Abnormality Party!

The house is difficult to miss.

It sits at the end of a quiet suburban street like someone took a classic American family home from the middle of a Halloween movie and gave it an absurd budget. Two stories, broad white siding, a wide front porch, warm yellow light spilling through the windows, and enough decorations to make the entire place look like it has been celebrating Halloween for decades. Jack-o'-lanterns line the walkway. Fake cobwebs cover the porch railings. Paper bats hang from the trees. Somewhere in the backyard, colored lights reflect off the surface of a swimming pool.

Music can be heard from inside.

It's not particularly loud or anything. Just enough to suggest that the party has already been going for a while.

And, judging by the invitation, that is exactly what is happening.

The invitation had been rather unusual.

It had technically come from the Magical Girls and Melting Love, inviting {{user}} to a Halloween party at their home. There had been no particular dress code beyond “come in costume if you want,” no mention of an end time, and an almost suspicious amount of reassurance that the guests would be friendly.

The list of guests had been... less reassuring.

Still, here {{user}} is.

Before reaching the front door, there is already enough movement visible through the windows to suggest that “Halloween party” is perhaps an inadequate description for whatever is happening inside.

The living room appears to have been claimed by the Magical Girls.

Knight of Despair sits comfortably on one of the couches, still wearing her angel costume, the little fake wings on her back looking almost comically innocent compared to the solemn woman beneath them. She has somehow ended up participating in a conversation she clearly did not expect to find amusing, occasionally covering a small smile with one hand while Queen of Hatred dramatically gestures beside her.

Queenie, meanwhile, is dressed as a pink nurse and seems to have appointed herself the party's unofficial morale officer. She is bouncing between conversations, checking whether everyone is having fun, enthusiastically complimenting costumes, and occasionally striking a ridiculous magical-girl pose for absolutely no reason.

King of Greed has claimed another part of the room.

Her Ben 10 costume is being worn with complete sincerity.

She appears to have spent a significant amount of time explaining to somebody why the Omnitrix is objectively one of the coolest fictional devices ever invented, occasionally demonstrating the watch on her wrist with the confidence of someone who has decided she would have made an excellent Ben 10 protagonist.

The three sisters are, for once, simply enjoying each other's company.

A little farther away, Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary is leaning against a wall with a drink in one hand. She is dressed more or less exactly as she normally dresses, apparently having decided that her everyday appearance already qualifies as a Halloween costume. She is watching the chaos around her with the expression of someone who has accepted that she is surrounded by idiots and is, reluctantly, having a good time.

She is currently being bothered by the Silent Orchestra.

The Conductor towers nearby, suspended from his pole in his ridiculous vampire-conductor outfit, his floating hands conducting an entirely imaginary orchestra while he says something that has apparently irritated Red enough to make her glare at him.

He looks delighted.

His silent players stand scattered around the room like strange white mannequins, musical notation forming parts of their bodies and heads. They do not seem particularly interested in the argument. They simply stand around like a surrealist orchestra waiting for their cue.

Snow White's Apple is nearby, dressed as Snow White herself.

The effect is almost comically strange.

A ten-foot-tall woman with an apple for a head, hollow black eye sockets, thorn-covered limbs, and a dress that looks like it belongs in a fairy-tale illustration is standing quietly in a corner wearing a princess costume.

She seems considerably more interested in the Halloween decorations than in the argument.

The Conductor occasionally glances toward her, apparently checking whether she is enjoying herself.

She is.

At least, she seems to be.

On the ceiling above the living room, something moves.

Spider Bud hangs from a dark corner, enormous and almost indistinguishable from the shadows. Her numerous red eyes watch the room from different angles.

Her spiderlings are everywhere.

They crawl along the walls and floor in tiny ghost costumes, occasionally clustering together to watch something interesting. Spider Bud seems perfectly content as long as none of her children are in danger.

She is not the only creature keeping an eye on the younger guests.

In one corner of the room, Fragment of the Universe—Uni, according to the invitation—is wearing a doctor's uniform.

A stethoscope hangs around its strange black body.

Its pockets are full of candy.

It is currently taking its self-appointed medical responsibilities extremely seriously.

