To superpierce's comment, I did allude to as such pretty overtly in the "Fetch Quest Arc".

To GreedEman, the "tiny Godzilla with a water cannon on its back" was the Gear REX (aka the "Nuclear Dragon/Steel Fanged King"), due to the fact that its gun-turret-like protuberance was capable of shooting acidic/corrosive mucous.
The thing would actually be
quite at home in the Fallout universe, if I'm being honest~

To OmegaDelta, I have something in mind for Hotel Moscow in the future, don't you worry.
The reason Balalaika hasn't called upon his services too much is because she knows that by giving him the space to "grow", he'll become a better asset to her, even if his allegiance isn't purely to Hotel Moscow. She recognizes that his first allegiance will always be to the Moxxi household, her daughter Athena in particular.

To WeAreTheWord, the Red vs Blue boys have been a part of it for a good while, I just saw an opportunity to bring in more guys from the "Chorus Trilogy" once I started utilizing Metal Gear's VR training as another tool for Virgil to use.

blackbird16q: I feel like Virgil's gonna pull what Washington did to South. Also, did you pull a Nervegear, because that's what it seemed like.

Re: Not sure why Virgil would kill one of his fellow Freelancers unless they really screwed him over. Remember that that whole clusterfuck was motivated by the Alpha AI and its AIFs.
As for the Helmet, in my head it was more like the Sensory Deprivation Helmet used by Kibano in YuYu Hakusho from the "Genkai's Tournament Arc". From a technical level I took inspiration from the NerveGear from Sword Art Online, but in application, Metal Gear is no stranger to using Hypnosis in their VR to help blur the lines between illusion and reality.
It's heavily implied that Venom Snake underwent VR during his coma in Cyprus during the induced Hypnagogia which was used to "imbue the medic with Big Boss' mind", so I felt that the NerveGear was a little too "recreational", hence that really obscure reference I snuck in to one of my favorite anime way back when I first got interested in the media.

*THE LODGE*

Bludhaven: Melville Park
Jauary 7, 9:22 EST

"An' I'm telling you, constable, there ain't no way in spit I'm going in there!" John Constantine spat back in police commissioner Raul Creed's face as the man tried to get him to go inside the 'cursed lodge' currently squatting in the middle of Bludhaven's largest park.

"Mr. Constantine, I'm paying for you to solve this supernatural problem so the League doesn't get involved and bring all their malcontent friends with them."

"No, you donkey. You paid me to 'consult' on your issue. Not to go in there an' get my eggs scrambled!" Constantine argued back as he took a drag on his cigarette. "How bad has this shite even gotten anyway."

"Before we realized that an old ski lodge squatted itself in the park, numerous people have already become… afflicted, with whatever it is that's at work here."

"Curses. We call them 'Curses'," Constantine stated frankly.

"Right… That…" the police commissioner replied.

Those that had taken to guarding "The Lodge" from a curious populous were the least-paranoid in his ranks, but even they had begun to feel the certain… "wrongness" that the place emulated.

It didn't help when one of the volunteers who was the superstitious sort started making comparisons to H.P. Lovecraft and Innsmouth and who knows what-else that went bump in the night.

"So I really can't convince you to go in there?"

"Are you the sort to tell someone to do something you wouldn't do yourself?"

" . . . "

"My advice is, you keep this sucker locked down tighter than the Queen's knicker drawer, otherwise you'll have to change this town's name to Cursehaven."

"Cursehaven… Sounds bitchin' for a D&D campaign," one of the guards off to the side hummed.

"Shut up, Tom…" another further down the line huffed.

"What? I'm just saying…"

"Somethin' tells me you've got your job cut out for you," Constantine hummed as he turned his attention to the gathering crowd, which had begun treating The Lodge as some kind of tourist trap.

Not that he didn't understand the appeal. Creepy ski lodge appearing out of nowhere and positively stinking of magic. If Americans could be suckered in by a rabbit with deer antlers slapped on, then there was no way they could resist anything legitimately magical and so conspicuously-exposed that it'd be impossible to hide.

Which in of itself had him wondering why the hell the Capes & Undies club hadn't decided to intercede.

*THE LODGE*

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Constantine hummed as the crowds began to gather off to the side where two figures were making their way into MelvillePark.

The first was Giovanni Zatara, world-famous Illusionist and card-carrying member of the Justice League. Trailing behind him and a step off to the side was his daughter, Zatanna Zatara who had relatively recently made a Las Vegas debut and already garnered the public's attention.

One was a legit celebrity, the other a burgeoning, and it showed when a little under half the crowd gathered around the lodge shifted focus.

The two magic-users finding their paths barred by the gathering crowd swelling to envelop them, the more-famous of the two magicians drew his wand, twirled it above his head, and with an invocation of- "Evom su revo ereht." -made them disappear in a plume of smoke, much to the crowd's awe.

Raul Creed for his part, kept his sidearm holstered at his side even as the Hero and potential future Sidekick suddenly invaded his personal bubble.

"Giovanni Zatara…" the police commissioner grunted. "Normally I'd be opposed to you people sticking your noses in Bludhaven business… but as you can see, our present consultant seems to be uncooperative."

"Says the guy who wants me to get my eggs scrambled," Constantine said going for another drag of his cigarette, only for Giovanni to transform the cancer stick into a cinnamon stick with another flick of his wand.

"Not around my daughter, Constantine."

"What's she even here for, anyway? Is it 'Bring your Sidekick to Work Day' or something?" he asked chewing on the roll of cinnamon.

"Partner, not 'Sidekick'," the pretty Italian-American pouted.

"Bangers and Mash," Constantine waved off dismissively.

"If you want to endanger a child, that's on you," Creed hummed.

"She's only here to watch, not participate," Giovanni said before turning full-on towards the lodge for the first time, an uncomfortable hiss leaving his lips before his gloved hand came to Zatanna's face. "Zatanna, do not look directly at it."

"Why not? Isn't it just an old ski lodge planted here with magic?" she asked, but not fighting her father's hand on her face.

"Every board of wood, every nail, and every decoration… It's filled with Old Magic… Very potent. Very dangerous."

"Funny, I said much-exactly the same thing," Constantine shrugged as he took a beer from his coat, only for Giovanni to turn it into a Cola. "Bugger."

