Chapter 19: A Blast From the Past

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"Alright, are you ready to see your new stage, Fizz?"

Mammon (aka the Greed Demon)'s, assistant Samara, stood next to Robo Fizz in the freshly paved and painted Loo Loo Land parking lot, shifting her weight from foot to foot in her chunky heels. It had been about two weeks since her brush with Nonexistence, and right after she checked back into work she'd begun throwing herself into new designs for the circus part of the park. She'd been fielding phone calls between set designers, exotic creature trainers, musicians, tumblers, etc. and her boss. Mammon was being particularly generous and was happy to write as many checks as Samara requested on the promise that she be as frugal as possible and also ensure that disaster didn't repeat itself. He may actually have learned a lesson about investing more upfront to avoid an unforeseen loss of a fortune later.

Either way, she was just happy he wasn't riding her ass, any more than he normally did in a different way, anyway. And, with Fizz to come home to and Fizzarolli stopping by to check on her when he had the time, even that hadn't been unbearable.

Fizz bounced up and down excitedly. He'd been going stir crazy for weeks and actually started to miss his stage. So what if a lot of people only showed up because he was a clone of Fizzarolli? He still got to do what he loved, and he preferred being on stage a hell of a lot more than what he had to do after hours. Besides, he had new songs and jokes he was itching to try out, some that he hadn't even shown Samara.

"Oh yeah, baby! Let's get this freak show on the road!"

He was once again missing his signature stutter. Rench had nearly burst a blood vessel when Samara had sheepishly drug Fizz back for yet another repair to his voice box, among other components that had gotten damaged in the fight. He had been blessedly quick and discreet, since neither of them wanted Mammon catching wind of this little fiasco. He also didn't charge her, but she tipped him handsomely nonetheless, thanking him profusely for saving both of their hides.

"You're calling little old me a freak?"

Samara put a sharp-nailed hand to her chest in mock offense.

Fizz snaked an arm around her waist and hugged her close, smushing his metal cheek against her soft one, purring

"C'mon, Samara. I think we both know just how much of a freak you can be."

Rolling her eyes, Samara kissed him on the cheek and wiggled her way free from his grasp, making sure she had her clipboard with her and smoothing out her clothes.

"Yeah, yeah. But, right now I need to be professional. We both do..."

She eyed him meaningfully.

"So cut out the PDA, okay? We can't afford to get caught like that. Mammon has eyes and ears all over Hell."

Grumbling about poking out said eyes, Fizz followed Samara through the new and improved entrance. The archway was lit up with sparkling lights, and cheery festival music blared from recently installed speakers. The staff had been notified to show up for Samara's inspection. Due to her expertise in entertainment, Mammon had all but left the project up to her, allowing her to be his stand-in on decision-making. Life was looking up for her job, and Samara was beginning to suspect that Mammon might even be a tad fond of her, as much as a megalomanic, sociopathic, power-hungry demonic lord could be friendly with someone. He certainly was putting a lot of trust in her, and she was determined to see to it that it wasn't misplaced. They wandered through the main road, with an information center planted in the middle with vendors lined upon either side that would be hawking overpriced merchandise, some of which was a straight recolored rip off of Lu Lu World items, not that Samara would peep a word of protest to her boss.

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