At IMP headquarters, the atmosphere was tense. The team sat around the cluttered office, eyes on Blitzo, who stood by the planning board, clearly agitated. Everyone already knew the stakes. This wasn't about money—they weren't getting paid for this one. This was about survival, and more importantly, it was about paying off a debt they owed to Spawn. The time they almost killed him for Velvette? Yeah, this was them trying to fix that.
Blitzo cleared his throat, tapping the whiteboard. "Alright, gang. Let's cut the crap and get real. We owe Spawn, and now he wants us to dig up dirt on Vox, Valentino, and Velvette."
Moxxie, sitting with his arms crossed, frowned. "We know that, Blitz. What we don't know is how the hell we're supposed to pull this off without getting our heads blown off by three of the most powerful Overlords in Hell."
Blitzo scowled. "Well, if you've got a better plan, Moxxie, I'm all ears. But until then, we're gonna have to figure it out because the alternative is that Spawn comes after us, and I, for one, am not interested in getting obliterated by him."
Millie nodded enthusiastically, her usual optimism shining through despite the dire situation. "We'll do what we always do! We'll find a way. I mean, we've fought some real tough demons before!"
Loona, from her spot at her desk, scoffed. "Yeah, but this isn't just any demon, Millie. It's Vox. Valentino. And Velvette. They've got power, influence, and a whole lot of resources we don't have."
Blitzo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know, Loona. I'm aware this is a suicide mission. But we don't have a choice. We owe Spawn, and this is the price we have to pay for that little mix-up when Velvette hired us."
Moxxie rubbed his temples, clearly stressed. "I get that we owe Spawn, Blitz, but we're talking about some serious Overlords here. Vox is practically the tech king of Hell. Valentino's got an empire of vice, and Velvette… she's unpredictable. We can't just waltz in and think we'll get away with this unnoticed."
Blitzo slammed his hands on the desk, fed up with the back-and-forth. "Well, Moxxie, we don't exactly have the luxury of waltzing away from this either! We screw this up, and it's not just Spawn we have to worry about. It's them. All of them. So unless you want to spend eternity dodging Overlords and Spawn, we're gonna have to suck it up and figure out a way to get this done."
There was a pause as everyone took in the reality of the situation.
Millie, always ready to back her husband but eager to support the team, placed a hand on Moxxie's shoulder. "We'll find a way, Mox. We always do."
Moxxie sighed but nodded. "Yeah, I know. I just hope we can get through this without attracting more attention than we already have."
Blitzo, finally getting back to the board, started scribbling furiously. "Okay, here's the plan. Loona, you're gonna track Vox's movements. See if there's any digital footprint or surveillance we can tap into."
Loona shrugged. "Yeah, fine. Just as long as I don't have to deal with Valentino. That guy gives me the creeps."
Blitzo continued, pointing at Moxxie and Millie. "Moxxie, Millie—you two are gonna crash one of Valentino's parties. Blend in, look inconspicuous, and figure out who's got the dirt on him."
Moxxie raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do we 'blend in' at a Valentino party?"
Millie grinned. "We'll manage. Just gotta keep our heads down and act like we belong."
Blitzo nodded. "Exactly. Now, Velvette… she's the wild card. I'll deal with her. She's the one who put us in this mess to begin with, so I'll see what I can do to get some info on her without setting off any alarms."
The team exchanged uncertain glances, but they knew Blitzo was right. They didn't have much choice.
Blitzo clapped his hands together, forcing a grin. "Alright, let's get to it, team! We've got Overlords to spy on, a favor to repay, and, most importantly, our lives to save. Let's move!"
Charlie and Vaggie stood outside Spawn's room, the tension from earlier still thick in the air. Charlie was nervous, her worry clear in the way she wrung her hands. Vaggie, ever watchful, had a more cautious look on her face.
They had seen Spawn in battles, but this was different. Something about that phone call had changed him, and whatever Blitzo had said had clearly shaken him.
Charlie knocked gently, her voice soft. "Al? Are you in there?"
The door creaked open, revealing Spawn inside, moving swiftly and purposefully. His back was turned to them as he tucked things away under his cape, collecting his few belongings. The room was dim, lit only by the faint light coming through the window.
Vaggie frowned, crossing her arms as she stepped into the doorway. "What are you doing?"
Spawn didn't stop what he was doing, his movements methodical and calm. "I have to go," he said, his voice low but firm. "It's no longer safe for me to stay here."
Charlie blinked in confusion, stepping forward. "What? Why? What happened?"