Not that it stopped him from slamming it like a pro.

"Can you tell me about why it's here?" Creed asked.

"Only the one in command of that building could tell you exactly; and when it comes to the supernatural, it could be from the maniacal to the mundane…"

"So a 'Mystery Shack', basically?" Zatanna groused as her father turned her away from the lodge, the girl waving to their adoring public.

Before Raul and Giovanni could converse further, a reinvigorated murmuring of the crowd cut through the tumult. The two men turning to see the throng of people parting, bore witness to a white-haired teenager in dapper dark clothing galloping toward the police cordon atop some sort of… Fox-Hound?

Aforementioned fox-like hound was built like a species of Greyhound with long slender limbs and a body built for speed, but was the size of a freaking Clydesdale with thundering footfalls to match! Coating its massive athletic frame was a fluffy coat of orange, white, and black fur not unlike a Red Fox. Its head was more fox-like than hound-like, and its coat was so thick and fluffy one would almost miss the fact that it had the body of a running dog.

Creed only had a few moments to drink in the sight of the white-haired teen riding the Clydesdale-sized "Fox-Hound" before the two bound over the police fence in a single powerful movement.

"You there! Step away from the lodge!" he shouted through a megaphone.

In response, the white-haired teen flicked out a wand of dark wood from his sleeve before leveling it towards the man and calling out- "Cinap Moor!"

A domed semi-transparent silver barrier shimmering to life around The Lodge a couple of feet away from the fence's interior limit, the white-haired teen dismounted and continued toward The Lodge's steps unabated. His mount circling around like a dog before it settled down on the cursed building's "front yard" for a nap, the lodge's double doors creaking open ominously, inspired renewed murmurings from the crowd as the young man in the black coat vanished inside.

" . . . Well that isn't cryptic in the slightest," Constantine deadpanned.

"Giovanni, can you break it?" Creed questioned.

"Technically I can, but then what? No-one's going to go in there even if that barrier got taken down."

'Virgil… What are you doing here…?' Zatanna muttered to herself off to the side, wringing her hands together as she looked at who she assumed was Morris, and then back up at the lodge that gave her the creeps.

*THE LODGE*

"Ah, Mr. Valentine. What a pleasure to see you again~" a voice existing at the midpoint between charming and unnerving chimed in a friendly tone as the lodge doors banged shut behind him with the force of a bomb dropping.

"You… Mancubus Bloodtooth…" the disguised teenager said letting the familiar yet-unfamiliar name roll off his tongue. "I'd hoped you were just a bad fever dream… but as soon as I saw The Lodge on TV…"

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you repressed our encounter until you were ready to confront it again," the man known as Mancubus hummed with a disappointed-yet-pleased tone. "You've grown quite well, and in numerous ways since we made our… bargain~"

And like that, the worst of Virgil's dread had been realized.

He had hoped it all was some kind of fever dream. Something his half-baked mind had concocted for him as he breathed in the still-polluted atmosphere of the Red Zone. But at those very words his repressed memories, then dreams, and then finally realizations, became clarified in vivid detail.

He remembered running from some of the weaker Infected at the beginning of his sojourn in the Red Zone. His bag of tricks was almost depleted as he scarpered up an office building that was still relatively intact. And then, when he'd made it to the roof, instead of finding himself cornered, he found himself faced with a lodge gilded in gold and made of ancient wood.

His hairs had stood on end at the sight of the thing, but he'd seen how those that were caught by the Infected died from his own hiding places.

Back when there were still "other people" in the Red Zone.

Considering the way they punched out was the furthest definition from the word "well" one could find, he dove for the right of the tentacle-clad double-doors, the old wood parting before him like smoke, and he buried himself inside.

The man who he would come to know as Mancubus Bloodtooth told him that he was in a place of safe harbor, disconnected from the goings-on of the world outside. A place of refuge that appeared in times and places when and where it was needed the most, for those that required it most regardless of urgency.

Virgil had stopped carrying money in the Red Zone as soon as he realized how-worthless the paper-like cloth truly was, so obviously he was worried about what he'd barter in exchange for any promise of safety. To his surprise and relief, Mancubus inferred he didn't deal with anything as-mundane as "money"; at least not always. Instead, the man, or at least the entity shaped like a man, offered a tab which would be collected at a later time and date. Assuming he survived.

He'd read about Faustian bargains, even did a report on the thing in a Social Studies course, but even though each of his thirty-trillion cells were telling him what a bad idea it was, those same cells also conceded that going back outside and taking his chances with the Infected was an arguably worse idea.

"And then I made the deal…" he muttered to himself; though in that lodge with its mundane-yet-peculiar architecture and proportioning, it may as well have been out of a megaphone. "A night of rest after a week of sleepless nights, and I'd owe you."

"And a good thing you had been as well-rested as you were. Had you not been, you and Dana might have… passed one another by~" the ink-stained man tittered playfully, yet ominously.

"It always did bug me how I'd managed to last for so-long in that utter Hellhole before meeting Dana… but I just didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth… I wanted to believe I'd survived on my own merit instead of…"

"Oh, I had nothing to do with whether or not you met Mercer's sibling," Mancubus hummed as he scrubbed the countertop, an innocuous motion he'd see Moxxi perform many times yet under Mancubus' care, sent shivers running up his spine. "All I did was… slant events in your favor by ensuring you were well-rested when you truly needed it. A well-rested survivor leaves a better impression than an exhausted one, after all~"

Virgil had to concede the point. Dana had been visibly impressed at how-rested he was when they crossed paths, and were he not, their partnership likely would've never occurred…

"So… you got my attention… What do you need from me now?" Virgil asked, getting to the heart of the matter as he walked up to the man and settled himself on the nearby stool 'like any other customer'.

"Commendable, that you aren't attempting to finagle your way out of your tab," Mancubus hummed thoughtfully as he reached under his counter, coming up a moment later with a small black leather-bound book decorated by tentacles and draconic imagery. "While I was arranging a suitable time and place for our… reunion~… a number of individuals from this place indulged in the services The Lodge has provided. Obviously…" he tutted like a disappointed parent before an unruly child, "they have not seen fit to balance the scales."

"So the people that dine & dashed… I shake them down for their lunch money, and I make us even? Or is this all for a 'down payment'?"