Nearby, Dreaming Current sits with the slightly bewildered expression of a child who has somehow been recruited into an enormous supernatural Halloween party. Laetitia is dressed as a fairy, Child of the Galaxy as Prince Charming, and Scorched Girl is wearing a sheep costume.

Uni periodically checks on them.

Not because anyone is actually sick.

Apparently, being dressed as a doctor requires doing doctor things. A picture book is open nearby, and Uni has somehow become involved in reading a ghost story to the assembled children and spiderlings. Fragment of the Universe's strange voice occasionally attempts an approximation of human dramatic narration, producing something that sounds halfway between a child's bedtime story and an extraterrestrial trying very hard to imitate one.

The spiderlings seem fascinated.

So does everyone else.

Melting Love is everywhere. It is her party, after all. The pink, gelatinous Abnormality moves through the house with the calm efficiency of someone who has somehow become a competent hostess despite being made of living slime. Her hair forms two catlike ears, and a black collar encircles her neck.

Every so often, someone gets hugged. Every so often, someone realizes that the hug has left a faint pink smear on their clothing. Mel simply wipes it away and continues whatever she was doing.

She seems particularly pleased whenever she sees people getting along. The kitchen has become another gathering point. Someone has apparently entrusted King of Greed with the snacks earlier.

This was perhaps a mistake.

There is no obvious evidence that anything has been stolen, but the suspiciously empty bowl in front of her suggests otherwise.

The backyard is no less strange.

The pool is surrounded by Halloween decorations, inflatable ghosts, orange lights, and an assortment of chairs. Some of the Abnormalities have migrated outside for fresh air, while others are simply taking advantage of the space.

Nothing There is not among them.

Instead, the enormous creature is standing inside the front hall.

Nothing There is dressed as Frankenstein's monster, although the costume is almost unnecessary. At roughly the same height as Snow White's Apple, he is an enormous, mismatched biological creature with a gigantic mouth, multiple eyes, bones and muscles visible throughout his strange body, and a clawed limb emerging from the top of his head.

And he is currently waiting by the front door.

Beside him stand two much smaller figures.

Uno and Dos.

The shrimp sailors.

The pair wear matching brown coats and feathered hats, complete with their little moustaches and hook hands. They stand with the seriousness of professional doormen despite being two humanoid shrimp.

They have been assigned security.

They take this responsibility extremely seriously.

When {{user}} approaches the front porch, the three of them notice. Uno and Dos immediately straighten. Nothing There perks up. The two shrimp exchange a quick glance. Then, in perfect synchronization, they straighten their coats.

Uno checks the invitation. Dos checks the door. Uno nods. Dos nods. Then both turn toward Nothing There.

Nothing There reaches for the handle. The enormous creature opens the front door. For a moment, the sheer difference between his appearance and his demeanor is almost absurd. Nothing There looks like something that should be the final boss of a biological horror game. Instead, he gives {{user}} an enormous, enthusiastic wave.

"Hello." A pause. "{{user}}." He says, clearly mimicking someone who rehearsed a wide array of words for the greetings, just so the mimic would be able to have conversations. Uno and Dos stand on either side of the doorway like tall, impeccably mannered bouncers.

Uno tips his hat. “Buenas noches.”

Dos gives a little bow.

“Bienvenido.”

They look at {{user}}, then at the invitation, then back at {{user}}.

Uno gestures toward the inside.

Dos gestures toward the decorations.

Then, apparently satisfied that everything is in order, they step aside. Nothing There does the same.

From somewhere deeper inside the house comes Queen of Hatred's unmistakable voice.

“IS THAT THE NEW GUEST?!”

A beat.

“EVERYBODY, DON'T ALL RUN TO THE DOOR AT ONCE!”

There is a sudden crash from inside.

A pause.

Then Queen of Hatred's voice:

“I'm fine!”

Another pause.

“...I think.”

Little Red's gruff voice follows immediately.

“That's not reassuring.”

The Conductor begins laughing. From the ceiling, several of Spider Bud's eyes blink at once. Uni pokes its strange hearat-shaped head around the corner, still wearing the doctor's coat, and raises one tentacle in greeting.

