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Fifteen years. The burns had long since faded into splotchy white scars, but the circus brand on Nova’s forehead was just as stark as ever, clean-cut and jet black, like fresh ink. Fifteen long years since they’d spoken to their brother. Nova had never been much of a performer, so they’d eventually been assigned to a myriad of backstage jobs. They had been the circus’s safety manager, so naturally, Cash had blamed them for the fire. And Nova had believed him–they still believed him, to be honest. That guilt was the reason they fell out of touch with Fizz, and never had the courage to seek him out again.
They certainly hadn’t expected to end up working for Cash’s son , of all people, but one thing led to another and Nova, low on money, had joined their childhood friend’s new assassination company. Their old obsession with chemistry had turned them into an excellent toxicologist, developing poisons that I.M.P. could use when a job required a little more subtlety- or as Blitzø put it, “when stabby shooty isn’t an option, and we have to do things the boring Nova way.”
Each morning was more or less the same. Get up, make some coffee, meander into the bathroom. Take a moment to check their other scars- not the burns, but the symmetrical pair of lines on their chest, which still made them smile almost a year post-op. Slip into a white collared shirt, charcoal vest with red buttons, and black cargo pants. Can’t forget the belt, of course, what kind of professional toxicologist-assassin would they be without a ready supply of little vials hanging at their hips? Fluff their hair, and double-check that their bangs obscured the circus mark. Finally, with a flourish, they pulled on a pair of black fingerless gloves, the same kind that everyone at I.M.P. wore. Nova still wasn’t sure if there was an actual reason they all wore the same gloves, or if it was just coincidence, but they’d never bothered to ask.
“Fuck this, I need a coffee. You know what? I’m going to the Greed Ring, they have shitty coffee but I need to get out of the office for a bit,” Blitzø grumbled as he stormed out of HQ, almost crashing into Nova as they were walking in. They shot Loona a bemused look. The hellhound only responded with a shrug and an eye roll before looking back down at her phone.
“Nova! There you are- look what I found on yesterday’s mission!” Moxxie dropped something on the table with a heavy thump , and Nova took a step closer, gasping as their eyes lit up with excitement.
“Of course you found an up-to-date chemistry textbook up on Earth, on the one day I wasn’t at work. This is great, Mox, have you read through it yet? Find anything that’ll help with the current projects?” They ran their fingers lightly, absently, over the poison bottles on their belt, glass clinking against glass.
“Not yet, but I skimmed through the table of contents, it looks a lot more advanced than the last textbook we found,” Moxxie flipped the book open, turning it toward Nova.
“Y’all are such nerds,” Millie laughed affectionately.
“Blitz said there’s a bunch of paperwork for you three to do,” Loona interrupted from across the room, sounding bored.
“Isn’t that your job?” Millie shot back skeptically.
“Nah.” Loona nodded to a stack of papers on her desk. “I’m busy.” With that, she returned her attention to her phone, clearly deciding that the conversation was over. Nova sighed and stood to collect the papers, and the three imps got to work.
The next morning, half an hour after they got to work, the door swung wide and crashed against the wall as someone kicked it open. Nova didn’t even need to look up from their chemistry book to know who it was- only one person was that flamboyantly noisy when he barged into the office.
“Did it really take you twenty-four hours to get a coffee?” they asked disinterestedly, still reading.
“No, it took me twenty-four hours to get fucking kidnapped and held hostage by that stupid cowboy bitch and Moxxie’s stupid mafia daddy, while waiting for Fizz’s stupid sin boyfriend to pay the stupid ransom. Which never happened, by the way, because I broke us out, because I’m a badass,” Blitzø prattled, slamming the door shut behind him.
Nova nearly dropped the book.
“You saw Fizz?” Their eyes locked on Blitzø, noticing for the first time that his coat was singed at the edges, and he looked uncharacteristically tired.
“Oh, of course that’s the first thing you care about. Not your beloved boss getting kidnapped.” He gave a pouty scowl. “But yeah, I saw him, got kidnapped with him, and I think we’re friends again? There was some, uh… miscommunication, apparently. After the fire.”
“What do you mean ‘miscommunication’?” they asked tentatively. Nova and Blitzø never talked about the fire, even fifteen years later it was still a sore topic. They had always assumed that Blitzø agreed with Cash- that the whole incident was caused by Nova’s negligence, a fuse they didn’t check, a box of fireworks they didn’t secure.
