!

Hush slammed on the brakes, the wheels screamed and smoked as the van skidded to a stop just a few feet from a pair of demons standing in the middle of the road. They were both nominally dressed in a pair of black, tattered jeans, their red, grid-pattered upper bodies bare, flaunting their fabulously well-defined torsos, their 'hair' a mass of shoulder-length hot-pink tentacles. He'd nearly run down a perfect pair of supermodels. It occurred to Hush that they weren't merely similar, but identical, twins even. But it wasn't their similarities that made his hackles rise, it was the less-obvious, but profoundly disturbing differences. One was taller, scalier, older somehow but too similar to be anything but a twin. Who were these guys?

"Shit!" Blue World said, clutching his chest. "Almost put a few new dents in the ol' bucket."

He leaned out the open window, hammering the door with his fist and he bellowed. "Hey! Super Fabio Brothers! The fuck ya think you're doing running out into the road like that?!"

The pair seemed to be in the middle of a mildly contentious conversation when they stopped to look at the hectoring amphibian.

"Blue…" Highway Star said, his even voice low and foreboding. "Don't…"

"Yeah! You! Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumbass! You strippers almost got body-glitter in our grill! Get the fuck off the road!"

The taller, meaner one started towards the van, ignoring the meek objections of the pretty-boy.

Hush glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Highway Star, his ever-stoic companion, rear up in his seat, ears laying flat as his fur stood on end. "HS? What's up?"

"Trouble," Highway Star, his lips fleering back from his fangs in a snarl. "Bad trouble."

"How bad?"

His eyes shone as he watched the demon, nostrils flaring. "Stinks like a week-old whale carcass on a hot day, ready to burst. Real bad."

The demon walked through the hood of their van like it wasn't there, phasing his head through the windshield, a serene, terrible smile on his face, eyes green and cold as jade.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said, looking around the cab. "You will help us."

"We'd love to," Hush said, sarcastically, even more disturbed now that this weirdo was right in their faces, talking, and he couldn't so much as smell his breath or feel his warmth; in fact, it felt as though the interior of the stuffy old van had gotten noticeably colder. "But we really need to be going. If you could get out of my van and skulk back into the alley, that'd be real cool."

"Your van? Of course," said the Spooky Fucker, stepping back towards the other sea-demon.

Without warning the demon vanished, fusing into the other demon with a flash of energy, the other demon now morphing into the larger one. Hush barely had time to realize that the stinker was never actually there to begin with when the newly incarnated bastard grabbed the front of the van, his fingers effortlessly punching into the sheet metal. With seemingly no effort, he swung his arms wide, each hand taking half the van with it. The shriek of rending metal and the clatter of shattering glass filled the air as the stink of the exposed engine, ruptured fuel lines, and other fluids rushed in, hot and chemical. Husk and Blue World bounced off the pavement as they were each shaken out of their half of the van, only Highway Star, who had buckled his seatbelt, stayed in place. The sea-demon casually tossed the two halves aside, smiling down on the surprised demons.

"There. Now you're never going to make it, so you may as well help us."

"What the fuck?!" Blue World spat. "Our fuckin' van!"

"What's your deal, freak?!" Hush spat, leaping to his feet. "How'd you… like to…"

Hush craned his neck up, and up, and up, meeting the cruel green eyes staring down on him some two feet over his head. "Like to what, little dog?"

Hush smirked and balled his fist at his side. "Say, do fish have nuts?"

He cocked his head to the side, curious. "Ye–?"

Hush loosed a brutal uppercut up between the fish-man's legs with a resounding crack, a toothy grin on his face. The sound reverberated off the walls and windows of the secluded little street. Hush's smile faded and gave way to a suppressed grimace as he pulled his sore, throbbing hand away.

"But they're not external."

"Wiseass," Hush grumbled, shaking out his fist. "Alright, Moby Dick. Thing is, we needed that POS van for work, so either you cough up some dough or you're gonna be coughing up some teeth. Got it, big guy?"

Sea-Bisque made a show of patting his tattered pockets. "Must be in my other pants."

Hush clenched his fists and struck a fighting pose. "Teeth it is, then."

"I'm honestly stunned at how bad a move you're making."

Hush bridged the meters between them in milliseconds, leaping into the air. His running speed had easily tripled since his arrival, and his movements and reflexes much, much more. When Hush let loose, just about everyone he'd ever scrapped with were practically standing still!

"How's this for a stunning move?"

