Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Sister? What do you mean I have a sister?" The eighteen-year-old man scoffed, as if the idea were absurd.

"Had a sister." The lawyer corrected. "She's dead now. Her husband killed her."

"I think there's been a mistake. I'm an only child."

"That's what your parents believed, but it turns out that when your father was in high school, just before he left for college, he got his girlfriend pregnant. She gave the baby up for adoption and never told him. Her name was Scarlett. After her death, we began tracking down her relatives—both adopted and biological. You're the only one who's still alive."

"And why have you been looking for me?"

"Because your sister has a son, and he's only eight years old."

"Wait a minute, are you seriously suggesting that I take care of him?"

"You're all he has."

"Oh, surely not! What about his father's side? Isn't there anyone there who can take him?"

"From what I've found, they're all either in jail or at the bottom of a lake somewhere."

"But you don't understand—I can't raise a child. I just graduated from university and have plans to spend my time inventing and creating remarkable things for mankind. Plus, I don't really like kids."

"Well, if that's how you feel, so be it."

"You may think I'm cold, but I'm the worst person to be trusted with a child. He'd be better off in a foster home."

"I'm afraid he's not going into foster care."

"What do you mean? Where else will they put him?"

"Blissful Heights."

"The psych hold?!" He gasped. "Why the devil would they put him there?"

"The boy witnessed his father murder his mother in a violent and gruesome act. Since then, he's avoided speaking to anyone, and he has these moments of going into a violent rage."

"So he's traumatized. That doesn't justify locking him up in the nut house."

"None of the foster parents want to take him; they believe he'll be too much trouble. Like I said, you're all he has in the world."

Alastor removed his glasses and rubbed his temples in frustration. This was absurd. As a mechanical genius with aspirations of becoming a renowned inventor, he had achieved remarkable milestones: graduating high school at fourteen and college at eighteen. He was just beginning his life, a time meant for exploration and self-discovery, free from the burdens of responsibility. He had neither the time nor the patience for children.

"Is there really no where else he can go?" He asked.

"No where else but Blissful Heights Mental Institute."

Alastor sighed.

"Fine. I'll take him. He'll have food, clothes, a room in my house, and I'll send him to school, but that's it. I won't be held responsible if he causes trouble for anyone."

A week later, Alastor finally met his nephew. His name was Maximus, but he preferred to go by Moxxie. The boy was quite small for his age, which surprised Alastor, who was notably tall. Moxxie had fair hair and fair skin, while his uncle was dark-haired and tanned. The only similarity they shared was their extreme skinniness.

"Hello, Moxxie. I'm Alastor. It's a pleasure to meet you." He said politely, smiling.

Moxxie simply stared at him, saying nothing. Alastor waited for a greeting in return, but the boy remained silent.

"What a rude little tike." He thought.

A few hours later, Alastor loaded Moxxie and his luggage into his car and drove to his home. He lived in the same house where he had grown up, inherited from his parents after they passed away. While much remained unchanged, he had transformed the basement into his laboratory.

Alastor was a peculiar inventor, relying solely on mechanics and gears, eschewing computers and wires. He believed that devices made purely from technology were less durable and would break down more easily, lacking the strength and longevity of his mechanical creations.

When Moxxie first entered the house, he was startled to see so many strange contraptions, moving about and performing house hold tasks. There were mechanical arms stirring pots on the stove, a clockwork vacuum gliding across the floor, and a tiny automaton dusting the shelves with a feather duster attached to its arm.

"Welcome to my home." Alastor said. "Please don't touch anything."

He led Moxxie upstairs to the spare bedroom he had prepared for him. It had a bed, an empty closet, and an empty dresser. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Make yourself comfortable." Alastor said. "I have work that needs to be done. Don't brother me unless the house is burning down and stay out from my lab. Dinner will be ready at six."

Moxxie nodded slowly, still taking in his new surroundings. In the beginning, Alastor and Moxxie felt more like strangers than roommates, merely passing each other by. Alastor would head off to work while Moxxie attended school. They shared meals in silence and then retreated to their separate rooms at night.

One evening, Moxxie was jolted awake by a chilling scream echoing from the laboratory downstairs. Ignoring the rules, he ventured down just in time to witness Alastor preparing to slaughter a rabbit.

Though Alastor's true passion lay in inventing, it didn't always cover the bills. To make ends meet, he took a job with Crescent City's animal control, tasked with disposing of dangerous creatures and unwanted pests. And what he caught, he would kill, cook, and eat.

Moxxie watched in horror as Alastor sharpened the knife and then seized the screaming rabbit from its cage. Just as Alastor raised the knife, poised to strike, Moxxie rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

"Let it go!" Moxxie pleaded, desperation in his voice. "It's not fair!"

"What on earth are you doing? Get back upstairs! You know you're not supposed to be down here!" Alastor snapped, irritation mingling with confusion.

"Please! Don't kill it!" Moxxie shouted, his voice cracking. "Just let it go! It's unfair!"

"Get out of here, Moxxie!" Alastor growled, his patience wearing thin.

With a sudden burst of defiance, Moxxie lunged forward and bit Alastor on the arm.

Alastor yelped in shock and pain, dropping the knife.

"Why you little brat!" He barked, fury boiling within him. In one swift motion, he grabbed Moxxie by the arm and dragged him out of the lab and upstairs.

"Let me go!" Moxxie cried, struggling against Alastor's grip.

"Oh no! Maybe your parents would let you get away with this kind of behavior, but not me! I'll teach you to bite me! I'll put you over my knee and tan your hide!"

When they reached the living room, Alastor sat in a chair, hoisting Moxxie onto his knee and preparing to pull down his pants for a spanking. But then he froze.

His gaze fell upon dark, angry marks dotting the boy's legs. Lifting Moxxie's shirt, he discovered similar scars on his back—cigarette burns. For a moment, Alastor sat in silence, studying the cigarette burns and putting together in his mind what the boy had lived with before he came here.

He gently set Moxxie down.

"Go to your room." He instructed.

Moxxie gazed at him, bewildered.

"Aren't you going to burn me?" He asked.

"I told you to go to your room. We'll discuss this in the morning."

But the next morning had little discussion between them. As soon as Moxxie woke up, Alastor swiftly stripped him of his clothes and tossed him into the bath.

"Hey!" Moxxie spluttered. "What are you doing?"

"Those marks need treatment." Alastor replied, grabbing a washcloth and loofah. "First and foremost, they need to be cleaned."

"I can handle it myself."

"If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Besides, you're filthy. When was the last time you had a proper bath?"

"Ah! This water is freezing!"

"Nonsense, it's mild temperature like the doctor recommended. Now hold still."

"Get your hands off me!"

"Stop struggling!"

"I don't like this!"

"Good! Consider it a punishment for biting me last night. Now if you behave, I might give you a little reward."

"I don't want a stupid present!"

"Oh really? What kind of child doesn't want a present?"

"The kind whose presents come from people his dad bumped off! I don't want presents! I don't want anything! Just leave me alone!"

But Alastor continued to wash each burn with care. Afterward, he gently patted them dry and applied a thin layer of petroleum jelly to each spot. Once Moxxie was dressed, they had breakfast, and Alastor assigned him the task of dusting around the house. He believed Moxxie needed something to occupy his time; otherwise, he might sink deeper into depression. At least, that was Alastor's theory.

"My mother always said that hard work is good for both the body and the soul." Alastor remarked. "It chases away depression and brings a smile to your face."

Moxxie rolled his eyes but accepted the feather duster from him.

"There are ingredients for sandwiches in the cabinet if you want lunch. Just don't disturb me and try not to break anything." Alastor instructed before disappearing downstairs.

Hours passed, and as Alastor focused on his latest device, he began to ponder what kind of gift to give his nephew. He had little idea what would please a child, especially this cheeky little brat. However, it was clear the boy hadn't exactly been spoiled over the past eight years, as evidenced by those cigarette burns.

At five o'clock, he finally emerged from the lab to start dinner, and what he found astonished him. The entire house was immaculate. Moxxie hadn't just dusted the furniture; he had swept and mopped the floors, washed the dishes, wiped down the tables and counters, vacuumed the rugs and carpets, cleaned the windows, and even scrubbed the sinks and toilets.

"Good golly, this place hasn't been this clean since Mother lived here." He remarked.

Alastor wasn't a messy person by any means, but between his job and his inventing, he struggled to keep up with housework and couldn't afford to hire a maid. Perhaps his nephew could be very useful in that situation. Of course, he'd need to offer the boy something worthwhile to ensure he stayed motivated—nothing easily replaceable like a toy or that revolting confection children crave called candy. It had to be something truly valuable.

Then, Alastor came up with the perfect gift and spent the entire following week working on it.

"Moxxie." He called, knocking on the door to his room Friday afternoon. "It's time for that little present I promised."

"I told you I didn't want it." Moxxie replied.

"Oh, I think you'll want this one."

Moxxie opened the door and glanced at Alastor's hands. He wasn't holding a wrapped box or a gift bag.

"Where is it?" Moxxie asked, curiosity piqued.

"It's outside. Follow me."

Moxxie trailed him down the stairs and out the back door to the yard. There stood a finely crafted wooden hutch, and inside was the rabbit Alastor had nearly killed. Moxxie's eyes widened in disbelief as he approached the hutch. The rabbit, now safe and sound, looked up at him with curious eyes.

"Is he for me?"

"Yes, but there are a few conditions. First, you need to help me with the cleaning around here. Second, you can't interfere with my work in animal control. I have to manage the animal population."

"But do you have to kill them?"

"That's part of my job. It's not like I take pleasure in it; I eat them."

"Can't you just set them free in the wild?"

"I could, but then where would I get my meat?"

"But that's unfair!"

"On the contrary, hunting for food is one of the fairest things a person can do. It's part of the natural order of things."

"I just don't like the idea of killing something."

"I understand it's hard for you to grasp now, but as you grow older, you'll see that it's the way of nature. Humans at the top, animals below—especially when it comes to pests."

"My dad said my mom was a pest."

That's when it finally clicked for Alastor why Moxxie was so troubled by the thought of any creature being killed, even if it was just an animal.

"Alright, let's make a deal." Alastor said. "If I catch an animal and have enough to eat, I'll set it free in the woods. But when I run out of meat, I'll have to kill what I catch. I promise not to overdo it. Fair enough?"

Moxxie considered Alastor's proposal, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Okay." Moxxie finally said, his voice small but resolute.

"Good."

"Can I keep some of what you don't eat as pets?"

"Don't push it."

"Aww, come on!"

"No. You can only have one rabbit."

"Two rabbits."

"Absolutely not! If you add another male, they'll kill each other. And a female? Oh God, a female would mean an invasion of bunnies!"

Needless to say this would be the beginning of a very interesting duo.

Chapter Text

Ten years later...

On a dark and misty night, a full moon cast eerie shadows over Crescent City. Something lurked in the darkness. Once the coast was clear, it crept toward a nearby garden and quietly pushed open the gate. It glided silently down the path to the expansive vegetable patch. Mrs. Reducto, the garden's owner, spotted the figure and swiftly grabbed her phone, dialing a specific number.

Moments later, in another part of town, a phone rang on a nightstand. An eighteen-year-old boy shot his arm out from under the covers and answered it.

"Hello?" Moxxie answered groggily. "Alastor and Moxxie's Animal Control, how can we assist you?... Oh, hi Niffty! What is it this time? Squirrels or badgers?... Oh, that's a new one. Alright, we'll be right over."

Moxxie dragged himself out of bed, took a moment to stretch and yawn, then crossed the hall to bang on the door of the next bedroom.

"Wake up, Alastor! It's Baxter and Niffty again! And it's a code R with a mask!"

Alastor groaned from behind the door, the sound of rustling sheets followed by a muffled reply.

"I'm up, I'm up! Just give me a moment!"

With that, Alastor flipped a switch, and in an instant, a set of fantastic automated devices dressed them in hats, boots, and boiler suits, pausing only to pour Alastor a steaming mug of black coffee and Moxxie a nice cup of tea before hydraulically launching them into their waiting van.

"Nets?" Alastor asked.

"Check," Moxxie replied.

"Cages?"

"Check."

"Rifle?"

”Check!”

"Tranquilizer darts?"

"Check!"

"Bullets?"

"Check!"

"Let's get cracking then!"

Without delay, the van was cranked into action and they were off, speeding towards the home and garden of Baxter and Niffty Reducto. Like a police SWAT team, Alastor and Moxxie leaped from the van, taking their positions on either side of the garden gate. Alastor peered through a hole in the fence just in time to spot a shadowy figure darting by. He signaled Moxxie to prepare the large sack, then catapulted his nephew into the garden. Moxxie swiftly brought the sack down over the creature.

"Got it!" Moxxie declared triumphantly. But suddenly, the bagged creature began to thrash violently. "Uh-oh..."

Before he knew it, he was being dragged across the ground.

"Oh, not again." Alastor groaned. "Oh the trials of having such a small assistant."

"Um, Uncle Al, a little help?!" Moxxie shouted.

"Don't worry! I'll grab the rifle!"

"What?! No! You can't shoot here! It's a residential area! Are you out of your mind?!"

"Then what do you suggest I do?"

"Anything that won't land us in jail!"

Seizing the moment, Alastor decided to test his latest invention: a large, wheeled mechanical mouse trap. He activated the device, and it whirred to life, its wheels spinning as it rolled toward Moxxie and the writhing sack.

A loud noise shattered the night, and lights flickered on down the street. Neighbors peered out their windows, bewildered by the chaos unfolding in the garden.

"What's going on?" Vaggie, a local fisherwoman, asked, pulling her bathrobe tightly around her.

"It's two o'clock in the morning." Her live-in boyfriend Angel grumbled, lifting his eye mask. "I need at least twelve hours of beauty sleep."

"Oh God, if it's Stolas's wife trying to sue me again!" Blitzo, an agricultural student wearing a face mask, complained.

They watched as Moxxie was dragged around the garden by what appeared to be a sack with legs, while a mechanical trap pursued them. The chase sent them crashing through fences and smashing lawn ornaments. Finally, the trap cornered Moxxie and the creature against a sturdy garden shed. With a triumphant grin, Alastor pressed a button, and the trap snapped shut, securing the intruder inside.

"Gotcha!" He exclaimed, visibly relieved.

Moxxie opened the trap to reveal the culprit: a raccoon.

"Raccoons." Alastor tsked. "Nature's biggest thieves and vandals."

"My garden!" Mrs. Niffty Reducto cried, appearing at the back door with her husband. The Reducto couple owned a fresh market and each plant she and her husband grew was precious to them. They couldn't bear the thought of a single blossom or fruit or vegetable being eaten. "My pride and joy! Oh, thank you, Mr. Devalcourt and Mr. Knolastname!"

"'All in a night's work, Niffty." Alastor said.

As the Reducto couple expressed their gratitude, the rest of the neighborhood began to emerge from their homes, grumbling and rubbing sleep from their eyes. Vaggie crossed her arms, her bathrobe flapping in the cool night air.

"Do you two have any idea what time it is?" She snapped, glaring at Alastor and Moxxie. "Some of us were trying to sleep!"

"Yeah! You woke up the whole block!" Angel chimed in, yawning dramatically.

"And I was dreaming about my agricultural thesis! Now I'll never get back to sleep!" Blitzo added.

"Uh, sorry about the noise, everyone." Alastor said. "I'm afraid it comes with the job."

"No, it comes from those ridiculous inventions of yours, you kook!" Blitzo retorted.

"Seriously, Alastor, those contraptions are a menace to society!" Vaggie added.

"Oh really? I admit my devices have a few quirks, but they're perfectly harmless." Alastor replied.

"Harmless? What about the time you almost set my boat on fire with that instant fish cooker?" Vaggie shot back, crossing her arms tighter.

"Or when you turned that hedge trimmer into a flying drone? It nearly took my head off!" Angel chimed in.

"It was an airplane, not a drone." Alastor corrected.

"And what about the time you built that mail retriever and it broke into my house?" Blitzo exclaimed.

"I thought that was Mr. Goetia." Moxxie interjected.

"Oh... well, it was still a terrible invention!" Blitzo insisted.

"Aren't you all being a bit harsh?" Baxter spoke up. "After all, he does protect our homes and food supply."

"And we appreciate that." Vaggie said. "Alastor, we know you mean well, and we're grateful for how you keep the wildlife under control. We just think your inventions cause too much trouble."

"Nothing personal, buddy. We just don't want to deal with things that blow up, lose control, or try to give me a buzzcut. Look at my hair! It's perfectly soft and fluffy, and it took me twenty-six years to get it like this."

"Angel, you didn't have hair twenty-six years ago, you were a baby." Vaggie pointed out. "You didn't even have eyebrows!"

"Fine! Eleven years then!"

As the neighborhood grumbled, Alastor maintained his trademark smile, nodding at each complaint with a calm demeanor.

"Thank you for your feedback, everyone! I assure you, I'm always working on improving my inventions." He said, his voice smooth and reassuring. He turned to Baxter and Niffty. "And thank you for your generous payment. Your garden will be safe once more!"

Baxter handed over a few crisp bills, and with that, he and Moxxie hopped back into their van taking the trapped raccoon with them. As they drove away, Moxxie glanced sideways at his uncle, who was humming cheerfully to the radio.

"Are you okay Alastor?" Moxxie asked.

"Of course, Moxxie! Just another successful night in the field!" Alastor replied, his smile unwavering.

"You know you can tell me if what they said upset you—whether it made you angry or sad."

"No, it didn't bother me at all. I'm used to it."

"Don't worry; you'll create something amazing! Something everyone will love! Hell, I already love all your inventions. Remember when I was twelve and you asked if I wanted to be your assistant? I was so excited because I could finally help you make them."

"Yes, that was quite an exciting day, wasn't it?"

Moxxie watched his uncle closely, searching for any sign of distress or discomfort. There was none, which only worried him. For as long as he could remember, his uncle had never shown any emotion other than joy. He always wore a smile, no matter the circumstances. While that was often admirable, the fact that he maintained it even in private, troubled Moxxie. He knew it couldn't be healthy.

"Alastor."

"Yes?"

"Remember when I went to therapy to deal with what happened with my parents?"

"Of course. I paid for every session."

"Well, I've been thinking—you might want to see a therapist too. Not regularly like I did, but maybe just once, like a little check-up for your mind."

"Why would I do that? I'm not crazy. I'm a genius. I was a child prodigy."

"Why does everyone get so defensive when you suggest therapy? No one reacts like that when you recommend a visit to the doctor or dentist. And by the way, need I remind you what the doctor said the last time we visited?"

"Please don't."

"He said you weren't eating enough and that you're close to becoming anemic. You've been so busy with work and inventing that you've been skipping meals."

"I have a proper meal of proteins and carbs every day."

"But you only have one meal and skip the other two. And you eat only meat and dairy, with no vegetables or fruit."

"I hate fruit and vegetables! You've known that for years!"

"I'm just trying to help you."

"Listen, I don't nag you about your diet, so please don't pester me about mine."

"Fine, but just remember: if you die of malnutrition, I inherit everything you own, even your inventions, and I'll tear them apart to make instruments."

"You do that, and my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your life! Enough of this nonsense. I'm eating just fine, and my sanity is perfectly intact. I don't need to change my eating habits or see a shrink."

Moxxie tugged at his hair in frustration. Sometimes he wondered who was really looking after whom in this relationship. True, Alastor made the money, kept a roof over their heads, and kept food on the table, but Moxxie managed appointments, shopping, cleaning, and recently cooking since Alastor had become so wrapped up in his work. Despite their rocky start, Moxxie had come to love his uncle dearly and was fiercely loyal to him. Alastor, for all his faults, had taken care of Moxxie and given him a home, and Moxxie didn't want to lose him.

Unfortunately, because Alastor was older, a genius, and the one with the money and the house, he always felt he knew best and had no reason to heed his nephew's advice—even when it was valid.

"I wonder if it's possible to give someone a feeding tube without them knowing." Moxxie mused aloud.

"What was that?" Alastor warned.

"Nothing!"

"You're a smart boy Moxxie and I love you but don't forget who's in charge here."

"How could I? You never let me." Moxxie said. “Love you too Uncle Al.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Moxxie was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself and his uncle. Determined to encourage Alastor to eat healthier, he cooked a hard-boiled egg, accompanied by apple slices and chopped carrots. Just as he finished arranging the meal on a plate, Alastor walked in to pour himself a cup of coffee before heading to the lab.

"No, no, no, you're not just having coffee today." Moxxie insisted. "You're going to have breakfast."

"I can't eat now! I've been inspired!" Alastor replied.

"But I made hard-boiled eggs with Tabasco—your favorite! And I've got some nice, juicy apples and carrots to go with it."

"That's kind of you, but when inspiration strikes, one must act fast. Besides, the last two sound more like rabbit food." He chuckled, but Moxxie didn't share his amusement. "I'm sorry, Moxxie. I know you're only doing this for my own good, but when passion takes over, I simply can't think of my needs."

"Can't you at least try to eat better? For me?"

"It's not easy to change habits. I'm a creature of routine, and many people are the same. Breaking those patterns is nearly impossible. That's why I invented this."

He then presented a blueprint for Moxxie: a design featuring two glass booths with molded plastic bases, connected to a series of panels.

"Telephone booths?" Moxxie asked, puzzled.

"No! It's a behavior correction system."

"Oh, Alastor, not this again. You said you wouldn't create anything that tampers with DNA."

"And this won't—after I make a few minor adjustments. The machine's purpose is to extract unwanted impulses and desires, relying solely on mental suggestion and subliminal communication. It won't interfere with DNA at all. That is, if I can program it to focus exclusively on the brain and vocal waves, ignoring the physical aspects of the subjects. With this device, we could instantly cure any addiction or bad habit. Hormones and tempers could be managed effectively. No one would ever have to endure withdrawal or rehab. The youth of this generation would no longer be slaves to TV and or phone screens."

"It's a brilliant idea, Uncle Al." Moxxie admitted. "But I'm not sure if this is actually possible. If it were, don't you think someone would have built it by now?"

"They may have tried, but they all failed. Do you want to know why?"

"Because it's an impossible dream?"

"No! Because they relied on things like pills, injections, lasers, flashing lights, spinning images, and electric shocks. My invention, on the other hand, will use harmless yet more effective radio waves and lunar power."

"Don't you mean solar power?"

"I considered solar, but absorbing sunlight could cause the machine to overheat. Moonlight is a safer alternative. The only downside is that we have to wait for a full moon."

"And you're sure it's not dangerous?"

"Well, it is right now, but this time I'm going to take extra precautions. That means we may need to stop by Mimzy's Crafts and Supply Store."

"Really?!" Moxxie exclaimed, excitement bubbling over. "Oh boy! Just give me a minute to get ready!"

Moxxie dashed upstairs, spending the next hour meticulously combing his hair, brushing his teeth, and applying deodorant and cologne. Alastor chuckled to himself; Moxxie always acted a bit silly whenever they visited that store, and it was all because he had a massive crush on one of the employees.

Her name was Millie. She worked in the crafts department but often went out of her way to help Alastor find good deals on tools and materials for his inventions. She claimed it was to impress her boss, but Alastor knew the truth: it was just an excuse to see Moxxie. She was just as smitten with him as he was with her.

As soon as they stepped inside the store, there she was—a pretty thing with shiny black hair and cherry-red lips, stacking colorful balls of yarn.

"Isn't she the prettiest girl in the world, Alastor?" Moxxie sighed. "Just perfect."

"She is cute." Alastor replied. "I'll give you five minutes to talk to her, but after that, you need to start looking for gears."

"Twenty minutes."

"No."

"Fifteen?"

"No."

"Ten?"

"Alright, but just ten. And if I catch you chatting with her without any gears in your hands, I'll tell her you wore footie pajamas until you were eleven."

Moxxie blushed.

"You promised you'd never mention that!"

"You should have gotten that promise in writing." Alastor grinned mischievously.

Moxxie took a deep breath, steeling himself for the encounter. He watched Millie as she expertly arranged the yarn, her focus unwavering. With Alastor's playful threat lingering in his mind, he knew he had to make this quick.

"Hi, Millie!" He called out, trying to sound casual.

She looked up, her face lighting up with a smile.

"Moxxie! Hi! What brings you here today?"

"Um, just helping my uncle with some supplies for a project." He stammered, feeling his nerves kick in. "What about you? How's everything going?"

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Trying to keep everything organized. But I'm always happy to see you!" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Really? I mean, I'm glad to hear that." He replied, trying to keep his cool. "I, uh, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for gears? Alastor needs some for his invention."

"Sure! I can help with that. Follow me!" Millie said, leading him to the hardware section. "So I heard you and your uncle saved Mrs. Reducto's garden last night."

"Yeah, but the locals aren't exactly thrilled about the ruckus we caused on the job. They think he's crazy—I mean, I do too—but they see him as both crazy and stupid. I think he's crazy, but still a genius."

"I think your uncle is awesome."

"Really?"

"Absolutely! Most adults around here are so boring and ordinary. They never do anything new or exciting. Your uncle, on the other hand, always brings a splash of color to this dull town."

"I wish everyone felt that way about him. It must hurt when people stomp on his dreams. He acts like he's cool with it, but I know he's not."

"How can you tell?"

"My mom was the same way. Always hiding her feelings behind a smile. It's one of the few times I can believe he and my mother were related."

"Well, don't worry. Your uncle is smart; he'll sort it out." She reassured him. "By the way, did you hear about the upcoming festival?"

"What festival?"

"The Garden Gala! There was this wealthy couple who used to live here and they hosted a festival every spring, inviting everyone in town to participate in flower, fruit, and vegetable competitions, cook-offs, picnics, livestock shows, music, games, and dancing."

"I've never heard of it."

"That's because after the couple died, no one was left to host it. But their granddaughter, who spent her holidays here with them, has moved into their old house and wants to bring back the Garden Gala."

"Sounds exciting!"

"I'm going this year and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to...to...to..." She shyly wrapped her finger around a lock of her hair. "... To go with me?"

Moxxie's heart skipped a beat.

"Really? You want me to go with you? Wow, I never thought that-"

"Moxxie!" Alastor called out. "It's been ten minutes! I hope you're looking for those gears now!"

"I am! I am! Excuse me, Millie!" Moxxie replied, rushing off to gather as many gears as he could find while Alastor searched for wire, an amplifier dial, and parts for his computer. Unfortunately, that last task was often challenging because his computer was an electromechanical tabulating machine. He insisted on using that model to avoid the invasion of ads, junk mail, and links to inappropriate sites, plus it was nearly impossible to hack.

"I need a divider chip." He thought. "Something to help the computer recognize separate and specific commands."

"Oh, Alastor!" A teasing voice called, making him cringe. It was Mimzy, the store owner and his not-so-secret admirer. At times, she could be sweet and charming, but she had little control over her hands.

"Alastor! Fancy seeing you here!" Mimzy exclaimed, her voice dripping with cheer. "I've got some new tools in stock that you simply must see!"

"Uh, yes, I'm sure they're very nice." Alastor replied, trying to keep his tone neutral while scanning for an escape route.

"Do you need help finding anything specific?" Mimzy leaned in closer, her presence almost suffocating.

"Just a divider chip." He said, glancing over her shoulder as if searching for Moxxie's return.

"Oh, that sounds fascinating!" She replied. "Why don't you invite me over so I can see what kind of project you're working on this time?"

"Oh no." He said, wagging a finger in her face. "No peeking until it's finished."

"Okay, then how about you come over to my place—just you, me, and some throw pillows?"

She began to run her fingers up his chest, much to his anxiety.

"I'm allergic to throw pillows." He said.

"Well, who needs pillows when you have those fine, firm buns?" She said, giving his rear a playful squeeze.

Alastor's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. He stepped back, trying to regain his composure.

"Mimzy! That's really—uh—unprofessional!" He exclaimed. "Now look here, I'm not that kind of man! I'm not some young thing for you to toy with! I'm an old man! A horrible, ugly, grouchy old man!"

Mimzy pouted, her playful demeanor undeterred by his protests.

"You're only 28; that's not so old."

"Damn, I was hoping you didn't know my real age."

"Okay, Alastor, I got the gears!" Moxxie said, returning with his arms full.

"Oh, thank God!" Alastor exclaimed, relief washing over him. "Quick, let's get to the other side of the store before she pounces!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Just move. Move!"

Moxxie hurriedly followed Alastor, glancing back to see Mimzy still watching them and blowing kisses.

"Ugh! I swear, I feel like I need to shower whenever I talk to her." Alastor said.

"Well she's kind of nice." Moxxie said. "In a sorta overbearing way."

"Never going to happen Moxxie. Never."

"Well what about Rosie? You always go over to play cards with her every Wednesday."

"Rosie is delightful but she's a baker and you know I detest sweets. Also she's married."

"She is?"

"Yes, to Husk."

"The butcher? A baker married to a butcher. That's funny." Moxxie chuckled.

"Can we shift our focus back to the matter at hand? We need to find a divider chip."

"Right boss!" Moxxie saluted.

Vox Schadenfreude sat in his sleek, modern office, sipping his overpriced coffee, scrolling through the local news on his tablet. As he skimmed the headlines, one article caught his eye: "Crescent City’s Dynamic Duo: Alastor and Moxxie Battle Pests with Innovative Solutions."

His grip on the tablet tightened, and a scowl formed on his face. Alastor Devalcourt. The name alone sent a wave of resentment through him. They had been rivals in college, competing fiercely in science and engineering. Alastor had always outshone him, earning accolades and recognition while Vox languished in his shadow. The memory of their rivalry burned like a hot ember in his mind, fueling his desire to surpass Alastor at any cost.

As he read about Alastor’s latest triumphs in animal control, his frustration boiled over.

“What a joke.” He muttered, tossing the tablet onto his desk. "That should be me on the front page! Not that old-timey loser!”

He flipped the page, hoping for something more uplifting. Instead, he found two more articles that piqued his interest. One detailed the rising animal population in Crescent City, highlighting the struggles of local farmers to protect their crops and livestock. The other featured a stunning philanthropist who had recently moved to the town, planning to host a lavish Garden Gala this spring. Her wealth and beauty were undeniable, and Vox felt an idea enter his brain.

"Sell my security systems to a town full of suckers that don’t know me.” He mused, a sly grin creeping across his face. "And marry a beautiful heiress to a fortune. Just imagine it—Alastor watching as I rise to the top, while he’s left to deal with raccoons and garden pests."

Vox leaned back in his chair, envisioning his plan. He could market his advanced security systems as the ultimate solution for Crescent City’s animal problem, promising farmers peace of mind and protection for their livelihoods. He would present himself as the savior they didn’t know they needed, all while positioning himself to win over the wealthy philanthropist.

The thought of Alastor’s face when he unveiled his success filled Vox with a sense of glee.

“I’ll show him who the real genius is.” He declared, picking up a phone to make an important call. “Striker, get my travel agent on the line. We’re moving.”

Chapter Text

Charlie Morningstar came from old money, and after college, she used her inheritance to travel the world and share her wealth. She built homes for the homeless, facilitated adoptions for orphans and foster children, invested in rehabilitation centers for addicts, and established protected reserves and sanctuaries for endangered species. While her life was filled with excitement and generosity, she eventually grew weary and yearned for a place to settle down and consider marriage. Most assumed she would return to her roots in the Big Apple, where she had grown up, but instead, she chose to make her home in Crescent City down south.

When Charlie was a little girl, her favorite thing in the world was spending holidays with her grandparents. They lived in a magnificent Victorian manor house surrounded by stunning gardens. Her grandfather would be in the kitchen, whipping up delicious dishes and inviting her to taste each creation. Meanwhile, her grandmother tended to the flowers and berries, sharing stories about each plant and showing Charlie where the birds nested, the rabbits burrowed, and the deer pranced.

At night, they would gather by the fire, where her grandfather regaled them with tales of the war and stories from when he courted her grandmother. Every spring, they attended the Garden Gala, where they laughed and danced, feeling as if they had stepped back in time to the romantic elegance of the 1800s.

When she first entered the house, it was quiet and dim, with overgrown gardens teeming with wildlife, a testament to the fourteen years of neglect. However, Charlie, never one to shy away from hard work, was determined to restore the old place. Though she had servants to assist her, she preferred to work alongside them rather than simply giving orders. Her family may have hailed from old money, but their fortune was self-made, and the values of self-sufficiency had been instilled in her through generations.

Within a few weeks, the manor was beautifully restored, and Charlie had settled in. Soon after, many neighbors came to welcome her, each bringing a small gift from their trade. Vaggie and Angel presented her with fresh cod, salmon, and crab, while Niffty and Baxter offered a delightful fruit basket. Local florist Stolas and his daughter Octavia gifted her a lovely arrangement of pansies and petunias. The reverend, Abel Judah Christensen, blessed her home and brought fresh honey from his bees. Millie knitted her a cozy shawl, Blitzo provided catalogs on the best gardening practices and livestock, and Rosie brought a meat pie that she and Husk had baked together.

"Oh, this is exactly what I've been craving for lunch." Charlie said on the day Rosie visited. "Would you like to come in and share it with me over some iced tea?"

"Oh, I'd be delighted." Rosie replied.

"Vortex, could you please fetch the tea and help me set the table?" Charlie asked her butler politely.

"Yes, ma'am." He responded.

Soon, the two were seated in the tea room, enjoying lunch together.

"My goodness, you have a beautiful home." Rosie remarked.

"And you cook a delicious meat pie." Charlie complimented.

"It's my husband's and my specialty, along with his rib roast and my lemon-raspberry cream cake."

"Oh, you simply must enter them in the Garden Gala cook-off this year!"

"We plan to, and thank you so much for bringing it back. We've missed it terribly. This is a very nice town but we get so very little things to look forward too. In fact most of the time it's very boring. But since you've announced the return of the gala, everyone has been bustling to prepare. Niffty and Stolas are mixing up their own fertilizer for their gardens, Vaggie has been fishing in the harbor and in the rivers, Angel is entering his pet pig, even my husband is going out his way to find the perfect cut of meat for the occasion."

"I'm thrilled to hear that! The Garden Gala has always been a celebration of creativity and togetherness. It's wonderful to see everyone so excited. You can't imagine how much I've missed this place, the house, and especially the gardens. Normally, we would have tea outside, but the plants have grown wild, and there are weeds. I'm also dealing with a major infestation of rabbits, skunks, squirrels, badgers, raccoons, and deer. I'll never get the garden restored with all of them living here."

"Why not simply hire an exterminator?"

"Well, I don't want to kill them. After all, no one managed this place for years, and that gave them every right to make it their home. I'd prefer to relocate them, but how many exterminators are that considerate?"

"Actually, we have one right here in town."

"Really?"

"Yes. My neighbor, Alastor Devalcourt, is the animal control around. He offers customers the option of dealing with animals humanely rather than killing them."

"What does he do with them?"

"Well, he does kill them if they pose a serious threat or if he's hungry—I should warn you, he's quite the carnivore. But if you choose the humane route, he simply takes them to the woods or wetlands and sets them free."

"Oh, that's perfect! That's exactly what I'm looking for! May I have his number?"

"Of course." Rosie handed her Alastor and Moxxie's business card.

"Thank you, Rosie. I was worried I'd have to import to solve this problem. I wonder if—"

"Beg your pardon, Miss Morningstar." Vortex interjected. "There's someone at the door for you. Another neighbor, I believe, wanting to welcome you to the neighborhood."

"Let him in, Vortex."

As Vortex opened the door, Vox strode in bombastically.

"Hey there, gorgeous! I'm Vox! Vox Schadenfreude." He announced, his voice booming through the tea room. "Heard you're the new lady in town, and I thought I'd swing by to introduce myself and offer my services!"

Charlie blinked, taken aback by the abruptness of his entrance.

"Uh, hello, Mr. Schadenfreude. I'm Charlie Morningstar." She managed, unsure how to respond to his overwhelming energy.

"Right, right! Charlie!" He leaned over the table, eyeing the remnants of Rosie's delicious meat pie. "You've got great taste! But I've got something even better—my top-of-the-line security system! You know, for all those pesky intruders that might come sniffing around. Nothing says 'welcome to the neighborhood' like a little home security!"

"Oh, um, I appreciate the offer, but I'm really not looking for anything like that right now," Charlie said, attempting to steer the conversation away from his loud pitch.

"Not looking? Pfft! That's what everyone says until they get robbed blind! Trust me, you don't want to find out the hard way! My system is foolproof—totally state-of-the-art! We're talking electric fences, motion detectors, the works!"

Charlie's brows knitted together in concern.

"Electric fences? That sounds a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Extreme? No, no! It's necessary! You wouldn't believe the kind of wildlife we have lurking about." Vox continued, waving his hands animatedly. "I mean, raccoons, badgers, who knows what else! They'll make a mess of your lovely gardens in no time! My system will take care of that, no problem! Quick zap, and they're out of your hair for good! Effective! Yes! Deadly? Sure! But only to the uninvited! Just imagine—your home is a fortress! No more wandering deer munching on your flowers or pesky critters digging up your roots! You'll be the envy of the neighborhood!"

"Excuse me but where on this planet did you come from?" Rosie asked.

"I come from everywhere. California, New Jersey, Cleveland. My services are famous worldwide."

"Never heard of you."

"And I really don't want to hurt these animals Mr. Schadenfreude, I just want them to be humanely relocated. So thank you for the offer but it's not necessary." Charlie said. 

"Suit yourself, but you'll regret it! I'm telling you—things get wild around here. You'll thank me when you don't have to worry about your beautiful garden getting turned into a buffet!" Vox leaned in closer, lowering his voice dramatically. "And if you ever change your mind, look me up."

With that, he winked and turned to leave, his boisterous presence lingering in the air long after he had exited.

"Well he was something else." Rosie remarked, shaking her head.

"Is he new to the neighborhood too?" Charlie asked.

"Well considering that I've never seen him before in my life, I would say that's a safe bet. Anyway, back to the gala—what will the prize for the competitions be?"

"The prize for each contest will be a golden trophy, engraved with the names of the winners. They will have the esteemed honor of being displayed alongside my grandfather's award for Best Host. The trophy is made of iron, encrusted with jewels to symbolize my grandfather's humble exterior and precious interior."

"Your grandfather must have been quite a remarkable man." Rosie said.