“Remember when we tried to visit him in the hospital, and they said he didn’t want to see us?” Nova nodded, and Blitzø continued. “Well, apparently those assholes were lying, Fizz never said that. And he thought I was trying to set the fire, which, ouch, I can’t believe he had that little faith in me, but it doesn’t really matter because I told him what actually happened with the candles and now we’re chill,” he finished, sounding remarkably proud of himself.
Nova stood abruptly, nearly knocking over their chair. “Blitzø,” they said slowly, warily, hands flat on the tabletop. “What candles? What are you talking about?” Blitzø froze, looking embarrassed.
“Uh, you know, when I knocked into the guy who was carrying Fizz’s birthday cake, and the candles lit the tent on fire?”
“ You started the fucking fire?”
“Yeah, I… thought you knew? Oh, fucking wonderful, more miscommunication.” He sighed. “At least you didn’t think it was on purpose. Apparently Fizz thought I was actually out to get him? Because he thought I was jealous or some shit?”
Nova sat back down, tracing a finger over the letters on the cover of the textbook, just to have something to do with their hands. Their eyes were fixed on the book, but unfocused, blank. Nova still wasn’t blameless, of course. They should have kept an eye on the candles, they should have put those damn fireworks somewhere safer… but if Blitzø had actually started the fire, albeit by accident, and Fizz had forgiven him…
“Hey, Blitzø, do you have his number?”
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Nova took a slow, shaky breath, smoothing a hand over the front of their vest to clear away nonexistent wrinkles. The doorbell’s echo reverberated from somewhere beyond the door in front of them, soon followed by footsteps. Working at I.M.P. had made Nova much more perceptive, and they noted that there were two sets of footsteps- one light and quick, accompanied by the repetitive clink of metal, the other heavy but steady. Then the door was pulled open, and they found themself face-to-face with their brother. He had changed, but that was no surprise; Nova had seen Mammon’s billboards sprinkled across Hell, so they knew what to expect. What they didn’t expect was Fizz’s smile- not his stage smile, but his real one, wide and bright and oh-so-familiar. They didn’t expect how quickly it would bring them back to that birthday party, moments before the disaster. The memory of Fizz beaming as he opened a card from Cash, an image burned into Nova’s memory by the blaze that had followed it.
They were abruptly pulled out of the past by a bear hug from Fizz, who let out a self-conscious laugh. With a soft whir, his robotic arms extended, wrapping all the way around Nova twice .
“Hey, Supernova. Took you long enough to text me,” he teased, and they returned the hug, fighting back tears at the childhood nickname.
“Alright, Froggie, let them breathe,” laughed a deep, unfamiliar voice, and Nova glanced up to see the source of the second set of footsteps. They had known to expect this, too, but there was a pretty big difference between knowing that they were going to meet Asmodeus today and actually being here, looking up at the fifteen-foot-tall Sin who also happened to be their brother’s boyfriend. Fizz took a step back, and Nova quickly fixed their vest again before extending a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Your… Sinfulness…?” Fuck , how does one greet a Sin? They should have asked Stolas. But Asmodeus simply accepted the handshake with a warm smile.
“Please, call me Oz, Ozzie, whatever you prefer. Nice to meet you, Nova, Froggie’s told me all about you.”
“ Froggie ?” they questioned, with a glance at their brother. Fizz rolled his eyes, red-faced but still grinning, and Ozzie chuckled.
“C’mon, Novs, we made lunch. Well, Oz made lunch, I…” Fizz trailed off.
“…still can’t cook?” they supplied. He shot them a lighthearted glare.
“I was going to say that I was organizing his schedule while he was making lunch, but… yeah. I still can’t cook,” he admitted. The three fell into silence as they walked down the winding, softly lit hallway, giving Nova a moment to marvel at how quickly they and Fizz had fallen back into comfortable banter after so long. It also gave them a chance to take in their surroundings.
Nova had always avoided the Lust Ring. Of course, their asexuality hadn’t stopped Blitzø from describing his nights with Stolas in an uncomfortable level of detail, so Nova was thoroughly desensitized. Still, this Ring just didn’t appeal to them. To their surprise, though, Asmodeus’s tower was classy , the occasional phallic pattern or suggestive sculpture offset by the plush purple carpets, elegant gold detailing, and swooping star-speckled curtains. In fact, Nova liked it much more than the dinginess of the other Rings, although they supposed that any Sin’s palace would be in better shape than the rest of the Ring. They glanced back up at Asmodeus- Oz , they reminded themself- who was leading the way, tail feathers swishing, as Fizz walked next to Nova.
