A/N: REPO! The Genetic Opera/ The Devil's Carnival Crossover

What happens when the characters of Repo! are sent to the Devil's Carnival? Because, let's face it; they certainly weren't getting into Heaven. But what happens when they meet some rather interesting and strangely familiar carnival folk? Read on to find out!

Rated T for now, for language and suggestive material. May get a bit graphic as far as violence and swearing goes as the chapters go on.

Enjoy!

It is often said that the deepest parts of Hell are reserved for those who dared to remain neutral in times of great moral conflict. Those who chose a side are at least commended for their efforts, regardless of which side they'd chosen. Right and wrong is a completely different issue, you see.

It has also been said that Hell is full of musical amateurs.

Funny how often those two coincide.

"Well, would you look at that…"

Yellow claws traced gently over the dog-eared pages of an ancient-looking book, pausing briefly over a small group of illustrations. Small passages beside the drawings were printed in a twisted, curvy font, the names printed out curling around the reader's mind like a snake formed of ink lines, writhing around in his nervous system to form a wicked smirk on his painted face. Whatever he was reading seemed to please him greatly, his blackened lips showing an unnatural amount of expression for the otherwise stoic figure.

"New playmates," he chuckled, skimming each story with a growing sense of pleasure. It was just all-too convenient; each plot seemed to weave together with the next, the timing perfect for each…it was if they'd planned their endings in advance for him to piece back together again. He couldn't have planned it better himself…but oh, how he'd tried. He'd been expecting these guests for quite some time. Their souls were the lowest of the low, far from worthy of the pearly gates. Only the darkest regions of his carnival would be suited for these unlucky ducks.

Only once did he seem to frown, and it was brief, his mood seemingly undampened. One of the passages seem to fade from the page, as though it were being erased. And then, nothing. As though it had never been written in. Well, that one wasn't much of a surprise. Out of the four of them, if any were to have been chosen, it would have been that one. God did tend to pick favorites, after all. That was one thing the world could say about God and the Devil; one of them was fair, and it was the one who at least had the decency to keep his rules straight.

"Three out of four…not bad," he nodded to himself. Frankly, in his opinion, that particular plotline was no real loss. The ones he had left to work with would do just fine, for he and his actors.

Scratching absentmindedly at a horn, the playwright paused, mulling over the three usable stories carefully. He'd been planning on these three for quite some time now; yet as all knowing as he was, he'd been taken a bit by surprise by the suddenness of their arrival. This would have to be a perfect performance for such special guests as these. Sinners of such a particular nature were meant to be treated with simply the best care available for them.

A boy, a fox, and a lone wolf, each with a sin all their own, and a story that was theirs to tell. Not that any of that mattered, of course. That was what Lucifer loved about his work; every sinner was made equal. Regardless of whatever meaningless dribble you'd involved yourself in in life, all that mattered here was your sin. None were alike, yet none were lesser or greater than the other. Everything was equal here, and you would neither be rewarded nor punished any differently than any other pathetic mongrels that had found themselves within the carnival.

And what was Lucifer if he was not fair?

Unlike heaven, where even the dirtiest of sinners had somehow nestled their way in for the pettiest of good deeds. A deathbed confession, a last-minute apology, and insistence of good intentions. Men of God, indeed. Misers, beggars and fools loitered around Saint Peter's gates, while Kings, Knights and Heroes sat on thrones of hay bales and broken Ferris wheels, completely unaware and uncaring of their lofty positions underground. A bitter growl escaped the King of Kings' lips, a small flash of hot anger boiling as his eyes passed over where the missing passage had been. The lettering was still very, very faint, like invisible ink. Perhaps the final decision had yet to be made for that one.

"It'll be a fine performance indeed, won't it, my pet?" A clawed hand reached down below the arm of his chair, coming to rest on a mess of tangled black curls. The inky mess lay atop a black head, and this head was attached to the nimble body of a popular carny, of which Lucifer was rather fond. Crouched at the foot of his throne, she made the perfect little lap dog, practically bouncing with joy at the "pet." The obedient red grin plastered across her snow-white face almost made the dark Lord smile. Almost.