"He truly was. He believed in celebrating the community and bringing people together, which is why I want to revive the Garden Gala." Charlie replied, her voice filled with warmth.

"I think it's going to be a huge success! Everyone is so excited." Rosie said, leaning back in her chair.

"Beg pardon again, but phone call for a Mrs. Rosie Talanov?" Vortex said.

"That would be me." He handed Rosie the phone. "Hello? Oh hi Darling, how are things?...Husk we've been through this, you can't sell goat meat, goats are more profitable as a dairy product...Well of course Alastor would buy it but he eats pretty much anything on four legs or with feathers or scales...My idea about you selling pigeon was not stupid. Squab is a delicacy! And don't you dare dip into our nest egg until I get home!"

She hung up.

"Excuse me Charlie, I hate to eat and run but I think my husband is about to make a very idiotic gamble." Rosie said.

"Well thank you for the lovely lunch and the information about Alastor. I really appreciate it." Charlie said, standing to see her out.

"Anytime!" Rosie replied, gathering her things.

Charlie bid Rosie goodbye, then grabbed her notebook and began making a list of tasks that needed to be completed. She was determined to make this year's Garden Gala the best one yet.

Chapter Text

Alastor and Moxxie were in the lab, reviewing the plans for the behavior correction system. Next, they would gather all the tools and materials at their disposal to determine which were suitable for the device's construction.

"Moxxie, fetch me a 28-gigawatt battery; it'll serve as the engine for the machine." Alastor instructed.

"The safety manual states that you should only use an 18-gigawatt battery when dealing with glass." Moxxie replied, concern evident in his voice.

"Ha! Manuals!" Alastor chuckled. "What do they know?"

"But it says anything over 18 might cause the glass to explode. It can't handle that kind of pressure."

"A manual doesn't create things, my boy; it's just a book! It has no hands and no brain! I have both."

"Uncle Al, I really don't think—"

"Trust me! I know what I'm doing."

Five minutes later...

BOOM! Their first glass chamber shattered into a million shards.

"Don't you say a word." Alastor warned, as the two stood behind the safety of the polycarbonate window screen. "Just put on your glass-resistant gloves and boots, and help me clean up."

"Yes, sir." Moxxie replied.

The two donned their gloves and boots before heading to the back closet for brooms, dustpans, and trash bags, right next to the area where Alastor stored his failed inventions.

"Ahhh!" Moxxie suddenly exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"What? What is it?" Alastor asked, curious.

"Robo Fizz!"

On Moxxie's ninth birthday, Alastor had attempted to create the perfect entertainer for kids' parties—a robotic harlequin designed to perform remarkable tricks and stunts. Unfortunately, it ended up looking far too creepy and was violently unstable, leaving Moxxie with nightmares and bed wetting for a week.

"Oh, Moxxie, relax. It's shut off." Alastor reassured him.

"Why didn't you throw that thing into the trash compactor where it belongs?!" Moxxie retorted.

"Because some of its parts are still valuable. I thought I could take it apart and build something more useful. I just haven't figured out what that is yet."

"Ugh! If you ask me, nothing good can come from that." Moxxie shivered. "I still can't believe you unleashed that thing on me and my classmates at my birthday party!"

"Hey, it's not like I ruined the party. I turned it off before it could hurt anyone, and I made it up to you by hiring Husk for his magic act, which everyone enjoyed."

"I still have nightmares about it, you know?"

"Grow up! I clocked out its batteries years ago! The only way it would turn on again is if it were struck by a high-voltage surge, like lightning—which is pretty unlikely indoors."

Moxxie cast one last fearful glance at the menacing robot before hurriedly following his uncle into the broom closet. Surrounded by shards of broken glass, they spent a considerable amount of time cleaning up the mess.

"So, did you hear about the upcoming Garden Gala?" Moxxie asked, carefully dropping larger pieces of glass into a trash bag.

"I saw a few flyers about it." Alastor answered as he swept the floor.

"Millie asked me to go with her."

"Oh, that's nice."

"I was thinking of entering one of the competitions to impress her."

"Not a bad idea. What do you have in mind?"

"I thought I'd enter the cook-off with lobster Thermidor."

"Oh! That's one of my favorites."

"Mine too."

"There's nothing quite like a delicious meal to win someone's heart. That's how my mother captured my father's affection—well that and the fact that she had elegance, could play piano, and hit a perfect bullseye with a rifle."

"Speaking of which, why don't you enter your mother's jambalaya recipe? It's fantastic!"

"It is, but I don't believe in cooking for competition. Good food should be made for people to enjoy, not just for a contest."

"But contests can be fun."

"Yes, but for me, competitions have always been an extreme annoyance and a huge let down in the end. When I was your age, I was fiercely competitive and not a gracious winner. With each victory, I boasted and mocked those I had defeated. By the time college ended, I realized I had no friends left, and after losing my parents the year before, I found myself utterly alone—until you came along."

"So, you're actually glad you took me in?" Moxxie grinned. "That I wasn't just a monkey wretch that someone threw into your perfectly planned life?"

"Let's just say the thrill of victory fades quickly and that success becomes boring when there's no one to celebrate it with."

Just then, the phone rang upstairs. Alastor hurried to answer it.

"Alastor and Moxxie's Animal Control, how can we assist you?"

"Hello, this is Charlie Morningstar from Morningstar Hall." Came the voice on the other end.

"Oh, what an honor, my dear lady." He said. "I've read about your charitable causes and accomplishments in the paper; you sound like a real-life saint."

"Thank you."

"How may my nephew and I be of service to you?" He asked, bringing the conversation downstairs.

"I have a terrible problem on my property. My gardens are overrun with wild animals—rabbits, skunks, deer. I want to restore the gardens, but I can't do that while they're living there. You must do something!"

"Certainly, ma'am."

"And please, I would like you to handle the situation humanely. Don't harm them; just catch them and relocate them to their natural habitat. That's what you do, right?"

"If that's your wish, then it shall be done."

"Oh, thank goodness. Yes, that's exactly what I want."

"In that case, stay right where you are, my dear, and we'll be with you in an—aaaaaargh!"

Alastor's foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

"Alastor!" Moxxie gasped, rushing to grab the first aid kit.

"In an hour?" Charlie asked, misinterpreting Alastor's words. "Alright, I'll unlock the main gate so you can get in. Is there anything I can do to make your task easier?... Hello?... Hello? Hmm... Well, the least I can do is fix them some lemonade. It's a bit hot today."

She punched in the code to unlock the front gate and headed to the kitchen to prepare a pitcher of fresh lemonade, using the last few lemons she had saved from her grandmother's lemon tree. Just as she finished stirring together the lemon juice, sugar, and water, Vortex entered to inform her that she had another visitor.

"It's that Schadenfreude fellow again, Miss. Should I call the police?" He asked.

"No, I'll handle it."

"Are you sure Miss? Cause quite frankly I don't think this man is mentally stable. If not the police, perhaps I should call Blissful Heights instead?"

"I'm a big girl Vortex, my father taught me well. Just finish making the lemonade for me."

"As you prefer then Miss, but I recommend that you do not leave the premises with that man."

"Duly noted." She said.

She left the kitchen and stepped into the foyer, where Vox stood waiting alongside a muscular, intimidating young man.

"Hello again, Mr. Schadenfreude." Charlie said, striving for politeness.

"What-ho! For you, my diamond!" He exclaimed, thrusting a bouquet of artificial flowers into her hands.

"Oh, thank you! How thoughtful! I simply love flow—um, what is this?" She paused, noticing a techno chip embedded in the petals.

"My latest creation: electric shock flowers. They lure pests in and zap them dead. Brilliant, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's certainly... something." She replied, taken aback. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, Mr. Schadenfreude—"

"Please, call me Vox."

"What brings you here? And who is your companion?"

"This is my assistant and bodyguard, Striker. He's also the latest test subject for our pain aversion drug. We injected him with a compound that eliminates the sensation of pain, but unfortunately, it has left him unable to feel anything at all as a side effect."

Striker fixed Vox and Charlie with a chilling, penetrating gaze that seemed to pierce through the darkness. Then, unexpectedly, he broke into a disconcertingly unhinged smile.

"Interesting." Charlie said, finding the idea disturbing. "But again, why are you here?"

"Why else? To help you with your infestation problem."

"That's very kind of you, Vox, but I've already told you that your methods aren't what I'm looking for. Besides, I've already called someone to handle it."

"Whoever he is, he can't possibly outperform my technology. Striker and I will catch those creatures, tear them apart, and turn what's left into a collection of leather jackets, belts, and boots."

"But I don't want that!" Charlie exclaimed, horrified. "Also none of them are cows, so how could you possibly make them into leather?"

"Fine, it'll be imitation leather. Who cares?" He snorted.

"I suggested we sell them as fresh meat." Striker chimed in. "But Vox insists that being vegan is the biggest trend right now, so he's sworn off eating and selling meat. It's ridiculous."

"It's not! Meat and dairy cling to your ribs and make your gut grow! Managing my waistline is a real nightmare, I tell you!" He posed dramatically, shaking his hips and rear. "Like what you see, gorgeous?"

Charlie turned away in disgust, raising an eyebrow at Striker.

"Yeah, so here's the deal, doll: he's my stepbrother, so I kind of have to help him out with this." Striker muttered. "Otherwise the old man will write me out of the will and I need that money to open my own rodeo."

"Alright, Striker, grab the atomic ray gun." Vox said, striding away. "We have a job to do."

"Vox! Please! We can deal with this humanely!" Charlie shouted after him.

Chapter Text

Alastor and Moxxie's van rolled up to the house, and they couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur. It was roughly the size of ten ordinary homes—just imagine how long it must take to clean all those windows! So much land, so many gardens—it felt as if it had sprung from the pages of one of those Southern Gothic romance novels that Moxxie secretly read.

"I think we're about to go up in the world Moxxie." Alastor said.

"I'll say." Moxxie replied. "Miss Morningstar definitely knows how to live. What do you think she's like?"

"Well she's obviously very charitable, based on what I've read about her in the papers."

"What does she look like?"

"Don't know. Never saw a picture of her, but she probably looks like any typical upper class lady. Lots of big, poofy, fashion wear and jewelry and stuff like that."

The van skidded to a stop on the gravel, and the dynamic duo leaped out, momentarily stunned by the multitude of animals burrowing and bounding around them. It felt almost like a zoo.

"Good lord, she wasn't kidding when she said it was overrun." Alastor remarked.

"What are we going to do? Knock them out?" Moxxie asked.

"Yes, but we need to be cautious. She mentioned there are skunks in the area, so we need something that won't startle them." Alastor replied.

He opened the back of the van and revealed an item covered by a tarp.

"This will definitely impress her ladyship. It's the first successful invention I've made in months, and it'll give you an idea of how the Behavior Correction System is supposed to work. Moxxie, set up some bait on the grass."

Moxxie cautiously approached the grass and scattered the bait. Just as he turned to check on Alastor, a flash of green caught his eye. He froze, eyes wide, as a slender green snake slithered through the blades of grass, its scales glinting in the sunlight.

"Ahh! Snake!" He yelped, bolting away.

"Oh, not again." Alastor scoffed, chasing after him. "Moxxie, come back! It's just a harmless garden snake!"

"Harmless? It's still a snake! What if it's a trick? What if it's just pretending to be harmless?"

"Oh for the love of- Get over here right now!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, Charlie rushed up to Vox, desperately trying to intervene.

"Please, Vox, I can't condone thoughtless killing!" She protested.

"Quite right, my jewel. That's why I've thought this through very carefully!" Vox aimed his gun at a rabbit munching on grass. "It's off to bunny heaven with you, big ears!"

"Vox, no!" Charlie shouted, grabbing his arm.

Startled, the rabbit took off, and Vox chased after it, firing shots. But the rabbit's agility outmatched his aim, causing his atomic blasts to hit various parts of the garden.

"Oh no! Please, not the garden! Stop it, you maniac!"

As Alastor sprinted after Moxxie, his frustration boiled over.

"Moxxie! I can tolerate many things in my family, but cowardice is not one of them!" He shouted, dodging a flowerbed as he pursued his panicked nephew. Ahead, he spotted Moxxie flailing his arms, still convinced the harmless snake was a deadly threat.

Meanwhile, Charlie was hot on Vox's heels, her heart racing as she yelled,

"Vox, stop! You're ruining everything!"

She watched in horror as chaos unfolded in the garden, flowers and plants trampled underfoot as Vox continued his wild chase after the elusive rabbit.

In a moment of sheer chaos, Alastor and Charlie rounded a corner of the house simultaneously, their paths colliding unexpectedly. BAM! Alastor's forehead met Charlie's with a resounding thud.

"Owww!" They both exclaimed, hands instinctively flying to their temples.

"Oh, please excuse me, miss. I do beg your pardon." Alastor said with concerned decorum.

"Well I must say, what on earth? I- Oh dear! Did I hurt you?" Charlie replied, her eyes wide with surprise.

They stumbled back, shock etched on their faces.

"I'm so terribly sorry! I... I..."

Alastor caught a glimpse of her and nearly swooned. She was beautiful—most women of her class were attractive, but she was exceptionally lovely, with rosy cheeks and bright, expressive eyes. 

"Oh... Are you the animal control I called?" Charlie asked, not at all expecting him to be so good-looking.

"The who?" Alastor replied, momentarily flustered. "Oh! Yes! Ahem! You must be Miss Morningstar. It's a pleasure to be meeting you, my dear lady—quite a pleasure."

"Likewise, I'm sure." She said, smiling back at him. "Thank goodness you've come, I'm just about to kill over from stress."

"Just leave everything to me my dear."

Alastor straightened, shaking off the disorientation from their collision. He quickly set off to find Moxxie, dragging him back to the van where they awaited the arrival of the animals. Once a sizable group gathered, Alastor activated his device—a radio specifically engineered to transmit musical waves that would lull the creatures to sleep. Over the years, he had meticulously studied the brains and eardrums of various animals, determining which sounds they could perceive and what would captivate them. Using radio waves, he crafted those enticing sounds into a soothing melody.

As the soothing melodies filled the air, the chaos of the garden began to settle. Animals that had been scurrying and bounding around slowly calmed, their eyes drooping as they succumbed to the gentle lullaby.

"Alastor, it's actually working!" Moxxie exclaimed, a mix of relief and admiration in his voice.

"Of course it is! I told you my invention would impress." Alastor replied, a proud grin spreading across his face. "Now, help me get them into the cages before they wake up."

Charlie watched them in utter amazement. No guns, no bombs, no lasers—just the power of simple music, and not a single creature harmed.

"What a fabulous job you've done!" She exclaimed once all the animals were safely captured. "And what an incredible contraption! Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am." Alastor replied. "I work in the animal control department to pay the bills, but inventing is my true passion."

"I can see why! It must be fantastic to create such extraordinary things."

"You... you really like it?" He stammered, surprise lighting up his face.

"Absolutely! How did you ever come up with this?"

Alastor was wonderstruck. Aside from Moxxie, no one had ever shown such genuine interest in his inventions before.

"Well, it's a combination of animal behavior studies and sound wave technology." Alastor began, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "I've spent years researching how different frequencies affect various species. This device uses specific musical notes that resonate with their natural instincts, calming them and making them more manageable."

"Fascinating!" Charlie said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I had no idea you could use music in such a way. It's brilliant!"

"Thank you, my dear! I'm delighted you appreciate it. If you'd like, I could create one for your property. It would make pest management easier and enhance the ambiance of your beauty—uh, I mean, your garden's beauty! All these incredible gardens! You're just lovely—no, I mean, they're just lovely!"

Moxxie watched his uncle with curiosity. He had never seen him like this before: palms sweaty, a goofy grin plastered on his face, and an uncontrollable giggle escaping him.

"That's very kind of you to say, Mr...?" Charlie inquired.

"Devalcourt! Alastor Devalcourt, and this is my nephew, Moxxie."

"Well, that's very kind of you, Mr. Devalcourt, but I'm afraid this garden isn't very lovely right now. It hasn't been properly tended to in years. Thanks to your help with the animals, I can finally focus on fixing it up."

"In that case, why not talk to Mr. Goetia at the floral shop and Mrs. Reducto at the fresh market? They know more about gardening than anyone in town." Moxxie suggested.

"Thank you, I will! Tell me, are any of you interested in gardening?"

"I dabble," Moxxie replied.

"Gardening isn't really my cup of coffee, but I find the various species of plants and their growth fascinating." Alastor added. "Do you have any favorite plants?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Charlie exclaimed, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "I adore roses, especially heirloom varieties. Their rich colors and fragrances are stunning. I'm also quite fond of lavender; it adds a lovely touch to the garden and attracts pollinators. And I enjoy growing herbs—fresh basil, thyme, and rosemary are perfect for cooking!"

"I could help you design a layout that maximizes space and sunlight." Alastor offered.

"Really? That would be wonderful!" Charlie beamed. "I'd love to hear your ideas."

Just as Charlie and Alastor began discussing gardening plans, the tranquility of the moment was shattered by a shrill scream echoing from the other side of the garden.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Vox's voice pierced through the air, followed by a series of frantic scuffles. Before anyone could react, an acrid stench wafted through the garden, causing Charlie to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Ugh! What is that smell?"

"Please tell me it isn't what I think it is." Alastor groaned, his face paling.

Suddenly, Vox burst into view, his once immaculate suit now streaked with dirt and coated in a thick layer of dark spray. He flailed his arms wildly, attempting to wipe away the pungent substance that drenched him. Close behind, Striker followed, armed with his gun and an assortment of other weapons.

"I'm going to kill those little bastards!" Vox yelled, his voice a mix of fury and revulsion.

"Vox, stop messing around in the dirt and go home," Charlie said, gagging slightly. "Mr. Devalcourt and Moxxie can handle it from here."

At the mention of his name, Vox cringed and shot a death glare at Alastor.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Vox, is that really you? My, my, what a small world we live in." Alastor replied with a smirk.

"You two know each other?" Moxxie asked.

"Oh yes, where are my manners? This is Vox, my former classmate from university. He had such promising talent—until the school discovered he was stealing ideas from other students."

"That was never proven!" Vox snapped, his voice rising. "You lied to the deans!"

"Hardly. I caught you trying to steal my idea for a mechanical coffee maker—brews coffee quickly without the risk of overheating and causing an electrical fire. That's why I reported you. So, blame yourself for getting booted out of the university and now spending your days creating useless gadgets while using your stepbrother as a lab rat."

"I create useless gadgets?!" Vox bellowed. "You're still stuck in your bubble of outdated inventions while I'm out here pushing boundaries!"

"Pushing boundaries? More like pushing your luck, judging by the mess you've made here, Vox. But then again, you've always been the quantity over quality type."

Vox glanced at the caged animals in the van.

"The job's only half done. How do you plan to finish these vermin off? Crush them? Liquidate them? Blow them up?"

"They've chosen to be humane on my behalf." Charlie explained.

"Humane?!" Vox scoffed. "When did you turn soft, Alastor? Last I checked, you were the one catching frogs for dissection for our science class!"

He then turned to Moxxie.

"And who's this shrimp?"

"That's my nephew." Alastor replied.

"Oh, I can see the family resemblance. A couple of freaks: the mad scientist and his ugly little Igor."

"Hey!" Moxxie shouted indignantly.

Without warning, Striker yanked Moxxie up by his shirt, bringing his menacing face close to the boy's. Moxxie froze in fear; Striker's expression was so rigid and sadistic that a fly landed on his eye, and he killed it with a single blink.

"Let's see if you've got a hunchback, huh?" He taunted.

"Uncle Al!" Moxxie squeaked.

CLANG! Alastor swung a shovel, hitting Striker upside the head.

Striker stumbled back, releasing Moxxie, who collapsed to the ground in a heap.

"Vox, I think it would be best for everyone if you and your stepbrother left now." Charlie said firmly.

Vox glared at Alastor but then turned to Charlie, forcing a sweet smile.

"You're right, my gem. I shouldn't have to endure any further humiliation at the hands of these blundering fools."

With that, he stormed off, Striker trailing behind, rubbing the large lump forming on his head.

Chapter Text

A short while later, Alastor and Moxxie prepared to leave Morningstar Hall.

"And you're not going to hurt them, right?" Charlie asked. "Promise?"

"On my honor, or may I be shot in the head with my own rifle." Alastor replied.

"Thank you. I wish all animal situations could be handled humanely."

"Your compassion is admirable, my dear, but you must understand that sometimes animals must be dealt with lethally. While prey animals are usually harmless, they can be notorious gluttons and breed in vast numbers. If all the world's rabbits, mice, pigs, and gophers were allowed to repopulate unchecked, there would be no food left for anyone. Crops would be devastated, predators would struggle to hunt due to being outnumbered, and without meat or produce, we would starve. Especially here in Crescent City, one of the greatest food capitals in the world, where our economy relies heavily on harvesting, fishing, and butchering."

"I know. I'm not against it if it's absolutely necessary. People need to eat, and I'm not a vegetarian myself. However, it seems that nowadays, too many people hunt for sport. Did you know that Vox will kill a hundred animals and not eat a single one? He's a vegan."

"Hmph!" Alastor scoffed. "And those self-righteous eco-terrorists called me a barbarian."

"Well, they weren't exactly the brightest bunch, Uncle Al." Moxxie replied. "They tried to blow up our house with a fertilizer bomb instead of gunpowder."

"That's what happens when you get too close to nature—you turn into a vegetable."

"Vegetable?"

"Yeah, doctors say that when you don't have a working brain, you're a vegetable."

"Oh!"

Both men chuckled at the joke.

"Speaking of vegetables, will either of you be attending the Garden Gala this year?" Charlie asked.

"I will!" Moxxie replied enthusiastically. "And I'm entering one of the competitions!"

"Marvelous! What about you, Mr. Devalocurt?"

"Please, call me Alastor, my dear. While I'm no longer the competitive type, I believe attending such an event would be quite entertaining."

"I'm planning to enter a very special hybrid flower, combining lavender and rose. I'll call it the Belle Blossom, after my grandmother. I've been nurturing it in my greenhouse back in the Big Apple, but I know it will truly flourish here in the ground. I just need to get this place ready in time."

"We'd be happy to help with that, if you'd like." Alastor offered.

"Really?"

"Really?" Moxxie echoed, surprised. "But Alastor, you hate gardening—"

Alastor quickly placed a hand over Moxxie's mouth.

"I hate to see a project that someone has poured so much passion into fail. That is if I believe it's a worthy endeavor, like your Belle Blossom. Just call on us whenever you need assistance, and we'll even provide any supplies you might need."

"Oh, that's so kind of you! But surely you're much too busy to—" Charlie began.

"No, we're not! Not at all! Work has been slow lately, and when there's nothing to do, we just sit around at home."

"Well, if you insist, but if I need supplies, I'll just purchase them. Your assistance is more than enough. And thank you again for helping me with my pest control issue. If only there were a way to teach animals to eat wild vegetation in their habitats and leave our gardens and farms alone. But you can't teach them to go against their instincts."

She chuckled, and so did Alastor, until a spark of inspiration ignited in his mind.

"Or can you?" He said, turning to Moxxie.

Moxxie felt a knot tighten in his stomach, he knew that look. That expression usually meant he had a big idea—one that often led them into trouble. Why couldn't Alastor stick to the small, manageable ideas that dealt with everyday issues and posed no risk?

"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." Alastor declared when they returned home. "The ultimate solution to pest control: we'll use the Behavior Correction System to send subliminal messages to animals, convincing them to hate fruits, vegetables, and any form of human food. If we can get them to stick to a diet of grass and leaves, they'll never approach another garden or crop again."

"I'm not so sure about that, Alastor. Can you even transmit subliminal messages to animals?"

"We can, as long as we use the right frequency they can comprehend."

"But Alastor, those messages are in human language, which animals don't understand. It won't work, no matter the frequency."

"If human commands can influence a dog and if a parrot can mimic human words, then this should definitely work. Now, I need three animal test subjects—grab them from today's catch."

"But you promised Miss Morningstar you wouldn't hurt them."

"And I won't. I'm just going to conduct a few harmless tests on them." He replied. "Make sure to get three of different sizes. I want to ensure this works on any creature, regardless of size."

Moxxie didn't like it, but he knew trying to talk his uncle out of a big idea was as futile as teaching a house cat to swim in the Olympics. So, before releasing all the animals, he selected three to serve as his uncle's test subjects: a small swamp rabbit, a medium-sized American badger, and a large white-tailed deer. He placed the first two in cages and the last in a crate, provided them with food and water, and then drove off to relocate the other creatures.

He started in the woods and then moved to the bayou. Just as he released the last critter, he spotted Millie searching the reeds and creek for something. Even with green sludge on her hands and water dripping from her, he thought she looked stunning.

"Hi, Millie!" He called out.

"Moxxie!" She shrieked, clearly surprised. He was the last person she wanted to see in that moment. She quickly tried to clean herself off. "What a—what a nice surprise! What are you doing out here?"

"I'm letting loose our latest catch, and it was a big one. So big we got grand for it."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, now my uncle has all the money he needs to start his newest project. Oh boy." He said nervously. "What brings you out here? Fishing with your dad again?"

"No. I'm looking for a safe spot to keep my family's goats, Razzle and Dazzle. The farm has a major flea and tick infestation, and they're the only ones who haven't been infected. We need to keep them somewhere until the others are parasite-free."

"Why not just put them in a kennel?"

"They don't take goats—only cats and dogs. Besides, we're entering Razzle and Dazzle in the livestock show this year. They're our prized winners and need special care: regular grooming, plenty of exercise, and practice for their performance. I wanted to take time off work to keep them at my place, but Mimzy wouldn't give me the time. The bayou is the only place I could think of that might work, but it's full of bears and alligators. It's taking forever to find a safe spot."

"Well, how about I take them? My uncle and I keep animals all the time. We have plenty of food and space, and I can handle the grooming and exercise."

"You'd really do that for me?"

"Of course. Anything for you, Millie." He blushed slightly, and she did too.

"But what about your uncle?"

"Oh he won't mind."

Ten minutes later...

"I mind!" Alastor exclaimed. "I mind very much! I can't keep goats in my house!"

"They won't be in the house; they'll be in the cellar where you already keep plenty of animals, need I remind you."

"But those are for experiments, not to accommodate your not-so-secret crush on Millie. I'm sorry, Moxxie, but the answer is no."

"But I already told her I'd do it!"

"Well, that's your own fault. You shouldn't have offered without talking to me first."

"If I tell her I can't, she'll think I lied, and she'll never speak to me again. I'll lose my only chance at true love and die of loneliness!"

"Okay, you really need to stop reading those romance novels."

"Come on, Alastor, please! I never ask you for anything, and I always do what you say! I even agreed to be bait for that bear you were hunting once. Can't you do this one favor for me? Your favorite nephew!"

"You're my only nephew."

"Still, we're family, and you're all I have left. Everyone else in my life is either in jail or dead. I'm all alone, with only you to turn to—a poor, lost orphan boy doomed to never know the joys of love—"

"Alright, alright, enough with the dramatics! They can stay for one week. But if they cause any trouble, they're out! O-U-T, out!"

"Thank you, Uncle Al!" Moxxie beamed.

"Whatever. Just make sure to clean them regularly; goat hide is one of the worst smells in the world—right up there with skunk spray and Vox's breath."

Moxxie promptly headed to the cellar to tidy up and rearrange items, ensuring the goats would have ample space. The following day, while he and his uncle were in town, Moxxie eagerly purchased supplies to make the goats' stay as comfortable as possible.

He bought hay, grain, new grooming combs, tin tubs for bathing, special soap and shampoo, and even cozy pillows for them to rest on.

Meanwhile, Alastor stopped by Goetia's Garden to pick up some Midnight Lotuses. The nectar from those flowers contained a potent tranquilizer he used to sedate animals. Normally, he would find Stolas, the shop owner, at the register, but today a different man stood there, seemingly engrossed in a magazine about jewelry.

"Excuse me." Alastor said. "I'm Alastor Devalcourt, here to collect my order of Midnight Lotuses."

The man ignored him.

"Um... I don't want to be rude, but do you work here?"

Still no response; the man acted as if Alastor wasn't even there.

"Andrealphus!" Stolas's voice boomed as he stormed in. "We have a customer! He needs assistance!"

"And I want that new peacock egg diamond on display at the jewelry store, but we can't always get what we want!" Andrealphus snapped back.

Stolas grabbed a toilet brush from the closet and hurled it at him.

"Fine! You can clean the toilets, or maybe I'll just fire you and let your parole officer deal with you!"

With an angry squawk, Andrealphus strutted off toward the restrooms.

"Sorry about him, Alastor." Stolas said, shaking his head. "It's just in his nature to be a nuisance."

"Who's the new bird-brain?" Alastor asked.

"My ex-brother-in-law. He's an even bigger pain in my ass than my ex-wife. During my divorce, he tried to frame me for domestic and child abuse to ensure Stella would get my business, which I established after we split. Those accusations led to private investigators getting involved, and he was caught embezzling money. He avoided prison only by agreeing to work off his debt. No one else would hire him, so I couldn't resist the chance for a little revenge." Stolas giggled darkly.

"Ah, the satisfaction of watching someone reap what they sow." Alastor replied.

"Exactly! I've found more pleasure in this than anything in my marriage bed. Now, you're here for the Midnight Lotuses, right?"

"Yes, indeedy."

"Wait right here! They just came in."

Chapter Text

Vox seethed with rage as Alastor once again outshone him, making his equipment and methods appear incompetent and jeopardizing his chances of impressing Charlie. He had spotted her first. He called dibs. There was no way he would let that grinning lunatic one-up him this time.

"He's a curse, Striker! A scourge! A virus that needs to be deleted!" He ranted.

"Forgive me, my city-bred stepbrother." Striker replied, unfazed. "But this bizarre obsession you have with him isn't good for you. You're becoming what we in the West call... crazier than a run-over raccoon."

"Perhaps you forget that he's the one who cast me into poverty!"

"Oh please!" Striker rolled his eyes. "Not this again!"

"After I was expelled from the university, Mother cut me off. She said I had to find honest work! She said it was to teach me a lesson! That I was a liar and a cheat!"

"You are a liar and a cheat." Striker said.

"Law of the jungle, Striker! You do whatever it takes to survive! But I was punished for that! Betrayed, abandoned, forgotten!"

"Here it comes." Striker muttered.

"I had to live like a sewer rat! Enduring failure after failure! Lawsuit after lawsuit! Left with nothing!"

"You're gonna make me throw up."

"Meanwhile, he became successful and famous by smearing my good name!"

"Where's my pistol?"

"If he had just kept his mouth shut and accepted that I was better than him, I'd be on top of the world, baby! Top of the world!"

"Are you done? Because if you're not, I'm going to shoot myself in the head."

"We need to take care of him, Striker. With him around, I'll never sell anything. I want you to find out where he lives, break into his house, and loosen a few screws on his stuff if you know what I mean.”

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because I'm the one selling to the public. If I get caught, the business is finished."

"And if I get caught, I'll go to jail. My old man said I had to help you, but I'm not going to be your scapegoat."

"You won't get caught. Just learn their schedule and break in when they're not home. They'll never know you were there."

"What's in it for me?"

"If my scheme works, I'll give you a quarter of the profits."

"Make it half."

"No way! This is my product!"

"Product I've stolen from other companies so you can pass them off as your own. You have no original ideas and can't figure out how anything works! You don't build; you copy. You're the biggest fake I've ever met, and I once did a job for a politician."

"And your point is?"

"The point is, you wouldn't have a business without my help. I need a bigger paycheck, so it's either half the profits or you're on your own."

"Fine!" Vox relented.

For the next few days, Striker meticulously tracked Alastor and Moxxie, learning their routine inside and out. Meanwhile, Alastor and Moxxie remained blissfully unaware, too absorbed in their latest projects—Alastor focused on his invention and Moxxie tending to Razzle and Dazzle.

One sunny afternoon, while Moxxie groomed Razzle and Dazzle in the backyard, Alastor burst in with an announcement.

“I’ve finally perfected the programming for the behavior correction system! We can start testing it tonight!”

“Why tonight?” Moxxie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s the last night of the full moon, and only the lunar energy from a full moon is strong enough to power the machine. If we miss this opportunity, we’ll have to wait 39.5 days to test it.”

“Maybe we should wait that long. It would give us time to ensure every precaution is in place.”

“It is! The wires are insulated to prevent electrical damage, we’re using lunar energy instead of solar, and I’ve installed the divider chip in the computer to differentiate between mental suggestions and DNA changes. We’re ready to go.”

“That’s what you said before you tested a growth hormone on our neighbor’s iguana and turned him into Godzilla. We can’t afford any more accidents, especially after what happened with the Reductos. Let’s wait until we’re absolutely sure. How about we take some time to double-check everything and revisit this next month?”

Alastor sighed, his excitement waning but not extinguished.

“Well, I’d rather not deal with another round of complaints. I suppose we can delay testing this time.”

“Great! Now, why don’t we head into town for some fresh straw for Razzle and Dazzle? And while we’re out, let’s treat ourselves to a meal. It’s been a long time since we did that.”

“You know what? That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

As they made their way into town, they were greeted by the sounds of bustling streets and the cheerful chatter of townsfolk. Alastor and Moxxie were in the midst of discussing where to eat when they turned a corner and saw a crowd gathered around Vox, who was standing on a makeshift platform with a megaphone in hand.

“Step right up, folks! For those who are tired of the usual inefficiencies of animal control, I present to you the best solution on the market: the Voxinator 3000!” Vox boomed, his voice echoing through the street.

Moxxie and Alastor exchanged uneasy glances as they pushed closer to the crowd. Angel, Vaggie, Blitzo, Baxter, Niffty, and Stolas were all present, captivated by Vox’s persuasive pitch.

“Say goodbye to the days of fumbling with ineffective traps and messy clean-ups!” Vox continued, gesturing dramatically to his equipment. “With the Voxinator, you’ll have a cleaner, faster, and quieter solution to any pest problem! You’ll never have to worry about pesky raccoons or troublesome deer again! I guarantee it!”

“Oh, he can’t be serious.” Moxxie said.

“Tired of waiting for two goons to get out of bed, giving those pests a better chance to escape? Sick of being woken up in the middle of the night by noisy animal control specialists? With my security systems, you won’t even need animal control!”

Alastor’s jaw tightened as he listened.

“I’ve heard all your complaints about Mr. Devalcourt’s bothersome devices and the property damage you’ve suffered! Now, I offer you an instant fix to him! Oops! I meant fix to it!”

Moxxie glanced at Vaggie, Angel, and Blitzo.

“Seriously, guys?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Vaggie replied.

“I’ve never even seen this guy before.” Angel added.

“I might have mentioned a few things,” Blitzo said. “But it’s not like I was wrong to complain.”

“You’re not actually going to buy from this loser, are you?” Moxxie asked.

“It’s nothing personal, Moxxie, but this time of year, pests are at an all-time high. I’ve got mosquitoes and gulls where I fish.” Vaggie explained. “Do you know how bad they are for fish? They spread disease like wildfire.”

“And it’s coyote season, and pigs are a coyote’s favorite snack.” Angel chimed in. “Every time I take Fat Nuggets for a walk, I can feel them licking their chops.”

“We love you and your uncle, Mr. Knolastname, but with the garden gala coming up, we have to take extreme precautions for the competition.” Niffty said. “I’m growing the world’s biggest tomato, and it has to be protected.”

“Well, what do you two need it for?” Moxxie asked Stolas and Blitzo. “You keep your plants inside, and Blitzo, you don’t even grow anything.”

“We need it to keep my ex-wife away.” Stolas said.

“I swear! Last night, I saw her at the window with a knife!” Blitzo exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, yes, the Voxinator 3000 can help with all those problems.” Vox said. “You’ll never need Alastor again! Oops, I meant you’ll never need anything else again.”

Vox flashed Alastor a taunting smirk, and that was the final straw. Alastor was still smiling, but his face turned blood red, and Moxxie could have sworn he saw smoke coming out of his ears.

He turned sharply and headed back to the house, with Moxxie sprinting ahead to quickly lock the lab door.

“Give me the key, Moxxie.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Hand it over!”

“No! We agreed that—”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind! Now give me the key!”

“But you told me never to let you experiment when you’re in an extremely emotional state.”

“I’m perfectly in control of my emotions and relying solely on reason.”

“Then why is your face blood red, and why can I see your vein about to pop?”

“Give me that key, or so help me, I’ll turn those two goats into sausage meat!”

“You’re bluffing!”

“Do you really want to take that risk?” He snarled, between his clenched teeth.

“No.” Moxxie squeaked.

He dropped the key into Alastor’s hand. Alastor unlocked the door and descended the stairs, where two chambers awaited—one connected to a computer, the other to lunar panels. He then entered the cellar, unlocked the crate containing the deer, and dragged it into the second chamber.

“Please don’t do this! Please!” Moxxie pleaded. “I don’t want to sweep up your flesh and bones!“

“Everything will be fine, Moxxie.” Alastor replied, typing rapidly on the keyboard.

“Oh, you’re gonna kill yourself! I just know it!”

“No, I’m going to enter the first chamber, turn on some music, and calmly instruct the deer to eat only grass, leaves, bark, and roots. The radio waves will blend my voice with the music and transmit it into the deer’s brain. Now hurry and open the skylight; the moon is rising. Then pull the switch.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Moxxie asked, his voice trembling.

“Trust me! I’ve perfected the programming!” Alastor insisted, fingers flying over the keys. “This will revolutionize animal behavior!”

Alastor stepped into the first chamber and shut the door. With a resigned sigh, Moxxie opened the skylight, allowing the moonlight to flood in. He then pulled the switch, and the machinery whirred to life, lights blinking as the system powered up. Music played, accompanied by a faint radio buzz.

Moxxie waited with bated breath, scanning the lab and the machine for any signs of trouble. Everything seemed fine. Perhaps one of his uncle’s grand ideas would actually succeed this time.

As the machine hummed and the music filled the lab, Moxxie felt a mix of hope and dread. Alastor's voice echoed through the chamber, calm and authoritative, issuing commands to the deer.

“Eat only grass, leaves, bark, and roots.” Alastor instructed. The deer stood still, seemingly entranced. “Stay away from gardens, farms, and any fruit or vegetable.”