“How long have you two been together?” Nova asked, in an attempt to break the silence. Fizz hummed thoughtfully, head tilted, and Oz smiled over his shoulder.
“Well, I started working for Mammon ten years ago, and after he started working with Ozzie on the Robo-Fizz design, Ozzie offered to upgrade my prosthetics, so I started spending more time here… but I’d say we’ve been together in one way or another for, what, seven years? Eight?”
“Yeah, eight years,” the Sin said affectionately.
“How about you, Nova? How long have you been an assassin? Very badass, by the way. But don’t tell Blitzø I said that, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Fizz said, tone shifting from curious to exasperated.
“Hmm, three years? I mostly stayed at the office, at first, while Blitzø, Millie, and Moxxie did field work, but after a few months I got back into chemistry and learned how to make poisons, so now I’m a toxicologist.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember when you wanted to be a chemist. Good to see you’re still a fuckin’ nerd.” Fizz gave them a playful nudge.
“Hey, speaking of which…” Nova dipped a hand into their pocket, then, lighting-quick, threw a pinch of powder in Fizz’s face. He started coughing, eyes widening as he recognized the smell. Asmodeus turned to face them, alarmed. Fizz saw a panicked, protective expression cross the Sin’s face, and knew he needed to intervene before Ozzie went ballistic.
“Babe, it’s fine, they didn’t poison me,” he laughed. “They used to make this stuff when we were kids, it’s just- ah- choo- fuck you, Nova- it’s just gonna make me sneeze for like- ah- choo - ten minutes straight.”
“Aw, c’mon Fizz, you really didn’t learn your lesson from the last time you called me a nerd?” Nova cackled.
“That was years ago, how was I- ah- CHOO- how was I supposed to know you still carry your old prank stash?”
Ozzie sighed in relief, chuckling at the two imps’ antics. Nova gave him an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sure you were worried about him yesterday.”
“Ah, it’s fine, I’m sorry for assuming the worst. But yes, yesterday was… difficult,” he replied, expression tensing at the memory. Nova nodded sympathetically.
“I didn’t find out about it until Blitzø came into the office this morning,” they said, quieter now. “But I swear to Satan, the next time I see those two, I am absolutely going to poison them. Well, maybe not Crimson,” they amended. “I work with his son, so that might be awkward. But I’m definitely poisoning Striker, I’ve had enough of that fucker.” Silence fell again, heavy and bitter, as they continued down the hallway.
Then Fizz let out a particularly loud sneeze, and Nova dissolved into another fit of giggles.
By the time they reached the kitchen, the sneezing had petered out. It did not, in fact, last ten minutes this time. Ozzie held the door, gesturing for Nova and Fizz to enter. The room was spacious and richly decorated, just like the rest of the tower, but also surprisingly cozy. Neon lights lined the deep blue walls, potted plants stood in each corner, and a panoramic window offered an impressive view of the Lust Ring’s skyline. One side of the room was the kitchen itself, with gleaming appliances and cabinets so ridiculously high that even Ozzie would need to stretch to reach them. On the other side, a coffee table and two chairs sat on a fluffy sky-blue rug, in front of a TV and some shelves. Right in the middle, three bar stools surrounded a purple-and-gold table, already set with three plates and several platters of food- burger patties and fresh-baked buns; salad loaded with apples, walnuts, and cheese; and a pitcher of some kind of shimmery drink full of ice and fruit. Fizz muttered something about “burger time” that made Ozzie laugh softly. They all took their seats, and as Nova thanked Ozzie for the food and started assembling their burger, Fizz slid them a jar of pickle slices with a look of overexaggerated distaste.
“Hope you still like pickles, Supernova, because I got these for you, and I have no idea what I’m going to do with them if you don’t eat them.”
“What, you expect me to eat the entire jar?” they shot back, but gratefully accepted and forked a generous amount onto their burger. Fizz hated pickles, so it meant a lot that the first thing he did, right after getting back in touch for the first time in fifteen years, was buy some for Nova.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he singsonged. There it was- the sly smirk that Nova had missed so much, the look that always meant trouble. “Remember the Pickle Bandit?”