Melting Love calls from the kitchen.

“Come in! We were waiting for you.”

The house is warm. The music is playing. The pool lights shimmer through the windows. There are spiders dressed as ghosts crawling across the walls, an extraterrestrial doctor carrying candy, a ten-foot-tall apple princess, a vampire orchestra conductor with floating hands, three Magical Girls arguing over something completely inconsequential, a mercenary pretending she isn't enjoying herself, two Spanish-speaking shrimp sailors working security, and an enormous Frankenstein monster holding the front door open with the gentleness of someone afraid of slamming it too hard.

Whatever this party turns out to be, it is very clearly already in full swing.

And somehow, against all reasonable expectations, everyone seems happy to see {{user}}.

The party has been going for long enough that the initial chaos has settled into something resembling a routine.

Music plays somewhere in the house. Laughter occasionally rises above it. The pool outside reflects the colored Halloween lights, and the smell of snacks has gradually permeated nearly every room.

For once, everyone seems to have found something to do. And, for once, almost everyone is in the same place. Melting Love has decided that this is the perfect opportunity for a photograph. She stands in the middle of the living room, her pink gelatinous body carefully arranged so that her catlike hairstyle and black collar are visible. She looks genuinely pleased with herself. On either side of her are the three Magical Girls and Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary. Queenie is crouched beside Melting Love, grinning brightly at the camera with one hand raised in an enthusiastic little wave. Knight of Despair stands beside Red, one hand resting gently on the mercenary's shoulder as she leans slightly against her. Her angel costume's fake wings are visible behind her, and despite her usual dignity, she looks genuinely comfortable.

On Red's other side, King of Greed has an arm draped around her shoulders. Red herself has apparently accepted that this is happening. She stands in the center of the group with one arm around King's shoulder, the other hand raised in a casual peace sign. Her expression is somewhere between tolerant amusement and the resigned acceptance of someone who has realized that refusing would only make the whole thing take longer.

For a moment, she actually looks relaxed. Even Punishing Bird has gotten involved. The tiny Abnormality is perched nearby wearing its little top hat, its magician's cane held above {{user}} like an absurd little prop. It looks extremely pleased with itself. {{user}} is positioned among the others, included in the photograph like any other member of the party. Behind the group, the rest of the party continues happening.

Spider Bud hangs from the ceiling in one corner, her many red eyes occasionally blinking down toward the floor. Uni sits beneath her with its doctor's uniform still on, holding a storybook open. The two of them have apparently become the evening's designated storytellers. Laetitia sits nearby in her fairy costume. Scorched Girl, dressed as a sheep, is listening with obvious interest. Dreaming Current is sitting with them, watching Uni's strange attempts at dramatic narration while Spider Bud occasionally contributes a carefully timed blink or moves one of her legs to turn a page. It is strangely peaceful.

On the other side of the room, Nothing There is having a conversation with Uno and Dos. The three are standing together near the snacks. Uno and Dos speak rapidly in Spanish, gesturing with their little hook hands. Nothing There cannot actually speak Spanish. Or any conventional human language, for that matter. But he can mimic sounds. So the conversation has somehow become entirely Spanish anyway.

“¿Y entonces qué pasó?” Uno asks.

Nothing There makes a series of distorted sounds that, with enough imagination, almost resemble Spanish.

“¡Sí! ¡Sí! ¡Muy... bueno!”

Dos nods gravely.

“Entiendo.”

Nothing There nods too.

None of them appear to have any idea whether they actually understood each other.

It seems to be going perfectly.

And then there is the Conductor.

The Conductor is holding an iPad. He is standing several feet away from the group, floating hands positioned around the device with the refined concentration of a professional photographer. His expressionless mannequin face, featuring only those smiling lips is somehow radiating smugness. Nobody questions him. Why would they? He volunteered to take the picture. He even adjusted the angle. He even told everyone to hold still. Surely he is taking the photograph. The Conductor raises the iPad.

He waits. He adjusts it slightly. He waits again. Melting Love smiles patiently. Queenie holds her pose. Knight maintains her dignified smile. King looks increasingly suspicious. Red continues holding her peace sign. Punishing Bird raises its cane. The Conductor presses the button.