Perhaps Lucifer did not pick favorites; but he did tend to take a fancy with one particular carny or sinner every now and again. After all, they were his children now, and unlike God, he intended to show them the proper attention they deserved. Even if his "attention" might seem a bit cruel in the eyes of said children.

Lucifer raked his claw hand through the clown girl's curls a second time, smirking at how she was practically purring at his touch. She was so demanding for attention. So desperate. So weak. Most of them were, he supposed, but she was different. Usually she was rather outspoken, smart-mouthed, and able to think for herself. That was what drew him to her, and made her one of his select few that were permitted entrance into his tent…when he called for them, of course. But here, in the confines of his presence, she was willing to roll over and beg for his attention. Her obedience was rather satisfying, he would admit.

That was another difference between he and God; God demanded obedience, while Lucifer simply preferred it. During your time on Earth you were restricted to God's orders, he would always say. Here, you are free to either obey or ignore my rules. Since you are in my domain, I maintain the right to punish you for such, but I will not think less of you for choosing to rebel. I'm not one for hypocrisy.

"Run along now, child," Lucifer instructed, untangling his fingers from the girl's thick locks. She pouted for a moment, her red painted lips poking out slightly, but a flickering glance of warning in Lucifer's eyes moved her to her feet. She grinned brightly again, bowing lowly to her master and blowing kisses childishly as she skipped out the entranceway. He smirked again, having half-expected her to run out on all fours. Knowing Wick, it wouldn't have been much of a surprise if she had.

"It's show time…"

"Are you sure you're dealing them right?"

"Of coursssse I'm sssure. Want to try for yourssself?"

"I've just never seen someone start out a game of black jack with only seven cards…"

"Well, there'sss your first problem; one, we're playing Go Fisssh, and two, you don't know how to gamble."

"I think you're just cheating. Cheater! You're nothing but a lying snake!"

The Twin rolled his yellow eyes, ignoring his opponent's apparent umbrage over his dealing skills. Another typical day under the warm-up tent; annoyed carnies aggravating each other further as they tried to pass the time before roll call. It was always worse when your friends – no, not friends, that wasn't the right word – were preoccupied with something; that left you alone and bored and usually stuck talking to the Magician.

The Twin was stuck in the position of the latter for the moment, simply due to the fact that Wick was currently missing. Again. Normally they would play cards to pass the time, but since she wasn't here, that left both he and the Magician alone…and therefore stuck with each other. Their relationship was…difficult, at best. The Twin found the Magician to be annoying (as most everyone did), while the Magician found the Twin just plain creepy, as well as rather egotistical. Most everyone agreed with the two. Wick was the Twin's best "friend" he had in this whole place, while she was the Magician's seemingly only friend here, save for that mangy old rabbit he was always carrying around.

Said rabbit was currently peeking out of its owner's hat, sniffing around the brim curiously while the Magician squinted mistrustingly at the cards in his hand. The Twin's half closed eyes perked up with interest, beadily observing the creature. He could practically feel the heat rising off its little body from here…that reminded him of the fact that he hadn't eaten anything decent this morning. His gaze flickered over to the Magician again, who was thankfully still eying his hand of cards.

Perfect.

If he could just inch a little closer…perhaps he could coax the rabbit out a little farther with his hand. He extended his scaly arm, keeping his eyes on the Magician's face. That's right…just a little closer…

Just as he was about to snap his fingers shut around the poor creature's neck, the other carny's gaze wavered from his cards, and quickly caught sight of the treacherous plot in the making. With a shocked gasp, he jerked his hat – and the potential snack – out of reach, glaring angrily at the disappointed Twin. Wands were drawn, claws and teeth came out, a premature battle in the making; and the only source of entertainment so far for the entire afternoon.