"I didn't offer you a place of safety when you needed it simply to deal with some… unreasonable persons down the road," Mancubus hummed. "Think of the aid I rendered to you as the beginning of a… long-term investment…~"

"How 'long-term' are we talking here?"

He'd never read Lovecraft, not actively, but even he knew that you didn't fuck with Many-Angled Ones.

Not if you valued your sanity. The fact that he was still lucid, even in the heart of this wrong-place, was in of itself a good sign.

But then again, if he were going mad, would he even notice?

"For the span of your mortal lifetime, if not the decades of such lifespan wherest you are capable of fighting. Oh, but don't think of this as some sort of enforced… servitude~ You're free to step out of those doors 'for the final time' after you've squared the ledger out. However…~" Mancubus said disarmingly; and failing spectacularly. "You and I can be great allies to one another, in exchange for services rendered. Think of The Lodge as your… ace in the hole. A… prybar against fate, if you will~"

And Virgil knew a thing or two about that as well. The Three Fates, Clotho (the Spinner), Lacheisis (the Allotter), and Atropos (the Cutter) of Greek mythology had consigned many Heroes to an ignoble fate; whether it was a horrifying and/or ignoble death to some ravenous monster, or murdering their own father before subsequently fornicating with their own mother. Those that knew beforehand created self-fulfilling prophecies in the attempt to prevent those prophecies from coming to pass, while those that didn't know…

If allying himself with The Lodge and its Proprietor could let him circumvent "Fate" with a Capital-F… that might just be worth gambling his soul over.

People had historically wagered their eternal spirits for far lesser gains, and from far less scrupulous entities. That he hadn't actually signed away his capital-S Soul in-particular was also a good sign, as far as he knew. And in all likelihood he was going quite mad already, even without The Lodge. The entire point of Lovecraft was it made you go over the deep end quite immediately.

Plus, he already had a Chinese primordial entity curled up at the foot of his bed every night. What was one more of his life in the grand scheme of things.

"We'll see how I feel about this after squaring your ledger," Virgil hummed as he took the little black book in his hand, leafed through the pages, and then turned away from the amber candlelight.

*THE LODGE*

" . . . I say we write him off."

"Constantine!"

"What? You saw the same thing I had. He went in there ages ago and he hasn't come out yet."

"It's only been twenty minutes," Zatanna pouted, her phone going off in her pocket. "Excuse me. I have to take this."

Stepping away to the side, Zatanna looked down at her new-ish phone to see a text message from Virgil waiting for her.

Hey Zee, I borrowed your friend's phone.

Check it out. I'm street legal~

To the Italian-American's confusion, attached to the text was an image of a New York driver's license for someone named "William Descartes". On the left side of the card was Virgil's superhero alter ego, only, he was wearing ordinary clothing and had no mask over his face.

'Why send me this…?' she blinked.

"Sir, we've got movement," one of Creed's officers announced, drawing their eyes toward the Lodge's double doors which creaked open portentiously. The white-haired youth stepping out into the light, his… Fox-Hound perking up, with a wave of his wand the magical barrier evaporated from the top down, leaving the view of the lodge unobscured once again.

Descending the steps and then the impromptu footpath through the grass, with another flick of his wand and a muttered word the gated doors swung open, chains and padlocks falling limply to the ground. His mount following dutifully behind him, with another wand-flick the chains and locks reasserted themselves, the gate swinging shut.

"Sir, I believe I've come to the root of your little… zoning dispute," the white-haired teen said waving a black book with tentacle embossing about.

"And like that, my job's finished," Constantine said washing his hands of the whole affair, flicking his chewed-on cinnamon stick and cola bottle into the trash as he walked away.

"Erm, Wildcard…" Giovanni stated, figuring the Glamour-clad teen had some reason for exposing his face like this. "Could you perhaps elucidate what occurred in there?"

"I asked why The Lodge's proprietor was here, and the proprietor answered," 'Wildcard' said once again waving the book about, Giovanni actually pushing his daughter behind him. "Apparently some people from this town dine & dashed, and Mr. Bloodtooth took exception to that."

"The entity told you its name?"

"The entity', as you so callously put it, told me A name," the white-haired teen sighed disappointedly. "Anyway, Mr. Creed, the sooner you help me shake some deadbeats down for their lunch money, the sooner you can resolve this zoning violation and not worry about anyone being turned inside-out just by staring at the thing for too long."

"Huh?"

"Inside-out?"

"EVERYBODY RUUUUN!"

"Oh great, and now they're triggered…" Raul Creed groaned as the gathered masses slowly began to panic. "It's like Black Friday all over again…" he said as they scattered like roaches when the lights came on.

"Ahem. Back to business?" 'Wildcard' inquired as he waved his book about.

" . . . We'll cross-reference the names in that ledger with those that have become… 'afflicted'," the city's police commissioner conceded as word began to spread and even his own men turned paranoid.

"Excuse me, Will," Zatanna addressed him forcefully, "can we talk a moment?" she asked tugging at his sleeve.

*THE LODGE*

A minute later under a nearby tree with some privacy wards carved into the dirt…

"So… Do you maybe wanna explain why you rolled up to that haunted house like you owned the joint?" Zatanna asked with furrowed brows as she stroked Morris' smooth reptilian head.

"Would you believe me if I said the proprietor was completely harmless?"

"What about all that stuff about people being 'turned inside-out'?!"

"Oh, that was just me talking out of my ass so they'd hurry up with the cross-referencing. You'd be amazed what sorts of bridges and swampland people will buy if you're part of the Capes & Undies club."

"Er, so, the lodge is safe to look at?"

"I mean, if you dig creepy ski lodges then, sure. Look away."

"Erm, aren't you worried about people seeing your face?" she asked pointing to his visage, bereft of his fanciful butterfly-styled mask.

"Zatanna, I have white hair and red eyes. There aren't that many people I could be."

'Huh. He's really getting into the role…' she thought to herself, realizing why he'd sent her a picture of a real/fake driver's license before they spoke in a public setting.

And it really was quite ingenious. If anyone wanted to take a swing at 'William Descartes' to get to her, they'd effectively be chasing a ghost; a figment of roleplay. The ultimate "misdirection". Because after all, who would expect someone to have a fake secret identity for their superhero identity?

