Mapleview, North Carolina.
September 24th, 2025.
11:45 A.M.
Despite everything that Crowe and Raven had endured ever since leaving Canterbury Lab—for Amory Evervale, only a single, restless night had passed him by.
In the spacious rounded lounge room with the checkerboard floor, the old bulky television sat still and dusty beside the fireplace, a couch along the wall, and another couch sitting lopsidedly nearby it, the late morning sunlight washing into the room from the tall, rectangular windows in the back, everything still and peaceful, nothing stirring aside from the distant sounds of birds chirping outside.
Zyon remained still and asleep on the couch along the wall—but Amory now lay awake on the crooked couch, gazing upward, crackling his knuckles atop his stomach, and pondering on many things all at once.
Canterbury Lab had fallen—the children in the lab had apparently been scattered through time—and most urgently of all, Valek and Vincent were actively pursuing Crowe, Raven, and the other runaway patients who still resided in 1988. The runaways who remained in that year would be the very first ones hunted by the men of Canterbury.
Amory knew full well that he was in an entirely different time, and lying here, thinking, dwelling, was not something that was actually wasting time when it came to the endeavors of his friend and his sister—but he felt urgent nonetheless.
Part of him considered staying here for a while, simply waiting for Zyon to recover more, waiting for him to wake up so he could seek the angel’s help or advice—but Amory had no idea how long that would take, and it wasn’t as if he had an easy means of survival here. He had no money, no food or water, and no way of even switching on the electricity in this place. Perhaps he could find Xena again and ask her for help—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he just needed to go back home right now.
“Oh, screw it…”
Amory leaped up and sprang swiftly to his feet—marching over to the dark blue door on the wall, the one that still led nowhere.
He took in a deep breath, planted his hand against it, and glared—a brilliant blue light spiraling around either of his dark, shiny eyes.
“Take me where they are,” he said, summoning every ounce of white hot power inside. “Take me there… God… take me to Raven and Crowe.”
Suddenly—the light flooded out of him and unraveled from his hand and his fingertips, spreading out all at once and practically consuming the entirety of the dark blue door. He forced, pushed, urged every shred of focus and energy into it, hoping and praying that it would work the way it needed to.
Then, the light faded, and he slowly lowered his hand, releasing a heavy sigh and gently coiling his fingers around the doorknob.
Biting his lip and feeling a spark of anxiety—he found the nerve to pull it open. Now, however, the door would not pull inward.
So, he tried to push instead, and the door opened where the wall once was, revealing the other side of the gateway through time.
Mapleview, North Carolina.
December 1st, 1988.
7:31 P.M.
“Crowe… wait, just… wait a damn second…!”
Aravali hurriedly locked his apartment door before thumping down the metal stairs, quickly following Crowe toward the side parking lot beneath the night sky. The two of them made it halfway across the parking lot before Crowe suddenly stopped and wheeled around, facing the doctor and snickering.
“Y’know what’s amazing about you?” he laughed. “The fact that you’re a psychiatrist, but reverse psychology still works on you like a charm.”
“The hell you say,” Aravali grumbled. “I don’t wanna leave you unsupervised.”
“Oh—pfff—right, sure, you just run with that,” Crowe cackled loudly on the night air, turning and swaggering off toward Elaine’s car. “I can tell how damn stressed out you are, Ari—and I can tell you want and a drink just as bad as I do. Probably more.”
They walked on either side of Elaine’s green car, Aravali pausing and sighing, choosing not to reply. Most times, he didn’t care for drinking or social scenes—but, admittedly, he felt differently tonight. He could really use a drink and a good distraction after the day he’d had.
“Just be careful,” Aravali advised, waving a finger at him and popping the passenger door open. “I don’t want a night of insanity, all right? I just want to relax and take my mind off things.”
“Naaah… I’m not plannin’ on painting the town red or anything,” Crowe promised, opening the driver door. “Honest, I’m not. Just trust me.”
Aravali made a dry scoffing noise as the two of them sank into the car, pulling the doors shut before Crowe started the engine. The headlights brightened before he shifted gears, slowly backing out of the parking space before cruising to the exit and rolling onto the street.
Crowe drove off to the edge of town—driving a little faster than Aravali usually did—and before long, they arrived back at Moonvale.
Rather than using Elaine’s usual parking spot, Crowe drove up the gravel stretch and whipped the car around in a circle, stopping crookedly right in front of the double-doors. Then, he took the keys and jumped out, speed-walking around the car and heading up the stoop to the entrance.
Aravali gazed out the passenger window and watched as Crowe quietly unlocked the front doors of Moonvale, and then, he easefully slipped into the building, clearly trying to make as little noise as possible.
Inside—Crowe slid into the doorway to his right, seeing Raven on the couch in the lounge and hurriedly waving her over.
Raven blinked and stood, deciding to follow him—and just when he was ushering her out the front doors, Iggy spotted them from the back of the lounge, tossing his magazine aside and rushing after them.
“Wait… wait…!” Iggy whisper-yelled down the hall. “Crowe…! Crowe, wait a second…!”
“Oy— shhhht! ” Crowe hissed back at him in response, holding Raven’s hand and placing a finger to his mouth. “We’re goin’ out for a drink! Don’t tell on us, Iggy!”
Iggy opened his mouth to respond—but Crowe hurried out the door and pulled Raven with him, both of them vanishing from the building at once. The doors swung shut, and Iggy merely sighed, combing his wild hairs back and shaking his head, hearing the sound of Elaine’s car speeding off moments after.
“Ahh… you’ll find out later,” he mumbled, turning and wandering down the hallway.
He slowed to a stop beside the rear doorway to the lounge, pocketing his hands in his old jean jacket. Then, he faced the other way, perking his brow lazily at the end of the back hall.