"You – I will skin you and turn your scales into a suitcase!"

"You haven't got the gutsss…musst be nimble, mussst be quick. Lest I kick in your candlessstick."

"Those rhymes of yours…let's see how well you fair without any 'candle-ssss-tick' at all!"

"What in the hell are you morons arguing over now?"

Pausing mid-strike, both the Magician and the Twin turned sharply at the accusation, ready to shift their anger in the direction whoever it happened to be. Their anger seemed to melt, however, as they turned to lay their eyes upon a familiar little clown girl, hands placed accusingly on her hips, an annoyed frown cracking her porcelain features. The two slowly lowered their weapons, the Magician tucking away his wand, the Twin's deadly expression slowly dissipating (fangs and all). They made a rather sheepish sight, the two of them, though there was still unfinished business shared in their gaze as they briefly glanced back at one another.

"Well?" She persisted, folding her arms over her chest now like a mother who'd caught her children with their hands in the cookie jar (or, in the Twin's case, in the rabbit cage). However, there was a spark of amusement in her dark eyes. She wasn't the sort to stay angry for long; death was too long for such nonsense, she always said. There was plenty of time for other nonsenses, however. Such as preparing for the show with her friends…or whatever they were.

"Wick, you're back!" The Magician was the first to break the ice, readjusting his hat with an actual smile. The crinkles in his grease paint as the grin spread across his face showed his age badly, but sometimes Wick wondered if he'd ever really grown up at all. A carny with a worst-case scenario of Peter Pan Syndrome; now there was an act in the making, if he wasn't so useless at everything else. He was really just a very large child, come to think of it.

And that was why she liked him. Sometimes.

"Where were you running off to thisss time?" The Twin hissed, a constant sense of curiosity in his tone. His voice was oily, deceitful, and all together quite venomous…but like most poisons, there was a sweetness before the bitter. Even now it sometimes gave her chills. Like on those dark nights after the show had passed, and the Ferris wheel had stopped spinning, when he would find her sitting alone, and talk with and hold her for hours on end, just so she could hear his voice twisting and spinning those rhymes she loved. It was only a passing affection, she assumed, but the two got along well enough for it to be "normal" for them.

She smiled at them both, but, as usual, she gave no answer. She only stepped past them, plopping down on a nearby hay bale and pulling back her familiar pigtails without a word. She hummed a little tune as she tugged at the tangled coils, but where she'd heard it even she couldn't say. She smiled a dreamy sort of smile, as though she were permanently lost in thought...something rather uncommon for Wick. The two men looked at one another again, this time in mutual confusion.

Wick was by no means a "stable" individual; it was quite normal for her to go through odd little phases like this. But they usually lasted only a short while. For the past few weeks, Wick had been disappearing without warning…more so than usual, that is. She never gave any explanation for where or why she had gone; only smiled and shrugged, if even that. It was getting on their nerves; the Magician's because he was nervous (as usual), and the Twin's because he was curious (also as usual). The latter was beginning to get an idea just where she'd been sneaking off to, and why she was so hush-hush about it, but he'd wisely kept his mouth shut for the time being. Until now.

"She speaks, yet says nothing; what of that?" Twin quoted in that witty fashion of his that got under the Magician's skin. He spread out on the hay bale behind Wick, stretching his arms behind his head and laying his hat upon the ground beside himself. His mess of black hair was as oily as the rest of him, but he didn't seem to care. Neither did Wick, apparently, as she merely wrinkled her nose at him, ruffling his curls with a wave of her gloved hand. The Magician looked almost hurt by their closeness; he'd always been jealous of how friendly they were with one another, and how he sometimes caught Wick staring at the snake with a hungry look in her eyes that nearly matched his own. He swallowed hard, watching the two carefully and hoping his displeasure wasn't so apparent on his face as it was in his thoughts.