"So that's really all that this is about? Some people bought some beer, or something, and ran out on the bill?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he shrugged. "Mancubus was surprisingly adroit about that."

"Mancubus… Mancubus Bloodtooth?"

"I doubt that's any sort of 'True Name', and even if it were, would you really want to risk the wrath of a guy that rolled like this?" he asked pointing to the lodge that had quite literally driven people mad.

"Ah, yes, my daddy told me about the flaw of True Name Magic. It's like keeping your foot on a tiger's neck; you can never let up. Not ever."

"Exactly," Virgil hummed, recalling a chat he'd had with Otacon once he acquired the Renald Blade that somehow transitioned into an anime discussion about a series where King Arthur was a pretty girl fighting a war for a magic McGuffin-cup, and if your "Command Seals" reached zero and your Heroic Spirit was still pissed at you, you were basically up shit creek without a paddle.

Japan made some really weird shit...

"And you didn't make any sort of bargains?"

"Technically I'm squaring my own bargain-"

"WHAT?!"

"Zee, I already have a Chinese primordial quasi-deity sleeping at the foot of my bed every night. Doesn't that tell you something about what fate has in store for me?"

"Given he's a being of pure Chaos, I'd say as far as you're concerned, Fate decided to go fishing…" she conceded.

"Which in some ways might be a good thing. Remember the story of Oedipus?"

"Catholic schoolgirl, remember?"

"You mean you've never researched Greek folklore-slash-history on your own time?"

"Not all of it…" she hummed, glancing at the lodge before taking his hands in hers. "I just… I don't want anything to happen to you. You're my first love after all."

"Love' might be overstating it, but I'm flattered nonetheless," Virgil returned with a smile. "Also, isn't it kinda hypocritical coming from a card-carrying member of the Capes & Undies club."

"We don't all wear capes."

"But many of you do wear undies on the outside of your pants."

"Well, you'll never catch me dressed like that."

"Good to know. So… you wanna help me shake down some deadbeats for their lunch money?"

"Only if you stop framing it like that."

"Deal."

*THE LODGE*

Amazingly-enough, because of how-exposed The Lodge was and how impossible-to-conceal the 'afflicted' had become, it was actually fairly simple to get the police and city hall in 'Wildcard's' corner. With a list of names, some of which had gone unreported or just unnoticed, it was incredibly easy to track down those that were legitimately afflicted, and any others were written off as imitators.

The tricky part came when some of the names in Mancubus' ledger belonged to people who were at the moment, unemployed and/or homeless. However, with Giovanni using the ledger as a cantrip for a tracking spell, all that was left was for Virgil, aka "Wildcard", to collect what Mancubus was owed.

Thankfully, he wasn't being asked to collect anything immaterial. Just money.

"You sure you don't want to leave this to us?" Raul asked as members of the SWAT team gathered around the first apartment on their To-Do list, just in case the person inside became violent.

"I don't think it'll really 'count' if I don't participate," 'Wildcard' hummed. "And you're sure we can seize assets?"

"City hall rushed out a warrant. Amazingly enough, a haunted ski lodge that drives people mad is not good for tourism. Especially not after that whole 'inside-out' thing. We're putting up curtains as we speak, but unless we put a roof over that thing, anyone with a drone or a chopper can still drive themselves nuts looking at that thing."

Virgil of course abstained from mentioning he was talking entirely out of his ass about the "inside-out" thing.

What he was more-worried about was leaving the curses to fester amongst the afflicted. According to Constantine who sent them a "oh and one more thing" message after he left, curses of this nature when left alone tended to spread "like herpes" and would more often than not "mutate" as they jumped hosts.

Virgil wasn't sure if the guy was being completely serious, or just talking out of his own ass like a snake oil salesman, but that someone who claimed to be able to undo curses had already been driven mad and been feasted upon by the birds, gave the role-playing teen and the police working alongside himself and Giovanni Zatara an added sense of urgency.

"Alright. I'm going in," 'Wildcard' said as he raised his fist before pounding on the door. "This is the debt collector! You owe Mr. Bloodtooth money! Either pay up, or we're bringing down the door!"

Off to the side, Creed made a so-so motion with his hands, implying they could knock the door down, but inferred they'd prefer a more dexterous approach.

"Who goes there?" a wizened old voice asked.

"Like I said, I'm the debt collector."

"Oh, I'd let you in, but I've just eaten and I'm satisfied. But, if you wait there just a little longer I should be able to make room for you. Just… wait right there~"

Virgil exchanged a significant look with the police commissioner as the color drained from Zatanna's face.

"*Siiiigh* Okay, breach it."

"Roger that," one of the SWAT said as he slapped a breacher charge on the door, another handing 'Wildcard' and Zatanna ear protection.

*BLAM!*

"Flash out!"

*VWEEEEEN!*

"AAAAAGH! MY EYES!"

'Yup. Exactly what I thought was going on in there…' Virgil deadpanned as the scent of cooked human flesh reached his nostrils, Zatanna going a little green while he himself had PTSD flashbacks to the Red Zone.

*THE LODGE*

Of course, some of the afflicted were actually quite amenable.

The guy that went stiff as a board like a "fainting goat" whenever anyone said the word "antiquing" for example, had legitimately forgotten his wallet before subsequently forgetting about his debt thinking the entire thing was an alcohol-induced hallucination.

And then there was the woman who could either turn to stone or become a Gorgon. Based on the petrified deliveryman on her doorstep she'd obviously chosen the latter. She didn't have the cash on hand to pay Mancubus' fine, but she did want to be able to look her husband in the eye again when he got back from his business trip, so she just slipped her ATM card and a sticky note with her Pin through the mail slot.

One of the afflicted claimed to have been abducted by aliens once and they taught him how to play dominoes. A couple of the officers were skeptical about the claim, but all Virgil had to do was point in the general direction of Melville Park while Zatanna flashed her a selfie of herself and M'gann, and they quickly shut up.

Of course, there were the more-violent afflicted as well.

One of them was a literal blood-crazed lady who'd both been murdering neighborhood pets and shoplifting the reddest of beets from the nearby farmer's market. Far more benign than the literal cannibal that Virgil absolutely refused to let Zatanna see. This case… was a little too far gone by the time they arrived because there was a vacant plumber's van in the driveway, no plumber, and a bloody steak knife in the lady's hand.