Suddenly, the lights on the machine flickered, sparks flew from the wires, and an unseen force seized Alastor, shaking him violently.

“Alastor!” Moxxie gasped. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Switch it off!” Alastor shouted. “Switch it off! Switch it off!”

Moxxie yanked the switch down, but the machine continued to shake uncontrollably. Panicked, he grabbed a sledgehammer and smashed open the first chamber, pulling Alastor out just as massive bolts of electricity erupted, crackling through the air.

“Duck and cover!” Alastor yelled, grabbing Moxxie and diving behind a protective screen.

BOOM! CRASH! ZAP! SMASH! It felt like a scientific war zone. Finally, with a resounding WHAM, it stopped.

Cautiously, Alastor and Moxxie lifted their heads from behind the screen. The lab lay in disarray, smoke curling from the wreckage of the machine, and a gaping hole blasted into the wall.

“Is it over?” Moxxie asked, his voice shaky.

Alastor, still catching his breath, surveyed the chaos.

“I… I think so.” He said, brushing himself off. “How on earth did that happen? The rubber on the wires should have prevented that.”

“Where’s the deer?”

“It must have escaped through that hole when the chamber broke. Check the cellar to see if anything else got loose.”

“Sure, but are you okay?”

“I’m fine. A little electric shock never hurt anyone.”

“Are you sure? Your face is still red.”

“It’s just pressure. It’ll fade once I calm down. I should call Officer Pentious and let him know that explosion was just us again.”

Alastor went upstairs to make the phone call, while Moxxie approached the hole in the wall. There, he spotted the stag standing at a distance. The creature twitched slightly before darting off into the night.

Chapter Text

Moxxie went to bed that night, anxious that Alastor might attempt to fix that dangerous machine and risk injuring himself again during testing. When would he realize that even geniuses have their limits?

The next morning, as anticipated, Moxxie found Alastor already in the lab. However, to his surprise, Alastor wasn't working on anything. He sat there, shoulders slumped, gazing at the pages of his idea book, a deep sense of disappointment hidden within his smile.

"Hey, are you working on something new?" Moxxie asked.

"No, I'm just looking on all my ideas and thinking and realizing that I'm wasting my time, Moxxie. This dream of becoming an inventor was stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm done, Moxxie. Done inventing. All it's done is blow up in my face or get me into trouble with people who don't appreciate it. I was so convinced that if I could just get the Behavior Correction System right, everyone would finally see my worth, and we could move up in the world. But it was a failure, just like everything else. My days as an inventor are officially over."

"Don't say that." Moxxie handed him a mug of hot black coffee brewed by one of his devices. "Alastor, you love inventing; it's part of who you are."

"The part of me that no one likes."

"I've always liked that part. Come on, you've created some incredible inventions that really help around here. It's just that sometimes you push the limits too far. Trying to manipulate an animal's mentality and override their instincts is a bit much. You just need to focus on something simple but helpful."

"No, Moxxie, I'm done. I'm done with failures, complaints, and humiliation. I'm burning this idea book and turning my lab into a storage unit."

"Why not take a break from inventing for a while? Give that brilliant mind of yours a rest and try a different hobby. When you're feeling better, you can either close up shop or try again with something new."

"New hobby? Like what? Stamp collecting?" He said, clearly uninterested.

"How about cooking? You used to love that. We could make something special today—one of your mom's recipes."

"Hmmm... Yeah, I'd like to do that."

They headed upstairs to the kitchen, where Moxxie pulled out the recipe box that belonged to Alastor's mother and began skimming through the cards.

"So, what are you craving? Duck Breasts à la Gasconne? Crawfish Étouffée? Buttered sausage biscuits?"

"Honestly, all three."

"All three? That's a lot of food for just two people."

"Well, you said I needed to eat more, so I might as well start now that I've put my inventing on hold."

"Good point."

After showering and getting dressed, Moxxie and Alastor headed into town to gather ingredients. Their first stop was Husk's butchery, where they intended to buy duck and sausage. Typically, Husk could be found carving fresh cuts, but today he was preoccupied with experimenting on a new sauce for his rib roast. As Moxxie and Alastor entered, the rich aroma of meat and spices enveloped them. Husk, wearing an apron splattered with various sauces, looked up from his work, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hey, you two! What brings you here?" Husk asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

"I need an order of your duck and sausage, Husker." Alastor replied.

"Sure thing! How much do you need?" Husk set aside his sauce to focus on their request.

"Let's go with two duck breasts and a pound of your best sausage."

"Got it. Coming right up!" Husk moved to the back of the shop, rummaging through the coolers before returning with the requested items, expertly wrapping them in butcher paper. "So, did you hear what happened at the Goetia place last night?"

"Oh? What did I miss?" Alastor asked.

"Somebody broke in and completely trashed the place."

"Was anyone hurt?" Moxxie inquired.

"No, and nothing was stolen. They just vandalized everything."

"Did anyone see who it was?" Alastor asked.

"No. Stolas was out that night picking up his daughter from a sleepover after one several of the girls came down with a bug."

Rumors said that before Husk became a butcher, he served as an informant for the police on loan sharks and illegal gambling operations. He could sniff out crime and corruption long before the press caught a whiff of it. Rumors also suggested that he became a police informant after they promised to protect him from the notorious loan shark Frank Cardell whom Husk had not only borrowed money from, but also had an affair with his wife, a.k.a Rosie. Neither party had ever confirmed or denied these allegations.

"Who would want to do something like that to Stolas?” Moxxie wondered.

"His psycho ex-wife, that's who." Alastor replied. “Remember that time we caught her ranting at him in the street? She said she was going to rip out his eyes and shove them down his throat so he could see her hands tear his groin off.”

Moxxie shuddered at the memory.

"From what I hear, she had an alibi." Husk said. "And she wears Prada pumps, so if she was there, the cops would have found heel prints. But there were no footprints at all."

"None?" Moxxie asked, surprised.

"None. No footprints, no fingerprints."

"That's odd." Moxxie said. "I mean, if he wore gloves, that would explain the lack of fingerprints, but no footprints? How is that even possible?"

"Could it have been an animal that had gotten in?" Alastor suggested.

"Again there were no foot prints. Not no shoe prints, but no footprints." Husk said.

Moxxie frowned, trying to piece together the mystery.

"So, someone just waltzed in and out without leaving a trace?"

"Apparently."

"Strange." Alastor said. "Very strange."

After wrapping up their conversation with Husk, Moxxie and Alastor thanked him for the meat and headed to the local market to gather the remaining ingredients. They picked up fresh vegetables, spices, flour, eggs, butter, yeast, crawfish, and a few other essentials.  Once they had everything they needed, they made their way back home.

"Alright, let's get started!" Moxxie said, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter.

But as he opened the fridge, his excitement quickly turned to confusion.

"Uh, Alastor? Where's all the food?"

Alastor peered over his shoulder, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... it's all gone! The fridge is empty, and there's nothing in the pantry either!" Moxxie exclaimed, rummaging through the shelves in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" Alastor went to the fridge, opening it wide to confirm Moxxie's claim. "What the- It was fully stocked this morning."

Just then, Moxxie noticed a glimmer of something sticky on the floor. He knelt down, inspecting the trail.

"Is that... jam?" He asked, pointing to the bright red smear leading away from the fridge.

Following the trail, they cautiously navigated the kitchen, the sticky residue guiding them toward the cellar door. Moxxie hesitated, glancing back at Alastor.

"Should we check it out?" He asked.

"Only one way to find out." Alastor replied, swiftly grabbing his rifle while Moxxie armed himself with a gutting knife.

They opened the cellar door and crept inside, poised for action. As they moved down the hall, weaving past crates and cages, they reached the end—and the sight that greeted them was nothing short of shocking. Razzle and Dazzle stood upright, their fur a striking shade of red, long black horns spiraling from their heads. Their yellow eyes, with red irises, glinted mischievously as they munched on remnants from the pantry.

"What the hell is that?" Alastor exclaimed.

"Oh my God! I think those are Millie's goats!" Moxxie gasped.

"What? Moxxie, correct me if I'm wrong, but last I checked, those two had white fur, couldn't escape their crate, and definitely couldn't walk on two legs! What the devil is going on here?!"

"I—I don't know! I really don't!" Moxxie stammered. "Oh shit! Millie's going to kill me for this!"

"Well, I won't have any burglars or thieves under my roof! Moxxie, get them out of here!"

"Are you nuts? These belong to Millie's family! She trusted me with them! We can't just turn them loose! What if the government finds them and locks them up for experiments? Or worse, puts them in circuses and theme parks?"

"I told you that if they cause any trouble—"

"But this isn't their fault! In fact, I think it might be ours."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I didn't mention it earlier, but when you took that deer out of its crate, you left the cellar door open. I think I saw the voltage from the machine bounce in there. It must have hit the goats and mutated them somehow."

Alastor's hand flew to his face in frustration. He realized he had forgotten to close something before using the machine.

"Terrific." He muttered. "It's bad enough my invention didn't work, but now I'm stuck with two mutant goats."

"Poor little things." Moxxie said, kneeling to pet them. "You must be so scared and confused. Don't worry; I'll take care of you, and Uncle Al will fix you up."

"I better find a way to fix them." Alastor said. "Because if anyone finds out we did this, we'll be sharing a rubber room for good."

As Moxxie gently stroked the goats to calm them, Alastor paced, clearly agitated.

"Start grooming them and while you're at it get me a sample of their fur and maybe their salvia so I can figure out what exactly we're dealing with here."

Moxxie nodded, quickly gathering supplies to groom the goats while Alastor began jotting down notes. The goats, still munching on remnants of their pantry raid, seemed oblivious to the chaos they had caused.

Chapter Text

Moxxie took excellent care of the goats. He gave them a warm bubble bath, carefully shampooing and conditioning their fur to remove all the jam. Afterward, he dressed them in cozy sweaters and prepared a delightful meal of vegetables, fruit, and scones.

"Look, Alastor! Matching sweaters!" Moxxie beamed. "Aren't they adorable?"

"Moxxie, just put them in their crate."

"I don't think that will help much. They can climb the gate, remember? I'm also curious how they manage that without thumbs."

"Then keep them out of my hair and out of sight. I need to focus... after I eat. One can't reverse a mutation on an empty stomach. I'll start dinner; you just watch them."

"Yes, sir." Moxxie saluted before turning his attention back to the goats. "So, Millie mentioned you guys are performers. What exactly do you do?"

The two goats exchanged glances before nodding in unison and heading upstairs.

"Hey! Come back! You can't be up there!" Moxxie shouted, chasing after them.

They made their way to the piano that Alastor kept in the living room and began to play a duet. Moxxie watched in astonishment as the goats effortlessly produced beautiful music. No wonder they were so valuable to Millie's family; they had genuine musical talent.

"Alastor! Get in here! You won't believe your eyes!"

Alastor entered the room, his expression mirroring Moxxie's amazement.

"Well, I'll be damned."

"I wonder if they take requests." Moxxie mused. "Maybe we could have dinner and a show tonight, huh?"

"No, take them back downstairs before someone walks by our window and sees this."

"Oh, you're no fun." Moxxie pouted.

Alastor returned to the kitchen, immersed in preparing tonight's meal. He broiled crawfish, boiled rice, pan fried sausage, seasoned duck breasts, and mixed biscuit dough, each task filling the air with tantalizing aromas. The delightful scents wafting from the stove made his mouth water, reminding him of the joy he once found in cooking. He realized just how much he loved the process of creating and savoring good food. Moxxie was right; he definitely needed to eat more.

A short while later, his nose picked up a new scent—a blend of corn husk, wood chips, and lilac perfume. Moxxie's favorite fragrance on a woman.

"Millie must be coming by." He murmured absentmindedly. Then it struck him. "Oh no! Millie's coming!"

Before he could gather his thoughts, the doorbell chimed. Alastor hurriedly shut the lab door and locked it before answering.

"Millie!" He exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. "What a delightful surprise! What brings you here?"

"Sorry to intrude, Mr. Devalcourt, but I wanted to check on Razzle and Dazzle."

"Oh, they're perfectly fine! Moxxie is taking marvelous care of them—yes, yes, yes! They couldn't be in better hands!"

"Great! I just knew Moxxie was the right choice! Let me go see them."

"No! You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because... they're... they're asleep! You wouldn't want to disturb them, would you?"

"I'll just take a quick peek then." She insisted, stepping into the house.

"No! Wait! Uh... uh..." He scrambled for a distraction. What could make her forget about the goats for the night? "How about joining Moxxie for dinner?"

She halted, surprise etched on her face.

"Dinner? With him?"

"Yes! I've taken up cooking as a hobby, and I've prepared a three-course meal to show my appreciation for all the help he's given me. I'm sure he'd love to dine with you... alone."

Millie's cheeks blushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Okay!" She said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I'd love to—oh wait! I need to get ready! Excuse me! I'll be back in an hour!"

Alastor watched as Millie dashed out the door before heading back to the lab.

"Quick, Moxxie! Change your clothes and fix your hair! Millie's staying for dinner!"

"What?! What do you mean?" Moxxie's face went pale.

"She came to check on the goats and wouldn't leave until she saw them, so I improvised. I told her you wanted to have dinner with her alone."

"You did what?!" Moxxie cried, panic rising in his voice.

"What's the problem? You've always wanted to go on a date with her."

"Yeah, but I'm not ready! What do I say? What do I do? What do I wear?"

"Just keep her from thinking about those goats, or you'll find yourself wearing a straitjacket!"

Moxxie took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Okay, okay, I can do this. Just... dinner, right? How hard can it be?"

Moxxie rushed to the bathroom, quickly fixing his hair and changing into a nicer shirt. He glanced at himself in the mirror, trying to muster confidence. In other situation, this would be a dream come true for him. A date. A romantic dinner date with the girl of his dreams. Oh why did it have to happen when they were trying to hide the fact that they had mutated her family's animals?

As he stepped out of the bathroom, he found Alastor setting the table with an air of urgency.

"Remember, Moxxie, charm her, keep the conversation flowing, and whatever you do, don't mention the goats!" Alastor instructed, his eyes darting toward the lab door.

"Got it!" Moxxie replied, forcing a smile. "Just dinner. I can do this."

When Millie returned, her hair was perfectly styled, and she wore a lovely black-lace dress that made her look radiant. Moxxie's heart raced as he led her to the dining area, where the table was adorned with candles and the delicious aroma of Alastor's cooking filled the air.

"Wow, Moxxie! This looks amazing!" Millie exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight.

"Uh, thanks! Alastor helped with the cooking." He admitted, feeling a bit sheepish.

He pulled out a chair for her, and she smiled before sitting down.

"I can't believe you want to share a special dinner with me of all people." She said.

"Why not?" He replied, puzzled.

"Don't you have so many other, prettier girls after you?"

Alastor could hear them from downstairs and he nearly burst out laughing. Just like his uncle, Moxxie struggled to attract women. Most preferred big, muscular men, not short guys like Moxxie or skinny ones like Alastor. Mimzy was the only exception, but she was crazy—she once made out with the mailman right in front of his wife.

"Prettier?" Moxxie squeaked. "Who could be prettier than you?"

He felt his cheeks flush, his hands trembling.

Millie smiled, her own cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"You're sweet, Moxxie. Really."

He fumbled with the utensils, trying to regain his composure.

"So, uh, how's the family?"

"Fine. Just fine."

"Is Sallie-May doing well in Kentucky? I heard she's aiming to be queen of the rodeo this year."

"That's her hope. I really miss her; I wish she would visit more often."

"Well, if she does come by, make sure to keep her away from Alastor. Otherwise, he'll start lecturing her about logic, science, and biology, if you catch my drift."

Millie laughed.

"I always find it hilarious when he gets confused and frustrated by things like that."

"You should see his reactions to Comic Cons and role-playing games. He thinks everyone involved is a delusional lunatic who needs therapy."

"What about the supernatural? What's his take on that?"

"That's a tricky subject. I'm Catholic, and he's Baptist, but he insists that aliens, witches, wiccans, vampires, werewolves, spirits, and ghosts are just superstitious nonsense."

"And what do you think?"

"I believe anything is possible until proven otherwise—unless it lands my uncle in the hospital."

"Yeah, I heard about that explosion around here. What was that all about?"

"Just another one of his crazy inventions. One I hope he never attempts to build again."

"You really do worry about him a lot. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Sure. Who wouldn't? The man is a walking disaster."

Alastor snarled.

"If I'm a walking disaster, then you're just an irritation in human form, you pest." He thought.

"You know, when I was in school, he helped me grow a Venus flytrap. It ended up growing to the size of a tree." Moxxie said.

"You're kidding!" Millie exclaimed.

"No, I'm not! A SWAT team had to come and take it down. The school board even issued a restraining order against him, and some parents tried to get social services involved to take me away from him."

"Now that's something I've heard plenty of people gossip about. They always say it's a miracle you're still alive or that you should've been put in foster care."

"They just don't know him like I do. Don't get me wrong, he's nuts, but that guy practically raised me. He was my age when my mom died, fresh out of college, and he took me in to keep me out of the looney bin. He taught me how to read, ride a bike, cook, and drive. He would've taught me how to shave if I could grow any hair on my chin. I mean, we couldn't be more different, and we don't always get along. He jokes that he'd trade me for a pound of veal, but I know he'd do anything for me."

"It sounds like you two have a really special bond, despite all the chaos."

"Yeah, that's why I worry about him so much. I don't want to lose him like I lost my mom. He's all I've got."

Alastor's annoyance faded as he listened to Moxxie's heartfelt words. He had never realized how much he meant to Moxxie. Suddenly, his moment of warmth was interrupted when Razzle and Dazzle tore a chunk from his pants and began to chew on it.

"Hey, give over!" Alastor exclaimed, shoving them away. "Shoo! Shoo! Go on, with ya! Back in the crate, or I'll make goat chops out of you both!"

Chapter Text

That very night, a local jewelry store unveiled its latest collection. The display featured exquisite gold and diamond necklaces, silver and ruby bracelets, and matching earrings, alongside opulent gold and diamond rings. Among the offerings was one of their most expensive pieces, rumored to be worth a small fortune. Inside the closed store, Officer Pentious had been asked to fill in for the usual security guard who protected the jewels. He paced back and forth, his eyes scanning the room. He had worked this job for years, and nothing had ever happened—until tonight.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy with an unsettling stillness. Pentious's instincts kicked in, and he felt a chill run down his spine. He turned toward the entrance just as the lights flickered ominously.

Without warning, the door burst open, and a figure emerged—a grotesque jester-like robot, its body a patchwork of rusted metal and vibrant colors. Its face was a twisted mask of laughter, with sharp teeth glinting in the light. The robot's limbs moved with an unnatural grace, a stark contrast to its menacing appearance.

"Surprise!" It cackled, its voice a distorted blend of mirth and malice.

Officer Pentious barely had time to react before the robot lunged at him, its mechanical fists swinging with brutal force. The guard stumbled back, trying to reach for his radio, but the robot was too fast. It landed a devastating blow to his gut, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Time for a little fun!" The robot taunted, its laughter echoing off the walls as it pounced on Pentious, delivering a flurry of punches that left him gasping for breath. The guard fought back, swinging his arms wildly, but the robot was relentless, its movements precise and calculated.

With each strike, Pentious felt his strength wane. He could hear the distant sound of sirens, but they felt like a world away. The robot's laughter filled his ears as it continued its assault, each hit pushing him closer to unconsciousness.

Finally, with a final, brutal kick, the robot sent the poor man sprawling across the floor, his vision blurring. It stood over him, its eyes glowing with a sinister light, before turning its attention to the display case.

"Now, let's see what treasures await!" It exclaimed, its voice dripping with glee.

In a matter of seconds, the robot smashed through the glass, shards flying everywhere as it scooped up the entire collection of jewelry—necklaces, bracelets, rings—all vanished into its metallic grasp.

With the haul secured, the robot paused, glancing back at the incapacitated guard.

"Thanks for the warm welcome!" It jeered before darting out the door, disappearing into the night.

As the sirens grew louder, Officer Pentious lay on the floor, battered and bruised, struggling to regain his senses. He knew this was just the beginning. The city was under siege by this horrific jester-like robot, and it wouldn't stop at just jewelry stores.

Over the next few nights, reports flooded in. The robot struck again and again, moving from store to store, and even breaking into homes, leaving chaos in its wake. Families awoke to find their valuables gone, their lives turned upside down by the relentless thief.

Each time, the same pattern emerged: a brutal attack on anyone who dared to stand in its way, followed by the swift theft of precious items.

One morning around this time, Charlie went down to the harbor to buy fresh salmon for dinner when she stumbled upon Vaggie in Angel's arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, while Angel, bruised and bandaged, held her tightly.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, concern etched on her face. "Are you two alright?"

Vaggie's tear-filled eyes met Charlie's.

"It stole my grandmother's brooch... It's gone!" She choked on her words, her voice trembling. "It was an antique, passed down through generations—marcasites and amethysts. It was the only thing I had left of her!"

"Who stole it?"

"That thing! That robot! It came out of nowhere, ransacked our entire apartment, and took the brooch!"

"I tried to stop him, but he's a maniac! He beat my face so bad; I had to schedule an appointment for reconstructive surgery." Angel added.

"Oh, that's awful!"

"And it wasn't just us." Angel continued. "It took Baxter's solid gold watch, the crystal Stolas gave Blitzo, even Husk and Rosie's wedding rings. The only ones who haven't been hit are you, the Goetias, and Alastor and Moxxie—though the last two don't have any jewelry."

"What about those sapphire and pearl earrings that belonged to Moxxie's mother? And that antique gold locket with the garnet stones from Alastor's mother?" Vaggie interjected.

"Oh, I forgot about those! They might be next on the list."

"Oh dear, I better warn them!" Charlie exclaimed. "In the meantime, why don't you stay with me until your place gets fixed?"

"That's kind of you, hon, but we couldn't impose." Vaggie replied.

"Besides, you're probably next on the list too." Angel pointed out. "Next to the Goetias, you're the richest person in town. You've got tons of jewelry, I bet."

"Yes, but the thief will never get in to steal it—not with Vortex on the job. He's not only a fantastic butler; he's also served as a soldier in two wars and worked as a bodyguard for two famous singers."

"Really? How did he end up working for you?"

"Well, he started dating one of his clients, and she thought it wouldn't be right for him to work for her. They came to an agreement: they would date, he would work elsewhere, and she would take military-style self-defense classes."

"No offense but I don't think even the U.S army could take on this abomination of technology." Vaggie said.

Charlie just chuckled.

"Clearly you've never seen Vortex in action. Trust me, nothing is getting past him. We'll be perfectly safe and there's plenty of room in my house. I have like ten bedrooms in there."

"Alright, if you insist." Vaggie said. "Just give us a few hours to pack our bags."

"Good. Call me when you're ready and I'll send Vortex over to pick you up."

Meanwhile, Alastor was studying the DNA of Razzle and Dazzle to understand the effects of the machine's blast. The results revealed that the machine had infused a small amount of Alastor's human intelligence into their brains. However, since it was only a minor dose, they acquired his intelligence without any trace of his personality or DNA.

"So if all they have is human intelligence, maybe it's not that bad." Moxxie said.

"Not that bad? My dear, naive nephew, an animal with human intelligence is a dangerous threat. There's a reason God endowed animals with advanced senses and humans with higher intelligence—it's to maintain balance between the two dominant species. We humans may have inferior senses, which is a significant disadvantage, but our superior intelligence gives us an edge over animals. Conversely, animals lack intelligence, but their heightened senses help them survive. Neither is inherently more powerful than the other, which prevents chaos. However, if an animal were to gain human intelligence, or if a human were to possess animal senses, we'd create a being without limitations—impossible to control or defeat. In other words, an unstoppable monstrosity."

Moxxie glanced at Razzle and Dazzle, who were playfully juggling the toy balls Millie had given them.

"Wow, I'm so scared." He said sarcastically.

"Don't mock me! It's the truth!"

"I'm sure that's true in many cases, but doesn't human intelligence come with the ability to make choices? If they choose to be peaceful and friendly, what's the harm?"

"The harm is that they still have animal instincts. And as I recall, you mentioned it's impossible for animals to overcome their instincts."

"That's different. You were trying to change wild animals; these are domesticated. They can be trained, but not through your invention—with love and care."

"Moxxie, this is not some puppy that pees on the floor; they're two mutated goats. The key word is 'mutated.' We don't know what they're capable of. And if they can't be cured, I'm afraid they'll have to be destroyed."

"Destroyed?! No! Absolutely not! Never!"

"I don't like it either, but Moxxie, we could end up in a psychiatric ward or even in jail for illegal experimentation, even if it was accidental."

"So we train them to behave like regular goats. They can hide in plain sight. No one will ever know."

"That would never work."

"Alastor, you promised me you wouldn't kill anything again unless it was necessary."

"This is necessary! To protect ourselves! Do you want to spend the rest of your life drugged and locked up?"

"Can't you just give me a chance to train them? Please! Just one chance!"

Alastor sighed, rubbing his temples, knowing he was likely going to regret this decision.

"Alright! You get one chance to train them—just one!"

"Thanks, Uncle Al!" Moxxie exclaimed, wrapping his arms around him. "You're the best!"

Alastor needed a drink—something to eat wouldn't hurt either. He headed upstairs, poured himself a shot of whiskey, and prepared three sandwiches for lunch: turkey, ham, and venison.

He had devoured all three when a new scent wafted into his awareness. It was the unmistakable aroma of lavender, drawing closer.

Ding-Dong!

He rushed to answer the door, his heart racing as he opened it to find Charlie standing on the other side.

"Miss Morningstar!" He exclaimed, startled. "Wha—what are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you, or that I'm overly excited like some creep, or... uh..."

"Is this a bad time?" She asked.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean... Can I help you?"

"Actually, I'm here to help you. May I come in?"

"Of course." He replied, stepping aside to let her in. "Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?"

"Tea would be lovely." She said with a smile.

He prepared two cups, and they settled into the main room.

"So, what's this about?" He asked, handing her a cup.

"Well, you're going to find this hard to believe, and I can scarcely believe it myself. It sounds so ridiculous."

"What is it?"

"There's a robot running around town, breaking into stores and houses to steal jewelry."

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'robot'?"

"Yes."

Alastor chuckled.

"Forgive my laughter, my dear, but what on earth would a robot want with jewelry?"

"I don't know, but I've asked around, and everyone swears it was a robot—metal parts and all."

"But that makes no sense. Robots have no need for jewels, money, or income at all."

"Whatever it is, it seems to target anyone with jewelry. I found out that both you and Moxxie have very special and valuable keepsakes. I just wanted to warn you."

"Well, that's awfully considerate of you." He said, flattered. "But shouldn't you be more concerned about your own jewels? A lady of your status and quality would surely be at a greater risk than us."

"I'm more worried that you two might get hurt. This thief is extremely violent—he put Officer Pentious in the hospital and broke Blitzo's arm trying to get his crystal. It's so dangerous that Stolas is tempted to send Octavia to live with her mother until this thing is caught. So please, be careful."

"Thank you for the warning, Charlie." Alastor replied, his expression shifting to one of concern. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I assure you, we can handle ourselves. Besides, this thief will never find our jewels; I keep them, along with our life savings, in a safe hidden beneath the house."

"You buried it?"

"Nope. I placed it in one of our floors, and only Moxxie and I know how to find and open it. The key is a special tune we made up—no one else knows it."

"That's so clever! I should try something like that."

"And I sleep with a rifle while he keeps a knife close. No man or robot is immune to a bullet or a blade." He reached for his mug of coffee, pausing before taking a sip. "Although I'm convinced this isn't a robot, just some common thief in a costume trying to scare people."

"Well, the victims did say it was dressed like a jester."

Suddenly, Alastor sat up straight, spitting coffee from his mouth.

"Alastor, are you alright?" Charlie asked, concerned.

"Jester?" he choked. "It was dressed like a jester?"

"Yes."

Alastor's mind raced as he processed the information. The jester-like appearance of the thief struck a chord deep within him, igniting a flicker of recognition.

"Please excuse me, my dear. I need to see to something immediately. I'll call you to explain later."

Alastor politely escorted Charlie to her car, his mind racing with the implications of her revelation. After ensuring she was safely inside, he waved goodbye, then turned on his heel and sprinted back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh no." He muttered to himself, urgency flooding his veins. He dashed down the stairs into his lab, his heart pounding with dread. "Oh no, no, no, no."

He reached the storage area where he kept all his failed inventions, a cluttered space filled with half-finished projects and discarded prototypes. Panic surged as he scanned the area, his eyes widening in horror.

Robo Fizz was gone.

Chapter Text

"It's alive?!” Moxxie shouted, his voice trembling with terror. "What do you mean it's alive?!"

"The blast from the machine must have also hit Robo Fizz and recharged it." Alastor explained. "Now it's out there robbing people of their jewelry and wreaking havoc."

"I told you we should have tossed that thing in the dump! It's evil! Pure evil! But why is it stealing jewelry? It didn't do that before."

"Someone must have found a way to override its original programming, take control of it, and use it for these robberies."

"So, what's our plan?"

"Well, obviously, we need to catch it."

"Catch it? You mean we have to go out and find it?"

"Yes."

"Do we really have to?"

"Moxxie, please don't tell me you're too scared to go after it."

"No! I just... Why can't we let the police handle this?"

"No because I built that robot. If the police catch it and trace it back to me before we find the real culprit, I'll be the one facing charges for robbery and assault."

"Then wouldn’t it make more sense to catch the person controlling it first?"

"You know, that's actually a good idea. It's always better to go straight to the brains of the operation. The question is, who has the intelligence to override and control a robot like that?"

"Vox, maybe? You told me he's so desperate for money, he'd sell his own mother."

"True, but while Vox is smart with sales and PR, he has no intellectual skills whatsoever. He'd never figure out how to crack the main control system. Neither would his ape, Striker."

"Could he have hired a genius to do it?"

"No genius would ever work for Vox."

"Why don't we ask Octavia? She's a tech whiz, maybe she knows some people."

"Moxxie, how could she help us? She's a little girl."

"She's also the child of a tech prodigy and a bio prodigy. Her parents both excel in their respective fields, which is why their families practically forced them to marry. To create some, super, scientific legacy or shit like that."

"Then why don't we just ask her father for help?"

"Because her father is the bio prodigy, it's her mother who's the tech prodigy."

"Oh... And as we know, asking her for help is a lost cause. Still, Octavia is just a child."

"You were only two years older than her when you graduated high school early. She's probably just as smart as you are. And if we tell her you built the robot, she won't squeal to the cops. We can trust her."

"Okay, but we need to talk to her quickly. Miss Morningstar mentioned that Stolas is considering sending her away for her safety."

Alastor quickly placed an order for flowers, hoping to create an opportunity for him and Moxxie to speak with Octavia. In the back, her father was busy arranging blooms while she sat at the register, engrossed in one of her favorite books, Monsters Among Us: Delving into the History of the Supernatural. Beyond her intellectual prowess, she had a keen interest in the tales of the occult and supernatural.

"Hey, guys." She greeted, looking up. "I'll let Dad know you're here."

"Actually, we wanted to talk to you." Moxxie said.

"What about?" She asked.

"Well, can you keep a secret?" He replied.

"My dad had a secret affair with a man for a whole year, and I knew about it before he even told me. So yeah, I can keep a secret."

"Great. It's about—"

"Ah, Mr. Devalcourt! You're here!" Stolas interrupted, approaching the counter. "I'm sorry, but you didn't specify which flowers you wanted for the bouquet, so I thought it best to wait for you to arrive so you could pick them out."

Moxxie leaned in and whispered something to Alastor.

"Distract him; I'll talk to Octavia."

Alastor nodded as he followed Stolas deeper into the shop.

"So, what are the flowers for? A special lady, perhaps?" Stolas asked, a knowing smile on his face.

"Uh... Sure. Yes." Alastor stammered.

"Ooh, you finally have a crush, huh?"

"Not exactly. She's just a charming friend who did me a favor, and I'd like to thank her properly."

"Very well! What kind of flowers do you think she'd like?"

"She mentioned she loves roses and lavender, and since she's excited about spring, I thought we could add daffodils, sweet peas, and lily of the valley."

"Ah, you know your flowers of the month!" Stolas chuckled.

While the others were preoccupied, Moxxie managed to persuade Octavia to join him in the backroom for a more detailed explanation.

"Let me get this straight, your uncle created a psycho robot that's behind the robberies?"

"It's not entirely his fault. He built the robot, but someone else is controlling it to commit the thefts. You can't tell anyone he made it cause they'll blame him for everything."

"So how can I help?"

"Whoever is controlling Robo Fizz must have a level of tech intelligence comparable to my uncle's, and you're the only person we know with that expertise. We know you're not responsible, but maybe you could help us identify the culprit? You often mention how your mom pushes you to compete, maybe you know some psycho tech geeks who might fit the bill."

"I know a few, but their ambitions aren't theft. They all come from wealthy families like mine. The worst they'd do with their skills is devise ways to punish athletes for making them feel inferior."

"Can you think of anyone with money problems so severe they would resort to stealing?"

"Well, Blitzo has always struggled financially, and he's been experimenting with advanced technology to develop a new method for growing crops. Unfortunately, that method involves using Viagra."

"Ewww."

"Then again he was a victim of the robot."

"Could he have staged his own attack to mislead the authorities?"

"Blitzo's out of his mind but I don't think even he's crazy enough to break his own arm."

"Good point."

"Hey, I have an idea! If you can get me the main control code, I can connect the robot to my computer and infect it with a virus. That should slow it down, and we can use the virus to trace whoever Robo Fizz is taking orders from."

"Octavia, that's brilliant! But wait, the main control code is printed on its battery, which is inside the robot."

"Then you'll have to get really close."

Moxxie gulped.

"I was afraid you'd say that. Isn't there any other way?"

"None that I can think of. I'm only twelve, you know."

"Can't we just pour water on it to short it out?"

"That depends—are you absolutely sure it won't explode and take out anyone nearby? Because, if I'm not mistaken, your uncle's inventions have a tendency to go boom!"

"Fair point."

"Look, Dad is sending me to live with my mom for a few days. I'll see if she knows anything."

"You think she'd actually help us?"

"No, but I'll tell her I'm trying to take control of the robot to use it to beat up Blitzo so it'll ruin Dad's sex life. She'll jump at the chance."

"Thanks, Via."

"I'll keep in touch. Call me if you change your mind about using the virus."

"I will."

"Oh and Moxxie."

"Yeah?"

"For the record, Dad and I don't think Alastor is a public menace. He's just different."

"Thanks, that means a lot."

Moxxie came out of the back room, nearly colliding with Stolas, who stood at the entrance with a raised eyebrow.

"Moxxie! What were you doing in there with my daughter?" Stolas asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

Moxxie's eyes widened, and he stammered,

"Uh, I was just—"

Before he could finish, Octavia stepped forward, her expression calm and composed.

"Dad, I was just showing Moxxie where to find some flowers for Millie. He has a massive crush on her, you know."

"What?!" Moxxie cried turning beet red. "No! I don't-"

"Carnations and lilacs, are her favorite right?" Octavia added, giving Moxxie a subtle nudge to keep the ruse going. "And why don't we add in some poppies, morning glories, and marigolds?"

Both men ended up leaving the shop with elaborate flower bouquets in hand.

"So, what did Octavia say?" Alastor asked.

"She mentioned that if we provide her with the main control code, she can infect Robo Fizz with a virus that will help us trace the culprit."

"Well, would you look at that? She really is a prodigy. I guess we know our next move."

"Change our names, leave the country, and find a way to bring Millie along?"

Alastor shot him a look.

"No! We stick to my original plan and try to catch Robo Fizz."

"About that... I think you should be the one to catch him since you created him, while I stay home and train Razzle and Dazzle."

"Oh good lord, you are too chicken to face Robo Fizz."

"I am not!"

"Oh please just mentioning him sends you into a trembling fit, I bet you wet your pants the moment I told you it was alive!"

"Well, it's your fault! You traumatized me!"

"So? My father traumatized me by making me watch how to properly kill and gut a deer when I was five. I got over it!"

"But I'm not like you! I have no spine!"

Alastor huffed in frustration.

"You know sometimes I wonder if the lawyers made a mistake and you're not actually related to me at all. You need to learn to overcome your fears, Moxxie. Otherwise, you'll be a failure for the rest of your life. You're so scared that you won't even pursue Millie, even though it's obvious the little darlin is mooning for you."

"But she's so gorgeous, strong, and confident, while I... well, let's not kid ourselves—I'm a wimp. She could do so much better."

"That's only true if you’re a coward which is someone I refuse to share blood with. Now here’s what you're going to do.  Go to her house, give her those flowers, and ask her out."

"Why?” 

"Because if you can't get over this, you’re beyond all hope. Now go."

"But I'm not ready."

"Do it, or I'll tell her you're gay."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"I hate you."

"I know. Now get going."

Moxxie sighed, and with a deep breath, Moxxie turned and headed toward Millie's house.

"Trust me boy, what I do comes from love." Alastor called after him. "Tough love."

Chapter Text

Moxxie struggled to catch his breath as he stood at the door, anxiously waiting for Millie to answer his knock. He couldn't believe his uncle had convinced him to go through with this. Approaching Millie felt daunting; he wished he had more time to prepare. In fact, he had even devised a seven-step plan.

Step 1: Get Millie to notice that he was even alive.

Step 2: Become friends with her.

Step 3: Learn everything there is to know about Millie.

Step 4: Become incredibly rich and successful.

Step 5: Undergo plastic surgery to become taller, stronger, and more handsome.

Step 6: Use newfound success, wealth, and body to win Millie's affection.

Step 7: Finally, ask Millie out and sweep her off her feet with a perfect romance that would hopefully lead to marriage, children, and a cozy house in the countryside.

"This is the dumbest plan you've ever come up with, Moxxie." Alastor said when his nephew first showed him the list. "I mean the first three ideas aren't terrible, but the rest are just stupid. Do you really intend to wait until you're rich and have surgically altered your body before asking her out? That's the most idiotic form of courting I've heard of. And I come from a family in which the men hunt for their wives."

"You don't understand, Alastor. The best women want men with success, money, and looks—things I don't have."