And there, at the end of the back hallway—the closet door was open, and Amory Evervale stood there, rooted to the spot, his hand still on the door. Their eyes locked, and for a long, quiet moment, neither of them spoke.
Iggy made a flattened sort of smile, cocking his head and meandering toward him.
Amory shook his head once, turning back and gazing through the doorway from where he’d just come; he still saw the lounge room with the checkerboard floor and the lopsided couch just behind him, just past the threshold of this doorway, but he knew with absolute certainty that this new place—this white hallway on the other side of the blue door, where Iggy stood before him—was most assuredly his home time.
After all—Iggy came from Canterbury Lab, and he didn’t look the slightest bit different from how Amory remembered him.
“H’oh my God,” Amory croaked breathlessly, flashing a hint of his childlike smile. “Am I home? Did I really just come home…?”
Iggy’s smile seemed to grow, and he nodded. “Well… you’re a lil’ late, boss… but… yeah. Yeah… you’re home.”
Amory beamed, choking out a noise and breaking into a brisk stride toward him. He yanked his old friend into a hug, and Iggy smirked and returned the embrace.
“Oh my gosh… Iggy,” Amory grinned, leaning back and sputtering out a sobbing sort of laugh. “I can’t believe it… I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m home… and I can’t believe you’re here! I haven’t seen you in forever! Oh man… I have so much to tell you, and you’re really not gonna believe it. I had to time-travel to get here. Did I get the time right? Where are we? Is Raven here? And where’s Crowe?”
“Ahh… hmmmn,” Iggy mumbled, rustling his hairs again and closing his eyes, making an intensely thoughtful expression as he tried to process everything that Amory had said. “Ahm… I think… you got the time… mostly right. Crowe… came here… a couple weeks ago. He came… when the lab, uh… got destroyed. And, this place… this is called… Moonvale. Moonvale… Mental Hospital. We, ahhh… yeeeah, we all live here now… Raven, and Crowe… and me, and John, and Donna…”
“OhmiGod… you’re all here?” Amory breathed with astonished delight. “Oh, that is just awesome! That is perfect! That…”
He stopped and trailed off, glancing down, his smile waning.
“Wait—did you say weeks? ” Amory asked. “It’s been weeks since the lab got destroyed?”
“Mmmhm,” Iggy nodded.
Amory paused, glancing back at the open closet door, then facing Iggy again. “Aw, man, I didn’t get it right…”
“Well, ahh… to be fair… you never done this before,” Iggy remarked, wagging a finger at him. “Now, ya’ can’t go kickin’ yourself down for messing up something that you never done before… and, uh… I’d say you did a pretty good job, especially… for your first time, and all…”
Amory hesitated, giving him an odd look.
Iggy, somewhere amidst his dreary and distant gaze, seemed to harbor a glint of understanding in his eyes.
“Now… you remember, when we uh… we all sat… and watched TV together on the weekends?” Iggy asked. “When the movies and Saturday Night Live would come on…?”
Amory nodded quietly.
“And… one of those nights… Crowe tried to tell you… he could see… the future,” Iggy added.
Amory nodded again.
“Ahh… well… I think… that’s the one thing… that we all got in common,” Iggy determined. “Because… I can see that, too. It seems like… all of us can.”
Amory took slightly back, staring at him questioningly.
“Happens a lot in dreams, for Crowe… and… for me,” Iggy explained. “And, Donna… mmmn, well… only some of her personalities can do it… and, John… he can’t tell the visions apart from the hallucinations… but he sees it, too. And, Raven… well, she sees it more when she’s awake. But, with you… I think… you’re the only one who never really… dreamed the future. I think… because… your dreams were always taken up by, uh… something else.”
Amory made a slow, understanding nod, folding his arms and glimpsing down in thought.
“But, um… the point is… we can see those things sometimes,” Iggy disclosed. “So… I knew… I knew you and your friend would start opening the, uh… doorways. And… I also saw, last night… this dream about, um… the King’s Place… and Vincent going there.”
Amory blinked, making a strange face. “The King’s Place…?”
“Yeah, it’s this uhh… this club in town,” Iggy tried to clarify. “The Michael Jackson club.”
Amory stared, entirely lost.
“Ohh, right, you uh… you haven’t been outside in a while, have yah?” Iggy asked. “So… I s’pose… you don’t know the King’s Place. Uhmm… do you remember where the old chapel was on the corner, down the road from the shopping center with the craft store…?”
“Oh… yeah,” Amory affirmed. “Yeah, we used to pass by the chapel when we walked to school in the morning.”
“Oh’kay… ahh, well, the chapel is still on the corner, but the big restaurant across from it isn’t there anymore,” Iggy told him. “That’s where the King’s Place is now.”
Amory nodded again, squinting oddly at him. “And… you dreamed about Vincent going there?”
“Ah… yeah…” Iggy’s expression seemed to harden, looking intense, an unusual expression for him. “Yeah, I saw him in my dream… going there, with some… some of the mercenaries from Canterbury. They’re going there to look for Crowe, and Raven, and Dr. Chavan…”
Amory fell silent, slowly unfolding his arms and feeling a sudden cold dread spread though him.
“What… you mean tonight?” he gasped. “Right now …?”
“Yeah,” Iggy nodded grimly. “I tried to tell ‘im, but he just ran off with Raven and the doc…”
“Oh my God,” Amory breathed, a terrible urgency rising up inside again. “Oh my God… I have to go… I have to go…!”
He moved past Iggy and stopped at the lounge, glancing around until he spotted the double-doors in the front, then he speed-walked toward them and pushed them open.