He loosed a ferocious kick to the demon's head, who appeared to be in the middle of an unconscious flinch at the blur he no doubt saw. His shin was bare centimeters from the demon's head when his eyes locked with Hush's and he smiled, smiled like Hush didn't have a super-sonic snap-kick aiming to knock his molars out the other side of his mouth.

"Shit."

The Calamari Platter tilted his head to the side, ducking the kick by bare millimeters. The next instant, those pink tentacles that were his hair had wrapped themselves around Hush's ankle. The sea-demon then whipped his head about on his shoulders like he was rocking out to thrash metal. Hush yelped as he was yanked to and fro through the air, only barely bracing for impact when, with a final snap of the shoulders, he was sent hurtling towards the asphalt. Hush felt the tarmac crack and knew his bones would be next if he didn't bleed off some of the momentum. With a grunt, he kicked out and was sent tumbling across the road, bouncing painfully off the shorn half of the van.

"Okay, so you're pretty fast." Hush got to his feet, wiping the blood from a split lip onto the back of his hand. "Great. You gonna lend a hand, Blue?"

"Unlike you, I don't go charging dick-first into a fist-fight with a guy who just tore a van in half barehanded." Blue World was standing off to the side, his phone out as he took pictures and sent texts. "Gathering intel on him, I'll be with you in a sec."

"Dick."

"Want to try that again?" Seafood said, arms crossed. "The other guy's in something of a hurry, but I could do this all day."

Hush wove his fingers together behind his back, stretching his shoulders out with a pop. "Yeah, just gimme a second."

A few seconds passed as the wolf-demon ran through a series of stretches. The larger demon's smile faded, his tone impatient. "Well?"

Hush reached up and pressed his thumb against the already scabbing split in his lip, smirking when it vanished in a flash of energy. "Groovy."

The air electrified as a tremendous surge of power coursed though Hush's muscular frame. He closed the gap between them nigh-instantaneously.

The big demon flinched back as fast as he could. "What?!"

Hush's fist smashed into the side of his face with tremendous force. Reeling, the sea-demon was still feeling the impact of the punch when another smashed into the opposite side of his face, then his mouth, then across his jaw. Kicks and knees hammered his upper body as Hush pummeled the larger demon without mercy. A final spin-kick sent him flying down the street, smashing into the hood of a stripped car, crumpling it like a beer can.

Hush stood exultant, grinning ear to ear. He always got a heady, life-affirming rush from straightening a fucker out, especially when they'd done something to piss him off. The look on their faces as he worked his magic on them, the helplessness, the fear, the regret. Not even in Hell was there a drug to match that. However, that wasn't the only thing that was making his heart hammer, making his nerves feel like they'd been set on cold fire.

The enemy demon snarled and shot to his feet, the force of which sent the car-husk tumbling backwards like a kicked can. He wiped off his bloody chin and spat a wad of dark green blood on the ground.

"F-fuck me, Rainbow Trout," Husk stammered, the sheer power still flowing through him like a torrent of electric fire. "You m-must have a deep well to even stand up after all we've sucked out of you!"

"What?"

"Oh, don't tell me you don't even feel it!" Hush laughed, flexing as his aura flared, pointing at his shoulder. "A little short of breath? A touch flush? That's because we've been siphoning off all your energy! Look!"

The burly demon craned his neck back, looking at his shoulder, gasping as he saw what appeared to be a wolf's pawprint there. He craned back further and saw more, dozens more, all up and down his back and legs.

"Highway Star, my Stand in life, is now my twin, my brother, my business partner!" Hush declared, striking a pose as the swarm of disembodied paws swirled about him, reforming into the body of his doppelgänger, who mirrored his pose. "When we work together, there's no one we can't beat!"

"I should have stayed on him," said Highway Star. "Continued to siphon more of his essence. As is, he's still dangerous."

"Meh," Hush snorted. "Smacking around a husk is no fun at all! C'mon, let's kick his ass!"

"Very well."

The pair rushed forward, each mirroring the other as they loosed a battlecry. The Sea-Demon growled and raised his fists, a sharp, toothy snarl spreading across his bruised, battered face. Milliseconds passed as the super-charged pair streaked through the air, fists raised. The Sea-Demon's demeanor broke, his snarl morphed into a serene smile. He held his arms out as though to embrace them as they came. Hush and Highway Star wound up, their bodies arcing with stolen demonic essence, and loosed a furious rush of punches.

(~0~)

Their fists thudded against his rolling, mountainous abs with a series of dull, anticlimactic thuds.