"I suppose I can understand the success part, no woman wants a jobless bum. But money and looks? We're talking about Millie here. She doesn't care about money. Her family has always worked hard to get by; she's not looking for a millionaire. And as for looks, you do realize she's just as short as you are, right?"

"But she's a woman! Women are beautiful, whether they're short or tall. If men are short, they're wimps!"

"Says who?"

"Basically everyone in the locker rooms during my high school gym years."

"You mean those steroid-addicted cavemen who tried to moon the entire cheer squad? You're taking advice from them?"

"What about my first girlfriend, Betty Larson? She was my date to the Valentine's dance, and when we were caught kissing under the bleachers, she accused me of attacking her and let her real boyfriend beat me up!"

"Last I heard, those two were living off welfare in a trailer park."

"And Regina Chandler? I asked her to prom, and she laughed in my face, saying I had a better chance of screwing a monkey!"

"She's in drug rehab now."

"Or when I got together with Chaz Thurman. He said he loved me and wanted me to be his first. The big night came, and he never showed up! Never called me! I never saw him again!"

"Okay, that one was my fault. I kind of beat him with a baseball bat and turned him over to the cops for attempted statutory rape."

"What?!"

"Hey, you were fourteen, he was twenty-eight, and he had STDs. I did you a favor."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were fourteen and thought you were in love. You would have hated me for a decade, maybe even tried to run off with that loser when he got out of prison. It was best to wait until you moved on to someone better, which you did. Millie is the best of them all; you'll never do better, so don't let her get away."

Moxxie knew his uncle was right—harsh but right. Still, he wasn't sure he could go through with it. When Millie finally opened the door, he felt like he might pass out.

"Hi, Moxxie!" Millie said, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"I...I...I brought you these." He offered her the flowers. Millie's eyes widened with excitement.

"Oh! Carnations and lilacs! My favorites! And poppies, morning glories, and marigolds? How did you know I used to plant these with my mother?"

"Oh...Uh...Lucky guess?"

"Oh, you're so sweet! Thank you!"

She took the flowers from him.

"I...I...I wanted to ask you...Well, since we had such a good dinner together the other night, and my uncle—he...you know how he likes to help me with my confidence. He sometimes asks me to do silly things. He thinks I should—Not that I wouldn't want to or that this is silly, but—"

"Moxxie, are you asking me on a date?" She deduced.

"Yes." Moxxie blushed.

Her cherry-red lips curved into a smile.

"I would love to! When do you want to go out? Tomorrow night, maybe?"

"Sure! I'll pick you up at six!"

"I'll be waiting."

She said goodbye, closed the door, and watched him walk away through the window. Once he was gone, she erupted into a fit of squeals and giggles, jumping up and down. Then she grabbed her phone and made a call.

"Sallie-May! Guess what?! The sweetest, dreamiest, and most handsome guy in Crescent City just asked me out!...No, not that creepy-ass hitman Striker, Moxxie!...Well, so what if he's a city boy? What's wrong with that?...I don't care if Ma and Pa don't like city boys!...No, he's not a geek! He's smart, sensitive, and bonafide...Yes, I know his uncle says you're still a man, but he's a nerd and a Republican; Moxxie isn't...I could do better? Better than him? You're crazy! Who's better than him? You're just jealous because I hit the jackpot!"

Speaking of jackpots, that's exactly what Vaggie and Angel thought when they first stepped inside Charlie's house. As they crossed the threshold of the spacious home, they were immediately captivated by the vibrant decor and inviting atmosphere. The soft lighting and cheerful pastel colors exuded elegance and charm.

"Wow, I could get used to living here, babe." Angel exclaimed, spinning slowly to take in the surroundings. "We might just have to move in permanently."

"Don't get too comfortable; it's just until our apartment gets fixed."

"Why do you always have to spoil my fun? Relax and settle in! Hey, maybe we can ask Charlie if there's a honeymoon suite in this place, huh?" He said, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin at Angel's theatrics.

"Just make yourselves at home." Charlie said. "I'll get started on dinner, and call you down when it's ready."

"Doesn't the butler do all the cooking?" Angel asked.

"Only when I'm busy, otherwise I prefer to do it myself." She said. "Any special requests for supper?"

"You don't have to do anything big for us. We can just fix ourselves sandwiches." Vaggie said.

"Oh no, you're my first house guests, that means I have to make something special. What's your favorite food?"

"Enchiladas." Vaggie answered.

"Cannelloni." Angel said.

"Italian and Latin American, a perfect combination." Charlie said.

"Excuse me, Miss Morningstar!" They heard Vortex call. "I do believe we have another pest on the grounds."

Vortex then appeared holding a pig in his arms.

"Oh that's Fat Nuggets." Angel said. "I hope you don't mind Charlie, I brought him along."

Vaggie chuckled at the way Charlie and Vortex's eyes nearly popped out of their skulls.

"Don't worry, he's well-behaved. Just keep an eye on him around the food."

Charlie sighed, a smile creeping onto her face despite her initial shock.

"Alright, he can stay, just clean up after him."

"Deal!" Angel grinned, plopping Fat Nuggets down on the floor. The piglet immediately began to trot around, snuffling at the carpet and exploring his new surroundings.

"And don't let him near the kitchen." Charlie warned, shaking her head. "I don't want any surprises while I'm cooking."

Charlie hurried back into the kitchen and pulled out her phone, quickly placing a grocery delivery order for the ingredients needed to make enchiladas and cannelloni. The anticipation of cooking for their unexpected guests excited her. She wanted to make the evening special, and the thought of sharing a warm meal with Vaggie, Angel, and Fat Nuggets made her heart flutter.

After confirming the order, she moved efficiently around the kitchen, gathering pots, pans, and spices, preparing to create a culinary masterpiece. The aroma of sautéing onions and spices soon filled the air, mingling with the fragrant smell of roasted meats.

Just as she was finishing the preparations, Vortex's voice broke through her culinary concentration.

“Excuse me, Miss Morningstar. May I have a moment of your time?”

Charlie turned, intrigued by his request.

“Of course, Vortex! What’s on your mind?”

“Firstly, Mr. Schadenfreude called and requested your company for dinner tonight at Ozzie's.” He said.

“Thank you, Vortex, but could you please decline his invitation? I’d prefer to spend the evening here with Vaggie and Angel.”

“Understood. I’ll inform him.” Vortex replied.

“And what was the other thing?” Charlie asked.

“You’ve received a bouquet of flowers.”

“Flowers? From Vox? Another one of those dreadful electronic arrangements?”

“No, ma’am. They’re from Mr. Devalcourt.”

“Oh?” Her interest was suddenly heightened.

“Shall I fetch them for you?”

“Yes, please!” She replied eagerly, a smile lighting up her face at the thought of a surprise bouquet.

Vortex nodded and left the room, returning moments later with a stunning arrangement of roses, lavender, daffodils, sweet peas, and lilies of the valley.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous!” She exclaimed, inhaling their sweet fragrance. She then read the attached card aloud:

“For being such a generous, considerate, and charming belle. I hope these sustain you until you can grow your own flowers again. Sincerely, Alastor Devalcourt.”

“My, my, Miss Morningstar, your grace and beauty seem to have captured the attention of not one, but two suitors.” Vortex remarked. “Your mother would be proud.”

“I want nothing to do with Vox.” Charlie replied firmly. “I’ll be polite and treat him with courtesy, as I do with everyone else, but that’s all he can expect from me.”

“You are clearly no man’s fool, Miss. Your father would be proud. But what about Mr. Devalcourt?”

Charlie's cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled at the thought of the inventor.

“I look forward to having him come over to assist me in the garden.” She said. “Please call him tomorrow and ask when he’d be available.”

“Yes, ma’am, but are you sure he can be trusted? He is rather peculiar.”

“Yes, and isn’t that fascinating?”

“Indeed. Bee was nothing like the other women I’d known before; she was strange but real.”

“And I believe Alastor might be the same.”

“If so, I’ll gladly support any relationship that blossoms between you two.”

“Thank you, Vortex.”

An hour and a half later, Vortex summoned Vaggie and Angel to the dining hall for a meeting.

“Dinner is served!” Charlie announced proudly as she brought out each dish, carefully arranged and steaming with flavor.

“Holy hell, this looks amazing!” Angel exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with delight.

“Thank you! I hope you both enjoy it!” Charlie replied, her heart warming at their enthusiasm.

They all sat down around the table, the cheerful clinking of forks and excited chatter filling the air as they served themselves generous portions.

“This is delicious, Charlie!” Vaggie praised after taking her first bite. “You really have a talent for cooking!”

“Thanks, Vaggie! I love cooking for friends.” Charlie said, beaming.

Unbeknownst to them, trouble lurked outside. Robo Fizz, slinked through the shadows, scheming its next move. It zeroed in on the peace within Charlie's home, fueled by the instructions to steal the valuables that lay inside

“This will be the crown jewel of them all!” Robo Fizz cackled to itself, its mechanical gears whirring ominously. Just as it approached the back entrance, ready to make its move, it suddenly stumbled upon an unexpected obstacle.

“Excuse me, but I do believe that you are trespassing on private property.” Vortex said, appearing from behind the garden shed, holding a rake.

Robo Fizz froze, its mechanical eyes glowing bright as it regarded the formidable butler before it.

“What are you going to do? Rake me into a pile?” It mocked, flipping its metallic limbs in a bizarre imitation of a jig.

“That is precisely what I am going to do.”

With that, he charged forward, surprising Robo Fizz with his unexpected speed and strength, and sent it sprawling back with a powerful hit from the rake. The robot stumbled, forced to recalibrate its path as it attempted to retaliate with a flurry of artificial punches.

“Pathetic!” Vortex said with barely contained disdain, sidestepping expertly as he delivered a swift kick to Robo Fizz’s side, sending it crashing into the nearby fence.

Robo Fizz quickly regained its footing, its circuits buzzing with frustration. It recalibrated, its mechanical limbs whirring as it prepared for another attack. Vortex, dodged each blow with practiced ease, his movements fluid and precise. Swinging the rake again and catching Robo Fizz off guard.
With a loud clang, the rake connected, sending sparks flying as the robot's casing dented. Robo Fizz let out a mechanical screech, its systems beginning to fail. It quickly made a hasty retreat before the butler could finish it off.

Chapter Text

The next day, Alastor focused on devising a plan to capture Robo Fizz, while Moxxie set about training Razzle and Dazzle to regain their former behavior. However, the duo had other ideas—not a rebellion against humans like in "Animal Farm" but rather a desire to channel their newfound intelligence into enhancing their performance skills. They were eager to learn new talents. Moxxie, who was musically gifted, began teaching them to play different instruments and explore songs beyond the single piano piece they had mastered. In fact, Moxxie had a rich musical background; he had written his own songs and participated in band, chorus, and musical theater during his school years.

"You know, I've always wondered." He said to the goats after teaching them to play 'The Saints Go Marching In' on the saxophone. "Does Millie like music?"

The two goats nodded, having spent years watching her dance and laugh at the annual hoedowns her family hosted.

"Do you think she would enjoy my music?"

The goats exchanged glances, pondering for a moment before nodding again.

"I wrote her a song once, but I'm not sure if she'll like it. Alastor once said the quickest way to a woman's heart is through her ears. What do you think? How would you two woo a girl?"

Razzle and Dazzle stared at him, confused.

"Oh right, you're goats. You don't woo girls; you just wait for them to be in heat."

"Moxxie, stop talking to yourself!" Alastor interjected.

"I'm not! I'm talking to Razzle and Dazzle."

"Why? They're goats; they can't understand you."

"Actually, they can. They may not talk, but they understand humans quite well. It's pretty neat."

"I thought you were training them to act like regular goats."

"I tried, but they don't want to be ordinary goats anymore. They aspire to be star performers, and that's not a bad thing. After all, no one would butcher goats with star quality."

"But they might institutionalize the two humans who gave them those talents!"

"Who's going to know it was us? They could play piano before they even came to us. Aside from their red fur, no one will notice the difference, right?"

"Millie and her family are rural, but they're not stupid. They'll notice these creatures have become intelligent."

"Only slightly. They're smart, but not smarter than humans."

"How do you know?"

"As I said, they still can't talk. After observing them, I've realized that everything they learn is based on memory; they can't create new ideas on their own."

"Kind of like Vox." Alastor chuckled.

"They need guidance to learn; there's no other way. Millie and her family are good people, and they'll teach them to be kind. They pose no threat. We just need to find a way to explain this to Millie and her family."

"We can't tell them about this."

"Millie won't blow the whistle on us."

"What about her family?"

"I'm sure they'll understand."

"Don't her parents hate you?"

"Uh... maybe."

"And didn't her brother call you the geeky shrimp?"

"That was her sister."

"If the chromosome is XY, then it's a man. It's simple science."

"Can't you be a bit more sensitive?"

"Moxxie, you've lived with me for ten years; you know sensitivity is not among my virtues. But the truth is."

"In that case, we owe Millie the truth. She tells me she doesn't think you're crazy and understands how much you mean to me. She could convince her parents that we had nothing to do with the changes in Razzle and Dazzle."

"Well..." Alastor pondered. "I suppose... But I thought you didn't want her to find out. I thought you were worried she'd hate you for this."

"I was, and I still am scared of her reaction when I tell her. But I have a nagging feeling that if she discovers the truth another way, she'll hate me forever. If I'm honest and upfront, she can only hate me temporarily, right?"

"Uh... Sure. I guess."

"I'll tell her tonight on our date. I just need to rip off the band-aid."

"Wait, that date is tonight?"

"Yes! I mentioned it when I got home last night."

"Huh... I must not have been paying attention. You'll have to cancel. We're going after Robo Fizz tonight."

"I can't cancel on her. How can you even ask me to do that? You made me ask her out."

"I know, but I heard through the grapevine that Robo Fizz tried to break into Morningstar Hall last night. Miss Morningstar's butler chased it off, but with all the jewelry she has, I doubt it'll be the last attempt. It could come back and hurt her, along with Vaggie and Angel, who are staying with her."

"But if I cancel on Millie, she'll want to know why, and I'll have to tell her the truth—that you created Robo Fizz."

"You don't have to tell her that."

"If I don't, she'll think I'm standing her up, that asking her out was just some cruel joke."

"Just say you're helping me with a job."

"We live in a small town, Alastor. She'd know if someone had a pest problem. She'll think I'm making excuses to get out of the date. Come on, you can handle this on your own. You're the brains behind it anyway; you don't really need me."

"Is this still about you being scared to face that thing?"

"No, this is about me not wanting to lose the love of my life. Please, don't do this to me, Alastor. I'm begging you."

Alastor huffed. Sometimes he found romance to be a frustrating distraction that made men act foolishly. But he also recognized that this wasn't just some hormonal boy trying to get into a girl's pants; it was his nephew's chance at true love—or at least that's how his nephew saw it.

"Alright, but you're on call. If things go wrong and I call you, you come over immediately. Understand?"

"Okay."

Moxxie could barely contain his excitement as he prepared for his date with Millie. He spent the morning carefully selecting his outfit, trying on various shirts and pants until he settled on a crisp button-up and tailored slacks that highlighted his frame. As he groomed himself, he practiced in front of the mirror, rehearsing the kind and charming words he hoped to share with Millie.

"I can do this. Just be yourself, Moxxie." He murmured, adjusting his collar one last time.

Meanwhile, Alastor planned to stake out Morningstar Hall to catch Robo Fizz, convinced that her jewels would be hidden atop that gem-grabbing robot. Before leaving, he reminded Moxxie to keep his phone on.

Moxxie then made his way to Millie's house, arriving right on time. She stood before him, radiant in a stunning new dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her hair cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, and she adorned herself with a delicate string of rare blue pearls that shimmered in the gentle light. They were a special sweet sixteen gift her parents had saved up to buy for her.

"Moxxie! You look great!" She exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with excitement as she took in his polished appearance.

"Thanks! And wow, you look... absolutely stunning. That dress, those pearls... you're beautiful!" Moxxie stammered, unable to hide his admiration.

"Thank you!" Millie beamed. "Are you ready for a night to remember?"

With a nod and a warm smile, Moxxie offered his arm, and they made their way to the nearest upscale restaurant, The Golden Apple, renowned for its exquisite cuisine and romantic ambiance. He had spent months saving up to reserve a table, determined to make this the best date of Millie's life.

As they settled into their booth, the atmosphere buzzed with ambient chatter, soft music, and the clinking of glasses. Moxxie ordered for both of them, taking a sip of his water while nervously adjusting his napkin.

"Moxxie, this is tre-fantastique! But also tre-expensive." Millie remarked.

"When it comes to you, money is no object. You deserve the best. Besides, Miss Morningstar's family owns this restaurant, and she gave me a discount after I helped her out the other day."

"You're spoiling me, Moxxie." She giggled. "I mean, a restaurant with gourmet chefs and live music!"

"And dancing." He added with a grin.

"It's wonderful, but I would have been just as happy with a simple picnic."

"Well, I still think you should experience the finer things in life. Didn't you once tell me that you always dreamed of a boy bringing you here because your father saved up to propose to your mother in this very spot?"

"Oh, Moxxie, you remembered! Just wait until I tell my parents about this. They'll finally believe me when I say you're the..."

She trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

"The what?" He prompted.

"Oh, well... that's something I'll tell you later. Just know I've been wanting you to ask me out for a long time."

"Really?"

"Really!" Millie confirmed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As their orders were placed, the soft melodies from the live band floated through the air.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked, his voice slightly shaky but hopeful.

Millie's face lit up.

"I'd love to!"

He stood and extended his hand, leading her to the small dance floor where couples swayed gently to the music. As they stepped onto the polished wood, Moxxie felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration. He placed a hand on her waist, and she rested her hand on his shoulder, their bodies fitting together comfortably.

The band played a gentle waltz as Moxxie led Millie in a simple yet graceful dance. He concentrated on the rhythm, striving to synchronize with her movements while stealing glances at her radiant smile.

"You're a great dancer!" Millie said, her laughter mingling with the music.

"I'm just following your lead." He replied, feeling the warmth of her presence.

As they twirled and spun, he felt a rush of exhilaration mixed with anxiety, knowing he would eventually have to tell Millie about Razzle and Dazzle.

"Um, there's something I need to tell you." He began, hesitating.

Millie looked at him curiously.

"What is it?"

"It's about Razzle and Dazzle... they've changed a bit since you last saw them."

"Changed? How?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Well they-"

Suddenly the lights flickered, and an unearthly mechanical whirring filled the air.

"What was that?" Millie asked, glancing around, confusion shifting to concern.

Before Moxxie could respond, the front door of the restaurant burst open with a loud crash, and Robo Fizz appeared, causing chaos as the beeping and whirring of its mechanisms echoed through the space.

"Surprise!" The robot taunted, its voice menacingly cheerful. "You'll be serving a special guest tonight garçon!"

Screams echoed through the restaurant as startled patrons scrambled for safety. Robo Fizz tackled them one by one, snatching any jewelry they wore. At one point, the robot lunged for the pearls around Millie's neck, but the clasp resisted, forcing it to change tactics.

"Guess I'm taking you instead!" It declared, seizing Millie roughly.

"Hey! Put me down, you giant tin can!" She protested.

"Millie!" Moxxie shouted, rushing forward, but Robo Fizz was quick. The robot's metallic arms snatched him up just as easily.

"Hey, I remember you! You're that little kid who pissed himself and hid in the closet when I came on stage!"

Moxxie's heart raced, nearly leaping from his chest. Here he was, face to face with the very thing that had haunted his childhood nightmares, second only to his so-called father.

"You're the one who made your uncle shut me down and leave me to collect dust for years! Oh, you're going to pay for that!" Robo Fizz hoisted them both, holding Millie and Moxxie captive.

In a desperate move, Moxxie reached into his pocket and fumbled for his cellphone, dialing Alastor's number.

"Come on, pick up! Pick up! Pick up!" He urged as Robo Fizz dragged them toward the exit.

The line clicked, and Alastor's voice came through.

"Hello?"

"Alastor, help! Robo Fizz is at the restaurant! He wants Millie's necklace and I think he's after me for revenge! Please, help!"

Alastor slammed on the gas, racing to the Golden Apple with his rifle at the ready. But by the time he arrived, Robo Fizz was gone, and so was Moxxie and Millie.

Chapter Text

There were barely any clues left behind—no tracks, no physical evidence. It was as if the robot had vanished into thin air, leaving Alastor at a loss.

"All right, think, Alastor. Robots don't leave a trail, but people do. I just need a way to track Moxxie down."

Suddenly, an idea struck him: a state-of-the-art tracking device he had heard about in college. It could locate any living organism as long as you provided a DNA sample for it to scan. The device had been created by a former classmate, but unfortunately, Vox had stolen it during one of his schemes. Time was running out, and Alastor didn't have the luxury of building his own.

"Ugh... I can't believe I'm doing this." He groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration.

With a resigned sigh, Alastor called Vox and made his way to his apartment, Striker let him in. He found his old rival lounging in a chair, a smug smirk spreading across his face as he surveyed Alastor.

"Well, well, if it isn't the genius himself! What brings you to my humble abode? Here to finally admit that my intellect surpasses yours?"

"Not even in your dreams, flathead. I need the tracking device—the one you 'acquired' during our university days."

"What for?"

"That jewelry-stealing robot took my nephew and his girlfriend, and I don’t know where it took them. With that device, I can track him down."

"And what's in it for me?"

"Vox, that robot is highly unstable and dangerous! It could kill them!"

"And?"

"Oh God, Vox, you can't be serious."

"I'll ask again: what's in it for me?"

"Alright, you want a deal? Hand over the device, and I won't cut out your brain and stick it in a toaster."

"And how about I call the cops and tell them you built the robot?"

"Fine! What do you want?"

"If you manage to take that thing down and catch the sicko controlling it, I want the credit."

"Typical! You want the glory without doing any of the work."

"That's my final offer—take it or leave it."

"Alright, alright. Just give me the tracker."

Vox reached into a drawer and pulled out a sleek, metallic device, its screen glowing faintly.

"Here it is." Vox said, tossing it casually to Alastor. "Just remember, if you screw this up, I'll be the first to let everyone know how you failed."

"Gee thanks."

"Good luck, genius. You'll need it," Vox smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Alastor turned and headed for the door, the tracker clutched tightly in his hand. He drove back to the house, took a strand of hair from Moxxie's comb and inserted it into the tracking device. The screen flickered to life, displaying a series of coordinates. He watched the blinking dot indicating Moxxie's location.

"Got you." He muttered.

Alastor hurriedly left the house, unaware that Razzle and Dazzle had stealthily climbed into the back of his van. They had overheard the conversation and were determined to help Moxxie and Millie.

As Alastor drove, the tracker's screen guided him to an abandoned food packing plant, long since shut down after a series of disastrous health violations involving their infamous frozen chicken pies. The place was a ghost of its former self, with rusted machinery and faded signage hinting at its troubled past.

He parked the van and approached the entrance, the air heavy with an unsettling silence, punctuated only by the distant hum of machinery. Alastor slipped inside, his senses on high alert. He soon realized he didn't need the tracker; he could already smell Moxxie's cologne and Millie's perfume wafting through the air.

Following the familiar scents, he made his way to the main assembly area. Peering around a corner, he caught sight of Robo Fizz looming over Moxxie and Millie, who were bound and struggling against their restraints.

"The boss wants me to get rid of you and make sure nobody finds the bodies." Robo Fizz taunted, his mechanical voice dripping with malice.

Robo Fizz was about to unleash the old pie machine on them, its gears creaking ominously as it powered to life. It selected Millie to go first, dragging her toward the assembly line with panic etched across her face.

"No!" Moxxie shouted, desperately struggling to break free.

The machine clamped her feet into ankle holders on the conveyor belt, which began to move her toward a gaping opening. Millie fought against the restraints, her heart racing as she saw the clamps release just above a large chute that led to an unknown fate.

"Oh God! Help me!" She cried.

Suddenly, Razzle and Dazzle sprang into action, launching themselves at Robo Fizz with surprising agility. The small but fierce creatures distracted the robot, giving Alastor the opening he needed.

Alastor quickly began untying Moxxie.

"Alastor! We have to save her!" Moxxie exclaimed, eyes wide with fear.

"You get her! I'll try to shut the machine down!" Alastor replied, fumbling with the knots. Just as he freed Moxxie, his nephew climbed onto the conveyor belt, attempting to pull Millie loose.

Alastor dashed to the control panel, frantically pressing buttons. The machine sputtered but refused to stop.

"Stop this thing! Hurry!" Millie shouted.

"Don't worry! We have everything under control!" Moxxie insisted, only to be proven wrong when they both plummeted down the chute.

"Alastor!" Moxxie cried out.

"I'm working on it!" Alastor replied, trying to stay calm.

As Moxxie and Millie zoomed downward, they spotted a set of rotating saw blades waiting for them. With one hand, Moxxie clung to the edge while the other grasped Millie, dangling helplessly above the deadly machinery.

"Hold on, Millie! I've got you!" He assured her, straining against the weight of both their bodies.

"Oh I hope your uncle hurries!" Millie cried. "I don't want to be a pie!"

"Me either! I don't like gravy."

Finally, Alastor located the emergency shut-off switch and slammed it down. The machine screeched to a halt, its saws grinding to silence.

He rushed to the edge of the chute, peering down at Moxxie and Millie, who were still dangling precariously.

"I shut it off!" He shouted, scanning the area for something to help them.

Before he could act, Robo Fizz threw Razzle and Dazzle off and seized Alastor by the throat.

"Oh, typical! Just typical! Turn on your creator!" Alastor choked out.

Robo Fizz yanked Alastor away from the chute, tightening his grip as mechanical fingers dug into his throat. Razzle attempted to bite Robo Fizz's arms, while Dazzle lowered a long extension cord down the chute for Moxxie and Millie to grab. Moxxie managed to snag it, wrapping it around his arm as he pulled Millie closer.

"Hold on tight, Millie!"

Dazzle began pulling them up just as Razzle bit Robo Fizz hard enough to loosen his grip. Once Alastor caught his breath, he punched a hole in Robo Fizz's chest, quickly locating the battery and memorizing the main control code.

"Moxxie!" Alastor gasped. "Call Octavia! The battery code is 6913!"

Moxxie nodded, fumbling for his phone, fingers trembling as he dialed Octavia's number.

"Hello?"

"Octavia! We've got the code! It's 6913! Get that virus ready!"

"On it!" Octavia replied, grabbing her laptop and using the code to hack into Robo Fizz's system. She unleashed a virus that sent the robot into chaos.

Robo Fizz convulsed, sparks flying from its joints as it struggled against the virus. It sprang, cracked, and spun, coming apart at the seams. Seizing the moment, Millie grabbed a nearby pipe and bashed the robot on the head, causing it to collapse and release Alastor.

"Ah, that's better. Thank you, Millie.” Alastor said.

"Hmmph! Try to take my pearls and turn me into pie, will you?" She snarled at the fallen robot.

Moxxie held his phone tightly, relief flooding through him as he spoke to Octavia.

"Thanks, Via! You really saved us!"

"Anytime! Now that I've uploaded the virus, I can track whoever's been controlling Robo Fizz. Give me a second."

Moxxie glanced at Millie and Alastor, who were catching their breath.

"Got it.” She said after a moment. "That's weird. It says the culprit is in my dad's store. I'll give him a call. You guys get down there."

"Okay. Let's move!"

They jumped into the van and drove to Goetia's Garden. Stolas, alerted by Octavia's call, met them there with the police and the store key, allowing them inside.

"Come on! What's wrong with you?! Work, you stupid mechanical piece of shit!" A voice cursed from the back room.

They followed the sound and found Andrealphus hunched over the main computer, his fingers racing across the keyboard in a frantic attempt to regain control of Robo Fizz.

"Andrealphus!" Stolas gasped. "You did this?"

"Uh... Did what?" He replied, feigning innocence. "I was just working on the new gardening catalog for your store."

"Save it for your lawyer, you pilfering peacock!" Officer Pentious said.

"You've been using Robo Fizz to steal all that jewelry!" Moxxie accused.

"We should have known; Octavia gets her tech skills from her mother's side." Alastor remarked.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Andrealphus protested.

Officer Pentious glanced at the other open files on the computer and clicked one. It displayed instructions for transporting jewels to the old chicken pie factory warehouse.

"Then explain this." He demanded, pointing to the screen.

"Alright, I did it!" Andrealphus confessed, his facade crumbling. "I was coming by your apartment to ask for my paycheck when I saw Robo Fizz on its rampage. It was the perfect opportunity to reclaim my fortune and finally get my stupid ex brother in-law out of my life! I hacked into the control system and ordered it to steal all the jewelry. I figured the abandoned chicken pie factory would be the ideal hiding spot. Using Stolas's  computer would make him the scapegoat if the police got suspicious. I was all set to hop a plane to India, sell those jewels, and make millions!"

"Wow... Your parole officer is going to love this." Stolas grinned.

"Andrealphus Marquette, you are under arrest for breaking and entering, burglary, assault, kidnapping, and attempted murder using a pie machine.” Officer Pentious declared as he cuffed him. "You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

“Screw you!” Andrealphus spat defiantly. “Screw all of you! You have no idea who you’re messing with! Let go of me! I have rights!”

Alastor and Moxxie watched as Officer Pentious led Andrealphus away, both secretly hoping that insanity wasn’t a hereditary trait for Octavia’s sake.

“Well this was certainly a date I will never forget.” Millie said.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Moxxie said.

“And would you mind explaining to me what happened to my goats?”

“Right. Well you see-“

She put a finger to his lips.

“Not now. Right now I am way too tired and confused. You can explain it all to me tomorrow…Over a picnic lunch at the park.”

Moxxie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After all this, she still wanted to go out with him?

“Uh…Okay.”

“I’ll meet you there around twelve.” She turned to Razzle and Dazzle. “Come on boys, let’s get back to my place and try to figure out what excuse to give Ma and Pa.”

As Millie turned to leave, she paused, glancing back at Moxxie. A soft smile spread across her face, and she walked back to him. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, a gentle yet electrifying kiss that caught Moxxie completely off guard.

“Thanks for saving me.” She whispered, her eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper.

Moxxie stood there, stunned, a warm blush creeping across his cheeks as she pulled away, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“See you tomorrow!” Millie called over her shoulder, her smile lingering as she walked away.

Moxxie remained frozen in shock.

“Come on, boy.” Alastor said, hoisting Moxxie over his shoulder. “I’ve got a bucket of ice water with your name on it.”

Chapter Text

Alastor was a man of his word. He let Vox take all the credit for the defeat of Robo Fizz, allowing him to return the stolen jewelry. It drove Alastor mad to see the townsfolk praising Vox as a hero. As if that weren't painful enough, the ungrateful glory hog had the audacity to reveal that Alastor was the one who had built Robo Fizz in the first place.

His friends and neighbors were furious with him.

"Are you insane?!" Vaggie screamed at him. "How could you build something like that?"

"It almost destroyed my face!" Angel shouted.

"It broke my arm!" Blitzo added.

"It nearly snapped my spinal cord!" Officer Pentious chimed in.

"It took my father's watch—the one he gave me on his deathbed!" Baxter exclaimed.

"It stole my diamond necklace and matching earrings!" Mimzy protested.

"It took our wedding rings!" Husk said, his voice rising. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to pay those off? They were the only valuable things I ever bought!"

"Alastor, I'm your friend and I'll always support you, but for heaven's sake, why didn't you destroy that thing when you saw how dangerous and unstable it was?" Rosie pleaded.

"In his defense." Moxxie interjected. "He wasn't controlling it. He didn't make it steal or hurt anyone."

"But he should have gotten rid of it!" Vaggie argued. "That's like leaving a loaded gun with the safety off just lying around. It was irresponsible and dangerous!"

"This is the final straw, Alastor!" Blitzo declared. "I'm starting a petition to forbid you from inventing, or you'll have to leave town!"

"You can't do that!" Moxxie protested.

"I can if I get enough signatures! It was Vox's idea!"

"Of course it was." Alastor sighed.

Octavia watched the chaos unfold from inside her father's store.

"Dad, can't you say something? This isn't right." She urged Stolas.

"We shouldn't get involved, Octavia. We already have enough people angry at us because of your uncle. It's best to keep our heads down."

Alastor faced a barrage of angry complaints, yet he maintained a polite and cheerful demeanor throughout.

"I hear your concerns and understand your frustrations." He finally said when the uproar subsided. "I am truly sorry for the damage I caused. Rest assured, it won't happen again."

Vox observed the scene like it was his favorite show, relishing Alastor's humiliation—a moment he had dreamed of since college. As the crowd dispersed, still buzzing with outrage, Vox seized the moment to step forward, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He called out, his voice smooth and inviting. "While we're on the topic of safety, allow me to introduce you to my latest line of security devices! You can't put a price on peace of mind, especially after an incident like this!"

He gestured to a sleek display of gadgets behind him, each one gleaming under the store's lights.

"From state-of-the-art surveillance cameras to advanced alarm systems, I've got everything you need to ensure that Robo Fizz's chaos never happens again! Don't let your valuables be at risk!"

Alastor and Moxxie trudged home, unable to stomach another second of Vox's bull shit.

"You shouldn't have let him take the credit." Moxxie said.

"I gave him my word, Moxxie, and no worthwhile man breaks his word, even for a two-faced, cheap-ass, lying leech like Vox."

"Surely there are exceptions."

"Moxxie, there are some sins I simply can't commit. A broken word is one of them. If a man can't be trusted then he's nothing to anyone. That's what my father—your grandfather—taught me."

"I just hate what he did to you back there. He didn't have to tell them you built Robo Fizz."

"True, but he couldn't resist making me look bad. That's his endgame in life, keeping himself on top while keeping me on the bottom. Sad isn't it?"

"He sounds like my dad. He hired a hitman for every competitor he had, the psycho."

"Just do what I do, Moxxie. Don't waste a second worrying about people like Vox and your father. For all their success, they have no one to rely on. That's the price of obsession with being on top. It really is lonely up there."

"How can you be so calm about this? Aren't you angry or hurt?"

"What good would it do to get upset? It won't change anything. If everyone ends up hating me and adoring Vox, so be it."

"Now don't be ridiculous. Sure, they might be mad or confused, but they're still your friends. I guarantee not a single one of them will sign that dumb petition. Not even Blitzo. They're just upset right now."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's just get started on dinner, I'm starving."

Alastor went straight to cooking as soon as he got home, a smile on his face. However, the kitchen was unusually silent; he didn't turn on the radio for music as he usually did, and even the sound of his knife chopping was muted.

The phone rang, and Moxxie answered it.

"Hello?... Oh, hi Vortex. How is Miss Morningstar? ... Okay, I'll tell him she said thank you for the flowers. ... Help with her garden? Sure. How about tomorrow? ... Great, we'll be there around nine-thirty."

He hung up.

"Who was that?" Alastor asked as Moxxie entered the kitchen.

"That was Miss Morningstar's butler. She wanted to thank you for the flowers and asked if we could come over to help her with her garden."

"I'm afraid I'm much too busy at the moment."

"I told them we'd come over tomorrow at nine-thirty."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I think it would be good for you."

"Your thoughts are sadly mistaken. You know I don't typically care for yard work."

"But you said you'd help her. Do you want to tell her you lied? What happened to 'If a man can't be trusted, then he's nothing to anyone'? Hmm?"

"Using my own words against me." He chuckled. "I've taught you well. I suppose I could stay and help for an hour, but I fail to see what good it'll do me. Miss Morningstar probably just wants to yell at me like everyone else did."

"Something tells me she's not the yelling type. At least, not when you're involved."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I think she likes you."

"Rubbish! No woman in her right mind would ever like me. Just ask Mimzy."

"But she does like you."

"She finds me interesting for sport. She doesn't actually like me. Besides, she's completely out of her mind. Believe me, Moxxie, as far as Miss Morningstar is concerned, I'm just someone who does a job for her."

Charlie carefully applied a subtle touch of blush and lipstick as she prepared herself in front of her vanity mirror. She didn't want to overdo it, fearing it would make her look cheap, but she also wanted to ensure she would be properly noticed.

Knock-knock!

"Permission to come in, Miss?" Vortex asked.

"Yes."

Vortex opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

"I just wanted to let you know that the gardening tools and supplies have been dropped off."

"Thank you, Vortex. Be sure to properly tip the delivery men."

"Yes ma'am and if I may make a suggestion for your outfit today, I recommend the blue overalls and apple blossom top. The material is easy to clean, and they're modest enough to show that you don't flaunt your wealth, yet fetching enough for him to see you as a beauty, even without money."

Charlie blushed.

"Is it really that obvious?"

"With all due respect, Miss, I've never seen you look more smitten. But I must ask: are you still certain about this, especially after the recent events?"

"Blade-smiths create knives, yet we don't imprison them if muggers use those knives to commit crimes. So why should Alastor be punished for making a machine that someone stole and misused?"

"An excellent point, Miss. However, many in this town would disagree, including your two house guests."

"They're just too angry to see the difference between an intended crime and an honest mistake. Once things settle down, everyone will forget this. Until then, Alastor and Moxxie really need a good friend. Besides, I've told you about my father's early days as a toymaker and all his mishaps. Now he runs the most popular toy company in The Big Apple."

"Quite right."

She reached for a delicate crystal bottle on the dresser.

"What do you think? Should I wear perfume?"

"For gardening? I'd say no, that would be too obvious, Miss. But you could braid some lavender into your hair. That would be a much more subtle touch for today's activity."

Charlie smiled at the suggestion, appreciating Vortex's keen eye for detail.

"What would I do without you?"

"You'd manage just fine. It's me who can't get by without you. Who else would hire me? Everyone thinks I'm just a stone-cold, unfeeling killer—or a secret agent for the CIA, according to that last job interview."

Charlie chuckled, and Vortex stepped out, giving her space to get dressed and fix her hair. Once she finished, she dampened a washcloth and gently dabbed her face to tone down the makeup for a more subtle look. Then she stood in front of her floor-length mirror to see how the whole ensemble looked.

“Good.” She said spinning around. “Modest, casual, but pretty. Oh I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. They always think I’m weird.”

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, and finally went down stairs to wait for Alastor and Moxxie to arrive.

Chapter Text

Alastor and Moxxie arrived right on time, and Charlie immediately expressed her heartfelt gratitude for their presence. Her appreciation grew tenfold when Alastor revealed a special invention he believed would be perfect for the occasion.