Another case was the cranky old broad who said that if they knocked on her door again they'd be cursed in a manner, time, and afflicter she refused to specify; only that aforementioned curse would pursue them into the depths of Hell and slowly infect their friends, family, and future loved ones. Not only that, but she refused to pay Mancubus what she owed, and given this essentially created a magical biohazard in a suburban area, they had no choice but to confiscate her car; the only readily-available object of worth they could use to pay her tab. The lady then threatened to call the cops on them, irony at its finest, but Creed was swift to have a cordon put around the house until she stopped being "a daft cunt" as one of the officers so blatantly put it.

Then there was the husband/wife duo with the "blood trap" that had already seen use and…

Yeah, it was pretty bad.

"How many fucking deadbeats are there that can't pay their damn tab?" 'Wildcard' groaned after plugging Zatanna's ears.

"I'm amazed she's going into this line of work but isn't inured to curse words," one of the SWAT hummed.

"She's a Catholic schoolgirl, I want to have some modicum of class," 'Wildcard' said unplugging his fingers. "How're things going with that tracking spell for all the homeless bums?"

"Giovanni's made some headway and we're rounding them up, but the issue that comes up later is the money," Creed sighed. "And we can't exactly leave this tab unpaid. The longer that lodge is squatting in Bludhaven, the more supernatural nonsense washes up on our shores."

"Well, hopefully you can write the 'ghost car' off your list," Virgil shrugged with air quotes. "Honestly, I'm amazed you're this open-minded."

"It's the only way to keep the super-powered crowd out of this town and away from my daughter," the police commissioner responded as the police van pulled into Melville park. "We're here."

"Right, right. Let me square a few more of these tabs," Virgil said adjusting his grip on an attaché case filled with money. "Wish me luck?"

"When've you ever needed that?" Zatanna inquired making to follow.

"More than I would've liked," Virgil replied. "Go wait with your dad. Help him out with his cantrips."

"Not gonna let me go in there?"

"Over my dead body."

"Alright, alright…" Zatanna conceded with raised hands. "Hold on, has Morris been laying there this entire time?"

"Well, he wouldn't fit in the truck."

"Isn't he the size of a Clydesdale?"

"Huh. Good point. I'll see about bringing him along for our next sortie," he said making his way through the curtain that shielded the more-concealed Lodge from the rest of Bludhaven.

*THE LODGE*

"Ah, back so soon~?" Mancubus tittered.

"Just dropping off some of your fees," Virgil said placing the attaché case onto the counter, undoing the latches, and spinning it around after undoing the cuff.

"Ah, excellent~" Mancubus nodded as with a sweeping gesture of his hand, he withdrew the money and deposited it somewhere out of sight.

Outside, Giovanni let out a startled yelp, and it wouldn't be until later that Virgil learned the cause to be the ink of the names whose tabs had been paid burning up while leaving the paper of the ledger intact.

" . . . "

"Is there something on your… mind~?"

"I can feel something calling me. It's coming from the basement."

"Well then, perhaps you should investigate~"

It was the last thing many horror movie protagonists ever did.

"You don't mind?"

And yet, he found himself running his mouth.

"All that the Lodge has to offer, is open to all who cross the threshold~" Mancubus said in what would've been a charming smile if the whole place didn't give him the Willies. "All I ask is that which you take, is paid for prior to your… departure~"

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Stepping away from the counter, empty attaché case back in hand, Virgil strode around the left side of the bar, finding a stairwell. Old wood giving way to stone masonry, Virgil descended to see a home brewery of ancient copper in one corner. Next to it and within alcoves guarded by artistic looking arches were barrels filled with what could only be alcohol that made his eyes swim just looking at it. Across from the spirits was a butchery home to meats, cheeses, vegetables, and other ingredients that… defied mortal understanding in some cases. Further along and at the back of the cellar was yet another alcove, dimly lit by waxy candles giving off halos of golden light.

The almost magnetic feeling of unease and familiarity drawing him into the alcove, what he found waiting for him was a large statue taller than himself. Situated atop a stone dais was a mass of coiling tentacles frozen in mid-writhe, a very Cthulhu-like face peering from the mass of tendrils' upper reaches. Its eyes were jagged uncut rubies, a pair of like "tusks" flanking jabbering facial tentacles, a final ruby like a horn drawing the eye all the way up. In the dim light, it was hard to tell if the statue was gilded in metal or just hewn from stone, but regardless, it was polished to a shine in the dim candlelight.

"Who calls me?" a far-off voice like a man calling out from a chasm inquired.

'ACK!' Virgil yelped as the thing before him spoke.

"Oh, it's you," the statue continued to speak. "I was expecting my old friend and compatriot, the Proprietor. But while I'm here, a bit of advice for you: treat the Proprietor well, and respect The Lodge, and you will find in him a powerful ally. But I caution you, do not overstep your bounds. There is a limit to even that one's hospitality. And as they say, beware the fury of a patient man."

"I'll keep that in mind," Virgil said swiftly before turning on his heel, passing the butchery where he saw the knives and other utensils moving seemingly by themselves. " . . . I really shouldn't, but damn if that doesn't look good."

Taking up an artfully-prepared plate of meat and cheeses that most definitely had not been there when he'd first landed, he brought it up to the bar and took a corner seat, Mancubus seeming to glide over to him.

"Would you like to indulge in… a beverage~?"

"Coke and Rum, extra coke."

"Coming right… up, sir~"

*THE LODGE*

"What took you so long?" Zatanna asked as Virgil departed The Lodge once again, a reasonable amount of money lighter.

"Just doing a little recon," he hummed, all traces of the light snack he'd indulged in gone from his person. "What was that yell?"

"Some of the names in the ledger went up in flames. Dad almost lost an eyebrow."

See? Plot continuity.

"Couldn't he just grow it back with magic?"

"He probably can, but it's the principle of the thing," Zatanna sighed. "So, you ready to tackle more names?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Virgil hummed, his familiar walking over before dropping down onto his belly, Virgil mounting the Clydesdale-sized 'Fox-Hound' and offering Zatanna a hand.

*THE LODGE*

One of Mancubus' deadbeats, as it turned out, was legit magic.

Good thing Creed had two equally-legit magic-users on his side.