"Huh?" Hush said, confused. Things were slower now, dull, that electric feeling of power and invulnerability was gone, vanished. It wasn't like the other times he'd felt the power slip, when he'd feel the incredible power slowly wane, feel it seep from his body like it was a sieve. That was unpleasant enough. This felt like he'd never had it at all. "What happ–"

"–ened?" He said, the burly Sea-Demon no longer standing before him. "What?"

Heavy, steely fingers wrapped around his neck, hoisting him off the ground, he glanced over to see a similarly baffled Highway Star. The Sea-Demon roared and threw them with terrific force. Highway Star smashed into a nearby car, his body encased in crumpled metal. Hush tumbled through the air, still too preoccupied with what had just happened to brace for impact, stars flashing behind his eyes as he bounced off a metal lamp post with enough force to warp the steel.

"H-Highway!" He sputtered on the ground. "The fuck?!"

"You know what I know," Highway Star groaned, pain clear even in his monotone voice.

"Ah, regret," the Sea-Demon said, his face somehow pristine once more. "A curious sensation I am just now beginning to understand. To hold in your heart uncertainty, resentment even, for one's own actions in the past. Or, in this case, inactions. Allowing your twin to touch me, rest assured, is not a mistake I'll repeat. Ah, but that's the beauty of Zero, the void in which fate resides, freeing me of the consequence of my own indolence and inaction."

His fingers dug into the metal of the shattered car Highway Star lay upon. He crumpled the steel like aluminum foil around the stunned demon, encasing him completely. With that done, he turned to face Hush. "Now, you–"

"RAH!" Hush bellowed, aiming an axe-kick at his head. "Stay away from my–"

–He hung upside down, the steel lamp pole had been bent like taffy and wrapped around him. "Partner…? Okay, what the fuck is going on?!"

The larger demon grinned and batted Hush's head a bit, like a cruel, playful cat. "With the pleasantries out of the way, let's get down to brass tacks. You will help us or I'll-erk-n-no! Moonchild, no! Let me handle thiiiiiiii…"

He cried out in rage as his hands shot to his face, his body shuddering, scales slipping down beneath his skin, his overall height and build shrinking somewhat as his cry became words. "Iiiii'm so sorry! He just takes control sometimes!"

Hush looked up at the demon, this 'Moonchild' and gasped: this was a completely different person. He had an eye for these things, a sense. Voice, posture, demeanor, subconscious cues and even smells; in Hell these could be mimicked, affected, but not perfectly, never perfectly. Whoever this Moonchild was, he sure as shit wasn't the Other Guy.

"Did he hurt you?" The fish-boy said, his concern achingly genuine.

"Uh, no, actually," Hush said, looking over at his partner, his handsome face peering out of a savagely crumpled wreck with almost comical serenity. "Could you let us out?"

"Uh…" Moonchild looked distracted, as though someone were whispering in his ear. "I'm sorry. This is all such a big mess up. See, we just wanted to ask for directions, but no one would give them to us!"

"That's how he asks for directions?" Hush said, incredulous. "Ha! I'd hate to see the guy order take-out."

"What location are you seeking, Moonchild?" Highway Star asked. "We are happy to oblige."

Moonchild sighed and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, really… all I need is to know how to get to Grand Duke Sallos' palace."

Hush and Highway Star exchanged looks before glancing around, craning their heads as they scanned the streets. "Okay, where's the camera? Are we being Punk'd?"

"No! God! Why does everyone keep saying that?!"

"For real?" Hush scoffed, shaking his head. "No one goes to Sallos' palace, they get taken there and, this is the key point, they don't come back. There are easier ways to kill yourself, Moonie, and they don't involve incriminating others!"

"I'm not trying to kill myself!" Moonchild cried. "I can't get into the specifics, but he has my girlfriend and he's going to kill her!"

"So…" Hush said, eying him up. "…What? You saying you're single? I'm flattered, but I don't swing that way."

"No! I'm going to Sallos' palace to rescue her!"

"Hear that, Highway?" Hush chuckled. "He's not killing himself, he's 'rescuing his girlfriend'. And I suppose that John Doe the other day was just 'painting the ceiling' when he shoved that 12-gauge in his mouth! Here, kid, I'll do you a solid. Duke Sallos' palace is a mountain-sized pyramid that glows with demonic energy. Just get to a high place and look around, you can't miss it."