"I present to you the Garden Clipper Fantastic!" He announced, showcasing a cart equipped with two large garden shears. "It effortlessly clips away weeds, thorns, dead roots, and overgrown vines, and it can extend both vertically and horizontally to reach those tricky spots. I created it after one of my growth formulas went a little haywire."

"And it's one of his inventions that operates flawlessly—no bugs, no loose screws, and no risk of cutting anything that isn't a plant." Moxxie added. "He designed it to ignore anything with blood inside of it, making it completely safe around humans and animals."

"Impressive." Charlie remarked. "Just what I need."

"It also features a hedge crafting option, which was my idea." Moxxie chimed in.

Alastor turned a dial on the device and pressed the main button. The Garden Clipper Fantastic sprang to life, methodically trimming and shearing away all unnecessary plant life—specifically, those with sap, thorns, or chlorophyll.

"It's slow, but it gets the job done." Alastor noted. "I thought it wise not to prioritize speed when dealing with blades."

"I agree." Charlie replied. "While that clears everything away, shall we start digging some holes? Do you two need any help?"

"Me? No, but he does." Moxxie replied. "He knows absolutely nothing about properly growing a plant."

"I do so." Alastor retorted.

"Need I remind you of the Venus flytrap incident?"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"I used to help my mother with her gardening all the time, but you should probably stay close to Alastor." Moxxie suggested.

Alastor flashed a tight-lipped smile at Moxxie, clearly displeased with his nephew for making him look incompetent. Unaware that Moxxie was trying to do him a favor, he quickly scurried away before his uncle could scold him.

"Don't be embarrassed, Alastor." Charlie said. "My father came from a long line of farmers and landowners, but he couldn't even grow weeds. It just meant he had different talents."

"I suppose that's true. How many holes do you need, my dear?"

"A lot. I want this place to look just like it did when my grandparents lived here."

"You know, I think I remember them." Alastor said. "Did your grandmother always wear a flower in her hair, even in winter?"

"Yes."

"Ah, I thought so. I was young, but I remember her. She would let my father take flowers from her garden to make bouquets for my mother because the prices at Goetia's Garden were ridiculously high back then. Mom loved flowers but couldn't grow them herself; the soil around our house wasn't fertile enough."

"Huh, I never knew Grandma shared her flowers, but I'm not surprised. She was always generous and a hopeless romantic."

"Sounds just like my mother. She would take some of those flowers and press them into her locket."

"You're joking!" She gasped, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I keep a scrapbook of pressed flowers. Growing up, I would add to it every time I visited here. Each one holds a memory. I wonder if I could press one into a necklace or some jewelry like your mother did. Could I meet her? Just to find out how she did it?"

"I'm afraid not. She passed away from cancer a long time ago, and my father followed shortly after. He just dropped dead one morning. The doctor said it was a heart attack."

"A broken heart attack?"

"Maybe. After all, I was in college, fully grown, and had enough money to start my life. Logically, I didn't really need him anymore, and without my mother, I guess he saw no point in going on."

"But didn't he have any other children? Moxxie is your nephew, so you must have had a brother or sister."

"My father had a daughter before he met my mother. Classic story: she was conceived when her parents were too young, father never knew about her, and her mother gave her up for adoption. I didn't find out about her until I got Moxxie."

"And how did that happen?"

"Her husband whacked her, and there was no one else who could take the kid except me."

"Oh my God! That's terrible! How old was Moxxie?"

"He was eight and he had witnessed the whole murder, so naturally, he had issues—issues that foster care couldn't handle, apparently." He said dryly. "It was either me or a mental institution, and even I didn't have the heart to send a kid to that place."

"You must have been so young when you took him in."

"Eighteen, to be exact. I graduated college early and was free to do whatever I wanted. Then suddenly, I had to care for a child. I won't lie; I was pretty upset. I didn't like kids and I knew nothing about raising them."

"But..." She pressed, sensing there was more to the story.

"But I have to admit, secretly I'm very lonely and crave attention."

"You lonely? You're so interesting—there's not a dull thing about you. How could you not have hundreds of friends?"

"Believe it or not, one of the drawbacks of being interesting is that not many people appreciate it. In school, everyone thought I was a nerd, so they either ignored me or made me the butt of their jokes. In college, my pride got the better of me, and I rubbed my superior intellect in everyone's faces. Naturally, they didn't want to be around me. After I took Moxxie in, though, people started to warm up to me. I suppose they saw me as an insufferable genius with a hidden heart of gold or some cliché like that."

"Well are you?" She teased.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean is there any truth to that?"

"Well isn't it obvious that I'm both insufferable and a genius?"

"No, I meant that hidden heart of gold part."

"I don't think so."

"I bet Moxxie would disagree. I bet he thinks you have the most wonderful heart in the world."

Alastor blushed; he wasn't used to compliments—at least, not these kinds.

"Nowadays, most people see me as a menace to the community who should be removed."

"Oh, that's silly."

"They're starting a petition."

"They're just angry. If you had a penny for every time someone angry threatened to do something awful and then changed their mind, you'd be richer than my entire family. You've lived here for years; these people know you. You'll see, they'll let it go."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why aren't you angry at me? Or at least cautious? Not that I want you to be."

"Well, your circumstances remind me a lot of my father. He wanted nothing more than to be a toy maker. For years, I watched him create things that often blew up in his face. Everyone laughed at him and said he was wasting his time. But my mom and I knew he could do it. Despite his failures, he made fantastic toys for me. Eventually, he met an investor who gave him a chance, and he impressed them all with his greatest creation."

"Which was?"

"The rubber ducky boat. It's designed for kids who can't swim. The motor runs on soap, blowing bubbles, and the child is safely secured in a float at the center, so they can't fall in. But it's only safe for pools and lakes—anything with a current is too risky. The toy was a huge success and helped my father start his own company."

"Fascinating, but my dear, I don't make toys."

"But you create amazing things like he did, and with that talent comes mistakes and trial and error. The world should be more patient with people like you and my father."

"Easy for you to say. As bright, sweet, charming, and beautiful as you are, no one would dare have a bad thought about you."

Charlie's cheeks turned the color of red roses. Bright? Sweet? Charming? Beautiful? Was that really how he saw her? Not as weird or prissy? Given his intelligence, she worried he might view her as just a dumb blonde or Daddy's spoiled little rich girl—or worse, the weird plant girl.

"Do you really think that about me?"

Alastor's cheeks burned like hot coals with embarrassment; he had spoken impulsively. It wasn't until her question hung in the air that he realized the weight of his words.

"Well... I..." He swallowed hard. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Maybe here, but back in the Big Apple, no. My father wanted me to have a normal childhood, so he sent me to public school to make friends. But many of the kids came from middle-class families and teased me for being 'Daddy's little rich girl.' They only played with me if I paid them."

"Well who would want to play with a nasty bunch of brats like that, anyway?"

"I don't think they meant any harm. They were just repeating what their parents said. A lot of adults were either jealous of my father or thought he was a total asshole. And I'd be lying if I said he couldn't be one, especially in business. He's a perfectionist when it comes to the job. Anyway, I couldn't connect with my peers, so... Oh dear... I don't usually share this so soon, but..."

"But?"

"Promise you won't laugh or think I'm weird?"

"I swear on my parents' graves I won't."

"I tried to make friends with plants. When I was very young, my grandmother told me that plants have feelings and that talking to them helps them grow. That gave me the silly idea that they could be my friends. So, on my way to and from school, I would talk to the trees, bushes, flowers, even the grass. Before I knew it, I was branded the 'weird plant girl.'"

"Oh...Well I must say I don't quite understand how talking to plants accomplishes anything considering that plants are inanimate objects. But then again when I was a boy no one could understand my desire to take apart a smart phone and use it to build a radio."

"You preferred a radio to a smart phone?"

"What can I say? I'm an old soul."

Alastor smiled at her, and Charlie let out a soft giggle. She found it puzzling that so many people had issues with him; to her, he was an absolute delight to be around.

Chapter Text

Alastor was typically a focused individual, dedicated to his work. He rarely allowed distractions or procrastination to interfere; if a task needed to be completed, he tackled it immediately. But today was different. Instead of concentrating on digging holes and finishing quickly, he found himself captivated by Charlie. He watched her as she worked, mesmerized by how the sunlight illuminated her blonde hair and how her lips curled into a smile while she hummed a cheerful tune. Even with dirt smudged on her hands and rosy cheeks, she remained effortlessly beautiful. Each time he caught a glimpse of her pretty blue eyes or caught a whiff of the sweet lavender scent in her hair, he felt as if his heart had stopped for a split second.

He couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Over the years, he had been surrounded by countless women—pretty, beautiful, and sexy—but none could hold his gaze. Yet, this one was different. Her beauty felt genuine, natural, and sincere, as if her outer appearance perfectly mirrored her inner self. How many women like that existed in real life? None that he knew.

But she was more than just beautiful; she enjoyed talking to him and listening to him. She liked to listen to him talk about his inventions, how he came up with his ideas and brought them to life. Sometimes, she would laugh when he told her about how his inventions backfired, but never in a mocking way. She told him that hearing about his mess ups reminded her of her father's own blunders.

She talked a lot about flowers and her time in Crescent City with her grandparents, about the gardening she did with her grandmother and the Garden Galas they held. However, it was when she began to recount her cooking experiences with her grandfather that Alastor's interest truly piqued.

"Fried chicken was his specialty." Charlie said. "Fried chicken and chocolate pie."

"Jambalaya was my mother's specialty." Alastor replied. "Jambalaya and cornbread. Her secret ingredients were beer and buttermilk."

"You're kidding! That's what my grandfather used."

"Really?"

"Yes! He would beer-batter the chicken and add buttermilk to the chocolate filling."

"Did he use thyme and black pepper for the chicken?"

"Absolutely! Did she use fresh garlic and red pepper in the jambalaya?"

"Of course! And you never skip the brine on the chicken."

"And tomatoes are a must in the jambalaya."

"You know all the cooking tips."

"So do you. Your mother taught you well."

"So did your grandfather."

"You know, both specialties sound like a fantastic meal plan. If you and Moxxie don't have any dinner plans, would you like to stay for supper tonight? We could all cook together. That is, if you like fried chicken and chocolate pie alongside jambalaya and cornbread."

"I'd like that." Alastor said. "So would he, but what about Angel and Vaggie?"

"They won't be here. It's date night for them, they won't be back until tomorrow morning. Angel has been begging Vaggie to continue their...Regular acts of intimacy but she feels weird about doing it in my house after I invited them to stay. She thinks it's trashy behavior. Now we'll go to the market and get the ingredients after I plant the seeds."

After digging enough holes and planting seeds and sprouts, they headed to the market to gather the necessary ingredients. Once back at Morningstar Hall, the three of them began preparing tonight's meal in the kitchen.

"Moxxie, could you fetch me the flour?" Alastor requested, his tone light.

"Sure thing, boss!" Moxxie replied, bounding over to the pantry. However, as he reached for the bag, his foot caught on the edge of the rug, and he stumbled forward, sending the flour flying everywhere.

The white powder exploded into the air, covering Alastor from head to toe. He stood frozen for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Moxxie doubled over in laughter, pointing at Alastor's flour-dusted figure.

"Ha-ha! Ha-ha!"

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Alastor said, his expression unamused.

"I'm—Ha! I'm sorry, Uncle Al! You just look so ridiculous! Like a walking pastry!"

"Well, let's see if you'll still be laughing after this!"

With a swift motion, Alastor scooped up a handful of flour and hurled it at Moxxie, but the quick-footed boy ducked just in time. The flour soared through the air, landing squarely on Charlie, who gasped in surprise.

"Oh no!" Alastor exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and amusement. "Miss Morningstar, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"

But before he could apologize further, Charlie's face broke into a mischievous smile and she grabbed a handful of flour herself, flinging  it back at Alastor and Moxxie.

The flour fight erupted in full force. Alastor laughed as he dodged Charlie's attack, retaliating with more flour. Moxxie joined in, grabbing handfuls and launching them at both Alastor and Charlie, who were now caught in a whirlwind of white powder.

The three of them were soon engulfed in a cloud of flour, their laughter ringing out as they danced around the kitchen, throwing flour at one another until they were all covered in a fine white dust. It was a moment of pure joy, a delightful break from their cooking, and Alastor couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree.

"Good heavens!" Vortex gasped as he stepped into the kitchen, curious about the source of the laughter. "It looks like a cocaine deal gone wrong in here!"

"Sorry, Vortex! I guess we got a little carried away." Charlie giggled. "But don't worry; I'll clean it all up. You just set the table."

"Yes, Miss. And while I'm at it, shall I draw three baths?"

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you!" She reached for a roll of paper towels from the shelf.

"My apologies, my dear. We're usually better behaved than this." Alastor said, earning a skeptical glance from Moxxie. "Or at least better behaved as guests."

"Oh, please, don't apologize!" Charlie replied, tearing off a sheet to wipe her face. "My grandparents and I used to have kitchen calamities like this all the time. This is nothing compared to the time my grandfather was teaching me to make jam and accidentally spilled it on my grandmother. He laughed so hard that she poured a whole jar on him!"

"Yuck!" Alastor gagged at the thought of being covered in jam.

"Although these mishaps are fun, they do create a mess." She tore off another sheet and, without thinking, began to wipe the flour from Alastor's face.

A rush of warmth surged through Alastor as Charlie gently cleaned him. Her touch was unexpectedly tender, and he found himself momentarily lost in her eyes.

"There we go." She said, transforming his flour-covered face from white to tan. "Handsome as new—uh, I mean good as new!"

She giggled nervously and stepped back.

"I... thank you, my dear." He replied, his voice softer than usual.

As he began to retreat, Moxxie playfully shoved him forward, causing his arms to instinctively wrap around Charlie's waist.

Alastor's heart raced as he found himself holding her, her warmth radiating against him. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. He could feel the softness of her waist beneath his hands and the sweet scent of lavender enveloping him.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and a blush crept across her cheeks.

"Oh! I—"

"Sorry!" Alastor stammered, quickly releasing her and stepping back, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration flooding through him. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine." She said, her voice wavering. "I'll check the cellar for some extra flour. I'll be right back."

She hurried off, and he facepalmed.

"God, that was so stupid!" They both muttered to themselves.

"I thought it was cute." Moxxie said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Quiet, you tiny, backstabbing Judas." Alastor growled. "You've made me look like a fool all day!"

"No, I haven't. In fact, I think I've made you look adorable in Miss Morningstar's eyes."

"I don't do adorable."

"Well, just so you know, the ladies love it."

"I don't follow."

"Duh! You like her, and she likes you. I'm just trying to help."

"That's absurd! I'm a career man; I have no time for romance."

"And yet you keep referring to her as 'my dear.' Care to explain that?"

"Oh... that." He blushed. "Well, I... I am fond of her. She's a charming lady who appreciates my inventive nature."

"Remember when you told me I was being stupid for not asking Millie out because she clearly liked me?"

"Hey! This is not the same thing!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! You and Millie are on equal footing in terms of money and social status. Charlie is a rich and successful philanthropist, while I'm a nobody working pest control to pay the bills. What could she possibly see in me? I'm no fool! If I tried to pursue her, she'd think I was after her money."

"Well, are you after her money?"

"Heavens no! I don't want to marry into a fortune. I want my own success, earned through my inventions. And even without her wealth, she's a jewel. She's sweet, smart, generous, charming, easy to talk to, and she has the cutest smile. Plus, she doesn't think I'm a freak."

"I knew it! You're head over heels for her, aren't you?" Moxxie said, excitement bubbling in his voice.

"Whether I am or not doesn't matter. With my financial issues, she'd never believe I genuinely like her for who she is. She's probably had hundreds of men trying to court her just for her fortune. What makes me any different?"

"Oh, gee, Alastor, I didn't think about that."

"Face it, Moxxie, I'm just not the kind of person who will have someone to share my success with."

"Well, you'll always have me, Uncle Al."

"Thanks, Moxxie." Alastor sighed. "Well, let's get a pot and start boiling the shrimp."

The two quickly set to work preparing the jambalaya, unaware that Vortex had returned to inform them of which bathroom they would be allowed to clean up in and had overheard every word of their conversation.

Chapter Text

Charlie, Alastor, and Moxxie took turns bathing and preparing the meal. By the time they were all cleaned up and dressed in the comfortable clothes Vortex had brought them, the feast was ready. To Moxxie's surprise, Alastor had two servings of each dish, including the chocolate pie, despite the fact that he utterly despised sweets. Moxxie had noticed that Alastor had been eating more lately, which was a positive sign considering he had been dangerously close to becoming anemic. But two slices of chocolate pie topped with sweet cream? The last time Moxxie had seen his uncle indulge in dessert was with Rosie's crème puffs. He had only tasted one to be polite, but as soon as Rosie left the room, he spat it into the trash.

"I suppose it's one of those cases when hunger trumps taste preferences." Moxxie thought, recalling an episode of a survival challenge show where a contestant, driven by hunger, resorted to eating cockroaches, worms, and even dirt.

"That chicken was delicious, Miss Morningstar." Alastor remarked.

"Oh, Alastor, please! No need for formalities at this point. Just call me Charlie." She replied. "And your jambalaya was fantastic; I've never tasted anything like it before."

"As I always say, my mother was one of a kind—a fantastic cook, a wonderful wife and mother, and a bit of a performer. Both she and my father were."

"Oh? Really?" Charlie asked, intrigued.

"Mostly on the piano. Ragtime music was their specialty."

"Do you play?" She inquired.

"They taught me a few songs." Alastor answered.

"My mother loved music too." Moxxie chimed in. "She likes show tunes and jazz, and she taught me to play almost as soon as I could walk."

"So, you both play?" Charlie asked, her excitement growing.

"In our free time." Alastor replied.

"Well, I was wondering... Next week, I'm volunteering at the children's hospital. The kids can't really go anywhere or do anything fun because of their condition—they can't even go to the movies. I thought about putting on a show for them, but one person hardly qualifies as a show. Would you be interested in helping me?"

"I would love to!" Moxxie exclaimed. "Can I invite my girlfriend? She loves kids and can play the banjo, guitar, and drums."

"Of course! That would be perfect. What about you, Alastor?" Charlie asked eagerly.

Truthfully, Alastor would have said no if anyone else had asked. He despised hospitals and felt uneasy around doctors and sick people; the thought of a random stranger touching him made him want to flee. Yet, seeing Charlie's excitement and hopefulness, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

"Sure, I've got nothing better to do." He said with a smile.

Charlie's eyes sparkled with delight as she clapped her hands together.

"Thank you, Alastor! This means so much to me and those kids. I know they'll love it!"

While Charlie worked on the scheduling, Alastor and Moxxie brainstormed the perfect routine. Alastor proposed a comedic approach, recalling the old saying, "Laughter is the best medicine." Inspired, Moxxie suggested a routine they had created for his school talent show.

On the day of the performance, Alastor arrived dressed as a doctor, while Moxxie donned a fake straightjacket, portraying a mental patient. Alastor settled into a chair, placed Moxxie on his lap, and playfully slipped his hand up his nephew's shirt.

"Dr. Alastor Devalcourt at the hearing of his patient's sanity." Millie announced, dressed like a prosecutor. "Notice how his mouth never moves...Almost."

Charlie and the kids all looked at the two men confused.

"Where'd you come from?" Millie started.

Moxxie began to sing as Alastor manipulated him like a puppet, creating a clever twist on the classic ventriloquist act.

"The Prairie State."

"And your parents?"

"Marriage of hate."

"Where are they now?"

"Six feet under."

"Mom was shot and Dad got the chair." Alastor sang.

"But they didn't want me in foster care." Moxxie sang.

"When'd you get here?" Millie sang.

"In the nineties." Moxxie sang.

"How old were you?"

"Seven or eight."

"Then what happened?"

"I met Alastor,
He was such a mad display,
But we made it work anyway."

The kids watched in a mix of confusion and amusement as Moxxie and Alastor continued their routine, the absurdity of the performance drawing giggles from the audience. Charlie beamed, thrilled to see the children engaged, even if they didn't fully grasp the humor.

"Now tell us Moxxie, who's Chaz Thurman?" Millie sang.

"My ex boyfriend." Moxxie sang.

"Why'd you shoot him?"

"I was a minor."

"Was he angry?"

"Like a madman.
Still I said, Chaz move along."

"He knew that creep was doing wrong!" Alastor sang.

"Then describe it." Millie sang.

"He came toward me." Moxxie sang.

"With a pistol?"

"From my bureau."

"Did you fight him?"

"Like a tiger."

"He had strength and he had none!" Alastor sang.

"And yet we both reached for the gun." Moxxie continued.
"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes we both,
Oh yes we both,
Oh yes, we both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun.
Oh yes, we both reached for the gun
For the gun."

"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes they both
Oh yes, they both
Oh yes, they both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun
Oh yes, they both reached for the gun
For the gun." Alastor added.

The children erupted in laughter as Alastor expertly maneuvered Moxxie, who moved his limbs like a wooden marionette while Alastor seemed to pull the strings with finesse.

As the laughter from the previous act faded, Moxxie picked up his guitar and began strumming a lively swing tune, the upbeat rhythm instantly filling the room with energy. The children clapped along, their faces lighting up with excitement.

Alastor, ever the showman, leaned forward with a playful grin.

"Anyone care to dance?"

"We can't dance." Said one boy who sat in a wheel chair.

"Sure you can, you just need the right partner." He insisted. "Charlie, can you come here please?"

"Sure."

He took her hands and gently placed them in the boy's grasp. Charlie smiled, and the boy laughed as they swayed their arms to the music. Alastor then joined a girl on crutches for a dance and Millie led several other children into a ring around the rosy type dance. Later, Alastor and Moxxie put together a hilarious pantomime act with slapstick comedy. Alastor tripped Moxxie with a rake, only for Moxxie to retaliate with a mouse trap to Alastor's hand. Alastor took an axe to Moxxie, who responded by firing a shotgun in his direction. Alastor then dropped an anvil on Moxxie, and Moxxie stuffed dynamite into Alastor's pocket. For the grand finale, they both swung large mallets, resulting in a spectacular double knockout.

Soon it became less like a hospital room and more like a play room. Alastor and Moxxie had a natural talent for bringing smiles to children's faces, and not a single boy or girl felt a hint of sadness that day, they had never laughed so hard.

Charlie and Millie became more smitten with Alastor and Moxxie that day. Watching how they effortlessly brought joy to the children, their hearts swelled with admiration.

"They're so sweet." Charlie sighed.

"I know." Millie replied. "Little children adore Moxxie, and he adores them right back. He was an only child but always wanted brothers and sisters. He says I'm lucky to have so many."

"I bet if he gets married, he'll want a bunch of kids of his own."

"I don't know; he's never mentioned it, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"You've known them for a while, right, Millie?"

"Pretty much since I met Moxxie at the school carnival three years ago. When I saw him make three bullseyes at the shooting range, I knew he was the one for me."

"What about Alastor?"

"Everyone thinks he's a freak, but I like him. He kind of reminds me of my Pa—That is if my Pa were tall and preferred brains over brawn."

"Do you know if he's seeing anyone?"

"He's single. Mimzy has been after him for months, but I think her advances creep him out. Plus, I'm pretty sure she just wants to use him to get back at her ex-boyfriend, who dumped her for gaining weight before a commercial audition. Those are my co-worker's words, not mine."

"Is there anyone he's interested in?"

"I'm not sure. According to Moxxie, he's never dated or had a girlfriend."

"Is he gay?"

"No, Moxxie says he doesn't understand gay. He's not homophobic; he just can't wrap his head around how a man can be attracted to another man when every other species is attracted to the opposite sex. To say he's a nerd is an understatement."

"I can't believe he's never had anyone. He's handsome, intelligent, sweet, and creative. What woman wouldn't want him?"

"Probably Vaggie, but she finds all men disgusting—except for Angel, for some reason." Millie said. "Why the sudden curiosity about his personal life? Do you like him or something?"

Charlie blushed.

"I think I like him very much, but I want to know if he likes me—really likes me. Every other man I've met has only been after my money, but I'm hoping he's different."

"Well, Moxxie is a romantic and a firm believer in love and marriage, and Alastor raised him, so..."

"So I hope what you're implying is true. I'll just have to wait and see."

She glanced back at Alastor and Moxxie, continuing to watch them entertain the children, her smile widening with each second.

Chapter Text

You know how there are people who just can't take a hint? How they persistently pursue someone until they're told outright to stop. Vox was one of those people. He relentlessly tried to insert himself into Charlie's life, hoping to marry her and to get his hands on her money, despite her clear disinterest. In fact, he likely wouldn't have stopped even if she had bluntly said, "I don't like you; never come near me again."

After she declined his invitation to the nightclub, he showed up at her house one day, attempting to persuade her to reconsider. Fortunately, Vortex was determined to send him packing.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schadenfreude, but as I told you when you called, Miss Morningstar is not interested in going to a nightclub, and frankly, I think she isn't interested in you either."

"Oh really? Let me hear this from her mouth, Jeeves!" Vox demanded.

"My name is Vortex, and unfortunately, she can't speak with you right now. She has plans."

"Plans? What kind of plans?"

"Well, if you must know, she's agreed to join Mr. Devalcourt, Mr. Knolastname, and Miss Tumbleweed for a picnic and an outdoor movie at the park this evening."

"Alastor?!" Vox nearly choked on the name. "She's going out with Alastor?!"

"Actually, she's going out with him, his adorable nephew, and his nephew's equally adorable girlfriend. They're so cute together, you know? Reminds me of myself and Bee."

"Why is he asking her out?"

"Well, it was Miss Tumbleweed who set it up."

"Don't give me that shit! I know how manipulative that little weasel is! What did he say to plant the idea in her head?"

"I think it's best if you leave now, Mr. Schadenfreude. I advise you not to return here without an invitation."

With that, he closed the door in Vox's face.

"Is it wrong that I found this whole thing kind of amusing?" Vox heard his stepbrother chuckle.

"Why is she dating that old-timey prick?!" Vox exclaimed. "Why doesn't she hate him like everyone else in town does?!"

"Well, she's a charity junkie. Maybe she feels sorry for the poor bastard and thinks you're a real asshole for screwing him over."

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault?! What did I do?!"

"I sent you into his lab to sabotage him! To ruin that invention of his! I wanted it to be so bad that everyone would hate him and run him out of town!"

"And I did sabotage it! I removed that safety chip, and then everything went to Hell! It's not my fault the broad has a soft spot for losers."

"He's doing it again, Striker! He's trying to make me look bad!"

"Who cares? With how stupid and gullible everyone is in this town, you're raking in more cash than ever with your security scams. I say forget the girl, and after a month, we grab the profits and split town before anyone wises up."

"Don't you see? He's trying to get her money before I do!"

"And again, I ask: who cares? Keep this scheme going, and you'll have more money than she ever will!"

"That's not the point!"

"It's not? Since when is money not the point?"

"The point is I want it all! I want to have everything and I want him to have nothing! If he wants something, I want to take it from him! I want to make his life so miserable and empty that he'll either jump off a bridge or swallow a bottle of sleeping pills!"

"And that matters more to you than money? Damn, you're more unhinged than I thought. I wonder why your mom never warned us about this. My dad's used to dealing with psychos; he's a lawyer."

"Shut up! Shut up and help me fix this!"

"Alright, alright, keep your pants on. Now personally, I think your whole vendetta against this guy is a sucker's game, but as long as I get my cut for the goodies that are to come...Here's my advice, why not wait?"

"Wait? Wait for what?"

"For an opportunity. If he's as cracked as you are—well, maybe not as cracked as you, but definitely a close second—he's bound to mess up eventually. We just need to be patient."

"I'm not a patient man."

"Yeah, I noticed." Striker replied dryly. "Right now, she sees him as the poor victim and you as the jerk who ruined him. If you keep this up, she'll think you're crazy and have you committed while Alastor basks in her sympathy. Let it lie for now and see what comes along."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Like I said, my dad's a lawyer. I know all about underhanded tactics."

Moxxie believed that a picnic with an outdoor movie would be perfect for Millie. The film being screened was a horror flick, and Millie knew Moxxie was afraid of such movies. She didn't want him to feel embarrassed if he got scared. Since Charlie had casually mentioned that she was also creeped out by horror films, Millie invited her and Alastor to join them, hoping Moxxie wouldn't feel humiliated if someone else in their group reacted similarly. Charlie didn't mind at all; she could handle scary movies as long as she wasn't alone. While Alastor disliked television, he loved a good cinematic experience. Each of them brought snacks: Alastor contributed bug spray and a lamp, Moxxie brought tablecloths, paper plates, and cups, while Charlie provided the drinks.

The movie was a graphic retelling of 'The Phantom of the Opera', Moxxie's favorite musical. He was tempted to jump up and sing along with every musical number, but when the scenes of murder and blood appeared, he grabbed onto Millie, trembling like a cornered rabbit. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut, covering her face with her hands. Alastor and Millie couldn't help but grin; having experience in butchering chickens, rabbits, deer, and pigs for a meal, the exaggerated, dramatic killing scenes with fake blood were nothing to them.

When Charlie instinctively clung to Alastor during a tense scene, he began to shake as violently as Moxxie. He had never experienced a woman holding onto him like that.

"Is it over?" Charlie asked softly.

"Um... Um... Um..." He struggled to find his words, unable to stop trembling. Charlie interpreted his silence as fear of the film, unaware that having her so close was one of the scariest moments of his life.

After that gruesome scene, the film transitioned to a romantic ballad and a love-making sequence.

"Oh, come on!" Alastor scoffed. "Do they always have to put sex in the movies now? No one wants to see that!"

"Speak for yourself, Smiles! It's inspiring!" Angel chimed in, choosing this moment to initiate a make-out session with Vaggie. "Now pipe down! Some of us are trying to enjoy the movie!"

They locked lips, entwined their arms, and did the tongue tango.

"Ahh! It burns!" Alastor exclaimed, averting his eyes.

Moxxie burst into laughter at his uncle's melodramatic reaction. Public displays of intimacy—what Alastor referred to as PDI—were practically the only thing that could frighten him. He often ranted about how such behavior should be illegal, insisting that it belonged behind closed doors. Moxxie still had nightmares about the time Alastor caught him trying to look at a porn site out of teenage curiosity; it was the only time his uncle had ever whipped him.

When the movie ended, the four of them piled into Alastor and Moxxie's van for the ride home. Throughout the journey, Moxxie and Millie debated the film, with Moxxie comparing it to the original musical and novel, while Millie analyzed the killing scenes in terms of practical methods for taking down a target.

"Did you see how they staged that murder? It was so over-the-top!" Moxxie exclaimed, his hands gesturing wildly. "In the original, it was much more subtle."

Millie grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"But you have to admit, the fake blood was hilarious! I mean, who uses that much for a single scene?"

Alastor, trying to maintain his composure, interjected with a mock-serious tone.

"If we ever stage a murder, we should definitely tone down the theatrics. Less is more, right?"

Charlie, still recovering from the film's intensity, chuckled softly.

"I think I prefer the romantic parts over the bloodshed. They were... well, less terrifying."

"Exactly!" Moxxie agreed, his voice rising in excitement. "The music was beautiful, and the love story had so much potential. It's a shame they had to ruin it with all that violence."

As they continued to discuss the film, Charlie felt a warmth growing between her and Alastor. Despite his earlier discomfort, he seemed to relax, engaging more with the group. She noticed how he would occasionally glance her way, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

In the backseat, Millie leaned closer to Moxxie and whispered,

"I think our next date should be at my place—just the two of us working on our entries for the Garden Gala."

"Your place? Just us?" He stammered, his heart racing at the thought.

Millie nodded, her smile brightening.

"Yeah. We can..." She traced two fingers slowly up his chest. "...brainstorm ideas together. I think it'll be fun. What do you think?"

Moxxie's cheeks blushed at Millie's playful gesture.

"Uh, yeah, that sounds... great! I mean, brainstorming for the gala is important, right?"

As Alastor fought the urge to laugh at Moxxie's reaction to Millie's advances, he stole a glance at the night sky. The waning gibbous moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over the road.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and the world around him began to spin. His grip on the steering wheel slackened, and the van swerved slightly.

"Alastor!" Charlie exclaimed, her voice cutting through the haze. Instinctively, she reached over and grabbed the wheel, steering it back onto the road just in time.

"Whoa, what was that?" Moxxie shouted, his eyes wide with alarm as he clutched Millie's hand.

Alastor shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

"Alastor are you alright?" Charlie asked placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine! Just a little lightheaded." He managed to say, though the dizziness lingered.

"Lightheaded? You nearly drove us off the road!" Moxxie said.

"I said I'm fine!" Alastor insisted, forcing a chuckle to mask his unease. He focused on the road ahead, willing himself to regain control. The moon's glow seemed to pulse, and he blinked rapidly, trying to steady himself.

"Maybe you should pull over for a moment." Millie suggested.

"Or better yet, let me drive." Moxxie said.

Alastor wanted to argue, but with the odds three against one, he reluctantly moved to the passenger seat, allowing Moxxie to take over the wheel. Throughout the rest of the drive, Alastor appeared fine, yet Moxxie couldn't shake his worry. Dizzy spells were often the first signs of anemia, but Alastor's diet had recently improved significantly; he was no longer skipping meals and was, in fact, eating more than usual. Could fainting spells be caused by overeating? Had he been drinking? No, even Alastor wasn't crazy enough to drink and drive. But what else could be the cause?

Chapter Text

"I'm not going to the doctor, Moxxie!" Alastor exclaimed.

"Last night, you nearly passed out while driving. What if it happens again? You could seriously hurt yourself or someone else." Moxxie replied, concern etched on his face.

"You know I hate doctors."

"Do you hate dying too?"

"You're overreacting. It was just one dizzy spell. It won't happen again."

"For some reason, I don't believe that. Can't you do this for me? You may not care if you drop dead, but I do."

"I appreciate your concern, but you worry too much. It's not really your place to do so."

"What do you mean?"

"Moxxie, you may be an adult in a technical sense, but emotionally and mentally, you're still just a child. I, on the other hand, am fully grown—chronologically, emotionally, and mentally. I can take care of myself and don't need anyone worrying about me. Now, why don't you forget this nonsense and get ready for your special evening with Millie tonight?"

"We're not done talking about this." Moxxie insisted.

"Uh-huh, sure," Alastor replied, dismissing his nephew's concerns as he headed downstairs to his lab.

Moxxie groaned, clenching his fists. He could tolerate many things about his uncle, but his pride was intolerable. Alastor always believed he was right, making Moxxie feel inferior. As a child, that was understandable, but now at eighteen, Moxxie had proven himself capable in many ways—except for inventing, of course. The only real difference between them was their age. Well that and their height.

"It's not fair, Millie." Moxxie complained, chopping the herbs for a rich wine sauce with more force than necessary. "I've helped him cook, clean, and run an animal control business for the last ten years, I pay his bills, for God's sake! And he still treats me like a kid."

"Join the club." Millie replied, rummaging under the sink for her largest pot. "I've been working on my parents' farm since I first learned to walk, but they still think I'm not ready to help my brothers manage the whole nine acres. And they never listen to my ideas for improving the business. I once suggested we make and sell apple jam and pear butter with the surplus from our crops, since we always have more apples and pears than we can sell."

She handed him two slips of paper with her recipes. Moxxie glanced over the ingredients.

"Freshly picked apples, freshly picked pears, ground cinnamon, vanilla extract, lemon juice, fresh honey—this sounds amazing. This could really boost your family's business. Might even get you a place in the market."

"I know, but do you know what they said? They laughed and called me young, naive, and overly optimistic, claiming I didn't understand how merchandising really works. It's ageism, I tell ya!"

"To be fair, selling products is much harder than creating them these days. It involves a mountain of paperwork, licensing, even contracts."

"It's just apple jam and pear butter, not the Apple phone and Pear Pad company."

"I get that, but even selling something simple comes with complications. For one thing if you really want to succeed, you need a reliable sponsor—preferably one trustworthy with deep pockets. But good luck finding someone like that around here."

"What about the Goetias?"

"Eh... Stolas has a history of infidelity, his ex-wife is unstable, and his ex-brother-in-law is in jail for the Robo Fizz incident. People might not trust them. What about Charlie?"

"She's dedicated her life to sponsoring others, so I'd hate to burden her with another request, especially since she's already funding the Garden Gala. Asking her to help with my idea feels like too much. And I want to do this on my own, not rely on charity."

"Okay, let me think... I've got it! What about Reverend Abel? He's the most trustworthy man in town and has plenty of resources. I'm sure he'd be willing to help."

"But that would be charity, Moxxie. If I'm seen as a charity case, my parents will never take me seriously."

"How about offering him a share of the profits then?"

"For what?"

"For providing an ingredient. Both recipes require fresh honey, and Reverend Abel keeps bees. You could ask him if you can use some of his honey for your products, and if they succeed, you can give him his cut."

"You know, that might actually work. I'll buy a few jars of honey from him, make some apple jam and pear butter, enter both in the Garden Gala, and if it goes well, I'll discuss sponsorship with him."

"I know it'll be a success! Who knows, you might even end up with your own store: Millie's Marvelous Jams and Butters."

Millie chuckled.

"Don't start planning the commercials just yet. I still need to whip up the first draft and see if it tastes good. Speaking of which, I can't wait to try that lobster thermidor you're making. I've never had it before."

"Then prepare your taste buds." Moxxie replied, finishing up the last of the herbs and pouring them into a bowl. "You heat the pot, and I'll grab the lobsters."

Millie nodded and filled a large steel pot with water, carefully placing it on the stove to heat.

Suddenly, she heard Moxxie shout, "Ow! Hey! Stop! Ow! Ow!"

"Everything okay back there?" Millie called out.

"All good! The lobsters somehow got their rubber bands off, but I'll handle it! Don't worry—Ow! Let go of my nose!"

Millie rushed to the back, to find Moxxie wrestling with the lobsters.

"Millie, run! The lobsters have started a revolt!"

Millie burst into laughter at the sight of Moxxie grappling with the feisty lobsters, their claws snapping in defiance.

"Hold on." Millie said, stepping in. "I'll get the rubber bands back on."