"Contrary, contrite; someone's been with the boss tonight," the Twin smirked, interrupting the other carnies' separate trains of thought and causing both parties to eye him with shock. The snake only smiled, flashing his sharp teeth at the two knowingly. How he'd known was best left unsaid. Not that he'd ever give away his secrets in the first place.

"How did you know?" Wick demanded, despite all this. She looked angry now, and a bit flustered. Her white clown makeup was turning a scarlet hue, especially her ears. The Twin might have found it cute, had she not suddenly jumped to sit on his chest and smack him repeatedly with her fists. It didn't hurt, really, but it came as a slight surprise, with his breath knocked out of his lungs by her weight and lightly pounding fists. "Tell me!"

"Easy, pet, easy!" He laughed, more amused than wounded. This only flustered her further, it would seem, but he grabbed her wrists as she started to pound him again. She scowled at him, poking her lip out indignantly like a child who's secret had been discovered.

"No fair," she whined, to which the Twin merely laughed. He moved into a sitting position, still keeping her in his lap, but let her wrists free, replacing his own hands around her waist instead. "No fair" indeed. She'd worked so very hard to keep it a secret, and now the Twin had gone and ruined the whole thing. How dare he so rudely deduce nearly a month's work of secrecy, with all the difficult trials of sneaking off without suspicion and keeping her mouth shut?

The Magician cleared his throat, both as a chance to shift topics and to distract himself from staring too long at the way the Twin's scaled hands seemed to curve perfectly along the shape of Wick's hip bones. "Whoa, Wick! Rubbin' elbows with the Boss? Nice!" He tried to sound encouraging. Perhaps she was trying to get them more involved in the acts than usual through obedience.

"By the way she'sss blushing, methinks she'sss rubbing more than just 'elbowsss,'" the Twin smirked, to which both Wick and the Magician reddened further. Wick looked almost furious; the Magician looked a bit hurt. The Twin was really pushing it now; one could tell by the way Wick jerked him forward by the collar, their noses squashed against each other as she glared him in the eye. She made quite an amusing sight to the Twin; to the Magician, she looked rather frightening. He'd had plenty of experience with that look before. Twin was definitely in for it now.

"Take it back!" She growled, her white teeth contrasting her red painted lips. Twin couldn't help but think how she resembled a small dog when she was upset. And when she was excited. And when she ate. And when she slept…most of the time, really. Always hyper and alert. And perhaps a little annoying.

"Take it back right now, you slimy, no-good, son of a-"

"Listen up, people, listen up!"

Interrupted, Wick's head snapped up in attention, as did most of the other carnies meandering around the tent. Time for roll call, as indicated by the source of the instruction waiting in the center of the ring. The Ticket Keeper stood, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere (they were plenty used to this by now), with tonight's script in hand, much to the eager delight of each of the carnies. Each of the main acts were currently present, save for the Scorpion, but that was no surprise. As usual, each hoped they'd be picked as a special act in tonight's performance, though they'd all take part in some way or another. There was a strange expression on the Ticket Keeper's face – almost like eagerness. Though any expression at all was normally a surprise for the man, this particular one was especially uncharacteristic for the normally stoic gentleman.

"Three acts again tonight, everyone. But remember; keep sharp for our guests. Never know when one might stray off the path," he warned, the corners of her mouth twisting into a scowl. Oh, how he hated rule breakers; any sense of irony in this trait was lost on this stiff individual. "I've got word from the boss; these three sinners are particularly dangerous. They are not to be trusted….not that I think any of you will have much trouble with that," his gaze flickered to the Painted Doll momentarily, as it often did whenever he was addressing the group like this. She smiled and nodded demurely at him, making his faint smile reappear for a moment, and making the rest of the crowd turn and roll their eyes. Half the group was betting that there was something going on between them; the other half merely though that Doll was giving away more than just kisses to be selected at roll call every night, and the rest simply didn't care, so long as they didn't have to endure those painfully obvious looks anymore between the two of them.