"LLAW!" Virgil called out conjuring an 8'x8' barrier in front of himself.

"Stnap llaf nwod!" Zatanna incanted at the magi shooting fire at them, his belt coming undone and his pants pooling at his ankles at the exact moment he began to backpedal sending him sprawling backwards.

"Mrasid!" Virgil then incanted with a flick of his wand sending the magi's focus clattering away.

"TAKE HIM DOWN! TAKE HIM DOWN!" one of the SWAT said as he and his friends stormed the apartment and dogpiled the guy, another shooting him at point-blank with a taser.

"More magic. Great…" Creed sighed.

"Wait, this doesn't make sense…" Zatanna muttered. "A magic user should've known that Lodge was bad news, let alone trying to renege on a bill of all things. Why would he-"

"A) Weird shit has almost magnetic properties, and B) People are stupid," 'Wildcard' said matter-of-factly.

"That… Yeah, that tracks…" the pretty magi sighed with a tired expression that had no place on a young teen.

"So… how-exactly are we going to square the homeless people's tabs?" Virgil inquired.

"Turns out half of them are fakes, and while that in of itself isn't a crime, they're still causing trouble for the people around them, especially with magic involved, so city hall is giving us a great deal of latitude. They can either pay up, or go to jail with a number of 'unflattering rumors' on their heels. Their choice."

"Hardly seems like a choice at all."

"And yet, people still practice long-form tax evasion," Virgil shrugged. "How much longer will this take?"

"I have everyone working overtime now that there's an actual solution on-hand, so we should be done later today," Creed answered.

"Good. That's good," Virgil nodded.

The sooner he made Bludhaven safe for his girls (and the people he wasn't having coitus with) the better.

"What's with that look in your eye?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Virgil waved off when Zatanna gave him a look.

*THE LODGE*

"Dammit! How many magic-users fell into that same trap?!" Creed growled as some guy wearing cosplay shot ice blasts from a magic dagger at them.

"Dunno, but it's really starting to piss me off!" Virgil said using a broken-off car mirror to look around the cover he and Zatanna were hiding behind. "Zee, you see what I'm seeing?"

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Zatanna said pressing her face to his as she looked in the mirror, seeing traces of frostbite appearing on the guy's face and hands. "Less is more?"

"Less is more," 'Wildcard' nodded before he and Zatanna leapt from cover. "LLIHC!/LLIHC!"

Twin pulses of magic striking the magical deadbeat, the next time he fired a magic blast which Virgil caught with his [Wall], a sheet of ice suddenly erupted around him from his ankles up to his neck and wrists, the magic dagger falling from his hand to the ground as he shivered uncontrollably.

"Honestly, some people," Zatanna said flicking out her hand and summoning a top had before reaching in, pulling out a pair of cooking tongs, plucked the dagger from the ground, and dropped it point-first into the hat before flattening it and banishing it with a little sleight of hand.

*THE LODGE*

"Honestly, I feel like I've lost an entire day on this…" Virgil groaned as he slid off of Morris' back, attaché case filled with appropriated hands cuffed to his wrist.

"Yeah, I can see what you mean…" Zatanna sighed, face-down in the floofy fox-like fur. "Usually it's 'one-and-done', but I didn't realize how exhausting it would be chasing deadbeats all over town…"

"Let's just be thankful it's finally over," Virgil sighed as he parted the curtains, opened the gate, crossed the knoll, and ascended the steps to The Lodge.

"Ah, back so soon~?" Mancubus tittered.

"It helps having the police on your side," Virgil sighed as he laid the case on the counter with a *Thunk*. "Honestly, I can't imagine how much of a pain in the ass it'd be doing this in secret."

"Hm, well, that's what happens when people can't… control themselves~" Mancubus tittered as he banished the money before his hand came back up with a familiar ledger. "And like that, your debts has been repaid," he said leafing through a now-empty ledger of recent transactions.

A ledger that had been outside, last time he checked…

"So then, shall this be the point where our association… ends~?"

Virgil thought back to what the entity in the basement had told him. The entity whose name he now knew even though no verbal or telepathic exchange to the point had taken place.

" . . . I'd be interested in seeing in what can come from further… association."

Better the devil he knew, than the one he didn't.

"Excellent~ Most excellent~" Mancubus grinned all too eagerly, giddy like a non-Catholic schoolgirl. "Oh, but before you leave… Don't forget your key~"

"My key?" Virgil blinked, his gaze falling to the wooden countertop to find a familiar brass skeleton key with an empty ?-mark waiting for him that had not been there before. "What the- What's this doing here?"

Of course, by the time he'd turned his eyes up to meet Mancubus' with key in hand, he was gone.

Come to think of it, the entire lodge was gone, leaving him standing in the middle of a grassy knoll and something resembling a crop circle.

An instant later the tarp-covered fence was kicked open, police officers looking around frantically only to see the white-haired vigilante.

"So… I take it we 'won'?" Creed asked as his men combed the space the Lodge had occupied, if only to be sure it was really gone and 'not just invisible'.

It was a more-common problem than most realized.

"I mean… in a manner of speaking," Virgil said tucking the key into a pocket before turning around. "So… What now?"

"Normally I'd ask you to come in, answer a few questions… Except 'normal' decided to pull up stakes and go fishing," the police commissioner conceded. "Go on, get going. But just because I won't take you in doesn't mean someone else won't."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Virgil replied as he left the perimeter fence.

"William…" Giovanni hummed, his daughter having filled him in on the misdirect. "Can you tell me what occurred in there? You seem far too composed for someone who went into… that," he said gesturing to the now-empty lot visible through the curtains.

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself. However…" he said drawing the skeleton key from his pocket and letting the bow be shown. "Are either of you interested in finding out?"

*THE LODGE*

Bludhaven: The Highlands
January 7, 18:45 EST

Morris in his "Fox-Hound" form was deceptively fast, though Virgil had to wonder if it was pure physical ability from the transformation, or if his nature as a Chaos Entity made conventional measurements like time in relation to distance inversely proportional to one another. Regardless, the "little guy" didn't seem to mind the extra passengers, Zatanna sitting in Virgil's lap as he held thick tufts of fur while Giovanni held onto his shoulders.

Eventually they left Bludhaven proper behind, instead passing into the ghost town of Overlook, the sign almost completely rotted away.