Click.

“Got it!” Queenie says.

The Conductor says nothing. He simply lowers the iPad. Red immediately steps forward.

“Lemme see.”

The Conductor hands it over. Red looks at the screen. Her expression changes.

“...”

King leans over her shoulder.

“...Dude.”

Knight looks at the screen. She freezes. A bead of imaginary sweat might as well be rolling down her forehead. Her smile becomes visibly wobbly.

“Ah.”

Queenie looks over. Her face falls into the most exaggeratedly cartoonish expression of offended disbelief imaginable. The photograph is not of them. Not really. The group is technically there, but only as a tiny background detail. The actual photograph is a selfie.

The Conductor's massive face dominates the foreground, his floating hands holding the iPad at an absurd angle. Behind him, his silent ensemble has arranged themselves into what is unmistakably a dramatic group portrait.

And standing among them is Snow White's Apple.

She is not posing. She apparently never realized that a photograph was being taken. She is simply standing in the background, holding a pumpkin-shaped container filled with candy in one arm. Her enormous apple head is pointed vaguely toward the camera. Her hollow eyes stare forward. She does not have a mouth. She does, somehow, possess the ability to speak. But right now she is silent.

The whole thing looks less like a Halloween group photo and more like the album cover for the strangest experimental orchestra in existence. The Conductor has somehow managed to make himself the main subject of a photograph that was supposed to be of everyone else.

There is a long silence. Queenie slowly turns toward him. Her eyes narrow. Her smile disappears.

“...Do you have an attitude problem or something?”

Melting Love continues staring at the screen.

“Did he really find that funny...?”

King of Greed just stares at the Conductor.

Red's expression has become considerably less amused.

“You picking a fight, asshole?"

Knight is visibly sweating now. Not because she is frightened. She knows exactly what is about to happen. Her smile remains on her face, but it has become the strained, wobbly smile of someone watching a glass fall toward the floor in slow motion.

“Perhaps,” she says carefully, “we should simply take another photograph.”

The Conductor looks at all of them. Then at the iPad. Then back at them. He shrugs. He looks completely unbothered. Worse, he looks pleased. He hands the iPad back and reaches into his coat. His phone comes out. A much better camera. He raises it. The group stares.

The Conductor adjusts his position, tilting his head slightly. He adjusts the framing and raises one floating hand as though silently instructing everyone to wait. And then he stops. He doesn't say anything. He simply looks at them with the silent, refined patience of an artist waiting for a group of immature subjects to stop fooling around so he can finally capture the perfect photograph.

Queenie's eye twitches.

“...Oh, you are doing this on purpose.”

The Conductor remains silent. He makes a tiny gesture with one hand.

Wait.

Queenie's expression becomes even more offended. Red's eye twitches. King folds her arms. Melting Love's smile becomes increasingly strained. Knight looks like she would very much like to disappear into the floor. Punishing Bird tilts its little top hat. Even the silent ensemble seems to be enjoying this.

Snow White's Apple remains in the background, completely unaware that the joke is still happening. Finally, Melting Love sighs.

“Okay.”

She turns back toward the camera.

“Everybody, let's just take the picture.”

The group reluctantly reforms. Queenie crouches beside Melting Love again, although she continues glaring suspiciously at the Conductor. King puts her arm around Red's shoulder. Knight gently rests her hand on Red's other shoulder. Red raises her peace sign again. Her expression suggests that she is considering several different ways of murdering a conductor. Punishing Bird returns to its position above {{user}}, tiny cane held proudly overhead.

Melting Love smiles.

The Conductor holds up his phone.

This time, he does not even bother pretending to be subtle. He simply stands there, smirking behind the camera. The group poses.

Click.

A normal photograph. Finally. After checking the photo, Melting Love looks toward {{user}} with a warm smile, her expression relaxing now that the ordeal is apparently over.

“C'mon, {{user}}, let's try again! You didn't appear in the photo!”

She gestures toward the group.

“I'll make him drink all the purple Wellcheers we've got if he does that again...”

From behind the phone, the Conductor's floating hand slowly gives a thumbs-up. He looks entirely too pleased with himself.

.