Moonchild clapped a self-chiding hand to his forehead and, his aura flaring to life, leapt high into the air, his tremendously powerful legs cratering the asphalt. The glowing shape effortlessly ascended the skyscrapers, bouncing between them as he rose into the air.

"Damn…" Hush said, smirking. "Now there's a dude who doesn't skip leg-day."

"We are lucky to be in one piece," said Highway Star, his tone flat. "Next time you get us into a street fight, reconsider."

"Hey, we had him on the ropes until he kicked our asses." Hush shrugged, turning to Blue World. "And you! Where were you this whole time?"

Blue World stood still on the sidewalk, his eyes closed as a digital counter counted down on his forehead.

"Oh, he's off on rewind, great," grumbled Hush as the muscular fish-demon set back down on the street with a crash. "Find what you were looking for, Prince Charming?"

"Yes…" Moonchild said, his expression crestfallen. "It's so far away…"

"126.23 kilometers, to be exact," Highway Star said. "Estimated transit time 4-19 hours, depending on traffic."

Moonchild put his head in his hands. "Oh, God… Via…"

"Well, we did our bit," said Hush to the despairing demon. "So, how about getting us out of here, eh?"

"Cut the bullshit, Hush," said Blue World, the counter on his forehead disappearing. "Help him."

"Wait, what?!" Hush said as the burly demon unwound the steel from around his body.

Moonchild looked up, eyes wide with shock. "Yeah, what?"

"I scoped him out," said Blue World, tapping his forehead. "He's on the level. He's got a sweetheart in there and he wants to get her out, so let's help him."

Hush dusted himself off as he got to his feet. "Now I know I'm being punk'd! Have you been reading Crymini's ladyporn books again? Is that why you're in such a romantic mood?"

Blue World walked over to Moonchild as he extricated Highway Star from the crumpled steel. "This girl of yours, doesn't always do right by others but she means well. She's a sweetheart despite being a sarcastic grump, and the way she plays with her feathers when she's thinking makes your heart feel like a basket full of puppies."

"That's right," said Moonchild, astonished. "How did you know all that?"

"Stand bullshit, don't ask," Blue World said, locking him with a steely, withering gaze. "You got a lot to make up for, kid, you and that pigfucking sonuvabitch in your head, but this is a step in the right direction. We'll get you into Sallos' palace."

"Oh, well, of course we will," Hush said, under his breath. "Fuck me, what is today?"

Moonchild looked as though he were about to cry. "Why are you helping me? Sallos could punish you for this."

"Yeah, maybe, but if this beef is bad enough that they're taking in a literal princess in for a bit off the top, I'd wager there's bigger shits out there to shovel. Besides…" Blue World's eyes went distant, wistful. "That girl of yours, she's a good kid, despite it all, giving herself up to Sallos like that. There's not many of those kind of people running around these days. Save her. Help her. Keep her safe."

Moonchild nodded, moving in for a hug. "I will, thank you, Mr. Blue World!"

"Don't touch me," Blue World said, flatly, snapping his fingers. "You got anything of hers? Something with her smell on it, maybe?"

Moonchild paused, thinking, before snapping his fingers. "Oh yes! Here, it's her toque. It's her favorite one. See, she–"

"Tick-tock, Romeo."

"Right, right, sorry."

Moonchild fished the small swatch of fabric out of his pocket and handed it to Blue World who then tossed it to Hush.

"For the record, as your employer…" Hush said, brandishing the toque at Blue World. "This is a shit fucking idea, and if it gets us all killed it's gonna look real bad on your performance review."

"Just sniff the teenage girl's clothes, you punk."

Hush grumbled and held the toque to his sensitive nose, inhaling daintily. Down. Feathers. Vodka and punch mix. Cigarette smoke. Hot blood. Arousal. Lust. Happiness. Contentment. Outrage. Despair. 'Poor kid…'

There. He had it. He felt her scent burn in the center of his soul, pulsing like a lighthouse at night, the pull of it would be like gravity once he slipped under. "Alright. Ready to go."

"What do I do?" Moonchild said, looking to Hush.

"Grab my hand and hold on," said Hush, reaching out for him. "Oh, and exhale on three. Holding it in just stuffs up your ears."

Moonchild took his hand. "What're y–"

With that they were gone, slipped out of that dimension and into the space between spaces.

"Good kid," Blue World said, shaking his head. "Bad luck."

"Luck has had no hand in his whole life," said Highway Star. "Misery and calamity surround him, the stink of it is thick on him, persistent, but he himself smells of a cool sea breeze on a hot summer's day. The kid is cursed."