With a quick and deft motion, she managed to secure the lobsters, their claws now safely restrained.

"Phew! That was a close one." Moxxie said, wiping his brow. "I thought I was going to lose a finger."

Millie chuckled, shaking her head.

"You really need to be more careful, a lobster would eat your nose right off your face if it had the chance."

As they set to work cooking the lobster, the kitchen filled with the rich aroma of the bubbling wine sauce. Moxxie stirred the pot, while Millie continued with chopping the fresh herbs, their movements synchronized in a comfortable rhythm.

After a moment of silence, their eyes met, a spark of something unspoken lingering in the air. Millie broke the stillness, her voice soft.

"Do you think the sauce needs anything?"

Moxxie hesitated, swallowing hard.

"Um, maybe some basil?" He reached for the fragrant leaves, his hands trembling slightly as he added them to the mixture. "You know, in some cultures, basil is considered the herb of love and passion."

"Oh really?" Millie said.

"Yes. In Greek mythology, it was associated with Eros, the son of Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, and Ares, the God of War—a kind of aphrodisiac for a passionate and tumultuous romance."

"Oh, Moxxie, you're so romantic."

Perhaps it was the heat of the kitchen getting to them, but in that moment, they decided to throw caution to the wind. She wrapped her arms around his neck, he pulled her closer by the waist, and they kissed. They kissed with all the repressed passion and longing they had harbored for each other for so long.

"Oh God, Moxxie!" She gasped when they finally pulled apart. "I've been wanting to do that—"

"Since the first day we met?" Moxxie interjected.

"Yeah, what took you so long?"

"I thought you were too good for me. I thought I was too much of a geek."

"That was stupid."

"It was?"

"Yes! Now kiss me, you fool."

Moxxie grinned, his heart racing as he leaned in again, capturing Millie's lips with his. This time, the kiss was deeper, more fervent, as if they were both trying to make up for lost time.

While Moxxie and Millie were cooking up a love affair, Alastor had chosen today to assist Charlie in building that layout for her garden. He claimed it was to "make up for almost killing her in a car crash last night," but no one truly believed that.

The plan was for a wooden structure featuring raised beds and trellises, aimed at creating a vibrant and productive garden. With his keen eye for detail, Alastor sketched out a layout, envisioning a flourishing space under Charlie's careful nurturing.

"Be careful!" Charlie cautioned as she watched him prepare to saw the wood.

"Don't worry, my dear; I am an expert!" Alastor replied confidently.

"Forgive me for asking, Mr. Devalcourt, but wouldn't an electric saw be more efficient?" Vortex interjected.

"I don't trust those damn things; I swear, they have a mind of their own."

"Very well, then. Shall I work on the measurements then?" Vortex offered.

"Yes, thank you."

Alastor began sawing the wood manually, a task that often strained his hands. However, he believed it was preferable to possibly losing his fingers with those electric saws he felt were nearly impossible to control. For a brief moment, he paused to watch Charlie bring Vortex a glass of lemonade, urging him to take an hour's break in the shade while she handled the measurements.

She looked radiant in the sunlight.

"Ahhh!"

Suddenly, a sharp piece of wood sliced into his flesh. He dropped the saw and clutched his hand to his chest, watching blood seep through his fingers. In an instant, she dropped everything and rushed to his side.

"Vortex! Bring me the first aid kit!"

"Yes, ma'am." Her butler replied, hurrying inside the house.

Alastor flinched as Charlie reached for his hand, but she wouldn’t back down.

"Let me see." She insisted.

"It's nothing, really."

"But you're bleeding."

"A little blood loss never hurt anyone."

"That doesn't look like a little blood loss. Please, I need to see how bad it is."

Finally, he relented, allowing her a clear view of his wounded hand. Charlie winced as she examined the jagged gash marring Alastor's skin.

"Miss Morningstar." Vortex said, returning with an open first aid kit in hand. "Terrible news, I'm afraid, we're out of gauze and bandages."

"Do we still have wash rags and iodine?" She asked.

"Yes." He answered.

"Okay, I can work with this." She took a rag from the kit and began dabbing at the cut, focusing on removing the tiny wood splinters from his hand.

"Ow!" He exclaimed.

"Sorry." She said, her concentration unwavering.

Once all the splinters were cleared away, she grabbed another rag and the bottle of iodine.

"Now, this is going to sting like a nest of hornets and fire ants, but whatever you do, don't move until I'm finished." Charlie said, pouring iodine onto the rag.

"Honestly, Charlie, this is too much." Alastor protested, his voice rising. "I know it looks ugly, but is all this really necessa—AAAHHH!"

She pressed the rag firmly against his wound.

"Sorry, but you could get sick if it gets infected." Charlie said.

Alastor's face turned red, embarrassed by his outburst. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his composure as she cleaned the injury. Once she finished, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it around his wound, securing it with a ribbon that held her hair in place.

"There you go." She said, shaking her hair free to fall down her back.

When she looked up, Alastor met her gaze, a spark of wonder lighting his eyes. She was still holding his hand, her fingers soft and warm against his skin.

"Thank you." He murmured, his voice low and sincere.

"You're welcome." She whispered, lost in his gaze.

Chapter Text

Weeks went by, and while business was slow for Alastor and Moxxie, their love lives flourished. Moxxie and Millie had become nearly inseparable, spending every possible moment together—whether on dates or preparing for the competition, it was always just the two of them.

One of their favorite activities was helping Millie make apple jam and pear butter. Strolling through the orchards under the warm sun, they enjoyed the gentle spring breeze and the sweet fragrance of apple blossoms and pear blooms. The taste of taking that first bite from fresh fruit, so crisp and juicy. They would then fill barrels and baskets with apples and pears, and later relax under the shade of the trees for a picnic lunch, where Millie would share delightful stories about her family's farm.

"You know my pa's side of the family and my ma's side used to be rival farmers." She said.

"Really?" Moxxie replied, intrigued.

"Yep. My Grandpa Henry Tumbleweed raised livestock, while my other Grandpa Hogarth Sagebrush grew crops. They had to share the land, and they constantly fought over whose products were better. When they were younger, it got so bad that they resorted to sabotage. Grandpa Henry would unleash a swarm of fruit flies into the Sagebrush orchard, and Grandpa Hogarth would let his cattle loose on Tumbleweed land. Another time, Grandpa Henry dug a hole in the Sagebrush fields and released a male and female rabbit, and soon there were rabbits everywhere, devouring the vegetables. In retaliation, Grandpa Hogarth put a chicken hawk in the Tumbleweed coop, and by morning, there wasn't a single egg left."

"Yikes, all that over who had the better product?"

"The men in my family measure a man's worth by two things: who runs the best business and who has the bigger... well, you know."

Moxxie blushed at the implication.

"But only the wives could judge the latter, so my grandpas focused on the former. They competed over who made the most money, who had the largest and most fertile land, whose products were the tastiest and healthiest, who would win at the county fair, who had the prettiest wife, and who had the most children."

"Wait a minute, what do those last two have to do with business?"

"I said they were farmers and businessmen, not geniuses."

"How did your parents meet?"

"Pa and Ma were both signed up for the county fair competition. Pa was tasked with raising an animal, while Ma was supposed to grow a plant. However, Pa had developed a passion for agriculture and wanted to cultivate a special variety of apple. Meanwhile, Ma had rescued a white cow during a flood and aimed to breed her to preserve the species. Unfortunately, both my grandfathers were traditionalists—no son of a Tumbleweed would focus on plants, and no daughter of a Sagebrush would bother with animals.

On the day they went to register for the competition, they found themselves stuck in a long line, waiting impatiently. To pass the time, they struck up a conversation. When they shared their true aspirations, an idea blossomed: Ma would provide Pa with apple seedlings and teach him about crop cultivation, while Pa would offer Ma a bull to mate with her cow and guide her in livestock care. For months, they worked together, meeting every day. By the time the county fair arrived, Pa had successfully grown a brand-new apple tree, Ma's cow had given birth to not one, but two white calves, and they had fallen in love."

"What did they do next?"

"They decided to elope and start a farm of their own, one where they could raise livestock and cultivate crops. It eventually became one of the most successful farms in Crescent City. That's why I'm so determined to make this apple jam and pear butter sale a success—I want to achieve something great like they did."

Moxxie smiled warmly at Millie, his heart swelling with pride for the remarkable woman beside him. Millie beamed back, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she focused on their picnic lunch.

"Thank you, Moxxie. It really means a lot to hear you say that. No one has ever believed in me the way you do."

After they finished lunch, they loaded their harvest into the van and headed to the market to pick up additional ingredients and jars. Alastor offered to stop by the church to fetch the honey they needed. He was eager to speak with the reverend about ways to enhance flower growth, hoping to assist Charlie with her garden, particularly her special hybrid flowers.

In his spare time, Alastor had been visiting Morningstar almost daily, helping Charlie restore her family's garden. As they spent more time together, their friendship deepened, but Alastor had never made a move to take their relationship beyond camaraderie. Everyone in town could see his affections for the young heiress, but he continued to deny it, using business as an excuse to spend time with her.

"I'm sorry, Alastor." Abel said as he tended to the tomato plants in the church greenhouse. "But there's no better way to help flowers flourish naturally than by sticking to the basics: sunlight, water, fertilizer, and a little patience."

"But the competition is only days away, and I know Charlie wants her Belle Blossom to bloom by then." Alastor said.

"And it will." Abel assured him, carefully watering his begonias. "Charlie is a gifted gardener. The flower will be ready at the right time; she knows what she's doing. So why are you really here?"

"Well, I... I just wanted to help her, Reverend, that's all. I've talked to Stolas and Niffty, and they told me they learned everything they know about plants from you. I can see why." He gestured around the expansive greenhouse, filled with vibrant greenery and flowers. "It's like your own Garden of Eden in here. How much do you have all together?"

"About 20 percent ferns and ficus, 30 percent flowers, and 50 percent fruit and vegetables." Abel explained.

"Why more edible plants than the others?" Alastor asked, curious.

"It's for offerings and food drive charities."

"Is there anything in here for the competition?"

"No, that's what my bees are for. I'm using their honey to make my special honey bar candy. I plan to sell them at the gala, and all the proceeds will go to the Feed the Hungry donation at the homeless shelter. If I can sell just a hundred bars, it will be enough to feed everyone at the shelter for a year—and maybe even longer if I sell more."

"Do you think your bees will produce enough honey for that?"

"Absolutely. I take good care of them, you know. They get plenty of sunshine, fresh air, and flowers from the greenhouse to pollinate. The sweeter you are to the bees, the sweeter their honey will be."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. Nothing makes a bee happier than a good flower. You should know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you've been acting quite sweet lately. It makes me wonder if dear Charlie has become the flower that draws in a bee like you."

Alastor turned away, hoping the reverend wouldn't notice his flushed cheeks.

"It's just business. She's very wealthy, and she needs the money."

"Now, Alastor, thou must not bear false witness, especially under the Lord's roof."

"Technically, we're not in the church; we're in a greenhouse. I don't know what you mean by bearing false witness—I haven't done that."

Abel chuckled.

"It's alright. The Lord doesn't expect anyone to speak the truth until it's the right time. I won't say anymore. As for that Belle Blossom, your best bet is to let it grow and bloom naturally. Don't rush it. Is there anything else you came here for? Would you like to confess?"

"No, but I did come for another reason. Millie asked me to pick up an order of honey for the jam and butter she's making."

"Ah, yes, Miss Tumbleweed's project. I have a crate of honey jars in the next room. I do hope her idea succeeds, and you can tell her to donate my share of the profits to the food donation at the homeless shelter."

"Are you sure you don't want a cut for yourself?" Alastor asked.

"No, I have enough to get by."

"Well, if you say so, but personally, I—"

Suddenly, Alastor felt a rush of heat wash over him, and his legs wobbled. He placed a hand on one of the glass walls to steady himself.

"Are you alright?" Abel asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. I think I'm coming down with spring allergies or something." Alastor replied, forcing a smile.

"Are you okay to drive home?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Don't worry. See you on Sunday, Reverend."

When Alastor departed, Reverend Abel set to work preparing for the upcoming Sunday service. He tended to his bees, reviewed his candy bar recipe, and capped off the day by harvesting a basket of carrots to bring to the church as an offering to the congregation.

As night fell, the sky turned completely dark, illuminated only by the bright full moon shining above.

"Lovely full moon tonight." He remarked, glancing up at the sky as he walked back from the greenhouse. "An omen for a good harvest."

As he strolled, he remained unaware that something was following him into the church. Upon reaching the altar, he was greeted by a vibrant array of tomatoes, greens, eggplants, cucumbers, melons, and berries. After adding his freshly harvested carrots to the collection, he knelt down to pray.

"Protect and nourish the frail and the weak, O Lord. Let them grow big and strong under Thy loving care-"

Then he heard the door shut.

"Heavens above!" He gasped turning around. He didn't see anything but he heard someone's heavy breathing. "Hello?...Is anybody there?...Blitzo? Stolas? Is that you? I've told you two before, the sanctuary is not for your secret rendezvous."

No one replied, but Abel knew he wasn't alone. He wandered if it was an other homeless individual seeking help.

"Please, come forward, whoever you are. There's no need to be afraid." Said the vicar calmly.

Finally there was a response but it was a loud, salivating pant from behind a pillar.

"Ah, You're hungry! Then, please, take what you like. It's for the needy, after all!"

But the vicar's calm benevolence turned to absolute horror as the 'thing' rushed the table. He scrambled to find a crucifix with which to protect himself. All he managed to find were two cucumbers, which he crossed in front of him in desperation.

"MERCY!" He cried, but the cucumbers were the first things to be devoured. "Oh good lord!"

Abel fainted. And that was just the start of the salivating beast's feeding frenzy. It ploughed through the harvest table full of vegetables in seconds and then smashed its way through a stained-glass window, heading towards the gardens, farms, and shops of the town. No vegetable, fruit, bread, or meat was safe from its furry clutches; no greenhouse or butchery was secure against this ... this ... But what was it?

Chapter Text

The next morning, Moxxie woke up before Alastor for a change and found him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Alastor had prepared cheese and mushroom omelettes, a whole pack of bacon, and fried apples.

"I woke up at 4 AM and couldn't get back to sleep." Alastor explained. "I had the strangest nightmare that I was buried alive in a vegetable garden, and that a donkey was trying to have its way with me."

Moxxie bit his lip, struggling to contain his laughter.

"Last time I drink whiskey before bed."

Just as Moxxie took a bite of his omelette, the phone rang, cutting through their morning chatter. Alastor raised an eyebrow, glancing at the caller ID.

"Hello?" Moxxie said, answering the call. "Oh hi Millie."

"Moxxie! You won't believe what happened last night!" Millie's voice was frantic on the other end.

"What's wrong?" Moxxie asked, his heart racing.

"Something got into my family's farm! It ate all our crops, devoured half our egg count, and... Oh God you won't believe this! It neutered our donkey!"

Moxxie's eyes widened in shock, and he nearly choked on his food.

"Neutered? How does that even happen?!"

"I don't know, but that's not the worst of it. Countless places in the city that sells food has been ransacked and pillaged. The town is going bat shit crazy! They've rallied together in the church! Are you going to be there?"

"Sure, Al and I will be right over."

Alastor and Moxxie quickly finished up their meal, got dressed, and headed down to the church. The town's folk were in uproar. Panicking and screaming, demanding answers.

"It's a disaster!" Niffty cried. "My garden's ruined!"

"It's carnage out there! Carnage!" Baxter said. "It ate everything at the market!"

"It went through six barrels of my pickled herring!" Vaggie said.

"It cleaned out my entire meat locker!" Husk said.

"It wrote this on my head!" Blitzo lifted up his hair, to show the words: 'Impotent' written with permanent marker. Octavia who sat next to him burst out laughing only for Stolas to cover her mouth.

"That's enough!" Officer Pentious said, trying to calm the situation. "Now I think I know what this whole thing about! These flippin' competitions causes nothing but trouble every year!"

The townsfolk groaned, they had heard this before.

"Here we go again." Husk sighed.

"If you ask me..." Pentious continued, through the crowd's heckles. "This was...arson."

The crowd looked puzzled

"Someone "arson" around! One of you lot. A man!"

The crowd raised their voices in disagreement... until they were silenced by a chilling voice from the back of the hall.

"This was no man!" The voice was Abel's. He moved up the aisle in his wheelchair, looking haunted and still feverish from his attack.

"Does a man have teeth the size of axe blades?" He asked dramatically. "Or antlers like the devil's pitchfork."

He staggered to his feet and tottered slowly through the crowd, speaking like the tormented man he was.

"By tampering with nature, forcing vegetables and livestock to swell far beyond their natural size, we have brought a terrible judgement upon ourselves. And for our sins... a hideous creature has been sent to punish us all!"

The crowd gasped. Officer Pentious shook his head, muttering. Even he felt chills running down his spine at the end of the vicar's sermon.

"Repent! Repent! Lest you too taste the wrath of ... the WERE-DEER!"

Everyone turned to see what the reverend was pointing at the frightening outline of a gigantic deer that had smashed through the church's stained-glass window. Panic swept through the crowd. Alastor and Moxxie could only gulp and exchange worried glances.

"A were-deer?" They both thought. "What even was that? Surely there must've been a mistake. There's no such animal. Right? But then again, what else could have made a hole that big?"

"What's to become of the Garden Gala?" Angel asked.

"We live for that competition!" Vaggie said shaking Officer Pentious. "We're simple folk!"

"Get off me!" Pentious demanded.

"It's all we have! Who will save us?"

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and everyone turned. There, with his smoking gun in his hand, was Vox with Striker but his side.

"A Were-deer? Come, come now." He scoffed. "I do believe the vicar's been at the communion wine
again."

He reloaded his gun.

"What we are dealing with here is no supernatural deer! It's a big fellow perhaps, but a mortal creature of flesh and blood."

"I agree." Stolas said. "A were-deer, really. Such things only exist in the imagination."

"Oh no Dad, they're real alright." Octavia said. "And according to Madame Cassandra, in this situation we need garlic! Pure silver! Holy water! Wolves-bane! Crosses!"

"Oh Via, please not that occult nonsense again." Stolas told her. "I've told you to stop reading that book! Were-beasts, ghosts, and the supernatural are not real."

"They are so. It's in the newspaper! Says so right here in The Crescent City Inquirer."

She held up an article.

"I was married to a were-squirrel?" Stolas said reading the head line.

"And in Paranormal Monthly." She showed him another article.

"Were-Beasts, Ghosts, and the Supernatural are real?" He read. "Does your mother let you read this stuff?"

"Anyway." Vox said, not liking the idea of someone taking the attention away from him. "This beast is easily dealt with by a weapon built from the most highly advanced technology."

"You mean the same technology you used for your security systems?" Octavia asked. "The same ones that failed to keep that thing out?"

"Yeah, why didn't your system keep that creature off our properties?" Millie asked.

"You told me it could keep out a bear." Husk said.

"Oh...Well...You see it...It...It...Striker help me out here?"

"You're on your own bro." Striker said.

"May I make a suggestion?" Another voice spoke up.

All eyes turned toward Charlie, standing in the sunlight pouring in from the broken window, looking like an angel.

"I think for a creature like this, we need to trust it with someone who has more experience. Someone who won’t blindly kill a creature without just cause. Someone like Mr. Devalcourt and Mr. Knolastname."

She gazed adoringly at Alastor, he almost dropped his smiles he was so surprised. He couldn't believe it, she was actually putting her faith in him and trying to help him get back into the town's good graces. Much to Vox's annoyance.

"You can't be serious!" Vox argued. "How the hell would those tiny-minded buffoons ever catch such a big deer?"

"They're not tiny-minded or buffoons." She defended. "They're exceptionally bright and they've done a good job at running the animal control here for years."

"But they're the ones who created that crazy robot last month!"

"Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone deserves a second chance. I suggest we give Mr. Devalcourt and Mr. Knolastname one."

Oh what a woman. Alastor felt unworthy of her praise.

"I second the motion." Millie said.

"Me too." Rosie added.

Then the whole church erupted in spontaneous applause. Once again, Vox had been upstaged, and he wasn't happy.

The frenzy in the church continued as applause echoed off the walls, with townsfolk casting sidelong glances at Vox, who seethed quietly. Alastor felt a swell of pride at Charlie's support; it was rare for anyone to see him and his nephew's potential.

"Thank you, Charlie!" He exclaimed to her. "We won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Just promise me something."

"Anything my dear."

"Promise me, you'll try not to hurt it. From what I've heard it only eats food, it hasn't attacked any people or animals. I think the poor creature is just lost and confused, not really a threat to anyone."

"I give you my word that we will handle this as humanely as possible. Just leave everything to us."

"Um...Uncle Al, can I have a word with you?" Moxxie asked.

"Sure."

Moxxie pulled Alastor aside, his expression serious.

"Are you sure we can handle this? A were-deer sounds like a big deal, and what if it really is dangerous?"

Alastor smirked, his confidence unwavering.

"Moxxie, my dear nephew, I have taken down bobcats, bears, even alligators. How hard can an overgrown deer be?"

"But this isn't your garden variety stag. It's huge! It's probably bigger than two gators! And also it eats meat! What kind of deer eats meat? They're herbivores."

"Details, details, all that matters is that the town is giving us a chance to win back their respect and hopefully drive Vox out of town. If we pull this off, we're back in business."

"I guess, but how are we going to trap that thing anyway?"

"Why we use the tender trap of course."

"Huh?"

"Love Moxxie. If I'm right, it's mating season for deer so we use a decoy doe to lure him out."

"Okay, but who's gonna be the decoy?"

Alastor answered but giving his nephew a devious grin.

"Oh shit." Moxxie cursed.

Chapter Text

Alastor decided to create a special doe puppet using leftover pelts from his past hunts. He secured it on the roof of the van and tied strings to Moxxie's wrists, ankles, and waist, intending for Moxxie to operate it like a puppeteer.

"Alastor, this isn't going to work." Moxxie complained from the back of the van. "No animal is dumb enough to fall for this."

"That's where you're wrong. There's a reason I used real deer fur for the puppet." Alastor replied, focused on the road. "Animals look with their nose first, and this puppet reeks of deer hide. The scent will surely attract the beast."

"But do I have to do this all day? This whole body-puppeteer setup is giving me a wedgie."

"Well, you said you didn't want to wear a costume." Alastor said, glancing at the puppet. "Come on, Moxxie, try to be a bit more...you know...alluring."

Moxxie grimaced at the embarrassment.

"The humiliation is only eclipsed by the chafing."

Still, he did his best to be "alluring." He placed his hands on his hips and wiggled, mimicking the doe puppet above him. He then pressed a pedal, making the puppet wink.

"Oooo... Cheeky. Looks like that girlfriend of yours has been giving you lessons, huh?" Alastor teased.

Moxxie felt nauseous.

"I'm just glad she's not here to see me like this, and you better not tell her I did this."

"Relax, you know I would never embarrass you—at least not on purpose."

"Why do I always have to be the bait and the decoy? Why can't you do it?"

"Seniority rules, nephew."

"But that's not fair."

"Whoever said life was fair?"

"You know, Alastor, sometimes I feel like you don't actually respect me."

"That's not true. I respect you—I just respect myself more. Now on a different note, what do you think about this whole were-deer situation? I never thought I'd say this, but I find myself agreeing with Vox. It's probably just a regular deer that's been overfed with growth hormones or something."

"I don't know. I think I'm going to side with Octavia on this one. There are things in this world that defy logical explanation—like religion, emotions, and supernatural forces. For all we know, this creature could have come from an alternate dimension."

"And how would that even be possible?"

"I don't know, ask Octavia. She's into that kind of stuff; it's a hobby of hers."

"Sounds more like the overactive imagination of a little girl to me."

"Then how do you explain things like Atlantis, crop circles, or the Loch Ness Monster? I have pictures of that one."

"Those were just blurred images of driftwood."

"It was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too. Face it, Moxxie—if science and logic can't explain it, then it doesn't exist."

"Oh yeah? Can science explain how whales sing?"

"Yes, it can. Whales produce sounds by forcing air from their lungs through a specialized U-shaped fold in their vocal tract, causing it to vibrate. This vibration resonates in their large laryngeal sacs, creating a sound that resembles a song."

"Okay, you've got me there." Moxxie huffed. "But can science tell you what they're singing about?"

"Singing about? Moxxie, whales don't sing about anything specific. It's just a noise they make."

"How do you know? You're not a whale. You don't know what goes on in a whale's mind or heart. Speaking of which, can science tell you what's in your heart?"

"Certainly. Chambers, valves, coronary—"

"Not that!" Moxxie interrupted, growing impatient. "I mean love, passion—things that come from your soul. What drives you to have desires and goals, to feel the need to do the right thing? These are powerful forces that can lead creatures to act against their own nature. And even if science can't explain why, we know it's real. We see it every day."

"Moxxie, I'm an inventor and a hunter, but I'm not a philosopher. I can't grasp what you're saying when you talk like that."

"Just because you don't understand me doesn't mean I'm wrong."

But Alastor just waved off Moxxie's words as he always did.

All day and into the night, Alastor drove while Moxxie manipulated the decoy doe, but the elusive were-deer remained elusive.

"Can we take a break?" Moxxie asked as darkness settled in. "My whole body is sore, and I'm starving."

"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit peckish too." Alastor replied.

He parked the van on the side of the road.

"We passed a diner not too long ago. I'll grab us something to eat. Wait right here."

With that, Alastor untied Moxxie and headed back down the street toward the diner. Moxxie slid into the front seat and waited. The night felt unnervingly quiet and eerie. To calm his nerves, he pulled out his notebook and began writing songs, turning up the radio for some distraction.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the full moon emerged, casting an eerie glow that made Moxxie feel increasingly anxious. Another thirty minutes went by, and Alastor still hadn't returned, intensifying Moxxie's unease. How far could that diner be? Just a few blocks, right?

Moxxie tried calling Alastor, but there was no answer. Frustrated with the wait, he climbed out of the van to see what was taking his uncle so long.

SNAP! A twig broke nearby, and Moxxie froze, scanning the darkness for the source of the sound. He saw nothing.

"Alastor? Is that you?" He called, trying to keep his voice steady despite his chattering teeth. "Don't even think about trying to scare me! Remember what happened last time? You know how... how violent I can get when I'm scared."

Growing up, Alastor loved to frighten Moxxie, often creeping up on him in the dark. Unfortunately, Moxxie had a reflex that led him to swing at whatever startled him, and the last time Alastor had scared him, Moxxie nearly clobbered him with a trash can lid. Moxxie hoped Alastor had learned his lesson that day.

SNAP! The sound echoed again.

"What was that?!"

Moxxie jumped, and upon landing, he spotted a deer standing across from him.

"Oh... it's just you." He exhaled in relief. "Good thing Alastor didn't see that; he'd never let me live it down."

The deer stared at him for a moment before bolting down the nearby lane. Moxxie shrugged and attempted to call Alastor again. Suddenly, a loud crash erupted, and something soared through the air, landing at Moxxie's feet. It was a door—one he recognized from the market.

Heart racing, Moxxie quickly jumped back into the van and sped down the lane where the deer had disappeared.

He spotted something in the fresh market, devouring everything edible in sight. Moxxie caught only a glimpse of its back from a distance, but it was clear that it was enormous—massive, even bigger than a grizzly bear. Long, sharp antlers crowned its head, and its fur was a wild, mangled red. Wait, red fur? Since when did deer have red fur?

Fear gripped Moxxie as he waited in the van, clutching a gun loaded with a tranquilizer dart. He hoped the creature would catch the scent of the deer pelt on the decoy puppet, approach it, and give him the chance to shoot. But it continued to feast, seemingly oblivious, carefully avoiding broken glass and triggering no alarms.

"Hmmm... Smarter than he looks," Moxxie thought. "If he's not going to take the bait, that means there's only one thing to do."

Swallowing his fear, Moxxie slowly stepped out of the van, trembling as he aimed the gun. Suddenly, the creature's ears perked up; it sensed his presence and bolted.

Moxxie sprinted after the were-deer, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The creature was impossibly fast, darting through the shadows like a ghost. Moxxie pushed himself harder, but it felt like he was running in slow motion compared to the beast.

"Is this a were-deer or a were-cheetah?" He panted, his lungs burning. He chased it down alleyways and around corners, but the were-deer always seemed to be just out of reach.

Finally, he stopped to catch his breath, hands on his knees, panting heavily.

"Shit! I...I gotta start joining a gym or something."

He glanced around, trying to regain his bearings. Suddenly, he realized he was standing in the middle of the street. Panic surged through him as headlights blared toward him. A truck was barreling down the road, and Moxxie froze, paralyzed by fear.

"Move! Move!" He screamed at himself, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Then, out of nowhere, something tackled him to the ground. Moxxie hit the pavement hard, the wind knocked out of him. He opened his eyes and he was face to face with the were-deer. It loomed over Moxxie, a towering figure that blended the grace of a deer with the ferocity of a predator. Its body was massive, beneath a coat of wild, mangled red fur that seemed to shimmer ominously in the moonlight. Long, sharp antlers jutted from its head, twisting like gnarled branches, each point glinting dangerously. Its snout was elongated, revealing sharp teeth that hinted at a carnivorous diet, and its breath came out in heavy, misty puffs, tinged with the scent of earth and decay.

It appeared confused, as if wondering why it had ignored its instinct to escape in order to save the very human who had been chasing it. Then, with a powerful burst of speed, it vanished into the darkness.

Moxxie pushed himself up, glancing around for any sign of the creature. The street was empty, the only sound being the fading roar of the truck as it sped past. Moxxie shook his head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief.

"Did that really just happen?" He muttered to himself.

Chapter Text

Moxxie had spent the entire night searching for the were-deer, but at dawn, he lost its trail and decided to head home. As he walked through the front door, he found Alastor standing in the kitchen cracking his neck.

"Where the hell were you?!" They both exclaimed simultaneously.

"Me?! You're the one who left for the diner and didn't come back! I waited for hours!" Moxxie shot back.

"There was a long line, and some drunk accused me of cutting in. We got into a fight, so I decided to leave. On my way back..." Alastor explained, wincing. "I guess he followed me and hit me in the head for revenge because I blacked out. When I woke up, I was lying in the street, and the van was gone! Where did you go?"

"I saw the were-deer!"

"You did?"

"Yeah, and I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. So I went after it myself, but it got away."

"Did you get a good look at it?"

"Yeah, and I have to say, catching that thing is going to be a lot harder than we thought."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not like any animal we've hunted before. It's not just big and fast; it's smart. It didn't fall for the decoy, it broke into the market without cutting itself on the glass or setting off the alarms, and call me crazy, but I think it knows I'm athletically challenged."

"I seriously doubt that." Alastor said, grabbing an apple from the butcher block and taking a bite.

"Since when do you eat fruit?" Moxxie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know; I guess I've been craving it lately."

"But you always said you'd never touch a fruit or vegetable—anything with sugar, really."

"Well, you've always insisted I should change that."

"Yeah, but since when do you listen to me?"

"Can we focus on the bigger picture? That beast is still out there, and everyone is counting on us to catch it—especially Charlie. We can't let her down... I mean, we can't let them down. It's bad for business, you know."

Moxxie smiled.

"Uncle Al, you don't have to hide it from me. We're family, after all. You don't need to catch that thing to impress Charlie; she already thinks you're great. I can tell."

"Moxxie, the Garden Gala is coming up soon—an event that's extremely important to her. That beast could ruin it, and she has put her faith in me, trusted me to make sure that doesn't happen. What would she think of me if her most special project fell apart because I couldn't keep my promise? She'd never speak to me again."

"She really means a lot you, huh?" Moxxie said observantly.

Alastor sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"I've never felt this way about anyone in my life, and... Oh God, Moxxie, I'm in big trouble."

"You got that right. You're in love."

"I know, and it's horrible."

"But it's the good kind of horrible."

"I just can't wrap my head around it! For years I've met and seen some of the most beautiful women, and I never blinked an eye at a single one. But Charlie... one look at her, and suddenly I can't think straight."

"And you want to tell her that she's your dream come true, that she outshines every other woman in the world. The thought of her in another man's arms is unbearable, yet you still wish for her happiness, even if it means it won't be with you. Because as much as you want her, you feel completely unworthy of her."

Alastor looked at Moxxie. For once his romantic babbling was starting to make sense.

"I have to catch that were-deer. For her."

"And you will." Moxxie said putting a hand on Alastor's shoulder. "We will. I promise."

Alastor nodded, a flicker of determination igniting in his eyes.

Charlie smiled as she inhaled the fragrance of her cherished Belle Blossom, a hybrid of radiant rose and lovely lavender—her magnum opus and a tribute to her beloved grandmother. After months of meticulous cultivation and experimentation, she had finally achieved the perfect blend, and now it stood fully budded and blooming. Oh, she couldn't wait to unveil it at the Garden Gala.

"It's absolutely beautiful Charlie." Vaggie said admiring it. "It'll probably be the most beautiful flower at the gala."

"Thanks, Vaggie! I really hope everyone loves it as much as I do." Charlie replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Of course they will! And this will be the best Garden Gala, ever I'm sure. That is, as long as that...That thing out there is taken care of."

"It will be. Alastor promised me that he would."

"Are you sure he can handle it? Maybe we should have called in the FBI or something."

"Alastor and Moxxie need this opportunity. Ever since Vox pretty much publicly blamed them for that robot burglar, they've had everyone pretty much turn on them."

"We didn't turn on them." Vaggie said.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her.

"Okay so we kind of did, but how else were we supposed to react? He built something that robbed and assaulted people! Anyone would lose their temper over that."

"You did have a petition against him."

"That was Blitzo's idea and none of us signed it. We don't hate him, and we don't want him to go. It's just sometimes those inventions drive us crazy. You can understand that, can't you?"

"I can, and I hope he knows that's how you all really feel."

"Of course he does. We've lived together for years; he knows how we really feel."

"I don't know. You sound a lot like my Uncle Michael. He and my father never got along, always arguing and criticizing each other about their career goals. They never acted like they appreciated one another. Poor Uncle Gabriel, the peacekeeper, was always caught in the middle, breaking up their fights and having to spell it out to them that they needed to treat each other better."

"That's different, Charlie. They're brothers—family. We're just friends and neighbors with Alastor."

"Sometimes friends and neighbors can be a family. I'm just saying, would it hurt you guys to at least say 'thank you' or 'I appreciate your help'? That would be more constructive than just complaining."

"Why do you care so much about him anyway? You hardly know him."

"That's not true! He's been to my house almost every day this month to help with the garden. He's hardworking and considerate, and he actually listens when I talk about my projects and the fun times I had with my grandparents. You should have seen him and Moxxie when they volunteered with me at the children's hospital—it was so funny and sweet."

She smiled and blushed.

"He's so funny and sweet."

"Oh no, don't tell me you have the hots for him."

"No!" Charlie quickly denied, her blush deepening. "I mean... I wouldn't say hots exactly, but you have to admit he is charming."

"Yeah, and crazy, impulsive, proud, and weird. Want me to keep going?"

"No offense, but you're dating Angel, so who are you to criticize?"

"Okay, you got me there."

"I really like him, Vaggie. I think he's wonderful. He takes an interest in me and actually wants to know about me. With my other boyfriends, it was always about money or how I could be the perfect trophy wife."

"I'll give him that—he doesn't have a greedy bone or a social-climbing organ in his whole body. He's a self-made man who doesn't want handouts or easy money. And he hates phonies, which is why he doesn't watch television. He says nobody on a TV screen can be trusted."

"Not even the news?"

"Nope. He still reads the newspaper. He calls TV news just another form of yellow journalism. The guy is really weird about technology."

"Well, my grandpa and Uncle Michel hated television and social media. They believed those things spread sin and corruption."

"Was your family Amish, by any chance?"

"No, but they served in wars and faced harassment during the movements of the '60s. Grandpa said the hippies were just a cult worshipping television. Grandma thought he was both right and wrong."

"I thought your grandpa was a bit loco, but your grandparents were good people. I never met them, but my sister did. When she got pregnant in college and thought abortion was her only option, she was distraught. Your grandparents found her crying outside the clinic. They used their money to start a fund to help single mothers and women with unplanned pregnancies get medical treatment, housing, and live-in nannies. Thanks to them, my sister finished school and cared for her child."

"I never knew that."

"Nobody did; they didn't want to embarrass my sister by explaining the situation. I promised myself I'd thank them if I ever met them, but they passed away before I could."

"I'm sure they know how grateful you are. They were modest people who didn't seek recognition."

"I still wish I could have properly thanked them. As rich and powerful as your family is, it's amazing how generous you all are. It's like money doesn't mean anything to you."

"Well, it doesn't—not unless it's to help someone else. My grandpa used to say that those who have the most should give the most, and while you can't buy happiness, you can share it with others."

"How is it that you're such an incredible person, yet all your boyfriends could focus on is your money?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But I think I've finally found someone who actually sees me, and not the dollar signs."

"And you think that's Alastor?"

"I hope so. I really do."

Chapter Text

Alastor and Moxxie agreed that before attempting to catch the were-deer, they needed more information about the creature. Moxxie recounted everything he had observed, prompting Alastor to scour the library's collection for any book on Cervidae. They pored over every chapter, memorizing every detail.

"So it's seven feet tall with red fur—anything else?" Alastor asked, flipping through pages in search of a matching photograph.

"Yeah, I think it can walk on its hind legs." Moxxie replied.

"It can what?"

"I'm serious! It stands and walks like a man. And instead of front hooves, it had claws and opposable thumbs."

"How on earth is that possible? No deer fits that description. The red fur and seven-foot height? Sure, I could believe that. Lord knows what illegal animal experimentation can accomplish nowadays, but being anthropomorphic? No amount of science or mutation can achieve that with a mere animal."

"I know what I saw."

"It was late at night, it was dark, and you were at a distance. You probably imagined it."

"No, I didn't! I got up close at one point, and it tackled me."

"Why would it do that?"

"Well, call me crazy, but I think it did it to save me."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was chasing it, I ran into the street and almost got hit by a truck. At the last second, it threw itself at me, tackling me to safety."

"Again, that's impossible. No wild animal would risk its life to save a human. Domesticated animals, maybe, but wild ones see humans as either threats or prey."