Spawn paused for a moment, glancing at her briefly before turning back to his packing. "That phone call… it wasn't just some random job. Blitzo found out some things about me, and now more people know who I am. That puts you, the hotel, everyone at risk."
Vaggie's frown deepened. "We can handle a lot here. You've seen the kind of trouble that comes through these doors. What makes this any different?"
Spawn finally stopped, turning to face them fully. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, filled with a determination that Charlie hadn't seen before. "I can't explain all of it yet, but I know that staying here will bring more trouble than you're prepared for. You gave me a place to stay, and I appreciate that. But I can't stay if it means putting everyone else in danger."
Charlie's heart sank. She could hear the weight in his voice, the guilt he was already carrying. "But… you don't have to leave. We can help you. We've faced all kinds of danger before. This is a place for people like you—to find peace."
Spawn shook his head slowly, his gaze softening just slightly. "This is bigger than that, Charlie. Trust me. I've seen what happens when people like me stay in one place too long. It's not safe. Not for you. Not for anyone."
Vaggie stepped forward, her tone sharp but concerned. "You don't know what kind of trouble you're running from, do you?"
Spawn's silence was all the answer they needed.
Charlie took a deep breath, her voice quiet but pleading. "Please… just let us help you. We don't want you to leave."
For a brief moment, Spawn's hardened expression faltered, the weight of his decision visible on his face. But he quickly masked it, turning back to grab his fee things.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, not looking at them. "But I have to go."
Charlie's usual warmth was still there, but now it was underscored with a steely determination. Her expression had changed, her eyes focused and intent. She stepped closer to Spawn, refusing to let him retreat into himself.
"Al... Look at me," she said softly but firmly, her voice carrying more strength than before.
Spawn hesitated, clearly taken aback by her sudden assertiveness. His hands paused on his belongings, and slowly, he turned to meet her gaze. His glowing eyes were wary, guarded as if bracing for the kind of pushback he had always expected.
Charlie stepped even closer, her tone gentle but resolute. "I told you before—you don't have to fight alone anymore. And I meant that."
Spawn's gaze flickered, a mix of confusion and something deeper—an old wound, something long buried but not forgotten.
Vaggie, standing just behind Charlie, crossed her arms but nodded in agreement. "She's right. You don't have to carry this all by yourself. We've seen more than you might think. We've fought off all kinds of things. Just because we don't look like soldiers doesn't mean we can't handle a fight."
Charlie's eyes never left Spawn's as she continued, her voice softening just slightly but still filled with determination. "This hotel, it's not just a place to stay. It's a family. We look out for each other here. And that includes you."
Spawn's defenses wavered. His jiaw tightened, but there was something in his eyes—something that showed he was listening, even if part of him was still trying to push them away.
Vaggie took a step forward, her voice steady but compassionate. "We've all got things we're running from, Spawn. All of us. But running doesn't make it go away. You're not the only one with a past, and you're not alone in this."
Charlie placed a hand gently on his arm, her touch light but grounding. "You don't have to keep doing this on your own. We're here to help. Let us."
For a long moment, there was silence. Spawn's eyes flickered between them, the walls he'd built up slowly being chipped away by their words. He'd spent so long fighting alone, carrying the weight of his past with no one to share it with. But now, for the first time, there was something different—a glimmer of something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time.
Trust.
Spawn didn't respond immediately, his gaze lowering as if wrestling with the words. He wasn't tensing up, but he wasn't convinced either. Charlie could see the battle going on inside of him, the need to protect them at war with his fear of pulling them into his mess. And she knew she needed to reach him, to make him understand that they weren't just offering pity—they were offering a lifeline.
A thought crossed her mind, something that might break through the walls he'd built around himself. Without hesitation, she began to sing, her voice filling the room with gentle but firm resolve.
"I think you're hiding too much, I see you've lost all your trust
In the world that's let you down and turned your heart into dust
I know you're haunted by the past, by the pain that couldn't last
You shut yourself away, afraid to face the shadows that cast."
As the first verse echoed through the room, Charlie's voice was soft, but there was a warmth in it. She was acknowledging his pain, his fears, but also showing him that she saw through them—that she knew he had lost trust, but that it didn't have to be the end.
"But I'm here now, and I'd rather stay
Than watch you drown in silence every single day."
Her voice grew a little stronger, filled with conviction. She was making it clear—she wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going to stand by and let him slip away into the darkness of his silence.
"You can talk, you can talk to me
I can see that you're not okay
You can let it out, I won't leave
You are not a burden to me.