Amory emerged—storming across the stoop of Moonvale and thundering down the stairs at once, not caring about the sudden blast of cold air washing over him. He marched across the gravel clearing and spun around once, glancing up at the asylum building and its sign, then at Aravali’s car, briefly absorbing his bizarrely new environment before he erupted in a steady stride once again.
He followed the gravel road into the trees and away from Moonvale, marching through the woods with a pep in his step and glaring forward, not even noticing that he was emerging on the side of the very same paved road that Zyon had once showed him in a dream.
He simply marched on—seeing the familiar town of Mapleview, his Mapleview, ahead of him.
He crossed the street and headed towards it.
The buildings steadily came into view beneath the night sky, windows and streetlights shining in the darkness, a worn wooden bench on the right side of the road, just next to a bus stop and a payphone, a dark blue ‘78 Impala cruising past him as he marched down the sidewalk.
He hadn’t seen his hometown properly in fifteen years, and the Mapleview of the future felt like a distant parallel universe, a place entirely foreign to him—but this, the Mapleview of the 1980s, felt like a town he knew and recognized, and he so badly wanted to stop and marvel at everything in sight, feeling a touch overwhelmed that he was even out here at all, free to walk, and run, and explore the town beyond the reach of Canterbury Lab.
But—Amory shook away every thought and feeling and simply pressed on, as there were far greater things at stake right now.
Shortly after Crowe had rushed Raven into Elaine’s car, and shortly after he had driven off—they found themselves cruising the back roads for a while before settling on a destination.
Aravali glanced back at Raven from the passenger seat. “Are you feeling better now? Still shaken up…?”
“I’m fine,” Raven replied, flashing a smile. “I’m glad to be going out again, honestly. It’s almost like I’m an actual person with freedom and hobbies, and I can just go out and be normal.”
Aravali chuckled. “Right… well, just remember, this isn’t an invitation to go wild. I have to try to keep some things in check, and I’ll probably catch hell from Elaine about this regardless…”
He then glanced to the driver seat, narrowing his eyes at Crowe.
“Did Elaine see you when you went in there?” Aravali asked.
“Naaah—I was quick and quiet,” Crowe bragged as he drove.
Aravali stared at him. “Did you leave her a note?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone else what we were doing?”
“No… except Iggy, but I told him not to tell.”
“Oh. Okay… so… from Elaine’s perspective, Raven will have just disappeared from the hospital for no apparent reason, and she has no way of knowing how or why.”
Crowe fell silent, gazing out the windshield and falling expressionless.
“Huh,” he muttered moments later. “I hadn’t thought of it like that…”
“M-hm,” Aravali mumbled, Raven laughing behind him. “I’ll have to call her from a payphone whenever we get where we’re going. She probably won’t be too happy about all this—but she needs to know.”
“Okaaay, Mr. Morgan,” Crowe replied mockingly. “We’ll just go and do that. We’ll try not to upset mummy.”
Aravali reeled back in his seat, giving him an odd look, and Raven laughed even louder.
“You know she acts like your wife whenever you’re not around, right?” Crowe snickered, driving through a green light and crossing the intersection leading into town. “She’s always saying stuff like ‘Now you behave for him and be helpful if he needs anything’ or ‘I don’t wanna hear a single negative thing from Dr. Chavan about your session in there today.’”
Crowe had heightened his voice drastically while imitating Elaine, resulting in a bizarre cracking sort of voice that made Raven double over in the back seat, wheezing and gasping amidst her vicarious chortles.
Aravali scoffed out a laugh, shaking his head and giving Crowe a ridiculous sort of stare.
“Y’know what,” Crowe smiled knowingly. “I think she likes you.”
“Oh—yeah—she definitely does,” Raven stated with confidence, scooting forward and leaning in between the two front seats. “I see the way she looks at him whenever she thinks nobody’s watching. She’s not the kind of person who’d blurt it out or make it obvious—but she’s totally got the hots for the doctor.”
“ What …?” Aravali breathed, both of his patients snickering. “You are both way off-base.”
“How would you know?” Crowe chided. “You’re fairly bright about a lot of things—but you’re not exactly Casanova . You seem like you’re pretty oblivious about that type of stuff.”
Aravali stared, trying to think of a counterargument and drawing a blank. He let out a scoff and looked away. “That’s not… that’s not even… good Lord. Why’re we even talking about this?”
“Because we want our mummy and daddy to be happy,” Crowe said whimsically, making Raven giggle yet again.
The two of them spoke back and forth, trading jokes about the doctor and the orderly, but Aravali barely heard them, gazing out his window and watching the town pass him by, buildings and streetlamps shining under the night sky. He’d never thought very much about Elaine’s personal life—especially with all the other insane things that had been dominating his attention lately—but now, he felt a touch of curiosity about her.
His thoughts drifted away when he saw the post office on the corner whizz past his vision, and then he turned to the driver seat again.
“Where’re we going right now?” Aravali thought to ask. “What bar are we going to…?”
“Tch. It’s not as if you’ve heard of it,” Crowe laughed.
Aravali’s expression fell caustic. “This is my hometown, Crowe. Just because I don’t go to bars doesn’t mean I’ve never been outside before.”
“Well… I thought we’d try out the King’s Place,” Crowe told him. “It’s the only one in this town I didn’t get the chance to try out before I ended up in Moonvale.”
“What’s the King’s Place?” Raven inquired.
“It’s a club with a Michael Jackson theme,” Aravali informed her. “I’ve never been there before, either… but I don’t mind giving it a try. It’s not as insane as that seedy little nightclub on the north side of town. If you go past that place on a Friday night, it looks like you’re driving past a riot. It’s insane there.”
“Well, Christ in a can, man… you’re making me wanna change our plans now,” Crowe chuckled. “Where’s this seedy place? What’s it called?”
“No—go to the Michael Jackson place,” Aravali ordered. “We’re not actually out to look for trouble and chaos tonight.”