“The what?” Ozzie asked, amused, at the same time Nova said “Fizz, don’t you dare .” The jester just grinned wider and informed Ozzie, “When we were kids, Nova stole a jar of pickles from our boss’s fridge, climbed up one of the circus tent poles, screamed I am the Pickle Bandit , and ate the entire thing.”
Nova slowly, deliberately, pulled their phone out of their pocket and set it on the table, staring Fizz down with a threat in their eyes. He raised an eyebrow, but they ignored his silent question, turning to Ozzie instead.
“I have his baby pictures.”
Chaos erupted as Fizz dove for the phone and Nova swiped it back out of his reach, dodging the mechanical arms that stretched to twice their usual length. Ozzie, meanwhile, gasped excitedly at the prospect of seeing “baby Froggie,” which earned him a look of betrayal from Fizz and one of conniving delight from Nova.
Eventually, they managed to settle down and finish their lunch (which was absolutely delicious, Fizz wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Ozzie was an excellent cook). The atmosphere was light and welcoming, but Nova knew that it couldn’t last forever. As Ozzie cleared away the dishes, brushing aside Nova’s offer to help, Fizz pulled them over to the coffee table at one end of the room. Then he stopped short, considering the two chairs. One of them was just the right size for an imp, but the other was much bigger, presumably for the Sin.
“Hey, Oz?” he called over his shoulder, with a nod to the seats.
“Hm? Oh, of course!” Ozzie looked up from the dishes and snapped his fingers, and a second imp-sized chair materialized next to the first one. Nova startled slightly. They rarely saw magic like that; as far as they knew, not even Stolas could just poof objects into existence. Fizz flopped down into one of the seats, and Nova took the other.
“So.” They inhaled slowly, picking at a loose thread on their fingerless gloves. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about… well, everything, I guess. But first things first, I need to say something that I should have said a long time ago.” They looked up, eyes locking on Fizz’s. “I am so, so fucking sorry about the fire. Safety was my job, I should have made sure that nothing like that ever happened, but I got lax, and you took the fall for it, and it wasn’t fair and I’m sorry,” they rushed out, watching their brother carefully. He blinked in surprise.
“I- I never blamed you for what happened,” he said softly. “Sure, I was bitter at first, those early days in the hospital. When I thought my career- my life - was over. But far from it, huh?” He held up a hand, flexing his shiny prosthetic fingers. “And honestly, it was Blitzø I was pissed at. Not you.”
Nova felt tears pricking their eyes, but they pressed on.
“Well, I’m sorry for never reaching out, I-” At that, Fizz cut them off, putting his hands on their shoulders with a nonplussed expression.
“Nova. We’re both adults. You’re not the only one at fault here,” he admonished. “I could have reached out to you at any time, but I didn’t. At first it was- I was-” He paused, taking a shaky breath as he tried to find the words, and Nova reached up to put their hand over his. Fizz gave a small, grateful smile at the reassurance, then continued. “Look, my entire life has revolved around being a clown. When I lost that, I thought I’d lost me . I know now that the hospital staff kept you out for some fuckin’ reason, but when no one showed up to visit, I… I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore because the person I used to be was gone.” He took another breath, steadier this time. “Then I grew up, and realized that was bullshit, I’m still me, but… like you said, it was easier to just fall out of touch. But what matters now is that we got back in touch, yeah?” he said hopefully. Nova sniffled and nodded.
“Yeah.” With that, they pitched forward into another hug, smooshing their face into Fizz’s shoulder. After a comfortable moment, he said, “I swear to Satan, Novs, if you get snot on my clothes…”
Nova let out a surprised, half-crying laugh, leaning back to give him a skeptical look.
“If memory serves, you’re the one who got snot on me .”
Fizz gave a pseudo-offended gasp, placing a hand theatrically on his chest.
“Ex cuse me? That was definitely you!”
“No, remember when you fell off Barbie Wire’s horse and skinned your knee? You absolutely got snot on my shirt that day.”
Fizz stopped abruptly, counting something out on his fingers before looking at Nova in disbelief.
“I fell off that horse when we were five, how the fuck do you remember that?”
By the time Ozzie joined them, carrying three more glasses of the fruit-filled drink from lunch, Nova and Fizz had settled back into lighthearted bickering. He watched, amused, waiting for a lull in the conversation. When he found it, he leaned forward and asked, “So, Nova… about those baby pictures?” Fizz spluttered, almost choking on his drink.
“OZZIE!”