The Ticket Keeper cleared his throat, squinting over the script as the group waited anxiously over the names to be called. "Let's see…alright. First act is Wick and her-" The Ticket Keeper paused, stopping himself mid-sentence. "Sorry. Just Wick," he corrected himself, looking just as confused as the rest of the crowd. The Woe Maidens were always paired with Wick. She was their "mistress" after all. The disappointment was clear on their faces, but Wick only smiled to herself. She'd known what was coming all night, and now she didn't seem to care who else knew it.

"Next up is the Twin," he went on. The carny in question grinned a wicked grin, stepping forward next to Wick with a pleased hiss. Still annoyed with him, the clown girl stepped away to the side, only succeeding in making the snake man roll his eyes.

"Last act is…hold on a moment," the Keeper squinted even harder at the font, lower the glasses strapped to his forehead down in hopes of seeing better. He acted as though he didn't quite believe what he was seeing, and was very obvious about the fact that he didn't want to read it aloud.

"…the Magician."

A startled gasp seemed to leave everyone's lips. Whispers started, and the Magician, who'd glumly turned away from the roll call after the other two were called, spun around suddenly in dramatic shock. He was never picked to be a leading act; not in quite awhile, anyway. And everyone knew how incompetent he was; to think that he'd be chosen to be part of such an important show over acts like Doll or the Scorpion was certainly something to talk about.

And were they talking about it. The Painted Doll had looked as shocked as he had, and had since turned sharply on her heel with an air of distaste. The Ticket Keeper looked after her apologetically, and almost started to head after her; but, rules were rules, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Lucifer had picked the lineup, not him. Everyone else seemed more surprised and curious about tonight's acts than insulted in not having been picked. That was at least something to be thankful for once.

"Remember, people…tonight is a very special performance," the Keeper added, extended his arms and motioning for the carnies to settle down. "…We're talkin' possible future carnies here," he added in a lower voice, which succeeded in finally silencing the rest of the group. The three acts looked at one another almost uneasily, each wondering a little why they'd been the ones picked. Even Wick wasn't quite sure why Lucifer had wanted her for the job. Contrary to the Twin's belief, it had been he who'd come to her, though for what reason she could not say.

As the crowd began to disperse, the Ticket Keeper made one more glance in the Painted Doll's direction, looking almost desperately sorry as he met her gaze. She was standing in the way of the tent flap, but only turned to leave once he'd seen her, her cracked features completely expressionless. He sighed, and turned to his three carnies, who'd taken again to conversing privately with one another, until his eyes fell on the object of his injustice.

"You," he spoke in a harsh, low voice, grabbing the Magician's shoulder. The carny looked a bit startled, as usual. The Keeper resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and settled for a light glare. "Did you hear what I said? We're talkin' big game here. Not your average, cheap parlor trick kinda deal. You'd better get out there and show your stuff, you understand? In other words: don't fuck it up."

The Magician nodded numbly, breathing a small sigh of relief as the Ticket Keeper released him, heading off in the direction of the Painted Doll. The Tamer, who'd been positioned right behind him as always, followed shortly behind, his one-eyed gaze passing over the three of them suspiciously. Another sharp glare from some of the other main carnies (as well as a few sidelong glances towards Wick from the Woe Maidens), and they were left alone.

Again, the Magician was the first to speak. "Do…you know anything about this, Wick?" If she really was getting…involved with the Boss, she must know that something was up. But as he turned to face the girl, she was already walking away in the direction the others had been headed. She was smiling, which led him to believe that she did in fact know what was going on, but sometimes the Magician wondered if Wick even knew what she herself was doing.

Most of the time, she did not.

He turned towards the Twin, seeing that Wick was otherwise distracted. "Well…I guess we'd better get ready, huh?"

But he was gone.

Alarmed, the Magician spun around, only to find that the two had merely walked off together. He should have known…

"Hey, wait up, guys! Wait for me!"