“Pff. Speak for yourself,” Crowe cackled.
Raven smirked, giving Crowe an interested look from behind. “I didn’t know you liked Michael Jackson. He’s not really your genre.”
“What, are you kidding? He’s the King of Pop,” Crowe replied. “He’s a special case. He’s everyone’s genre. I wouldn’t have learned how to do the bloody moonwalk if everybody in the world didn’t like Michael Jackson.”
At hearing this, Raven and Aravali both stared at Crowe incredulously.
Crowe blinked, glimpsing between them and the windshield. “What?”
“ You know how to moonwalk? ” Aravali asked him, raising his brows and looking skeptical. “I find that hard to believe.”
“What?!” Crowe barked, hitting a high note and making Raven choke out a laugh. “Mate—I was in the music industry. Not only that—I was in the limelight of it, just like Michael Jackson, albeit a little less famous.”
“A little less famous…?” Aravali uttered, smiling and chuckling at him. “Wow… you really do live in your own little world, don’t you?”
“Oooh… I bet they’ll play his newest stuff a lot,” Raven speculated.
“Ah yeah,” Crowe smirked. “My voice is too deep to cover his songs, but I like that one of his that just came out on the Bad album. We oughta try and do some dancing to it tonight.”
“No!” Raven shrieked.
“Awww, c’mon,” Crowe grinned, meeting her eyes through the rearview. “You did it before, and you liked it. You know you did.”
“That was different! That was just in Moonvale! And it still embarrassed the hell outta me just doing it there!” Raven proclaimed.
“Well… that’s why you drink,” Crowe shrugged. “It calms the nerves real damn well.”
“Crowe,” Aravali said seriously. “Don’t try and get her drunk tonight.”
“What? Nooo—I’m gonna try and get you drunk tonight,” Crowe corrected, pointing over at the doctor. “I just want her to have a drink for her nerves.”
“Oh… well, that’s much better,” Aravali muttered sarcastically, making Raven snicker.
Crowe turned right at the next intersection, and they found themselves cruising downhill, past a few shops that were closed on either side. The only place that was open on this road was in plain view, and impossible to miss; it was a large, angular building down the road and to the left, many lights on and crowds of people loitering around outside, a lonesome chapel just across the street from it. The building had a few multi-colored lights sweeping around in front of it, as well as inside the windows, and it was complete with a big white sign at the top, just above the entrance. The white sign was a light on its own, brightening the night and illuminating the silhouette in the center of it, the silhouette being the slender, unmistakable shape of the King of Pop himself, a black side profile of him dancing and standing in his signature pose on his toes. Above this sign were bright neon letters reading King’s Place, and Crowe drove steadily past it, turning left and coasting into the parking lot just behind the club.
While easing through the tightly-packed parking lot, Crowe was forced to stop the car a few times, allowing groups of people to walk past him. He finally found a free space at the far corner, parking the car and powering off the engine.
“All right… ground rules,” Aravali said, turning in his seat and holding up a finger. “One…”
“Don’t run off,” Crowe said for him. “Two—don’t run off again, and three—if you run off, I will be very cross with you and you’ll be going straight to time-out. That about right?”
Raven covered her smile and tried not to laugh, Aravali sighing and lowering his hand, giving Crowe a caustic stare.
“I was going to say,” Aravali said, making Crowe and Raven both snigger. “Nobody gets wasted tonight. We all need to stay in sight of one another at all times, and we all need to leave at eleven so we’re back at Moonvale before midnight. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Dad ,” Crowe griped, rolling his eyes and popping the driver door open. “Now let’s go.”
Aravali and Raven emerged from the car, and Crowe led them down the edge of the parking lot alongside the building. As they drew steadily nearer to the corner, the echoing music from inside slowly became louder, and unsurprisingly, the music playing inside the club was a mix of the songs from Michael Jackson’s newest album, Bad.
The three of them rounded the corner and approached the entrance, a pair of double-doors propped open on the opposite corner. A group of five had just walked in, and the Moonvale trio entered just behind them, pausing momentarily to glance around at everything inside.
Suddenly, Aravali found himself wondering how he’d landed himself in such a place, accompanied by a pair of mental patients whose wellbeing relied on him; many colors of lights swept across the scene, the middle of the enormous room being an expansive dance floor, where people were dancing and laughing with one another. A few people wore a couple of Michael Jackson trademarks—like the hats, the orange Thriller coat, or the sleek jackets with the band around the arm—and off to the right, everyone was able to see a long row of booths along the wall. To the left was the bar—an elongated and decorative one, fitted with small streamlined lights along the edge—and many people sat on the stools up and down it, chatting and joking with each other. Far across the dance floor at the back of the room were five pool tables, three of them occupied, and the walls were positively covered with posters, items, and other decorations relating to everything Michael Jackson. Most of the drinks along the bar were various wines and servings of Moscato rather than ordinary beers, and as of now, everyone on the dance floor was dancing along to Beat It.
“Good Lord,” Aravali breathed. “What am I doing here…?”
Crowe turned, grinning at Raven and Aravali before breaking into a speed-walk toward the bar. Raven excitedly followed, and Aravali sighed before trudging along in their wake. They came to a stop at the edge of the bar, where a large burly man had just finished serving drinks to a group of women before turning and spotting them.
“Heya,” the large man said, nodding at them. “What can I getcha?”
“Whatcha got?” Crowe asked, raising his voice over the music.
“We got just about every kind of wine you can think of—since Michael Jackson likes wine—but we have most of the main brands of beer and liquor, too,” the large man informed him.
Crowe paused, glimpsing over at Aravali and wondering what to start him off with. For someone who’d never had alcohol before, it would probably have to be something with a heavily-masked taste.