You can talk, you can talk to me
Even deep in your darkest place
You can show the pain you hide from me
You are not a burden to me"
Her words were like a lifeline thrown to him, her voice unwavering. Each line was a promise that he could trust her, that no matter how much he struggled, she wasn't going to abandon him. He wasn't a burden, not to her, not to any of them.
"I think that you've been left unheard
Because you think you don't deserve
To feel the hurt, the weight inside, like others' pain is somehow worse
I see the silence that you keep
And how it drags you into deep
But I'll be here, I'm listening, to all the things that made you weep."
With the second verse, Charlie's voice softened again, reaching out to the part of him that was afraid of being too much, of burdening others with his pain. She was telling him that his pain mattered, that he wasn't any less deserving of help or compassion because of it.
"I don't mind the scars you hide, you can let it go (just let it go)
I'd rather hear your truth than see you fight alone."
She poured her heart into these lines, knowing that his scars, his past, were what kept him from accepting their help. But she wanted him to know that those scars didn't scare her—that she would rather he share them than suffer in silence.
"You can talk, you can talk to me
I can see that you're not okay
You can let it out, I won't leave
You are not a burden to me
You can talk, you can talk to me
Even deep in your darkest place
You can scream the words you've kept unseen
You are not a burden to me"
Her voice swelled again in the chorus, the message repeating, sinking deeper. The hotel, their friendship—it was his, and he didn't have to carry his burdens alone anymore.
"The battles that you carry still
You don't have to dress them up
Your story's built on wounds you've healed
And there's so much more to love."
Charlie stepped closer, her hand gently squeezing his arm as she sang these words. She wanted him to understand—his past didn't define him. It was part of him, yes, but there was so much more. There was still love, still hope, still life ahead.
"You can talk, you can talk to me
I can see that you're not okay
You can let it out, I won't leave
You are not a burden to me
You can talk, you can talk to me
Even deep in your darkest place
Don't ever be ashamed of your needs
You are not a burden to me."
The room seemed to hum with the power of her voice, the sincerity behind each word. Vaggie stood quietly by, her own expression soft as she watched. The way Spawn had gone still, the way he listened, told her that Charlie's song was getting through to him.
"You are not a burden, you are not a burden
(You can talk, you can talk to me)
(You can talk, you can talk to me)
You are not a burden to me
(You can talk, you can talk to me)
You are not a burden, burden
Burden, burden"
"The battles that you carry still
You don't have to dress them up
Your story's built on wounds you've healed
And there's so much more to love"
As Charlie finished the song, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, the room fell into a calm silence. The final words echoed softly between them, hanging in the air like a promise.
Spawn stood there, silent and unmoving. He didn't speak, but he didn't pull away from her touch either. And Charlie, perceptive as always, knew that this was a step forward. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was enough. Enough for her to see that he was listening, that he was letting her in, little by little.
In the quiet of that moment, with Charlie's soft words still lingering, the tension in the room eased. They weren't pushing him to stay—they were showing him that he didn't have to leave. That here, with them, he wasn't alone anymore.
After Charlie finished her song, the last note hanging in the air, Spawn remained silent. Her words had cut through the heavy, impenetrable wall he had built around himself, but that didn't mean he was ready to fully let it down. He stood there, arms crossed, still guarded despite the flicker of something warm stirring inside him.
He didn't want his problems to be theirs. The weight of his past was too much to share, and yet, seeing the way they looked at him—Charlie with her endless optimism, and Vaggie with her quiet but firm support—he knew they weren't going to let him walk away from this. Not easily, anyway.
With a heavy sigh, Spawn straightened, breaking the silence with a tone that was rough but laced with a dry humor he hadn't let out in a long time. "Well, I suppose I can tolerate your singing for a while longer."
His attempt to lighten the mood came off guarded, like a man who wasn't used to opening up, but Charlie and Vaggie didn't seem to care. Instead, their eyes widened in surprise, then softened with something close to relief. The fact that Spawn had made a joke, no matter how dry, seemed to mean something.
Charlie's face brightened, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips, while Vaggie gave him a knowing look, her arms crossed as if she was letting him have his moment but not pushing him any further.
Spawn shifted uncomfortably under their gazes, lifting a hand in warning. "Don't get used to it," he muttered, his voice gruff, still holding onto that last bit of distance between them.
But even as he said it, he knew. They weren't the type to give up, not on him, not on anyone they cared about. And whether he liked it or not, he was starting to realize that, somehow, he had become one of them.
He wasn't ready to tear his walls down completely, but for now… he'd stay. He'd stay and see where this strange, unexpected connection might lead.