The smoke was clearing. The dust was only just beginning to settle, the sky grey and hazy. Dr. Flug rubbed his googles, clearing them of the dust, staring out at the rubble around him. His machine...

How could it have gone so wrong?

With a sudden panic, he made to stand up, but crashed back down on the rocks with a cry, pain shooting up his leg. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, and he glanced over his should to see his right leg was bent impossibly, clearly broken. He heaved himself upright anyway, limping heavily as he stumbled his way awkwardly through the wreckage.

Something caught his eye. A piece of green fabric, sticking up between the rocks. A rush of adrenaline flooded his system, and he raced over, ignoring his own pain to pry the fabric free. He tumbled back, head bouncing off a rock, unexpecting the ease of which it came loose. Once his vision cleared of the black spots dancing across, he realized all he clutched in his hands was the torn lizard-like hood Demencia loved to wear.

No.

No no no no no!

He began to dig with a fervor, casting bits of rock and curtain and wood aside. "Dementia! Demencia!" His palms bled, his leg screamed in agony. Tears soaked through his paper bag, or what was left of it, and splashed onto the rubble below him.

He stood up sharply, racing about the utter wreckage of what was once Black Hat's villa, searching for something, anything, that could possibly hint to the survival of the three beings he'd grown to respect, love, and care for in their own respective ways.

"Demencia!"

No answer.

"Black Hat!"

Silence.

"5.0.5?"

Only his echo bounced of the decimated ground.

The scientist stood, looking around at the destruction his single mistake caused. His tears burned. He looked down to his hands, staring at the only items he could find that proved their existence at all:

Demencia's hood.

Black Hat's hat.

5.0.5's flower.

He ran a thumb over the bridge of the hat, feeling the worn edges, now torn and covered in dust. He worked the flower into the red band around the hat, noticing how wilted it was no longer attached to the lovable bear. It was missing a petal, too, and Flug couldn't help but touch the space where it should be.

His body finally gave out, and he collapsed, letting out an agonized cry that was a mixture of physical and emotional pain. His grief boiled over, and he screamed again, clutching onto the objects like a lifeline.

They can't be dead.

They can't be dead!

They just...can't!

He began to dig once more, unable to accept the fact that the single three most important people in his life were just simply gone. Suddenly something sharp sliced his palm, cutting straight through the torn rubber of his gloves. He blinked, staring at the cause of his wound.

A knife, slightly bent and dusty, lay half-buried in the rubble. It's ornate hilt lead him to believe it had belonged to Black Hat, as well as the dried blood on the blade that most likely belonged to the scientist himself. With shaking hands, he picked it up, eyes fixed on the gleaming metal. Dropping the other items, he wrapped both hands around the hilt, shifting it in his grasp till the tip was placed against his chest.

His breathing grew ragged. His hands were trembling violently as tears continued to splash down below him. He closed his eyes, unable to look even at himself as he raised his hands, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

"You better not be about to do what I think you are."

Flug choked on his breath, heart stopping. His eyes snapped open, and there they were. Black Hat continued to glare at him, arms crossed, though his body was slightly fuzzy and out of focus, like a mirage. He lowered the blade slightly, but didn't drop it.

"B...Black H-Hat? B-b-b-but...you're not...y-you c-can't be real..."

The demon snorted. "Of course we're real, you fool. I may be dead, but I still have magic. Granted, the spell won't last much longer, sustaining all three of us."

The scientist advertising his gaze. "I-it's my fault...I built the machine...I-I'm the reason y-you're all–"

"No it's not, you nerd!" His attention was turned to Demencia, body as equally hazy as Black Hat's, but she still stood as proud and confident as she did in life. "If I wasn't constantly bugging and Black Hat wasn't breathing down your neck every five minutes–" Black Hat snarled at the mention of his name, but Demencia continued on. "–you'd have had the space and piece of mind to actually focus. You'd have seen the flaws, or maybe not even have made them. And we'd all still be alive. If anything it's our fault."

Suddenly their forms flickered, disappearing for a brief instance. When the reappeared, Black Hat was on one knee, a grimace spread across his face. "The spell is fading. I can't hold it for much longer." He looked up, staring the doctor in the eye. There was something he'd never seen before in the demon's visible eye. It looked like...regret. It shocked him, but not as much as his next words. "Please, Flug. Put down the knife. Live for us."

Something enclosed around his wrist, and he saw 5.0.5 standing next to him, smiling sadly with a paw wrapped around the still-trembling scientist's wrist. Another hand encircled his other, and he saw Demencia, gazing at him with a watery grin. Black Hat rose to his feet, dusting himself off, and his signature sharp-fanged grin spread across his face. "We'll see you later, Dr. Flug. But hopefully not for a very, very long time." He tipped his hat, and then they were gone, shimmering and fading into nothing.

The blade clattered to the rocks, and sobs wracked Flug's body, eyes squeezing shut as he collapsed onto his hands and knees. He remained there for what was most likely hours, his grief overwhelming him and taking him over to the point where he physically ached, until there were no more tears to cry, just gasping, stuttering breaths that hurt his throat.

Finally, he stood, noticing the lack of pain in his leg, and he looked down to see that it had been healed perfectly. Peeling off what remained of his paper bag, he picked up the hat, placing it securely on top of his head, and wrapped the hood around his wrist. Adjusting his goggles, he set off, clambering through the wreckage and onto solid ground. He stopped at the front gates, turning around to look back at the pile that had once been his home. He nodded once, then marched through the iron gates.

He would live on.

He must live on.

For them.

Decades later, on the same plot of land in the same unchanged city, an elderly man sat in a mansion shaped like the top hat he never parted from. Even on his death bed, he ran a hand over the greying and weathered fabric, finger the yellow flower he'd long ago sprinkled with a potion he'd made that allowed to stay young and in bloom forever. He touched the old fraying hood tied around his frail wrist, remember the vibrant green it used to be.

He closed his eyes, remember all the years that had gone by. All his success. All his awards. He was the most renowned scientist in the world, but he didn't care about any of that. He thought back to early days, days involving a high-strung woman who liked to climb up walls and play electric guitar. Of a affectionate blue bear with a tiny yellow flower growing out of his forehead, who loved to give hugs and clean. And of a demon, the most terrifying creature in the known universe, the most rich and infamous villain, and the most ruthless boss he'd ever had. But he knew the solid titanium exterior hid something much softer, much kinder, than what he liked to show.

The old scientist let out a sigh, and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, and the three most familiar faces he could never forget smiled back at him.

Black Hat grinned.

"Welcome home, Dr. Flug."