“You got tequila?” Crowe wondered.
“Yeah,” the large man answered. “Lime?”
“Hah—absolutely,” Crowe smiled, slapping Aravali’s shoulder. “Get this man a tequila.”
“I want one too!” Raven beamed.
“Right—her too,” Crowe said. “I think that’ll work for all three of us.”
The large man nodded and walked off to prepare the drinks, and the three of them climbed onto the stools, Aravali on the end, and Crowe seated himself between the doctor and Raven, trading grins with both of them.
Moments later, the large man returned with a woman by his side, the woman carrying the third drink while the man placed down the first two. Each serving of tequila was in a tall, shapely glass with straws and a slice of lime on the rim of each one. When the large man stated the price, Aravali repressed another sigh, flipping out his wallet and paying the man while Crowe and Raven started sipping on their drinks.
The bartender walked off, Crowe drinking rather quickly while Raven sipped with her straw at an easeful pace. Then, they both turned their heads, staring at the doctor and expectantly waiting for him to begin drinking as well.
Aravali gave them a vacant sort of stare. “What?”
“Go on,” Crowe urged, nodding down at his glass. “It’s a fruity flavor—doesn’t taste like beer, or liquor, or anything. It could even pass for limeade. Should be easy to down even for you.”
“Yeah… you’ll like it,” Raven agreed. “It’s like a normal drink.”
“Right… and I’m sure that’s why it works so well for people,” Aravali grumped, twirling the ice cubes around with his straw.
“Aww… stop being so wet-blanketey,” Crowe laughed. “You’re having one glass of tequila. Big damn deal. Do something even just the slightest bit fun for once. C’mon.”
“Yeah… that’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s responsible for all three of us,” Aravali chided.
“Pfff,” Crowe scoffed. “You’d be surprised. I’m responsible for all of us in ways you never even see—and I’m not worried about having some tequila, because I know I can still do everything I want to do and everything I need to do all at the same damn time. You just watch me.”
He upturned his glass and flicked the straw aside—gulping down the rest of his tequila at once.
“Crowe!” Aravali whisper-yelled, grabbing his arm and yanking it down.
Crowe’s glass clanked loudly onto the bar’s surface, and he smacked his lips and cocked his head, looking fairly pleased. “Mmmm… now that was good…! Hah…!”
“Dammit—I told you to take it slow tonight,” Aravali griped at him. “I can’t have a drink and relax if you get rip-roaring crazy.”
“Oh—please—I am taking it slow,” Crowe laughed, shaking his head at him. “You’ve never seen me in this scene, Ari. Trust me. I’m right where I wanna be.”
“Well… good… because I’m not buying you another one,” Aravali stated, taking a sip of his own drink.
“Ha-ha!” Raven teased, waving a finger at Crowe. “You got grounded!”
Crowe turned to Raven and leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“He’s really stressed out today. I’m gonna try and get him something stronger so he calms down,” he whispered.
Then—Crowe pressed a finger to his lips, gave her a wink, and slipped off his stool. He tip-toed around Aravali and headed down the bar, locating the bartender again and gathering his attention. He then leaned over the bar, hushed his voice, and spoke.
“Oy—my mate’s having a rough night,” Crowe told the man. “D’you happen to have another fruity drink like the tequila? Something that masks the alcohol taste well, but a little stronger on the liquor?”
“Oh yeah… the Jackson Screwdriver,” the bartender laughed. “Gimme a sec…”
He shuffled off to prepare another drink, and he returned moments later with a beverage that appeared to be a glass of simple orange juice. Crowe took the drink, gave the man a nod, and walked back over to Aravali, scooting the drink over to him.
Aravali stared at the beverage, then turned and eyed Crowe skeptically.
“Aww… it’s bloody orange juice , ya’ big baby,” Crowe chided, slapping him on the back. “I figured you’d want a virgin drink, in case you don’t wanna finish your tequila… since you’re being all responsible …”
Aravali sighed and make a lazy shrug, taking a sip of the orange drink without much thought.
“There’re people trying to moonwalk all over the dance floor,” Raven murmured, peeking past them at all of the people in the center of the club, giggling faintly. “Most of them can’t really do it right…”
Crowe followed her trail of vision, eyeing the dancers in the distance and cracking a smirk. Then—he grabbed Aravali’s tequila and finished it off swiftly before wiping his mouth.
“Would you stop…?” Aravali griped.
“No,” Crowe snickered. “I’ve gotta be in the right headspace of confidence for this.”
Aravali sighed and took another drink of his orange beverage.
“Oy—c’mon—let’s loosen up and play some pool,” Crowe decided, sliding off his stool and waving for them to follow. “Then we dance!”
He sauntered off, Raven and Aravali following him across the club.
The three of them claimed a vacant pool table in the corner, and Crowe happily racked up the balls before he and Aravali began to play a game of 8 Ball, Raven watching them and occasionally glancing over at the moonwalkers on the dancefloor.
During this time, Aravali continued sipping on his orange drink until it was empty—and Crowe slipped away just long enough to get him another. After delivering his second Jackson Screwdriver, the two continued their game, and Aravali nearly managed to beat him before Crowe sank the 8 ball in the corner pocket.
Once the game was over, Aravali straightened up and placed his cue against the wall, sighing deeply and running his hands down his face. He felt suddenly off, calm and strangely absent of thought, and he absentmindedly watched Crowe rack up the billiards for another game. This time, the doctor observed while Crowe and Raven played a game of 8 Ball, and his attention periodically wandered over to the dancefloor, staring dazedly through the movement of the dancers, the many bright lights, and the echoing of Jackson classics all around. He felt strangely peaceful now, many of his troubling thoughts having faded away, and feeling oddly unbothered by the lights and sounds all around. He hadn’t expected to feel anything close to serenity after the long, insane day he’d endured—but, as he leaned against the wall and watched Crowe and Raven play, folding his arms and wearing a calm, contented smile, he was glad to be where he was now.