Moonchild tried to scream but there was no air, there was no light, there was nothing. A white-suited demon sped by, arms and legs flailing, his face twisted into a silent scream. Just when it felt like he would burst from internal pressure buffered by nothing without, he was back in reality. Light and color and sound burst into existence around him as he gasped for air, collapsing to his knees.

"Yeah, see?" Hush said, glancing furtively around. "I told you to exhale."

"On th-three!" Moonchild panted on the ground. "You didn't c-count!"

"Oh, yeah." Hush paused for a moment before laughing. "Ha! Anyway, the coast is clear, I don't hear or smell anyone coming."

"Where are we?" Moonchild said, looking around at the grim, austere walls of polished granite, stainless steel benches running down the middle as lockers lined the sides.

"Inside Duke Sallos' palace, genius," Hush whispered, rolling his eyes. "Once I have the scent of someone, I can teleport to within ten meters of their location, regardless of distance or whatever's in the way. Pretty cool, I know, I–"

"Octavia's here?" Moonchild exclaimed, shooting to his feet. "Where? Via! Via!"

"Sh-shhh! Shaddup!" Hush ran up and swatted the larger demon. "We're right inside the most heavily fortified structure in all of Pride! Only those tightwads in Greed have heavier defenses and those are for literal fucking safes! This whole fucking pyramid is crawling with thousands of ducal soldiers, most of whom are former Overlords, all of whom have angelic weaponry, and you just up and start screaming your head off?!"

Moonchild seemed to hear not a word. "Where is she?!"

"Fucking–" Hush sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look, she's within ten meters of here, that's a fact. We just have to find her and be quiet about it."

"We?" Moonchild pushed past him, growling. "What do you care? Why are you still here, anyway?"

"Maybe I'm just a sap with a bleeding heart and it'll be the fuckin' death of me," Hush grumbled, following after the taller fish demon, working the air with his nose. "Maybe Blue's little sleuthing session turned up something juicy about you and I trust him enough to take a hint, or maybe I've just never seen him warm up to someone like that. Far as you're concerned, it doesn't matter. Don't look a gift horse in the ass, kid."

"Fine, fine," Moonchild said, quietly. "Thanks, anyway…"

"Also, a princess," he said, smiling wolfishly. "Always wanted to save me a princess."

"Well, now's your chance," said Moonchild. "We find her, grab her, and teleport right back. Easy."

"First sign of trouble, though, I'm out. You got that, Fishie?"

"Yeah, sure."

The two set off down the room, now very clearly a locker room of sorts. Moonchild glanced around, eyes darting back and forth for any sign of Octavia.

"Damn weird. Holding a princess hostage among all the jock straps and foot-stank," Hush muttered, something in the air was making his hackles stand on end. "I don't like it."

"Maybe your teleportation was off by a few rooms?"

"Impossible. Once I get someone's scent, I got their scent. Sometimes I pop up closer, but never farther. It's always ten meters or less."

"Maybe… maybe she got away from them?" Moonchild offered, hand running down the lockers. "Maybe she's hiding? Via? Via! It's me, Moonchild! You, uh, you probably think this is a trick, but it's really me! I'll prove it to you! Our first date, you portaled us to Earth, to a town on Sardinia called Bosa!"

"You've been to Earth?" Hush said, incredulous. "Like, recently?"

"Huh? Yeah, I was burying my human body there after he got killed in Hell…" Moonchild said, before absently adding. "By accident, of course."

"Oh, of course," said Hush, pinching the bridge of his snout. "The more I learn about you, kid, the less I want to know."

"Ignore him, Via!" Moonchild said to no-one. "You ordered the carbonara with shrimp and those thugs dropped by…"

Hush's nostrils flared, that dull ember within him pulsed: she was nearby. "Moonie…"

"You challenged one to an arm-wrestling match and when he declined–"

"Moonie."

"You said 'I ordered my carbonara with shrimp, not chicken'!"

Hush reached out and smacked Moonchild on the arm. "Moonchild!"

"What?! Can't you… see I'm…" Moonchild's words trailed off when he saw what Hush was pointing at.

On one of the locker benches sat a box. It was largish, perhaps 30 centimeters a side, and made from glossy white cardboard that shone in the fluorescent lights. On it was a note, it read:

To: La-La

From: Lucy

Enclosed: How to get ahead in life

Moonchild's eyes went wide, the world around him bleeding away. All that existed was him and the box.

"No."

Maybe it's a self-help book?