"I know, but that's what happened."

Alastor grabbed another book and began reading.

"Maybe Octavia was right. Perhaps we're dealing with something beyond this world." Moxxie suggested. "We should look into these kinds of books."

He produced two titles from his stash.

"The History of the Supernatural and Scientific Evidence of the Paranormal?" Alastor read, skepticism dripping from his voice. "Moxxie, these are full of wacky nonsense."

"How do you know? You've never read them."

"I don't need to. The supernatural and paranormal aren't real."

"But this one claims to have scientific evidence that they are."

"Return those to the library; they're useless to us."

"You know you'd probably be more successful if you were open-minded. You just said this deer has traits that don't fit the average Cervidae. Maybe we need to consult less conventional sources. Come on, Uncle Al, you may be logical, but you're also Protestant. If you can believe in God and the Devil, can't you at least consider the possibility of other supernatural forces?"

"Religion and this paranormal hullabaloo are two very different things. Religion is rooted in morality, culture, and faith; the paranormal is just a bunch of stories made up by superstitious people. I explained this to you every Halloween when you were a boy. You still haven't got the concept?"

"I'm not stupid, Alastor. I'm just aware that I don't know everything and that I should be open to ideas that might lead to answers, no matter how strange."

"I didn't say you were stupid."

"No, but your tone did."

"I don't think you're stupid, but you can be a bit naive."

"Listen, I'm far from naive. Naive people don't grow up seeing horrible, evil things like their father being a cruel, sadistic monster who kills their mother right in front of them! Or did you forget about that part of my life?"

Alastor paused, the weight of Moxxie's words hanging in the air. He closed the book he was reading, his expression softening slightly.

"Moxxie I didn't mean...I just..."

In moments like these, Alastor didn't know what to say. He wasn't as adept with emotions as he was with inventions, and Moxxie was well aware of this. He felt guilty for putting his uncle on the spot; it wasn't his intention. His anger and frustration flared whenever Alastor undermined him, though he understood that his uncle didn't mean to belittle him. Still, Alastor's arrogance and pride could be overwhelming at times.

With a sigh, Alastor reached for his wallet and pulled out a few bills.

"Look, you've had a long night and an even longer day. You've been working hard, so why not take a break? Take Millie out to the picture show or something. I'll handle the rest of the research."

"I don't know. I don't like the thought of you working on something this big by yourself. It usually gives you big ideas and when you get big ideas, you hurt yourself."

"Don't worry. I'll just be at home reading and studying, just like in my boyhood days."

Reluctantly, Moxxie accepted the money from Alastor and called Millie to see if she was free for the night. She was. Instead of a movie, they opted for a simple walk in the park, grabbing supper from a hot dog stand and enjoying ice cream from a nearby cart.

"When I was little, he used to bring me down here once a week. He claimed it was to gather specimens for research, but I knew it was really for me." He told Millie as they walked. "He would carry me on his shoulders, let me play on the playground, and even buy me ice cream, even though he always said that sugar was the last thing anyone needed. He had this strange way of never saying he loved me or cared about me, but what he did for me always suggested otherwise. Like when he took a job exterminating bats from a local theater, asking for free tickets to the show as payment because he knew how much I loved musicals. Or when he decided to treat animals humanely because he knew how much the thought of unnecessary killing reminded me of what happened with Mom. And then there was the time he built me my guitar."

"You mean the one you always play while working on your songs? He made that for you?" Millie asked.

"Yeah, it was my first Christmas with him, and a guitar was all I wanted that year. He told me I was crazy to think he could afford one. And yeah, he couldn't buy me one, so he made me one. It was the best Christmas gift ever. He never talked about love or family, but everything he did showed how much they meant to him. It was the complete opposite with my dad."

"How do you mean?" Millie inquired.

"Dad was always telling us how much he loved us and how sorry he was for losing his temper. He'd say that hitting us hurt him more than it hurt us, that he ran his criminal empire for our sake, to give us the best of everything. But then he'd beat us or break something important to us. Or lock me in the closet while he dragged Mom into bed, leaving me to listen to her scream all night."

Millie laced her fingers with his, her touch warm and full of comfort. Her parents, while not perfect, loved her and her brothers above all else. They were open, affectionate, and caring—so loving that Millie couldn't comprehend how any parent could harm their child the way Moxxie's father had harmed him.

"You know Millie, I think you must be the luckiest person in the whole world because you have this big family that loves you so much. You can't imagine how badly I wanted that as a kid." Moxxie said.

"You still have a family. It might just be one person, but that's better than none." Millie said. "And you know my mama used to say that when bad things happen, and two people have to coexist, it usually means they need each other. I think your uncle needs you just as much as you need him."

"Nah, he doesn't need me."

"Sure he does. My mama told me stories about when he was young. He was all alone, and no one really liked him except for his parents. Even as a kid, he was always by himself, studying or working. She said his family was the poorest in town, and he felt he had to grow up too fast, helping them instead of making friends."

"But I thought his dad went to college."

"A college education doesn't always guarantee wealth, and brains can only take you so far. For the rest, you either need money or hard work. While hard work is admirable, it's sad when someone puts in so much effort and doesn't make time for friends and family. I bet before you came along, he was the loneliest person in Crescent City. You probably mean more to him than anything in the world."

"He's never told me that."

"Didn't you just say that as far as relationships go, his actions speak for him?"

Moxxie smiled at Millie and kissed her cheek. She always knew how to make him feel more special than he thought he was.

"Come on, let's go get that hot dog and ice cream you mentioned." She said. "Something tells me you haven't eaten all day and that's not very healthy."

He nodded, and they continued walking hand in hand. As they approached the stand, the enticing aroma of grilled hot dogs wafted through the air. Moxxie ordered two, and they found a nearby bench to sit and savor their meal.

"So, you've always wanted a big family since you were a kid?" Millie asked.

"Yes." He replied, taking a bite of his hot dog.

"Do you still want that?"

"Yeah." He said between chews.

"Okay, then I think we should have twelve kids."

Moxxie nearly choked on his hot dog, his face turning as red as a tomato.

"Twelve? I...I guess that would mean we would...do..." He swallowed hard. "At least twelve times."

"Oh no, not for that part." She grinned in a lustful manner. "I was thinking for that part, we could do it every night just after supper and every morning just before breakfast."

Moxxie nearly dropped his hot dog, his eyes wide with shock. Millie giggled, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction.

Chapter Text

"So, if you don't mind me asking." Millie said as she and Moxxie walked back to her place." How's the hunt for the were-deer going?"

"To be honest, it's probably the toughest job Alastor and I have ever taken on."

"Well, from what I hear, that thing is huge."

"Size doesn't matter; we've captured bears and alligators before. It's the brains that makes it so difficult to catch."

"Brains?"

"I can't quite explain it, Millie, but this thing seems incredibly smart for an animal. It almost thinks like a man—well, maybe not a fully evolved one, but somewhere closer to early man."

"And you haven't discovered anything that might help you?"

"Just that it comes out at night, around the time the moon rises."

"Kind of like a werewolf?"

"Exactly. And with three nights passing, counting tonight, do you think it might disappear after the full moon?"

"Maybe, but my grandpa used to tell campfire stories about these creatures. He said for some of them, the full moon acts as a trigger rather than a timer, since that's when the lunar energy is strongest."

"And which creatures did he say this applied to?"

"Well, in his words, it was the American ones because the European ones were 'wimps.'"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"That's what we told him! Personally, I think it's because Native American beliefs are more rooted in nature and spirits, unlike the Greeks and Romans, who created the werewolf legend."

"Millie, you're a closet nerd." Moxxie said, surprised. "You just became way more attractive to me."

Millie grinned flirtatiously at him.

"I've got the three B's, honey: beauty, brawn, and brains."

As they shared a playful kiss, their laughter echoed in the night air, the warmth of their connection igniting a spark between them. They kissed their way down the street, lost in each other, until they reached Millie's apartment.

But their playful mood quickly shifted when they saw the front door hanging off its hinges, splintered and broken.

"What the hell?!" She exclaimed.

"Good thing I never leave home without this!" Moxxie said bringing out a pistol.

They cautiously stepped inside, discovering a trail of muddy hoof prints leading to the kitchen. Just then, they heard a soft whimpering sound coming from the broom closet. Moxxie and Millie exchanged worried glances before rushing over.
As they opened the door, two wide-eyed goats, Razzle and Dazzle, tumbled out, shaking and bleating in fear.

"Good God! What happened here?" Millie cried.

"It must have been the beast." Moxxie deduced.

Millie's kitchen was a disaster, with remnants of her apples and pears strewn across the floor, gnawed and devoured. A trail of apple and pear cores led to the broken back door.

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, picking up the scraps. "It ate all the apples and pears! How am I going to make the apple jam and pear butter now?"

"I'm sure we can get more." Moxxie replied.

"But not enough to have it all ready in time for the gala." She sighed. "This was supposed to help us out a lot. Our livestock is having breeding issues, and some animals are really sick from the tick and flea infestation. It's going to cost a fortune to bring in a vet, and I was counting on the sales from the apple jam and pear butter to cover the losses."

As Millie knelt among the wreckage of her kitchen, distant screams pierced the night air. Panic surged through her as she turned to Moxxie, who was gripping his pistol tighter, his expression shifting from concern to determination.

"Moxxie, wait! It's not worth it!" Millie called, but he was already sprinting down the beast's trail.

"Anyone who messes with my girl is worth it!" He shouted back.

Moxxie sprinted down the darkened street, adrenaline coursing through him as he followed the trail of destruction left by the beast. The beast was elusive, darting between trees and shadows, always just out of reach. Moxxie pushed himself harder, determined to catch it and make it pay for ruining Millie's dreams. But the creature was clever, weaving through the underbrush with an agility that left Moxxie frustrated.

"Come on!" He shouted, lunging forward and landing on the were-deer's back.

In an instant, Moxxie felt as if he were at a rodeo, trying to ride a bull. The were-deer bucked violently, its powerful legs thrashing as it fought to shake him off. He gripped its fur tightly, his nails digging into its flesh, while the creature let out a guttural roar that echoed through the night.

Just when he thought he might gain control, the were-deer made a sharp turn, flinging Moxxie off and sending him tumbling into a thicket, scratching the creature as he fell. He landed hard, and was out like a light.

When Moxxie finally regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the light of dawn filtering through the trees. Groggy and disoriented, he pushed himself up, wincing as he touched the back of his head. That's when he saw it—a deer standing nearby, its large, intelligent eyes fixed on him.

But this was no ordinary deer. Moxxie recognized it as the same deer his uncle had experimented on with the behavior correction system. He had seen it just before the beast struck the night before too. That's when a terrifying theory entered his brain. The strange, unsettling machine that had altered the animals' behaviors.

"Did we..." Moxxie murmured, coming up with a theory. The machine had mutated Razzle and Dazzle, and now it seemed it had done the same to this deer, transforming it into the were-deer.

Moxxie swiftly shot a tranquilizer dart into the stag and dragged its unconscious body home.

"Oh, Lord, you can't be serious!" Alastor exclaimed, facepalming at his nephew's theory. "Don't tell me I've created another problem!"

"I'm afraid so, but look on the bright side. Okay, we've created a food-ravaging deer monster, but we've also captured it!" Moxxie said, gesturing to the stag now locked in a cage with shackles on its hooves and chains on the door. "And who says we have to tell anyone we created it? Who's going to know?"

"You're right." Alastor grinned, visibly relieved. "No one will know, and we don't have to tell them."

"However, since I was against the idea in the first place and you didn't listen, making you slightly more responsible, I think it's only fair that you give me some money."

"What are you talking about, boy?"

"That thing ate all the apples and pears Millie and I picked for her to make apple jam and pear butter for the gala. By the time she picks the same amount again, she won't have time to make the jam and butter. She'll have to buy barrels of them from the fresh market, and that's expensive."

"Alright, I get the picture. How much?"

"A thousand dollars."

"What?!"

"Fresh fruit is pricey."

"What are they? Solid gold apples?"

"Actually, she needs regular apples and pears."

"I am not giving you a thousand dollars for fruit."

"If you don't, I'll tell everyone in town that you cry whenever you watch Bambi!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"If I'm anything like you, then you know very well I would."

Alastor glared at him but reluctantly pulled out his checkbook and pen, writing a check for a thousand dollars.

"Ungrateful, conniving, twisted little imp." He muttered as he wrote.

Afterward, they made their way to Morningstar Hall to share the good news. Charlie welcomed them inside, eager to express her gratitude with tea, finger sandwiches, and sweets.

"Everyone will be thrilled to hear that the beast is in captivity." Charlie said, bringing the tray of tea to the table. "Now the Garden Gala can proceed as planned. What will you do with the creature now that you've caught it?"

"Well, we've discovered that it's actually a mutant—a victim of misguided science. We'll try to bring in someone who can revert it to its original state." Alastor explained. "While it's harmless, a creature that consumes that much cannot simply be released into the wild; it could disrupt the entire ecosystem."

"The poor thing! Who could be so cruel as to do that to an animal?"

Alastor and Moxxie exchanged guilty glances.

"Well, my dear, it's not always that black and white." Alastor said. "Perhaps the scientist who caused this thought he was helping and didn't foresee the harmful consequences."

"Exactly." Moxxie added. "He probably meant no real harm—just too stubborn, arrogant, hot-tempered, impulsive—"

"Watch it!" Alastor warned him in a harsh whisper.

"To think about things like that. You'd be surprised how many terrible things have been done by people who only wanted to help."

"You're right." Charlie said, pouring the tea. "I shouldn't judge people so harshly, but I hope whoever made the mistake learned his lesson."

"Oh, believe me, he did—assuming he heard about it on the news." Alastor replied.

Vortex entered, bringing a delightful spread of food. Moxxie knew Alastor would enjoy the small sandwiches filled with smoked salmon and boiled eggs. To his surprise, Alastor didn't limit himself to just those; he also indulged in cucumber sandwiches, petite fours, mini éclairs, and a mix of strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries that could be dipped in cream cheese.

Something wasn't right. Moxxie could understand hunger overpowering taste if Alastor were feeling anemic or eating fruits and vegetables for health, but indulging in cakes and éclairs? He knew for a fact that his uncle would never do that if he was feeling normal.

"Would you two like to see my Belle Blossom?" Charlie asked.

"Of course." Alastor replied.

They stood up from the table and headed outside to the garden, with Moxxie trailing behind after pocketing a half-eaten éclair that Alastor had left on a plate. Charlie led them to a spot where sunlight and shade met perfectly, showcasing a magnificent flower with soft, layered petals and fragrant spikes, all in a stunning reddish-purple hue.

"Wow, that's beautiful!" Moxxie exclaimed, admiring the Belle Blossom. Its vibrant colors danced in the sunlight, and the sweet fragrance filled the air.

"Thank you!" Charlie said, beaming with pride.

Alastor leaned in closer, inspecting the flower with a critical eye.

"Impressive. It seems to thrive in both light and shadow." He noted.

"I knew you two would appreciate it, and it's really thanks to you that I was able to make it possible." Charlie continued. "If you hadn't helped me with my garden—"

"No thanks are necessary, my dear." Alastor interrupted. "Besides, you did most of the work; we merely assisted."

"Still, I want to thank you for the garden and for taking care of the beast. How would you like to join me at the harbor for dinner tonight? Vaggie caught more fish than she knows what to do with, so she's hosting a fish fry for the neighborhood. Husk and Rosie are setting up poker games, and Vortex has a musical surprise for the evening. Apparently, you really can dance on water."

"We would—" Alastor began.

"Actually, I can't make it." Moxxie interjected, his suspicions briefly overshadowed by his romantic side. "I have to help Millie with her entry for the gala, but Alastor would love to attend with you."

"I would?" Alastor squeaked.

"Of course! You love seafood, playing cards, and dancing. Why, you're the best dancer in Crescent City!"

"I...I...I suppose it could be fun." Alastor said. "I...I...Pick you up at 4?"

"Sounds perfect!" Charlie replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Alastor smiled but inside, he felt like he just been sentenced to the electric chair.

Chapter Text

"Moxxie, I can't do this!" Alastor exclaimed as they returned home. "I haven't been on a date in years—if I ever even had one!"

"Just do what you always tell me: be yourself and have fun." Moxxie replied.

"But I don't think dates are fun! They just put pressure on me."

"Says the guy who practically had to blackmail me to ask out the girl of my dreams."

"That was different! You enjoy dates; it was just the asking part that made you uncomfortable because you're hopelessly in love."

"And so are you."

"But you actually have a chance for happiness with a woman. I don't."

"Says who?"

"Let's see: Husk, Vaggie, Angel, Blitzo—they all think it's better that I don't pursue women because I'd just scare them off."

"Since when do you care what they think? You've always called them philistines."

"True, but they have happy, fulfilling relationships—except for Blitzo. Honestly, no one knows what that poor freak of nature wants."

"Well I know Stolas wants him."

"And why he does I'll never know."

"Well, Rosie and Niffty always said you were a catch, and Mimzy liked you too. Granted, she's clinically insane and only talks about how you'd look without your pants on. Ugh! That's why I don't talk to her anymore." Moxxie shivered.

"You know if she wasn't so shameless, I would find her to be pleasant company."

"But you definitely find Charlie to be more than just pleasant company, and you've already impressed her with your job. Now tonight, you have the opportunity to sweep her off her feet. And you're a natural at charming people."

"Only when I do it for business, when it comes to doing it to win the tender affections of a woman, I fall rather flat. I'm not the suave, romantic, ladies man my father was."

"Grandpa was a ladies man?"

"Yeah, that's where you get that romance streak of yours from. He dated thousands of women before he married my mother."

"Well you probably have some of that romance streak in you too, and you have it without the whole, playboy lifestyle past, so that'll just make you all the more attractive. I think."

"I think this is a waste of time. What could she possibly see in me?"

"What are you talking about? You're smart, handsome, funny, easy to talk to, when your ego doesn't get in the way. And you like her for who she is. What woman wouldn't fall for that?"

"You really believe that about me?"

"I know it to be the gospel truth. Now go take a shower, shave, fix your hair, and I'll pick out something for you to wear."

"I'm perfectly capable of picking out my own clothes, thank you very much."

"Not for a date. You said so yourself, you're not even sure if you've ever had a date. You've probably never dressed for one before in your life."

"Fair point. But nothing gaudy or too fancy, something decent but simple."

"You got it."

As Alastor showered, he pondered how to make his date with Charlie special that evening. He was a skilled dancer, and he imagined how wonderful it would feel to hold her in his arms as they moved together to the music. Did she like dancing? Would she like it if he danced with her? Would she want him to hold her? What kind of music did she like? Should he get her a gift? Perhaps something special. Flowers? No, he had already went her flowers, and she had countless blooms in her garden. Giving her flowers felt too ordinary. Unless he found a flower that wouldn't wilt or lose its fragrance. Suddenly, inspiration struck. He knew just what to give her.

After his shower and a quick shave, Alastor entered his bedroom to get dressed. Moxxie had laid out a casual yet stylish olive green button-up shirt and a pair of brown trousers on his bed. Moxxie seemed to want this relationship to work more than Alastor did.

"Too bad he never got into managing." Alastor thought. "He would have made a perfect wedding coordinator."

"Hey, Alastor." Moxxie said, walking in just as Alastor slipped on his trousers. "I know you're not a fan of cologne, but this stuff I bought is supposed to—Whoa! What happened to your back?"

"What do you mean?" Alastor replied, puzzled.

"Your back! What happened to your back?"

"Huh?"

Alastor rushed to the bathroom and checked his reflection. In the center of his back was a scratch, deep enough to have drawn blood at some point, though it had dried and scabbed over.

"I don't know how that got there. Must've scratched myself in my sleep." He said.

"On your back? You really think your arms can reach that far? In your sleep?" Moxxie asked, concern etched on his face. "Let me take a look."

"It's nothing, Moxxie."

"There's no harm in checking to make sure it won't get infected. What if you fell on broken glass or something?"

With a huff, Alastor turned around to let Moxxie examine the scratch. It looked minor, but when Moxxie touched it, he noticed the lines matched perfectly with his fingers, as if he had caused the injury.

"See? Nothing to worry about." Alastor said, quickly stepping out of the bathroom to put on his shirt. After combing his hair, he retrieved something from their private safe and turned to Moxxie with a few house rules before leaving. "I know you want to spend time with Millie tonight, and you can invite her over. But please, if things go beyond kissing, keep it to your room. And for the love of all that's holy, use protection."

Moxxie remained silent as Alastor, preoccupied with his date, left without a word. Alone, Moxxie grappled with his unsettling discovery. Had he really scratched Alastor? The thought was perplexing; he couldn't recall doing so. He sifted through his recent memories, but all he could find was the vivid recollection of scratching the were-deer's back the night before.

A thought occurred to him. A terrifying thought. A thought that convinced Moxxie to go downstairs into the lab and approach the deer's cage. He examined its back, but there was no scratch to be found.

"Oh no..." He muttered, shaking his head as he fought against the implications forming in his mind. "No... It can't be."

As he stepped back from the cage, his gaze fell upon a trail of large, muddy hoof prints on the floor. He followed the prints, watching them transition from deer hooves to human-shaped footprints, leading him to a shadowy corner of the lab littered with apple and pear cores.

Moxxie became afraid, very afraid. He checked under his fingernails and found hair from the beast he had scratched. Panic rising, he collected the hair along with saliva from a half-eaten éclair he had saved earlier and entered them into the computer for a DNA test.

When the results appeared, Moxxie couldn't breathe. The hair and saliva were a match.

The increased appetite, the sudden change in diet, Alastor's mysterious absence the night the beast appeared, the beast's cunning ability to evade traps, and it choosing to save Moxxie from an oncoming truck—it all pointed to one conclusion.

Alastor was the were-deer.

"Oh my God... Oh my God... Oh my God! Oh my God!"

His heart was pounding, his face drenched in sweat, his breathing erratic, he almost fainted. Then Moxxie grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling so much that he nearly dropped it.

"Hi! Millie! Uh, listen, I-I-I ca-ca-can't see you to-to-tonight... Something came up." He said when she picked up.

"Moxxie, are you alright?" Millie asked, sending the fear in his voice.

"I-I-I can't explain right now, Millie. But meet me at the park tomorrow around ten. And if I don't show up...I...I...just know that I love you."

"Oh Moxxie.” She said momentarily touched. “You’ve never told me that before. But what's going on? You're scaring me, you’ve got my heart jumping in my throat like a Jack rabbit.”

"I have to go now.”

"Moxxie wait! I…I love you too.”

“Really?”

“With all my heart and soul. But please, don’t go! Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t now. Let’s just say that my uncle is in real big trouble.”

“What trouble do you mean? Is it the robot again?”

“No, worse I’m afraid. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

“Okay…I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When Millie hung up, she immediately began to pray. She prayed that, no matter what happened, Moxxie and Alastor would be safe.

“Please let them be okay.” She pleaded to the Holy Father. “Don’t let anything bad happen to them. I love him dear lord, so please protect him and his family.”

When Moxxie hung up, he loaded his pistol with enough tranquilizer to take out three bears, and headed straight for the van. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do. All he knew was that he had to find Alastor—immediately. Find him before the moon rose.

Chapter Text

Alastor arrived to pick up Charlie right on time. She looked stunning in a silk blue dress trimmed with satin ribbon, her hair elegantly curled.

"Blue." He said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "You wore blue tonight."

"Is that a problem?" She asked. "Do you not like the dress or the color?"

"No! No! Absolutely not! The dress is magnificent, and blue looks splendid on you! You're beautiful, just breathtaking. It's just that... I brought you something to wear with your ensemble, and I'm afraid it won't match."

"Oh?" She replied, intrigued.

From his pocket, he produced the locket with garnet stones. Charlie gazed at it in awe, carefully taking it from him. When she opened the pendant, she discovered preserved flower petals inside.

"Oh, Alastor, it's beautiful."

"But the stones don't match your dress." He said, lightly hitting his forehead in frustration. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"No, I like it."

"Really?"

"Yes. But this was your mother's. Are you sure you want me to have it?"

"Well, I wouldn't look good wearing women's jewelry, and you love flowers as much as she did. You even preserve them like she used to. I thought it was the perfect piece for you."

"I'll wear it forever."

She handed the locket back to him, turned around, and lifted her hair. He carefully clasped the chain around her neck, inhaling the lavender scent of her hair. The pendant hung delicately over her heart.

"Thank you. This is the most wonderful gift a man has ever given me."

She said this because he had chosen it with her love of flowers in mind. He truly listened when she spoke and paid attention to her preferences—something none of her previous boyfriends had done.

Alastor had walked to her house, but Vortex provided transportation to the harbor. The picnic was set up between Vaggie's boat and the docks. She alternated between frying tilapia and haddock and boiling crab and lobster. Angel served drinks while Baxter brought red potatoes and corn, and Rosie contributed her world-famous hush puppies and peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. As everyone waited for the food to be ready, they gathered around for card games with Husk, where the men eagerly placed bets while they played.

"So, what do you think caused that beast to show up?" Husk asked as he dealt the cards.

"The way I see it, this is a case of dramatic adaptation in the species—like extreme evolution." Baxter replied.

"And that would happen now, and not a hundred years ago, because...?" Angel interjected.

"It's obvious this creature was exposed to illegal experimentation or perhaps toxic waste—something that tampered with its DNA." Stolas explained.

"Well, you know what I think?" Blitzo chimed in.

"Not the bestiality theory again." Angel groaned.

"Why not? Maybe someone decided to screw a deer, and what's been attacking the town is a result of that."

"Blitzo, even I think that's disgusting." Angel said.

"Also, that's illegal." Husk added.

"And impossible." Alastor said. "Even if someone were that sick, no offspring would result from it."

"Well, what do you think? We heard you caught it." Blitzo said.

"Yes, did you find out what it is and where it came from?" Stolas asked.

"Uh... yes, I did." Alastor said, tugging at his collar nervously. "You were right, Stolas; it was poor science that created it."

"Would you mind telling my daughter that? She's convinced it's some supernatural being—a man cursed by fate to become a hideous monster."

"No offense, Stolas, but your kid is kind of creepy." Angel remarked. "But then again, I'm creepy too, just in a different way."

"Imagine if it really was a guy." Husk chuckled. "Not a deer, but someone with a hair disorder or something."

"Well, if that were the case, we should try to help the poor individual." Baxter said. "An out-of-control animal is one thing; a sick man is another."

"I was speaking rhetorically, Baxter. It's obviously not a man." Husk said.

"Can we please change the subject?" Alastor asked. "I've been focused on that thing for days, and now that I've finally caught it, I'd like to take a break."

"Sure thing, Smiles." Angel said. "Let's cut the crap and start playing."

By the time dinner was ready, Husk had beaten almost everyone—Angel, Baxter, Blitzo, Stolas—taking them all out with a Full House and a Four of a Kind. But Alastor had mastered the art of bluffing, knowing when to bluff and when to call out someone else's bluff.

"A royal flush." Alastor declared, presenting his cards for all to see.

"Aww, shit." Husk cursed. "You hustled me! You told me you'd never played cards before!"

"No, I said I'd never played cards with you before. But I've played with your wife plenty of times, and she told me all about your little ticks, like how you lick your lips whenever you have an Ace in your fold."

"Rosie!" He shouted.

"Next time, you'll think twice before eating all my custard!" She retorted.

Soon, it was time to eat. Everyone savored the spicy fish and crustaceans, buttery hush puppies, red potatoes, corn on the cob, and sweet peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. There was nothing quite like enjoying such delicious food on a warm evening by the harbor; it was truly refreshing.

After dinner, Vortex revealed his big surprise. He had invited his girlfriend Bee, a world-famous singer, to Crescent City to perform at the Garden Gala. As she stepped out of her limo and onto the dock, the crowd erupted in a mix of gasps and cheers.

"Oh my God, that's Queen Bee!" Vaggie exclaimed, jumping up and down on her boat, causing it to rock. "I'm such a huge fan! I know all her songs!"

"I know all her dance moves!" Angel added, trying to steady himself.

"I thought she was supposed to be on tour in Europe!" Blitzo exclaimed.

As the excitement buzzed through the air, Queen Bee stepped gracefully onto the dock.

"Charlie!" Bee exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. She rushed forward, arms wide open, and enveloped Charlie in a warm embrace.

"Bee! It's so good to see you!" Charlie laughed, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "What brings you here?"

"I heard about the Garden Gala and just had to come! Vortex told me all about you and your amazing work. I couldn't resist the chance to see my old friend." She said, pulling back. "And you know I can't resist a picnic!"

"Oh my God! You know Queen Bee!" Vaggie gasped.

"Yeah, after my grandparents passed away, I started spending my summers at music camp. That's where I met Bee. We hung out every summer until the one after our high school graduations." Charlie explained. "I went on to college, but she pursued her dream of becoming a singer."

"But we wrote to each other as often as we could." Bee added. "And when my big, strong, handsome Vortex needed work—"

She wrapped her arms around Vortex, giving him a big kiss.

"And when my friend wrote to me about moving out on her own and needing some help, I figured I'd pull a few strings."

"So how did you get here without the paparazzi and the press following you?" Charlie asked.

"Once in a while I hire a look alike to lead those vultures on a wild goose chase. Right now, everyone thinks I'm in Golden State modeling for Madame Velvette. Which reminds me, can everyone here not tell anyone I'm really here. At least until I leave. I really just want to spend time with Vortex and help out my old friend."

Everyone nodded in agreement, though Vortex threatened to smash the phones if anyone who didn't comply with his girlfriend's request.

"Bee do you think you could give everyone a sneak peek of what to except at the gala?" Charlie asked. "How about some music?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." Bee smiled.

Bee brought along some instruments and her backup performers. She, Vortex, and the others launched into a lively jazz tune, prompting everyone to dance—everyone except Charlie, who was captivated by the couple's performance, and Alastor, who felt a wave of nervousness wash over him.

"Ask her to dance, dummy." Said a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Moxxie's.

He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and moved to approach her.

"Uh...Charlie?"

"Yes?" She said turning away from Bee and Vortex.

"I...I wondered if you would like to dance?"

"I'd love to." She said.

She held out her hand, he helped her up from her seat, beaming. Together, they joined the others dancing the Charleston, a style in which Alastor excelled. He bent his knees, pivoted his toes in and out, and executed alternating kicks in perfect rhythm with the music. Charlie had never danced the Charleston before, so her movements were more exaggerated than intended. Instead of feeling embarrassed, she simply laughed at herself. Alastor loved her laugh. It was a beautiful sound.

Before long, they were both laughing, their steps carrying them away from the harbor and into the evening. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist, while she draped her arm over his shoulder. Their hands intertwined, and they began to sway gently together, lost in the moment.

"Moxxie was right, you are the best dancer in Crescent City." Charlie said.

"Well it took me years of practice, and you on the other hand, you're probably a natural."

"Oh I don't know about that. I'm actually very clumsy." She giggled.

"You have a lovely laugh, so beautiful, so rare."

He mentally scolded himself for saying something that he felt sounded so cliche. But Charlie did not chastise him. Instead a blush formed on her delicate cheeks, blinking those tender doe eyes of hers. Oh heaven help him, she was so lovely. She took his breath away. Suddenly his blood felt hot and his mind became thick with want. Like when a buck first lays eyes on a doe.

Instinctively, he wrapped both arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips. Then, he pulled back, his eyes wide with shock. What was wrong with him? He had never acted like this before. It felt too forward, too bold—Charlie must think he was a cad now.

"Charlie, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. You're just so beautiful, and I—"

But instead of slapping him, as he believed any woman might do in response to such a bold move, she cupped his face and pressed her lips to his, smiling into the kiss. He couldn't help but smile back. They were kissing, smiling, and laughing together.

When Vox learned about the picnic, he knew Charlie would be there. Those charity types couldn't resist community gatherings. He had a plan: meet her, charm her, and then, in front of everyone, declare some romantic shit he read out of a book and propose. There was no way she could say no.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Striker asked as they drove to the harbor. "I don't think this woman even likes you."

"She'll change her mind when she sees this." Vox held up a ring with a sparkling stone the size of a strawberry.

"Whoa! Is that a real diamond?"

"No, it's just cut glass, but it looks convincing, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, but can't rich people tell the difference? They're practically trained to know as soon as they're out of diapers."

"By the time she figures it out, we'll already be married. She's beautiful but not exactly bright, you know."

"Hence the phrase 'dumb blonde.'"

"Exactly."

As soon as they parked, Vox applied lip balm and doused himself in cheap cologne.

"Oh God! That's nasty!" Striker gagged. "What is that? Essence of Rot? Scent of Bile?"

"For your information, this is very popular in Golden State!"

"Air!" He choked. "I need air!"

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen!"

Vox stepped out of the car and hurried toward the harbor, convinced he was just moments away from the biggest win of his life. But then he froze, rage boiling inside him.

There were Alastor and Charlie, standing at the edge of the dock, kissing.

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning to set by the time Moxxie arrived at the harbor. He needed to get Alastor away from the crowd before his uncle changed, and right now, he could think of only one thing that might distract him in time.

"Owwww!" Moxxie screamed at the top of his lungs.

All heads turned toward him as he lay on the side of the road, clutching his ankle.

"Moxxie, what are you doing here?" Alastor asked, eyebrows raised.

"Are you alright?" Charlie added, concerned for him.

"I went out to grab some things for Millie, but I tripped and I think I've sprained my ankle." He lifted his foot. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Yeah, it hurts really bad!"

"Do you need to see a doctor?" Alastor inquired.

"No! No, I just need you to take me home, Uncle Al, and get me some ice."

Alastor shot him a skeptic look, one that seemed to ask, "Are you faking?"

"We really need to get home now, Alastor!" Moxxie insisted, urgency in his voice. "As fast as possible! No time to waste!"

"What are you talking about? It's just a sprained ankle, not a bleeding wound. Rushing could actually make it worse."

"The swelling! We have to stop the swelling immediately! Otherwise, it'll take longer for me to recover!"

Alastor scrutinized Moxxie's ankle, his skeptical gaze unwavering.

"What swelling? I don't see anything."

If this was a joke, Alastor was not amused. This was the most romantic evening of his life, and if his nephew was trying to cut it short with a fake injury, he would regret it.

"Moxxie." Alastor warned, his tone sharp. "Are you lying to me?"

"Don't be silly Alastor." Charlie interjected, dismissing the idea. "Why would he lie?"

"I don't know, because surely he remembers what happened the last time he lied to me." Alastor replied, his gaze fixed on Moxxie. "What did I tell you, Moxxie? I refuse to live with someone I can't trust—family or not."

Moxxie swallowed hard and leaned closer to his uncle.

"Alastor, please just trust me on this. If we don't leave right now, something very bad is going to happen. I promise I'll explain when we get home, and I swear there's a good reason for this."

Moxxie's sincerity was palpable, and Alastor could sense it. Still, he hated the idea of leaving so soon, especially without escorting Charlie home like a proper gentleman should on a date.

"Alright, we'll leave as soon as I drop Charlie off."

"No! No! No! We need to go now! Tout de suite!"

"What's wrong with you?"

"It's okay, Alastor." Charlie said. "Vortex will take me home. You just focus on taking care of Moxxie, alright?"

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"I had a wonderful time. Thank you."

"You're welcome, my dear." He replied with a smile.

But that smile faded as soon as he and Moxxie were in the van.

"Alright, spill it!" Alastor demanded. "First, you force me to go on a date, and then you drag me back from it when things are going so well! You better have a good reason for this!"

"I... I don't think I should tell you while you're driving." Moxxie said, glancing nervously at the setting sun. "Can you go a little faster?"

"Not on this road. The speed limit is 50."

"Then take a shortcut through the woods."

Alastor turned the van down the dirt road leading into the trees.

"Did you do something?" Alastor accused. "Did you go into the lab and break something? That's what you did, isn't it?!"

"No. Actually you could say it's something you did... to yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you I'd explain everything when we get home. So just keep driving."

Suddenly, Alastor slammed on the brakes. A massive tree trunk blocked the road.

"Oh no! Not now!" Moxxie exclaimed.

"Great! Just what I needed..." Alastor grumbled as he climbed out of the van, straining to move the heavy tree. "Could this get any worse?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Moxxie spotted a glint of metal just before an axe whizzed past Alastor's head, embedding itself in the tree. Moxxie lunged for the door, but Striker suddenly slammed it shut and held it fast.

"Ah-ah." Striker said, shaking his head. "I think it's time we kids let the grown-ups talk, huh?"

From the shadows, Vox stepped forward.

"Are you insane? You nearly took my head off!" Alastor shouted.

"I know what you're up to, Alastor! I won't let you do it!"

"What on earth are you blabbering about now?"

"You think you can con an innocent woman out of her fortune, do you? Seduce her into letting you bleed her dry?"

"Who, me?"

"I saw her first! I had the idea first! I put in all the work and planning! And I won't let you beat me again!"

"What's wrong with you?" Alastor asked, having never seen Vox like this. True Vox had always been competitive but now he was practically frothing at the mouth. "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"Don't play dumb with me! I saw you two tonight—kissing and going at it like a couple of dogs in heat! It made me sick!"

"You mean Charlie? What does this have to do with her?"

"You know exactly what! Her fortune! I had everything set up, and then you swooped in to steal what's mine, as always! Not this time! I got to her first fair and square!"

"She's not some trophy, you psycho!"

"Oh yes, she is! She has everything—wealth, beauty, refinement—everything you've never had and I'm going to have it! Now here's what's going to happen: you're going to call that air-headed charity case—"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" Alastor snarled.

"And tell her it's over, or Striker here will gut your pathetic nephew like a fish!"

Striker brandished a switchblade, taunting Moxxie from behind the window with a sadistic chuckle.

Alastor suddenly seized Vox by the throat, his teeth bared and eyes blazing red.

"If you touch him..."

Moxxie glanced up and saw the moon emerging, hastily locking the car doors. He knew what was about to happen.

"What are you doing?" Vox gasped, surprised by Alastor's iron grip. "Let go! You're choking me!"

In an instant, Vox was hurled through the air, crashing hard onto the van's hood.

"What the fu—"

They watched in disbelief as antlers sprouted from Alastor's head, his teeth elongated into sharp fangs, red fur erupted across his body, and he grew into a massive creature.