And as the three of them enjoyed their night—an onlooker observed them from afar, standing just outside the front doors of the club and gazing inside through the glass, wearing a soft, dismayed expression as he did.
Amory remained there for a long while, periodically stepping aside to let other groups of people past him whenever the customers needed to march in and out the glass doors. A few people gave him odd looks in passing, but he hardly noticed; his luminous black eyes remained fixated on the trio inside the club, sighing heavily as he continued to watch them.
He’d left Moonvale a long while ago—and he had walked far across his town, his Mapleview, with the brightly-colored McDonald’s on the corner, and with the normal-looking vehicles all around, no strange rounded cars or touchscreens in sight. He felt as if he had returned to where he truly, really belonged.
And yet—as he stood outside alone, staring into the club—he found himself strangely unable to enjoy it.
He was glad to have arrived here before any sign of Vincent or the Canterbury employees appeared, but now, he felt a strange, glum sensation sinking into the pit of his stomach. He saw Crowe in there, laughing and playfully jutting his pool cue at a man with a caramel complexion, repeatedly nudging him with his arm and trading laughs with him, appearing to be having the time of his life alongside his new mystery friend. In fact—Amory could see Raven in there as well, grown up, smiling, and sipping on a drink as she giggled alongside Crowe, appearing perfectly happy with where she was and who she was with.
Suddenly, Amory felt as if he was the one who had been gone for weeks; he felt like he’d gotten lost in an entirely different universe, and while he was gone, his sister and his best friend had simply moved on without him, replacing him with someone else, laughing gleefully along with their new best friend, perfectly happy without Amory, as if he never existed in their lives.
God, he hadn’t seen his little sister in years. He remembered Raven expressing interest in traveling, wanting to see a beach, and to travel the Appalachian Trail—but her disappearance from Canterbury still took him by surprise. He remembered worrying himself sick about her, even crying himself to sleep. If not for Zyon assuring him that she was safe, he wouldn’t have been able to adjust to her disappearance at all.
But—it seemed the same couldn’t be said for Raven. She appeared to be doing just fine without her brother around, sparing no tears or concern for his absence. In fact, she looked happier now than Amory had ever seen her.
And—contrary to what he’d grown accustomed to in the lab—Crowe looked far happier than usual, too. He never smiled and horse-played like that back at Canterbury.
Hell—if the lab had been destroyed weeks ago, then Amory would have simply gone missing, as far as they knew. But, here they were, having the time of their lives, not seeming to care about where their missing friend was in the slightest.
Amory stared into the glass doors with a downtrodden visage, sighing grimly and taking a step back. Swallowing and forcing down a wave of frustrating emotions, he turned on his heel, his eyes landing on the dark, lonesome chapel across the street—and he thoughtlessly marched towards it, hoping to simply distance himself for now.
He strode across the street, marched up the concrete pathway, and walked up to the stoop of the chapel, hunching down against the wooden double-doors and simply sitting there, folding his arms atop his knees, hanging his head, and burying his face in his arms, releasing a long, shaky breath and trying to understand anything he was feeling now.
The brightly-colored club was directly across the street from him, perfectly in sight, but he simply didn’t want to look at it, and now, oddly, he felt a powerful longing to return to the mysterious Evervale Manor in 2025, as it seemed he wasn’t needed or missed very much here.
During their second pool game—Crowe repeatedly examined the dancefloor with interest.
And—as the night became late, and as dancers slowly began to abandon the dancefloor, some of them approached an isolated clothes rack in the corner at the front of the building, returning some borrowed articles of clothing that were apparently free for the customers to use.
Crowe squinted across the room at the clothes rack—spotting several jackets hanging from it, most of them black or white and a few decorated with a faint coating of glitter, and above them were a collection of black or white fedoras, all of which were instantly recognizable—as they were iconic in their Michael Jackson style.
“Ohhh… you’re kiddin’ me,” Crowe beamed, a wide smile crawling across his face.
When he whipped around, he spotted Aravali leaning on the wall beside the rack of pool cues, finishing off his orange drink. He blinked twice, appearing somewhat tired—and Crowe approached him, clasping onto his shoulder and giving him an excited sort of look.
“Okay. Tell me something,” Crowe insisted, giving his shoulder a light shake. “What’s your favorite Michael Jackson song?”
Aravali blinked drearily once more, giving him a stare that appeared slightly sarcastic.
“Honestly, tell me,” Crowe grinned. “Tell me your favorite, and we’re gonna dance to it! They have the dress-up gear here!”
“Crowe…” Aravali moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. “I don’t wanna dance. I doubt if I even know the whole thing…”
“What whole thing?” Crowe asked even more excitedly. “Blimey, you do have a favorite!”
“Yes, but I doubt if I can…”
“Mate—you’re in the perfect headspace for it now,” Crowe assured. “And I guarantee you—whatever it is, I know it. How d’you think I learned to dance in the first place? You follow in the footsteps of the King of Pop! That’s how it’s done!”
Aravali rolled his neck and huffed, looking away incredulously.
Raven marched over to them. “Hey… if you make him dance, then you better let me off the hook, okay? Because I don’t know any Michael Jackson dances…”
“Fine—Ari—tell me your favorite,” Crowe smiled, leaning closer and gripping the doctor’s shoulder tighter. “Nooow.”