"Alright… we should be far enough away," Virgil said as Morris got down on his belly, letting the riders slide over the side before changing shape once more in a plume of smoke, this time into his 'Headless Chicken-Pig' form.

"Far enough away for what?" Zatanna blinked as she made to follow, her father holding her back as Virgil walked the town's main thoroughfare before coming to an empty lot overlooking a yawning cliff face, skeleton key in hand.

Looking down at the brass implement once again, after staring at the hollowed out ?-mark for several long moments, Virgil held it in his fingertips before sticking his arm out, slotting the teeth into an invisible lock, and giving it a turn.

The next moment and like color being poured into a mold, a large Victorian-era mansion appeared. The siding was wood and beige like a lovely tan earned from days under the summer sun, the roof shingles a middling burgundy like fine wine, with lots of classical rectangular window frames in white and lightning rods protruding upward from the towers, oddly-shaped rooms seeming to stick out from the main body. Unlike The Lodge which emitted wrongness, the building before them seemed to invoke something… not something "other", but it certainly didn't set off the Willies like The Lodge did. Its silhouette was a little weird, but in comparison to the building he just left, the place seemed almost… homey.

Honestly, the whole thing wouldn't look out-of-place from one of the early Scooby-Doo episodes from back in the 70s…

"Well bugger me."

"Constantine!" Giovanni yelped drawing his wand.

"To think the House of Secrets would find its own caretaker…" the British ex-rocker hummed, fresh cigarette in hand. Giovanni tried to do away with it, but the cigarette and Constantine both went up like cigarette smoke. "Was wondering why my digs brought me off here to the sticks."

"Your digs?" Virgil blinked as he turned around, eyes widening at how something so-large could've appeared without his noticing.

While the "House of Secrets" at the least had the decency to sit itself on the ground like God intended, the building behind Constantine floated impossibly off the ground by a good foot. Also done in the Victorian style, its siding was a dark gray like cloud cover, its shingles a dark blue like the night sky. While the House of Secrets was a little lower and squatter, whatever Constantine had supposedly ridden here in was built a little narrower and a little taller with windows to match.

It too wouldn't look too out-of-place in one of the early Scooby-Doo episodes.

The two houses situated across from one another, seemingly leering at one another like old rivals from high school that hated that they were living across from one another but unwilling to move, sent a chill up Virgil's spine. Zatanna for her part had taken to her hands and knees and was peering underneath the house, while Giovanni looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Well, you going to be a good neighbor and invite us in?"

"Do not. He can't come in unless invited."

"I ain't a fucking vampire," Constantine quipped.

"Who said it was because you're a vampire?" Giovanni asked, raising his wand.

"Alright, fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted," Constantine said as he lazily strolled up the steps and into the doors of the house that yawned open of their own accord. As soon as the *Thud* of the doors slamming shut sounded, the whole thing seemingly vanished into the ether.

"Is… is he gone…?" Virgil asked, flicking a rock through the space Constantine's 'digs' occupied just to be sure.

"He is," Giovanni said before turning back to the House of Secrets. "I'd heard the stories… but to think I'd ever see the both of them in the same day…"

"Wait, you mean that was the House of Mystery?" Zatanna blinked gesturing to the re-emptied space.

"What, did whoever named these places watch too much Scooby-Doo?" Virgil deadpanned.

"Some could argue that Hanna-Barbera saw these houses first," Giovanni said as he gave Overlook a once-over before turning back to the House of Secrets. "So… care to invite us in?"

" . . . "

*THE LODGE*

Like the exterior, the House of Secrets too was done in the Victorian style. Thankfully, unlike half the mansions in Scooby-Doo, this place wasn't covered in dust and cobwebs. In fact, the place looked immaculately clean. The sort of place that rich people would pay the GDP of a small country to stay at for less than a day.

And also bigger on the inside

'Roll with it,' Virgil sighed. "So… Welcome to my home?" he said into an ask as he rolled the word on his tongue.

"Wait a minute, did Mancubus give you this?!" Zatanna gawped.

"No. I saw it once before somewhere else, but I put it back down because it wasn't mine," he said waving around the skeleton key.

"Magical keys have a way of finding themselves back in the hands of their intended…" Giovanni said as he ran a finger along the wall, appreciating the architecture. "I'm… unsure what to make of your involvement with this."

"I'm from New York. I've seen weirder shit on a Thursday than this," Virgil said as he walked into what must've been a living room of sorts, a warm hearth and a luxurious red Chesterfield sofa waiting for him. " . . . So this is really all mine?"

"It's the 'House of Secrets'. You couldn't have made your way here otherwise," Giovanni said looking at a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with modern and ancient literature. All non-magical, but you could lose a whole summer in those pages, if not the rest of your life.

"Soooo… home owner now. How does it feel?" Zatanna asked sweetly.

"Not sure how I'd file this on my tax returns…"

"Wait, isn't our house magical too?" she asked inquiringly.

"It is, but it also doesn't move around," Giovanni corrected. "It also doesn't have a tesseracted interior," he said looking down a hallway.

"Well, you'll excuse me if I'm not eager to lay my head down here," Virgil said taking everything in.

"Welcome home. Master."

"AH! SUNOVA!" Virgil swore as he and the others rounded to find a… butler standing behind them!

He was elderly if the lines on his face and the color in his hair was any indicator, yet all the same he was dressed gracefully in a traditional black uniform with gold trim, white gloves, creased pants, a white tie over a black button-up, and an immaculate pocket square at the breast. His hair, pure white, was combed away from his face and just as immaculate as his beard which was expertly-trimmed; the visible wrinkles on his hollow face gave him a gentle appearance, yet his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's. Also, despite his apparent age he was tall and had broad shoulders, more-impressively-built than Giovanni; which in of itself wasn't saying much, but still…

"Wait, did you just call him 'master'?" Zatanna blinked.

"He is the one I have chosen, yes," the stern-looking man replied.

"Chosen… Wait, do you live here?"

"I am 'here'."

"What, like… the House of Secrets is your body?" Virgil blinked jumping to an absurd-sounding conclusion since, with magic, it was probably also 'the most-correct'.

"In as such," the man replied. "For the sake of convenience, you can call me 'Sebastian' or some derivative-of."