Striker desperately tried to get into the van, but this time it was Moxxie who shook his head at Striker. All they could do was watch in horror as Alastor transformed into the Were-Deer, letting out a fearsome howl and tossing the nearby tree trunk aside.

"Striker, do something!" Vox shouted. "Attack! Attack!"

But Striker merely cowered beneath the van.

"No way! I ain't doin nothing without a gun!"

The were-deer glared down at Vox with a menacing expression before spitting on him and bounding off into the woods. Moxxie quickly pulled himself together and fired up the van—he had to find his uncle, though he had no idea what he would do once he did.

Meanwhile, Vox and Striker sat in the dirt, stunned and disbelieving. For a moment, neither was certain that what they had just witnessed was real.

"Um...You saw that too, right?" Striker asked.

"Yeah...I did." The realization washed over Vox. "Yeah, I did."

Everyone wanted the beast gone. Alastor was the beast, which meant that he and Moxxie could never capture him humanely. The only option left was to kill him. Alastor would have to be killed. Alastor dies and the town is rid of its biggest problem. Oh, it couldn’t be more perfect.

A sickly, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Two birds with one stone.”

Moments later, he was pounding on the vicarage door.

"Vicar!" He shouted. "Vicar! Oh where the hell is he?"

Abel opened the door.

"You want to confess?" He asked.

"I want to talk to you. About the beast." Vox replied.

Still rattled from his earlier experience in the church, Abel led Vox into his study.

"Everything you need is in this book." He said, gesturing to a shelf.

Vox picked up the first title he saw.

"Nun wrestling?" He exclaimed, confused.

"Oh no! No! I mean this one!" Abel blushed, placing an ancient book of monsters in front of Vox. Inside were illustrations of the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, the Banshee, Yokai, vampires, and the infamous werewolf. Finally, they reached the entry for the were-deer.

"The beast lurks within us all, my child!" Abel declared. "It emerges at night when the moon rises, ready to tear apart any innocent soul—"

"Spare me the sermon, Abel!" Vox interrupted, losing his patience. "Just tell me how to kill him!...I mean it."

"To slay such a creature requires nerves of steel and—" Abel hesitated. "A bullet of pure iron!"

"Iron?" Vox raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, silver for werewolves, gold for were-rabbits, copper for were-squirrels, and iron for were-deer."

Abel opened a dark cupboard, revealing an arsenal of monster-fighting weapons: wooden stakes, crosses, garlic, and... three iron bullets.

"An iron bullet shot right through the lung." Then he giggled. "Get it? Iron lung?"

"Oh get out of my way!" Vox shoved Abel aside and snatched the bullets. "Superstitious moron."

Abel had seen a frightening look in Vox's eyes.

"Beware! Beware the beast within!" He called after him.

Vox responded with a sinister chuckle.

"Oh, no, this particular beast is without—without a chance, that is."

Chapter Text

BEAST STRIKES AGAIN! Blurred the headlines in the morning paper. Moxxie read them with anguish, all the while trying to fully comprehend his most recent discovery about the creature. He couldn't believe it. His uncle was the were-deer. But how? How did this happen?

When he heard his uncle footsteps coming downstairs his heart almost jumped right out of his chest. Into the kitchen walked a relatively normal-looking Alastor. Except that he now had a fluffy deer tail sticking out from his pants.

"Morning, Moxxie. How's that deer monster doing? I hope you're keeping an eye on him."

"Oh, I'm keeping an eye on him, all right." Moxxie replied, both gaze fixed firmly on Alastor.

"Excellent." Alastor pulled a carrot from the fridge. "You know, this diet you've got me on has really broadened my horizons in the taste aspect, I guess it's true what they say: eat enough of something, and you really develop a taste for it."

Moxxie continued to stare.

"What's the matter with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Or a beast."

"What are you talking about?"

"Um... Uncle Al, have you noticed anything different about yourself lately?"

"You mean the change in my diet?"

"Yeah. Don't you find it odd that for most of your life you despised sugar, and now as we speak you're loading five spoonfuls of it into your coffee?"

"Oh? Am I?"

Alastor paused, glancing down at his coffee cup, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

"Well, I suppose I have been feeling a bit... different lately."

"But do you know what really loves sugar? Deer. Deer love sugar, vegetables, and fruit—exactly what you've been eating a lot of lately. And tell me, have you been experiencing blackouts?"

"Moxxie, I—"

"Don't lie to me! Have you been having blackouts?"

"I-I've had a few. Probably just stress from work."

"Do they happen at night, around the time the moon rises?"

"I don't know. Moxxie, what's going on here?"

Alastor, you were only partially right before. The machine we used did create the were-deer, but it wasn't an ordinary deer we transformed. It was you."

"What? Is this a joke?"

"No! I'm serious! Something happened to you in there—something that mutated you!"

"You're talking crazy."

"I saw you turn into the were-deer last night. I chased you down, had to tie you up and drag you back. By the way, do you have any idea how much you weigh?"

"Okay, I think I know what this is about. You had a bad dream last night, and it messed you up real bad—"

"Come with me."

Moxxie grabbed Alastor by the hand and pulled him downstairs into the lab, planting him in front of the computer.

"Pull up the results for the recent use of the behavior correction system." Moxxie said.

"Moxxie, since when do I take orders from you? I—"

"Alastor, just do this for me. If I'm wrong, I swear I'll never give you advice again."

"Oh... Well, with that wager, how could I refuse?"

Alastor immediately turned to the computer, retrieving the latest records on the behavior correction system. On the monitor, they watched as an outline of Alastor was analyzed and diagrammed. Then, they saw the same process applied to an outline of a deer. The screen split in two, and parts of the deer outline merged into Alastor's.

"What the... What is this?" Alastor asked, his face beginning to sweat.

Moxxie remained silent, pointing at the computer screen: FUSION.

"No." Alastor said, shaking his head. "No. This is a joke, right? Moxxie, you tampered with my computer and created some false diagram or—"

Fed up, Moxxie held up a mirror, allowing Alastor to see his new tail. Alastor's eyes widened as he twisted around to examine his new furry appendage.

"AAAAARGH!" He shouted, startling birds outside into flight.

Alastor was having a total meltdown.

"All right, all right. Just calm down." Moxxie urged.

"What the hell is this?! I have a tail!"

"Alastor, please—"

"Why do I have a tail?!"

"Panicking won't solve anything—"

"I can’t be the were-deer! This defies logic! This defies reason!"

"Alastor!"

"This goes against the laws of nature! Like plastic surgery!"

"Al—this isn't gonna work."

Moxxie took off his shoe and threw it at Alastor, hitting him on the head.

"Alastor, get a grip! Screaming like a maniac isn't going to help!"

"Okay, okay." Alastor said, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm okay. I'm calm. But dear God! What have I done to myself?!"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Confused and frightened, Alastor paused to think. Suddenly, he remembered something he had stored in the computer. He rushed to check, but the item was missing.

"Oh no.” Alastor said, his voice trembling. "Someone removed the divider chip. Without it, the computer got confused. It couldn’t separate the physical components from the mental. So it mixed some of the deer DNA with mine."

"But you can fix it, right?" Moxxie asked, desperation creeping into his tone.

Alastor looked up at him, his usual confidence replaced by a haunting fear, confusion, and being lost. He was so lost.

"Oh God, Alastor, please tell me you know how to fix this."

But Alastor didn't. Moxxie could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Help me.” Alastor pleaded. "Please, help me."

Moxxie had never seen Alastor like this. He was afraid. He was very afraid.

"We'll get help.” Moxxie insisted. "We'll go to a doctor—"

"No! Those doctors won't help me! They'll just send me to Area 51 to be dissected or caged for study, like a damn animal!"

"There has to be someone who can help."

"No scientist will want to cure me! They'll just want to exploit me!"

"Then maybe science isn't the answer. We could take a more supernatural approach... Octavia! She knows about this stuff! I'll talk to her—"

"No! No one can know about this!"

"I won't tell her it's you! I'll say it's for research!"

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise I won't tell anyone... except Millie!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Alastor, I called Millie last night. She knows something is wrong. I have to tell her. She loves me, and she's your friend. She won't call the FBI on us."

"It's too risky!"

"We have to trust someone! Even you must realize we can't handle this on our own! If not Millie, then who else?"

Alastor sighed, the weight of his predicament pressing down on him.

"Fine, but swear her to secrecy!"

"I will! In the meantime, you stay here and don't let anyone see you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Moxxie met Millie at the park to explain the situation. Initially, she thought it was a joke, but the seriousness in Moxxie's voice quickly changed her mind. Luckily though, instead of being scared, she was just confused.

"Huh... So this is what it feels like to be hopelessly confused by someone’s drastic transformation.” She mused.

"It was so terrible, Millie.” Moxxie said, his voice trembling. "I've never seen him like this. He was scared and helpless, completely lost. It reminded me of my mom. Oh, Millie, what am I going to do?"

"I don’t know.” Millie replied softly. "But I promise I won’t tell anyone. If there’s anything I can do—"

"Can you come with me? To talk to Octavia and help my uncle? I don’t think I can handle this alone."

"Of course. We’ll face this together."

A wave of relief washed over Moxxie as Millie agreed to help. Together, they headed to the flower shop and asked Stolas for permission to speak with Octavia about where she found her paranormal books and if there was a subscription. He bought the lie. Once they were alone, Moxxie planned to gather information without revealing Alastor's involvement.

“Oh, sure, many were-beasts turn out to be cursed men or something.” Octavia replied after Moxxie’s explanation, albeit somewhat vague. “But the specifics can vary.”

“So, there must be a cure for being a were-beast, right?”

“Oh, definitely. For one, you could shoot him with a special bullet.”

“Shoot him?!” Moxxie gulped.

“But then wouldn’t he be… you know…” Millie said, making a throat-slitting gesture with her finger.

“Dead? Yeah, but he’d be cured.” Octavia stated matter-of-factly.

“Isn’t there any other way?”

“Sure, there are plenty of ways. You could stab him through the heart or through the lung.”

Moxxie flinched.

“Or stick a rod through his brain.”

His face turned green and he dry heaved.

“Or cut off his head and burn the body.”

That was too much; Moxxie fainted.

“What’s wrong with him?” Octavia asked.

“He’s a bit squeamish when it comes to horror.” Millie chuckled as she began to revive him.

As Moxxie regained consciousness, he blinked a few times, trying to shake off the overwhelming thoughts of curing his uncle through murder.

“Isn’t there any cure that where the were-beast ends up ALIVE?!”

“Uh… Most people don’t want a were-beast alive, and to be honest the were-beast itself doesn’t want to be alive either. Once they find out what they are, they want to die, cause there’s no changing themselves back. I think…I mean I suppose you could let the man kill the beast himself.”

“How does that work?”

“Well, according to the books I’ve read, if his human personality can maintain control in his beast form before he transforms back, then the beast will die, and he’ll return to normal.”

“And if he can’t?”

“The longer he stays transformed, the more the beast takes over. Eventually, he’ll start transforming during the day, and before long, the man will die while the beast lives on. Or something like that.”

“Oh God…” Moxxie said, recalling that Alastor had a tail before the moon rose. He was already in the early stages of losing his humanity. “Is there really no other way?”

“Not that I know of. Are you sure this is just for research? I mean you’ve never taken an interest in my occult studies before. Is there something else going on?”

“No! Not at all! Thanks for your help, Via. We have to go now. Bye!”

He practically ran out, dragging Millie along with him.

Chapter Text

Charlie woke up brimming with excitement, having just enjoyed one of the most wonderful nights of her life. She had spent time with friends and neighbors, dancing in the arms of a charming gentleman. Tonight, she would have the pleasure of their company once again at the Garden Gala, where she would unveil her prized Belle Blossom. For this special occasion, she chose to wear her grandmother's evening dress—a delicate rose petal hue with lavender undertones—perfectly complementing the hybrid nature of her flower, which combined both rose and lavender.

Alastor had remarked on how radiant she looked with her hair curled, so she decided to style it that way again for the occasion. She also slipped on the locket he had given her. With a few pins in her hair, her pearl necklace, elegant gloves, and a pretty pair of shoes, she felt ready.

"You look magnificent!" Vortex exclaimed.

"Do I really?" She asked, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.

"Absolutely perfect, ma'am."

"Great! Do you have the trophy ready for tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And everything is set up in the gardens? We haven't forgotten anything, have we?"

"Not a thing."

She smiled and spritzed a touch of perfume on her neck.

"You know, ma'am, since I started working for you, I've never seen you this happy." He said with a grin. "It really suits you."

"Thank you." She replied, blushing. "I suppose it's because I have so much to be happy about."

With a light giggle, she applied some lip gloss and headed to the greenhouse to fetch her flower. Just as she made it downstairs and was about to step outside, there was a knock at the door. Puzzled, she set the flower aside and opened it. Standing on the other side were Vox and her neighbors, both wearing unpleasantly smug expressions.

"Well, this is a surprise." She said. "What are you all doing here?"

"Charlie." Vaggie said, her expression filled with guilt. "We wanted to inform you before giving Vox the go-ahead. We thought it was only fair."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked.

"We did what you wanted and gave Alastor and Moxxie an other chance, but they haven't delivered." Blitzo explained. "So, we've asked Vox to handle the creature."

"There must be some mistake. Alastor and Moxxie caught the deer. It's in safe captivity." Charlie insisted.

"No, it's not. I saw it last night; it devoured an entire cornfield." Blitzo said.

"And it attacked me!" Vox added. "It's no longer just after food; it's targeting people! It's become dangerous and must be destroyed!"

"But Alastor told me—" Charlie began.

"A pack of lies!" Vox interrupted. "I hate to break it to you, but he's been using you. He's trying to sweet-talk you and woo you to get his hands on your fortune. He told me himself."

Charlie was taken aback. She had trusted Alastor completely. He couldn't have lied to her or be after her money. He was different from her past boyfriends and false friends. He liked her for who she was. Vortex had even told her he overheard Alastor say he didn't think he was good enough for her, that he feared she might suspect he only wanted her for her wealth. What Vox was saying couldn't be true. How dare he spread such vicious lies?

"I don't believe you." She said, struggling to keep her anger in check.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Vox challenged.

"Yes, I am, because it's not true."

"Charlie, he's not lying." Vaggie said. "This morning, I found three nets of fish I caught yesterday completely empty. The beast is still at large."

"Alright, maybe that's true, but there's no way Alastor would lie to me! At least not on purpose! There has to be an explanation!"

"We're not saying he would hurt you." Vaggie reassured her. "At least, I'm not saying that."

"Neither am I!" Blitzo added.

"But Charlie, we have to consider what's best for us." Stolas said. "Vox and Striker were attacked by the beast. It's a serious threat now. Think about what could happen tonight! It could come to the gala, devour all the food and livestock, and harm anyone in its path. I can't take that risk; I have a daughter to think about."

"We know this is hard for you, Miss Morningstar." Officer Pentious said. "But the safety of this town and its citizens must come first. I was ready to go after the beast myself, but Vox insists he has methods to deal with it that won't cause it to suffer, and he can lure it away to a place where no one will get hurt."

"I'm sorry, but I can't discuss this right now. I need to talk to Alastor." Charlie said firmly. "Please excuse me, everyone."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away as quickly as she could.

Meanwhile, at Alastor and Moxxie's house, the situation was just as dire. The beleaguered inventor was feverishly attempting to rebuild his machine, desperately hoping for a way to reverse its horrific results. Millie volunteered to head to the store for another dividing chip while Moxxie stayed behind to ensure his uncle remained in the house, no matter what. Alastor input data, tightened bolts, and repaired wires, but, as Octavia had warned and Moxxie had feared, he was slipping into a state where he was becoming more beast than man. His mind altered, making him forget even the basics of construction.

"Now let's see, what's this one called again?" He asked picking up a bulb-like part.

"I don't know, it looks like a light-bulb, but I know you called it something else." Moxxie said, wishing for once that he had paid attention to his uncle's babbling about his inventions. "Do you remember where it goes?"

"Of course I remember! It goes...It goes...It goes under the uh...Uh...The sprocket? It is called a sprocket right?"

Moxxie could only shrug.

"Okay...Then we put in this...Uh...This thing!"

"That's a brick, you didn't use bricks to build this."

"I didn't?"

"No."

Alastor started to whimper.

"Oh it's hopeless!" He cried despairingly, throwing the part down in disgust with himself. "I'll never be able to fix that damn thing! My mind his going to mush! Oh Moxxie...I don't want to be a giant deer!"

"Don't give up." Moxxie said patting his uncle on the shoulder. "We'll get it to work again and when Millie gets back with the chip, we can change you back."

"How are we going to fix it? I'm the only one who knows how it works and as we speak I'm going brain dead."

"Then I'll fix it! I'm sure I can!" He insisted. "I have to! Don't worry! I just need to...To...To...Um..."

Moxxie stared at the scattered parts of the machine, determination etched on his face. He picked up a metal piece, its edges sharp and cold against his palm.

"Okay, I can do this." He muttered to himself, trying to summon the confidence he desperately needed.

He tried to match the pieces, fumbling with screws and bolts, but they just wouldn't fit together.

"See? This goes here, and that goes there." Moxxie insisted, his voice rising with a mix of hope and anxiety. He shoved two parts together, but they clanked and fell apart. "No, no, no! Fit! Fit!"

"Moxxie, please!" Alastor said. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I do know! I can do this!" Moxxie snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. He picked up another piece, his hands shaking slightly. "I just need to remember what I saw you do! I can fix it! I have to fix it!"

"It's no use. You're not an inventor like me.. Just stop, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"No!" Moxxie shouted, his frustration spilling over. "I'm going to fix it this time! I'm going to make everything okay this time! I just... I just don't know how to do this!"

As the tears began to fall, Moxxie dropped the parts in his hands, the clatter echoing in the room like a painful reminder of his inadequacy. Oh God help them, it really was hopeless.

"Hey." Alastor said, moving to comfort him. "This doesn't have to be so bad for you. You don't need me to look after you anymore. And the house is in your name should anything happen to me, and you'll get all my money, my inventions, and my business. And you can sell my inventions and use the money to start that music career of yours. You'll be fine."

"You idiot! I don't care about that!"

"I know! I just thought it would make this easier! But it doesn't, does it?"

Now they were both falling to pieces.

"I guess we'll just have to leave town." Moxxie sobbed. "Go live in the woods, like the pioneers."

"Moxxie you wouldn't last an hour in the wilderness, I took you camping once and you got attacked by beavers."

"It was dark in that beaver dam, I didn't know where I was stepping."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Maybe that was Millie? Alastor bounded up the stairs with Moxxie following closely behind. But to their mortification, there stood Charlie at the door.

"Charlie!" Alastor gasped.

Moxxie quickly grabbed a jacket off the rack and tied it around Alastor's waist to hide his tail, which was wagging.

"I didn't expect you to come by. My goodness, you look lovely my dear." He said nervously. "I...I thought we were meeting at the gala tonight."

"Yes but something's come up." She said. "May I come in?"

"No! It's a huge mess inside! Dirty! Dusty! We can just talk here! What's on your mind?"

"Well I...I'm afraid I have some rather bad news. The thing is ... you've rather let me down with this whole were-deer situation. It's still out there."

"Oh...That." He replied feeling guilty. "Yes I suppose I have let you down then."

"Vox told me that you lied but I know that's not true. I came here cause I wanted to hear your side of the story. What happened?"

"That's a little hard to explain right now." He said glancing at his covered tail. "Maybe we could discuss this another time?"

"Alright, but everyone in town is frantic. They think the creature is dangerous so now they've decided to let Vox shoot the poor thing."

"Sh-sh-shoot it?!" Alastor choked, his face and Moxxie's turning ghost white. "Isn't that a little rash?"

"I thought so but Vox swears that last night the beast attacked him and Striker, and now no one feels safe letting it live."

Alastor suddenly felt something start to grow on his head. He quickly put a hand there before Charlie could notice. It was an antler starting to sprout. He looked up at the sky, the moon was rising.

"Oh no."

He leaned the left side of his head behind the door.

"Alastor, are you alright?" She asked, noticing his pale complexion.

She reached out to touch his forehead, but he quickly pushed her hand away.

"Don't touch me! I'm fine!"

"You're burning up!" She gasped.

"I think you should go now." He said, feeling his feet begin to morph into hooves. He tried to close the door.

"Wait!" She exclaimed, trying to stop him. "Look at your face! It's turning red! And is that hair growing out of it?"

"I haven't shaved yet!"

"Alastor, I think you're getting sick. We should see a doctor."

"Not necessary!"

"Alastor, what's going on? Please tell me. Don't you know I care about you? Don't you know how I feel about you?"

Despite her heartfelt confession—something that would have filled a normal Alastor with joy—he struggled to focus. His furry claws were distracting, and he fought to maintain control of his face.

"Feelings?" He said dismissively. "Oh well, never mind. Ta-ta, then."

"What?" She felt helpless, convinced their feelings were mutual. She had seen it in his eyes.

"It's not convenient right now. Thanks for coming by!" He hurriedly slammed the door in her face.

"No, wait! Please!" She began banging on the door. "Open up! Something's wrong! Alastor, please!"

"Go away!" He shouted through the door. "Don't come back! Ever!"

Charlie felt her heart shatter into a million pieces, like broken glass. Tears streamed down her face as she ran down the street, sobbing.

From the shadows, Vox watched her go.

"That's right, my diamond. You can say goodbye to your fluffy lover boy!"

He loaded his gun with one of the iron bullets from his gun belt and strode towards Alastor's house.

Chapter Text

Alastor was beside himself with terror. It was bad enough that he was on the verge of permanently becoming a were-deer—but now Vox was going to kill him. Vox was hunting him, and he was going to shoot him dead, like an animal.

"Moxxie, what am I going to do?!" Alastor gasped, feeling his teeth begin to grow."

"I... I don't know." Moxxie stammered, wide-eyed. "I—I'll lock you in the cellar and try to come up with a cure!"

"But you don't know the first thing about curing something like this!" Alastor cried, his nose reshaping, flattening into the black snout of a deer.

"I have to try!"

Without another word, Moxxie grabbed Alastor mid-transformation and half-dragged, half-carried him down the stairs to the laboratory. The door slammed shut behind them, and with trembling hands, Moxxie locked Alastor in the cellar.

Moxxie ran to the computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed in their problem, searching—begging—for a solution. He knew it was a long shot, but desperation left no room for doubt. He needed answers. Any answers.

The screen flickered, processing.

Then came the result.

Solution: Unknown.

"No! No, no, no!" Moxxie shouted, slamming his fists against the desk. "That can't be your only answer!"

He typed again. And again.

"Come on! Give me something! Please!"

But no matter how many times he rephrased the question, rewrote the input, or slammed the keys in frustration, the answer never changed.

Solution: Unknown.

"Damn it all!" He shouted, his voice cracking.

There had to be something. Fixing the machine that had caused this? Useless. He didn't know how and Alastor had forgotten everything in his half-human, half-beast state. The computer had offered nothing but failure.

So now what?

Then it hit him. Something Octavia had mentioned. What was it? If Alastor's human consciousness could hold on—if he could maintain control in his beast form until the transformation reversed—then he might return to normal. It wasn't a guarantee. Hell, it barely sounded like a plan. But it might be their only chance.

"Alastor!" Moxxie shouted through the thick cellar door. "Listen to me, you have to stay in control! You can't black out like before! You have to fight it! You have to stay you!"

No response.

Just howling. Deep, guttural. Followed by frantic scratching, claws raking against stone and wood. It was too late—Alastor had fully transformed. Then came the sound of splintering wood and screeching metal.

Moxxie's heart dropped. He flung the door open—and froze. A gaping hole yawned in the wall. Shattered boards and twisted pipes lay scattered across the floor. Alastor, now a full-fledged were-deer, had broken through.

He was gone.

"Aww, shit!" Moxxie hissed, grabbing his coat. "This is bad... so bad..."

Moxxie sprinted through the hole in the wall, heart pounding, following the deep hoofprints stamped into the dirt. They led him across the yard, over a fence, and straight into a neighbor's garden. There standing in a bed of torn-up vegetables, was the were-deer, chewing lazily on a tomato plant, antlers twitching, unaware of the danger.

But Moxxie didn't have time to think of a plan. Because just beyond the hedges, he saw him, Vox. Gun raised. Finger on the trigger. Aiming straight at Alastor.

"No!"

Moxxie lunged, throwing himself at Vox in a blur of desperation.

BANG!

The shot rang out, echoing across the yard. The were-deer's head jerked up in alarm, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. With a startled grunt, it turned and bolted into the woods, crashing through the trees like thunder.

"Why, you little—!" Vox snarled, eyes blazing with fury.

But Moxxie was already back on his feet, scrambling to his feet in the dirt. He didn't wait for Vox to finish. He turned and bolted, chasing after the were-deer before Vox could make good on whatever punishment he had in mind.

"Alastor!" He called, breath ragged. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

Behind him, he could hear Vox cursing, the sound of boots crunching gravel as he gave chase of his own.

Branches clawed at Moxxie's coat as he barreled through the dark forest, heart pounding like a war drum. He ducked low beneath hanging limbs, eyes darting wildly as he searched for any sign of Alastor.

"Alastor!" He shouted, voice echoing into the trees.

There was nothing but silence. He paused, panting, hoofprints scattered in the dirt at his feet but then they stopped, vanishing into a patch of undergrowth. He turned in circles, desperate, straining to hear.

Rustle.

He snapped his head up. Through the mist and moonlight, a silhouette emerged between the trees: tall, with massive antlers that scraped the branches, and eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

"Alastor...?" Moxxie whispered, stepping forward slowly. "Is that you?"

The figure didn't respond. Just stood there. Still. Watching. He crept closer, hope flaring in his chest, until something felt wrong. The body was too stiff, the movements too slow, too calculated.

And then, click! Before Moxxie could react, a shadow dropped from the trees above.

WHAM! Striker slammed into him like a falling boulder, pinning him to the ground with a grunt of satisfaction.

"Gotcha, shrimp!"

Moxxie kicked and squirmed, but Striker was too strong. In seconds, cold metal cuffs snapped around his wrists, and he was dragged toward a sleek, high-tech cage that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

"No! Let me go!" Moxxie shouted.

Striker hurled him inside and slammed the cage shut. The locks sealed with a hiss and a pulse of red light. As Moxxie scrambled to his knees, the deer silhouette stepped into view, then peeled away the crude disguise.

It wasn't Alastor. It was Vox, grinning smugly beneath scraps of fake fur and antlers, repurposed from the female deer decoy they had built together just days before.

"Your loyalty is moving." He said coldly, "Sadly, you won't be."

Moxxie gritted his teeth.

"Why are you doing this?!"

Vox's grin twisted into something darker.

"Because I have spent my whole life playing second fiddle to Alastor! Always in his shadow!"

He slammed a fist against the bars.

"But now, at long last, I'm going to take everything away from him. His business. His reputation. His girlfriend. All of it. And then I'll be number one!"

"You're not gonna get away with this." Moxxie hissed. "When I tell everyone what you're trying to do—"

"They'll thank me!" Vox barked, throwing his arms wide like he was addressing an adoring crowd. "Because your freak deer of an uncle is going to die... tonight!"

"What?!" Moxxie shouted, slamming his hands against the cage bars.

"Then they'll make me the most respected man in this town."

Behind him, Striker started snickering uncontrollably.

"What?" Vox turned, annoyed.

Striker jabbed a thumb at the ridiculous costume Vox was still wearing.

"You're monologuing like a Bond villain, dressed like a deer in drag."

"Shut up!" Vox snapped, ripping off his disguise.

"Vox!" Moxxie cried. "You can't seriously be planning to kill Alastor! You know what you're doing is murder, right?!"

Vox slowly turned back to face him, calm, too calm. He adjusted the collar of his suit, as if the very accusation bored him.

"Not to everyone else." He said smoothly. "As far as they know, I'm just putting down a dangerous animal."

He stepped closer, voice low and calculated.

"Your poor uncle, so tragically unstable, so stressed from all his recent failures, just... snapped. Ran out of town, never to return."

He gave a mock sigh of sorrow, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Leaving my business unchallenged. Leaving the town to rally behind me as their savior. Their hero."

Vox's eyes glittered with cold delight.

"And poor Miss Morningstar...Abandoned without a word by the love of her life. Heartbroken. Vulnerable."

He leaned in close to the bars, grin razor-sharp.

"Just ripe for me to comfort. Console. Win over. Marry. And inherit that delicious family fortune."

"You're insane!" Moxxie recoiled in disgust. "I'll tell them the truth! I'll tell everyone!"

Vox chuckled, unfazed.

"And without proof, who the hell's gonna believe you?"

"The people here are smarter than you think. And loyal. Even if they don't buy the were-deer story, they'll know something's wrong. They'll dig into it. They'll find out and you'll rot in prison!"

He stepped closer to the bars, voice sharp with conviction.

"And Charlie? She'll never marry you. Not in a million years. She knows Alastor loves her and that you don't!"

Vox's smile faltered—just for a second. Then he turned, cold and venomous.

"She won't have a choice."

Vox slid open the chamber of his sleek, custom revolver, the metal gleaming cold under the moonlight. With a wicked smile, he dropped in another iron bullet—clink—and snapped it shut with a satisfying click.

"Come along, Striker," he sneered, eyes gleaming. "Everyone's been dying for a good show... Let's make sure they get one."

Striker sniggered, adjusting his hat as he followed behind. Without a backward glance, the two disappeared into the trees, leaving Moxxie locked behind cold steel.

They were headed toward the only place Vox knew Alastor would go. The Garden Gala. A night of music. Lights. Laughter. And now... blood.

Moxxie slammed against the bars, voice cracking with desperation.

"No! You can't do this! You just can't!" His hands trembled, white-knuckled on the cage. "Please! Don't do this!"

The cage buzzed faintly with electric hums, red lights pulsing at each corner. Moxxie stared at the lock. Then lunged. He slammed his shoulder into the bars. Again. And again.

CLANG! CLANG!

He grabbed at the keypad, trying every button combination he could think of. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He pounded it with his fist. Nothing.

"Come on, come on, COME ON!" He shouted, shaking the bars like a madman.

He backed up and kicked the door with all his strength. Pain shot through his leg. The cage didn't budge. He tried squeezing through the bars. Too narrow. He looked up, looked down. No hatch. No override. No escape.

"DAMN IT!" He screamed, throwing a wrench from the corner of the cell against the wall. It bounced off with a pitiful clink.

Then silence. Moxxie slumped to his knees, breathing hard. And then—it broke. The fight drained from his limbs. His chest heaved, and tears stung his eyes before he could stop them. He buried his face in his hands, choking back a sob.

It was happening again. He was helpless again.

He gripped the floor like it could hold him steady, as memories surged through the cracks in his mind—his mother's face, the screams, the feeling of being too small, too slow, too late. Ten years ago, he couldn't save her. And now he couldn't save Alastor.

He curled in on himself, shaking.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Chapter Text

When the gunshot rang out, the crowd assumed Vox had slain the were-deer—an easy conclusion to draw, given their excitement over the Garden Gala, which was already off to a splendid start. Games and music, provided by the immensely talented Queen Bee and her band. Dancing. Displays of prized dishes, plants, and animals for competition. It was a perfect blend of elegance and festivity—everything Charlie Morningstar had dreamed the Garden Gala would be.

And yet, she was the only one not enjoying it.

How could she? She'd been forced to cave in to a pompous, insufferable man who stood for everything she opposed—just to calm the fears of her friends and neighbors. Then, when she poured her heart out to the man she loved, he brushed her off—looking deathly ill, refusing her help, and shutting her out entirely.

This night was meant to be one of the best of her life. Instead, it was the worst.

But she didn't want to ruin anyone else's night. So, quietly, she slipped away to a secluded corner of the gardens to cry.

It wasn't long before two goats found her—and shortly after, their mistress, Millie, arrived.

"Charlie?" Millie called gently. "Charlie, what's wrong?"

"Oh, hello, Millie." Charlie said, quickly wiping her eyes. "Are you enjoying the gala?"

"Not yet. I'm just dropping off Razzle and Dazzle for my parents, then I need to run something to Moxxie. After that, we'll finally get to enjoy ourselves. But what has you looking so blue?"

"It's nothing."

"Oh, come on. If it were nothing, my boys wouldn't have sniffed you out to comfort you. Now spill it."

Charlie hesitated, then let out a shaky breath.

"Okay..." She sniffled. "Well... the town—They appointed Vox to kill the were-deer."

"They did what?!" Millie cried.

"He said it attacked him. That it was turning dangerous. And then... he told me that Alastor had lied to me. That he was only interested in me for my money. I knew that couldn't be true, but I also knew something was wrong. So I went to talk to Alastor, but..."

She trailed off, voice cracking.

"But what?" Millie urged, softer now.

"He was acting so strange. He looked sick—really sick. I tried to help him, but... he told me to go away." She sobbed. "I told him that I cared about him! And he just—he just slammed the door in my face! Oh, Millie... you've known him longer than I have. Do you have any idea what could be wrong? Please—please tell me what Vox said isn't true..."

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very, very bad.
Millie shot to her feet, urgency written all over her face. She needed to find Moxxie—now.

"I think I do know what's going on." She said. "But don't worry, Moxxie will fix it."

Charlie looked up, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain everything right now, but listen to me, Alastor doesn't give a damn about your money. Moxxie told me himself. He said it was love at first sight for his uncle—or rather, love at first bump."

"She's right, Miss." Came a calm voice behind them.

Vortex approached, offering Charlie a handkerchief.

"I overheard the two gentlemen talking about you the other night when they came over for dinner. Mr. Devalcourt was absolutely smitten with you but he was worried you'd think he only cared about your fortune. Because he's a bit, shall we say, financially challenged."

Charlie took the handkerchief.

"So he does care about me?"

"More than you know." Millie said firmly. "But if I'm right about what's happening to him... then I need to act fast. Charlie, by any chance... do you have anything that belonged to Vox or Striker?"

"I have the business card they gave me. Vortex, give it to her please."

Vortex produced the card from his pocket.

"Perfect. Thank you." Millie took it swiftly. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

She turned to her goats, who were already alert, sensing their mistress's shift in energy.

"Alright, Razzle, Dazzle." She said, crouching down between them. "I need you boys to sniff out two rats for me."

The goats snorted eagerly, already catching the scent. The pair then shot off, noses to the ground, and Millie followed in a trot. They didn't have far to go. Behind a hedgerow, under the spill of a lamppost, Striker and Vox were hunched over, voices low and gleeful as they bragged about trapping Moxxie and Vox's plan for Alastor.

"...and then he'll be gone for good." Vox was saying. "Simple as pulling a trigger."

"You sure about leaving Moxxie alone, though?" Striker said.

"Please, he's just a whiny little twerp."

"I know that but the ones with no muscle usually pack a lot of brains."

"Hmm...That's a very good point."

"And like you said he's loyal. Loyalty and brains, that's a dangerous combination."

"You're right. That runt could ruin everything. Go back!" Vox ordered. "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't interfere."

"Why me?" Striker complained.

"Well, which one of us is holding the gun right now?" Vox shot back.

Striker groaned, dragging his boots through the grass as he trudged away.

"I swear." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "The old man owes me big time for putting up with this lunatic. I don't even like him. Why couldn't he just convince my stepmother to ship him off to the loony bin or something?"

But no sooner had he rounded the corner and found himself alone than Millie slipped out of the shadows like a cat—silent, swift, and furious. Before Striker could so much as blink, she was on him.

"Alright, you right-hand weasel." She hissed as she hauled him upright. "What did you do to my man?"

Striker blinked, dazed, then grinned in a way Millie instantly hated.

"Ooo, feisty—love it." Striker said with a crooked grin. "Hey there, pretty lady, where've you been all my life?"

"Where's Moxxie?" Millie demanded, eyes sharp. "What did you do to him?"

"C'mon, why don't you forget that nerd and take up with a real man?" He said, stepping closer, cocky as ever.

"I've got a real man." She snapped, stepping right back into his space. "Now tell me where he is!"

Striker chuckled low.

"I might be willing to talk... if you join me for a little tongue wrestling, huh, beautiful?"

Her eye twitched.

"Don't make me angry." She warned him, her voice like ice. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"Your loss, gorgeous."

Millie's fists clenched.

"If you don't tell me where he is and what you did to him, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Striker mocked, smirking wide.

Ten minutes later...

Striker lay hogtied on the grass, one eye swollen shut and his jaw a bloody mess where teeth had gone missing.

"Alright... alright." Striker croaked, breath hitching. "He's stashed in a cage, just around the corner on the next street. Key code's in my back pocket."

Millie didn't hesitate. She reached down and yanked the crumpled scrap from his pocket without a shred of mercy. Clutching the code, she took off at a dead sprint, heart pounding harder with every step. Moments later, she skidded to a halt—there, tucked in the shadows, was the cage. And inside, Moxxie sat huddled, eyes wide and wet, quietly weeping.

"Moxxie!" Millie called.

"Millie! Oh thank God!" He sobbed when he saw her. "Listen, you've got to get me out of here! Vox is insane! He's gonna kill Alastor!"

"I know." Millie said, fishing the divider chip from her pocket. "But I found the chip you wanted, can this fix him?"

"Not now!" Moxxie said, scrambling to his feet. "Right now we have to find my uncle and get him somewhere safe. Come on, hurry!"

Millie didn't waste a second. She jabbed the code into the keypad; the lock clicked and the cage door sprang open. Moxxie tumbled out.

"Now wait a minute!" Millie grabbed his arm as he started to bolt. "We've got to be smart about this."

"What do you mean?" He panted.

"Alastor is a huge beast now. You don't go look for him; you catch him. And to do that you need bait. Bait he can't resist."

"Lobster Thermidor!" Moxxie exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "He'd never be able to resist that!"

"Seriously? That takes, like, an hour and forty minutes to make! Do we even have time?!"

"I made some yesterday for the contest." Moxxie said proudly. "It's in the cooler at the house—still chilled, perfectly preserved."

At once, they rushed back to the house, gathering everything they needed to lure out Alastor. Within minutes, they were piled into the van, the bait secured, and speeding off into the night. Moxxie was a nervous wreck. He knew the bait would work but what was he supposed to do once they actually caught him? How was he going to change him back?