Aravali met his eyes, returning his stare and releasing a deep cloud of breath. On one hand, he felt incredibly hesitant to move even further out of his comfort zone than he obviously already had—but, on the other hand, he felt unusually calm and composed, free of his usual worries and hesitance, almost as if trying something new simply wouldn’t bother him as much as it normally would. He couldn’t think why he felt so at ease, but something inside, something deeply buried that he never knew was there, wanted him to step a little further now, to leap out of the comfort zone and to try out this routine of fun, just as Crowe wanted him to.
“Fine,” Aravali mumbled, glancing down and nodding. “Fine…”
Crowe’s smile widened even more, raising his brows expectantly at him.
Aravali’s eyes ventured back up to him, and with a final sigh, he said, “Smooth Criminal.”
“ Yes! ” Crowe rejoiced, whipping around and punching the air with glee.
At once—he stormed off, forgetting about his pool game and striding with purpose across the entire club. He stopped at the clothes rack in the distance, glancing over all of it and quickly plucking two jackets and two hats from the mix. When he returned to their corner pool table, he tossed a black hat and a sleek black jacket with glittered shoulders over to Aravali, keeping the white jacket and hat for himself.
“Oh… Christ,” Aravali laughed, shaking his head down at the clothes in his arms. “You’re kidding with this, right…?”
“Nope—suit up!” Crowe ordered, slipping into the white jacket and planting the hat on his head.
Aravali chuckled, still shaking his head as he slipped the black jacket on. Crowe smiled once more, eyeing the band around the arm of his white and lightly pinstriped jacket, just before turning to Raven and hunching closer to her.
“Oy—watch every moment of this, and don’t miss a second,” he mumbled to her. “Miss Morgan’s not gonna believe it.”
Raven laughed and nodded.
Aravali put the black hat on, then surveyed Crowe up and down. “Heh… you’re actually wearing the Smooth Criminal getup.”
“You’re damn right I am,” Crowe grinned, raising a finger. “Shamone!”
He turned and speed-walked away, stopping at the edge of the room where the jukebox resided. After fidgeting with it for a second, he made his way back to his friends.
Only moments later, the music died down, and the very first note of Smooth Criminal echoed throughout the place, warranting many of the club goers to yell and whistle with excitement.
Crowe grabbed the doctor by the arm, excited to escort him to the dancefloor—but Aravali pulled away from him for a second. Then, he adjusted his hat and gave Crowe a nod, and the two of them made their way across the ocean of dancers.
Raven folded her arms and watched them go, sniggering with delight as she did. “ Nobody is gonna believe this…”
As the King’s Place became swept away with the euphoria of the song—a sleek black car pulled up to the club from the vacant road, stopping just before the building’s magnificent lights.
Three of the car doors popped open, and two men in black emerged from the back seats, both of them carrying semi-automatics. The driver remained in his seat, but from the passenger side, a third suited man stepped out of the car, a slender man with a dark suit to match his companions, a black trilby covering his smooth sandy hairs, slicked neatly back behind his ears. He wore a mysterious visage, a long, jagged scar over the left side of his face, pensive eyes of two different colors, which narrowed at the lit-up club as he gently puffed on the cigar in his mouth.
All three of them heard the start of the Smooth Criminal song begin to echo from inside, and they stared at the front doors for a moment.
Then, one of the armed goons tapped the suited on the shoulder.
“Are we sure they’re here?” the man asked.
The suited man—Vincent—barely spared him a glance.
“Fairly sure, yeah,” he muttered, his voice a low, smooth voice, sliding the cigar between his fingers. “But check the parking lot for the car, just in case. If it’s not the doctor’s car, then it might be the other one.”
The two armed men nodded and broke into a brisk stride, heading into the darkened parking lot along the side of the building. As they did—Vincent remained standing by himself directly in front of the club, glaring fixedly into it without moving at all.
Inside the club—Crowe and Aravali were at the front of the group—and everyone on the dancefloor soon joined them, all of them following Crowe’s lead as they performed the Smooth Criminal dance.
“As he came into the window, was the sound of, a cres-cen-do… he came into her apartment, he left the bloodstains, on the carpet… she ran underneath the table, he could see she, was un-ab-le… so she ran into the bedroom, she was struck down, it was her doom…”
Aravali found himself impressed, watching the beginning performance; everyone had stepped back to allow Crowe to take the reign and play the part of Michael Jackson, as he was best suited for the part.
“Annie, are you okay? So—Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie? Annie, are you okay? So—Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?”
Crowe took smooth strides with an arm outstretched as he mouthed along to the words, entirely swept away by the music, making a few swift leg movements before the main chorus began—then he spun around in place with fantastic precision right when everyone else joined in.
“Annie, are you okay? So—Annie, are you okay? Are you ok-ay, Ann-ie?!”
Crowe held an imaginary microphone—and everyone behind him erupted in almost perfect unison, dancing all around him as he chanted the main chorus and imitated the incredible Jackson leg movements in place with surprising skill.
“Annie, are you okay? Will you tell us—that you're okay? There's a sound at the window—then he struck you, a crescendo, Annie!”
Aravali followed along with the movements of everyone around him, feeling bizarrely freer than he ever had, every stress and worry entirely expunged from him in a way he never thought possible. He glimpsed at Crowe from behind and smirked at him, choking out a laugh as it all carried on.
Raven was at the front of the club now, watching from the edge of the bar with a bright smile. A couple of others watched from the bar stools—but now, the majority of the club was on the dancefloor, all performing the Smooth Criminal dance together.
“You’ve been hit by—you’ve been struck by—a smooth crim-i-nal!”
Crowe made a lunging motion and let out a high-pitched “Ow!”
Raven laughed.
“So they came in to the outway—it was Sunday, what a black day. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, sounding heartbeats, intimidation. Annie, are you okay? So—Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?”
Vincent remained standing perfectly adjacent to the glass double-doors, just able to see the faint outlines of the entire crowd moving along to the music inside. He took another smooth drag from his cigar, and then, his two armed companions emerged from around the corner of the building, striding back over to him.