"Sebastian? Really?" Zatanna blinked incredulously.

"It is an indelible part of the collective consciousness regarding servants of the household," the house-borne entity replied.

"So… can this body leave the House of Secrets, or is it just an illusion?"

"I have a corporeal form within the grounds, that is all."

"And you gave yourself a face because…?"

"It's easier to tell someone the severity of a serious problem, when you have a severe look on a serious face."

" . . . That's perfectly fair," Vincent shrugged after he digested that. "So… magical key, magical house?"

"The House of Secrets is whatever it needs to be."

"Like the Room of Requirement?" Zatanna blinked.

"I thought Harry Potter was whiteface for magic users," Virgil hummed.

"It is, but I can still enjoy it."

"Honestly, I don't touch the stuff," Giovanni shrugged. "It's either too-fantastical to be taken seriously, or so-close to the truth that it's just depressing. It's why most of us prefer science fiction."

"Huh. Magic-users dig sci-fi. Good to know," Virgil hummed, chewing on that tidbit. "Anyway, why did the House of Secrets choose me?"

"The question isn't 'why', but 'what'," Sebastian returned.

"I think what Sebas means is, 'it's a secret'~" Zatanna said like someone telling a scary story.

"Sebas?"

"Rolls faster off the tongue."

"Well, she isn't wrong," Giovanni hummed.

"Soooo… the House of Secrets is in the Highlands, now?" Virgil asked.

"The House of Secrets, like my sibling, exists in a state of flux between everywhere and nowhere. A kaleidoscope of possibilities," 'Sebas' replied with a completely straight face.

"So I can summon it wherever I want, whenever I want?"

"There are certain caveats, but yes. The only limit is who you want to keep it a secret from."

"A magical Tardis-house that's probably as bullshit as the real-fictional thing. Yeah, I can understand wanting to keep it a secret from as-many people as possible."

The next moment he shot Giovanni a significant look.

" . . . What?"

"I'm asking, very nicely, that you keep this a secret from all your friends who wear their underwear on the outside of their pants. I don't want this turning into another Hall of Justice. I don't want to find Batman lurking in the corner by the gothic literature or the Flash raiding my fridge every other day."

He said with a completely straight face.

"I can understand that," Giovanni hummed. "I want to separate my personal and private lives as well."

"It's why he doesn't let any of his co-workers come over for 'work stuff'," Zatanna hummed making air quotes.

"Without your blessing, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about this place anyway," Sebas whispered into Virgil's ear as a proper butler would.

'Well that isn't cryptic in the slightest…'

"So… Want to give us the tour?" Zatanna asked hopefully as she eyed the magical mansion around them.

"Maybe another time. Right now… Right now I'm just done with today," Virgil sighed with slumped shoulders.

Half of it was physical, but the other was mental, with a dash of existential crisis on the side.

Knowing you made something short of a Faustian bargain with some kind of Cthonic lodgekeeper tended to do that to a guy.

"Oh, sure, whenever you're free," Zatanna nodded. "Hey daddy, can we go to Luigi's for pizza after this?" she asked eagerly.

"Of course. You did very well today," Giovanni nodded.

"Vee, you want to come with?" Zatanna asked over her shoulder.

"No… No, I think I'll just sit down, have a snack, and then go home after this. You go on without me."

"Alright. Maybe another time," she nodded, her and her father leaving the front door-

*Ding-a-ling*

"Giovanni! Zatanna! What a pleasant surprise!"

-and suddenly finding themselves at Luigi's back in New York.

"Huh?" Zatanna blinked as she turned around, the New York street visible through the glass pane of the door while the House of Secrets remained in the open doorframe until it closed. Reaching over and opening it, all she found was New York, the House of Secrets well and truly gone.

"So, where'd you two blow in from?" the restaurant manager inquired, having apparently not seen what Zatanna had.

"Nowhere," the two replied in synch, their memories fogged over from the time they left Overlook to the time they entered Luigi's.

Such was the power, of the House of Secrets.

*THE LODGE*

"Did… Did they just teleport to New York?" Virgil blinked catching a glimpse of an Italian restaurant through the door instead of the abandoned town of Overlook that should've been out there.

"You did give them leave to go to their intended destination."

"Is that how it works?!" Virgil gawped. "My god, this really is like the Tardis…"

"To be fair, the Tardis was inspired by the House of Secrets. The House of Mystery claims that she was the one to inspire it, but don't listen to a word of what she says."

"Surprising no-one…" Virgil muttered, feeling his brain melting from all the nonsense. "Just gonna… sit down and… process."

"Shall I get you some refreshments?" Sebastian inquired.

"Is the pantry actually stocked?"

"It's enchanted, so what the previous master provisioned should still be good."

"Note to self, make an enchanted breadbox."

Because if there was one thing his previous foster families all had in common, it was that it really sucked when a forgotten-about loaf of bread had mold on it when someone eventually decided to just make a sandwich or a grilled cheese.

And thus was how Virgil ended his working day. Sitting in front of the hearth in a magical house eating finger sandwiches.

*THE LODGE*

AN:
For visual reference, Virgil's "House of Secrets" is the one from the
Injustice comic book series, while Constantine's "House of Mystery" is the one seen in Justice League: Dark. Because of the wildly-varying portrayals of the two magical domiciles over the intervening decades, I decided to pick out the versions that stuck with me personally, giving them distinctive colors.

Honestly, I hadn't even heard of the House of Mystery until I saw it and its contemporary sitting across from one another in the Injustice comic book series, but I'd been itching to bring it in. I laid the first breadcrumb down at the tail end of the "Fetch Quest Arc", and originally the HoS was going to appear in the next chapter titled "House Hunting", but decided for the sake of expedient storytelling (since I'm using a "Rotation" to keep myself motivated to work a little bit on everything in my stable) to blend this bit of storytelling in with "The Lodge". I've gotten some complaints about pacing that aren't completely unwarranted, so I am trying to correct that, as long as it doesn't compromise my vision.

Also, like Orchid in Justice League: Dark, the House of Secrets has its own body. Try to guess who it's based off of~

Anywho, tell me what you think. Next chapter takes place in February, meaning I'm drawing ever closer to the first episode of Young Justice.

So until next time, see you on Chronicle of Zhu: Book 2 - Reconstruction.