“The orderly’s car is here,” one of them reported.
Vincent made a nod, finishing off his cigar.
“Should we wait until they come out?” the other goon asked.
Vincent dropped the cigar and planted his shoe over it, snuffing it out against the pavement.
“No… I don’t think that’s necessary,” he told them. “This is a big crowd… no surveillance… and every witness will be too intoxicated to take seriously. No… I think we can just have at. Just… try to wait for a clear shot. Right here.”
He nodded once at the double-doors, gesturing loosely to the front of the crowd inside, where he was able to see two of his targets now.
Somehow—Aravali found himself dancing along to the main chorus with Crowe this time, truly astonished at how much of the dance he apparently remembered. Everyone nearest them danced the same way—and a bizarre sense of euphoria overtook the scene.
“Annie, are you okay? (I don't kno-ow)… will you tell us, that you're okay? (I don't kno-ow)… there's a sound at the window (I don't kno-ow)… then he struck you, a crescendo, Annie (I don't kno-ow)… he came into your apartment (I don't kno-ow)… left bloodstains, on the carpet…”
Crowe made another flashy series of leg movements before spinning amazingly in place again—hitting the back of his white fedora and cocking it forward.
“You were struck down, it was your doom, Annie (dag-gone it)… Annie, are you okay? (Dag-gone it-baby)… will you tell us, that you're okay? (Dag-gone it-baby)… there's a sound at the window (dag-gone it-baby)…”
Raven continued to smile as she watched her friends in the distance—then she suddenly gasped, hunching forward on her stool and grasping her temples, her expression instantly dropping.
She gazed down for a second, then whipped her head to the side—staring at the glass double-doors with a frightful look on her face.
Her eyes shot over to the front of the crowd—and she flew off her stool, rushing over to them and grasping Crowe by the arm. She interrupted his dance and gave his arm a yank, jabbing her finger at the front doors.
Crowe stopped and looked to the entrance—only just spotting the three shadowy figures that stood just outside, two of them holding firearms, raising them upright.
They were aiming at the doors—directly into the club—
Crowe’s expression hardened—and he made a hard stomp on the floor—just as the gunshots rang out and the lights in the club exploded into fiery bursts of sparks and shattered glass.
Chaos erupted all at once; everyone in the club screamed and scattered across the darkened scene as glass rained down and muzzle flashes erupted in blinding bursts of light from outside. The glass doors shattered apart and fell in waves of glass—and bullets flew above the crowd—destroying countless things along the walls of the club and riddling several Michael Jackson paintings with holes.
Absolute panic overtook the club as everyone sprinted in all directions—some flooding out the side entrance while others took cover.
Raven found herself tackled to the ground with the wind knocked out of her—Aravali pinning her there and not moving—but Crowe remained right where he was, glaring daggers at the ruined front doors. The man standing between the two gunmen seemed clear to him, even despite being shrouded in darkness; his eyes locked onto the outline of Vincent Hawthorn, and a rush of indignant anger began to rise up inside, his blood feeling suddenly hot enough to boil.
The few remaining lights in the club began to flash rapidly—and Crowe’s focus remained fixed onto the figures of Vincent and his two gunmen—his insides feeling hot enough to combust as a single tear of blood ran from the corner of his eye—
BAN—BOOM.
Both of the guns exploded in the hands of their carriers—ripping fingers from their hands and skin from their arms—and both of the gunmen staggered back, screaming in wailing in agony before they collapsed in bloody shambles to the ground.
Vincent glanced down at either of them, sighing and shaking his head. “Oh, good God…”
Crowe let out a gasp, grabbing his head and feeling incredibly dizzy all the sudden. Then—he bent down and grasped Raven and Aravali by their collars—ripping them off the floor and shoving them toward the back.
“Let’s go…!”
At once—the three of them found themselves running, sprinting and trying to keep track of one another as they darted through total darkness and tried to avoid colliding with the bar goers or the furniture.
Aravali kept a tight hold of Raven’s arm as he blindly followed Crowe toward the back, and they exploded out the side entrance in the corner—emerging under the night sky and stumbling out to the side parking lot.
Possessed with adrenaline, Aravali spotted Elaine’s car and broke into a stride towards it—but Crowe yanked him back.
“No—not the car,” Crowe breathed, shaking his head.
“Why not?!” Aravali griped.
“Just trust me—we can’t take the car! They’ll know the car!” Crowe yelled—wheeling around and exploding into a run. “C’mon!”
Aravali and Raven traded glances before racing off after him—and they all ran towards the darkened woods beyond the parking lot, leaping through the shrubbery and vanishing into the trees with haste.
Seconds later—Vincent strode smoothly around the corner of the building, gazing across the side parking lot and squinting into the darkness, though his targets were nowhere in sight now.
Right on time—a second black car rolled up behind him, and another team of his armed men arrived, four of them stepping out of the car and speed-walking over to his side with rifles in their hands.
“Get ready,” Vincent said, turning to them and nodding sideways over at the woodlands behind the club. “We’re gonna have to follow them and put Crowe down from a distance—”
“ Vincent! ”
A far-off voice cried out—instantly capturing his attention.
Vincent blinked, making a face and slowly turning on his heel, his armed men all following his trail of vision.
They all stared at the side of the street where the chapel resided—and where Amory stood, wind gently shifting his hairs, his expression painted with both anger and dismay as he glared at them with indignation.
Vincent spotted him, releasing a deep, heavy breath.
Then, he took a step, seeming to abandon his task of pursuing the runaway Moonvalers, approaching Amory and stopping a few yards away from him.
There was a tense pause between the two—and neither of them spoke for a long, severe moment as they faced one another again at last.