Disclaimer can be found on chapter 2.

Author's Note: I. Am. So. Sorry. Has it really been almost a year since I've updated this fanfiction? I cannot apologize enough, especially to those who still gave me reviews and took the time to read it after so long. Please forgive me. Believe it or not, I've had this chapter planned out for the better part of six months. I got it started but never really finished it until last night when I couldn't sleep. As an apology, this chapter is extra long. I hope you guys enjoy it and I apologize again for the super delay! Like always, reviews are absolutely adored and they push me to work faster. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read, favourite and follow this story. I love you all.

One more thing, I got a review that mentioned how "In All My Dreams I Drown" took place before Tamara met the Scorpion, but for the sake of my story, I'm keeping it as "Luci failed, now Scorpion gets another shot at it." So I guess it's slightly AU? I dunno, but I just wanted to clear that up for you guys. Any typos are my own fault because I am my own Beta and sometimes even my eyes miss those damned typos. Also, you guys should let me know if I should include a translation of Scorpion's 50's lingo at the end of each chapter, because even though most of it can be figured out by context, I want to make sure that none of the story is lost. c:

Small reminders:
X - X - X - X is a shift in POV
((((((((x)))))))) is a time skip.

I won't be changing them after this chapter so you guys will know what's what permanently.

Anyway, onto the chapter, I've blathered enough.

"You've got to be kiddin' me!" the Scorpion pulled himself off the dirt that served as the floor for the Devil's tent and huffed in irritation, "That gal is a real gas."

The sharp bitterness in his voice belied the true meaning of his words — she was starting to annoy him. Severely. His flinty blue eyes surveyed the mirrors in front of him and felt his stomach turn queasily and the walls seemed to close in; he had never been very good about the Hall of Mirrors, which is why he spent all his time in the games and his own knife act. He tapped on the mirror in front of him lightly, making sure that there was a path open for him so he could avoid repeating that embarrassing mistake.

As he rounded the corner of another mirror, he spied the gleaming white of Tamara's dress, flashing for a moment before disappearing behind another mirror. His desperation to reach her before she managed to get herself killed increased, his movements becoming frantic as he tapped on the glass surrounding him.

Mirror. Mirror. Path. White. Mirror. Mirror. Path. White.

The pattern continued for a few minutes as Tamara navigated the hall, with the Scorpion hot on her heels. The Scorpion knew what was going to happen at the end of the tent and he knew what was awaiting the young woman if he didn't stop her — certain death. His expression darkened as he thought about failing his boss. Something told him that the price for letting Tamara die would be more than just a simple caging.

His dark thoughts were interrupted when he ran into a mirror. Again. At least he didn't fall this time. His breath slid out from between pale lips as an angry hiss, he was getting tired of these games. Why couldn't Tamara just trust him? He was actually trying to do the right thing this time. Well, the right thing that happened to be his boss' orders. But it was still the right thing! If he didn't grab her before the others grabbed her, she was lost. Forever.

The Scorpion heaved a huge breath of relief as he rounded the corner and found himself at the exit, his eyes lighting up and a smirk sliding onto his face as he sauntered through it. The spring in his step faltered however, when he saw the naïve young woman wandering around Lucifer's office, touching things as if she had permission. The amused smirk stayed on his face, knowing that if the Boss was there, she'd probably get her hands chopped off. Or maybe not, since Lucifer seemed to have a soft spot for the pretty girl.

The Book of Fables, the makeup, the dressing table, Tamara couldn't resist touching it all and the Scorpion sighed softly, watching as she put down those weird dolls he had seen her carry around (where did she even get those things?) onto a free spot on the vanity. The man stayed silent, not wanting to scare the skittish soul into running into whatever traps were sure to linger in the darkness of the office. It was only when she approached the ornate chair in the middle of the room with the clear intent to sit down that alarm bells rang violently in his head.

She screamed, the sound rattling him down to his very bones and he jumped into action, managing to grab onto her hand in the nick of time. The thick darkness beneath her swallowing the chair and it would have swallowed Tamara too, if he hadn't been there. He was momentarily blinded by the flashing of the neon sign in the darkness. "Foolish Frog," yes, she was quite the silly amphibian wasn't she? The Scorpion gave her the most unassuming, sweetest grin he could muster under the circumstances and was somewhat surprised to see the sheer anger flash across the Tamara's fine features, followed closely by the thought of wanting to let go of his hand. In response, he gripped her thin wrist tighter before helping her over the edge of the gaping hole.

X - X - X - X

Said silly amphibian was quite angry — more than angry; she was pissed. It was an emotion that didn't touch the slim young woman very often, for she didn't even know how to hold grudges. She had always been very quick to forgive, but something told her that she was starting to learn. Her eyes narrowed until the barest hint of grey-green could be seen; her face had been twisted into the expression ever since the Carnie helped her over. Tamara pulled her hands out of his grasp roughly, resisting the urge to wipe them pointedly on the slick fabric of her dress. However, for the sake of manners, she refrained from doing it.

"I finally found you. I'm tellin' ya, you're one hard gal to find, Tammy," he looked so damn happy to see her, as if he really cared about saving her and "protecting her." As if. He continued as if he had just won the lottery. "I can protect you now," it was like she could read his mind. Tamara gave him the chilliest look she could muster; unfortunately, her sunny disposition merely turned it lukewarm.

"Don't call me that. My name is Tamara," she snapped, her pretty face pinched into an expression of distaste. "And I don't need your type of protection…"

It was at that moment that she realized that she still didn't know his name. He never bothered to give it, although he clearly knew more than enough about her.

"Creep," The brunette finished lamely, her insult falling flat when she saw the incredulous look on the young man's face.

"Excuse me? What, you got smog in the noggin, Chickie? You were crusin' for a brusin'!" He paused, as if letting what he said sink in before continuing, the lilting slang that she was so used to hearing from him was gone and there was only some raw, unidentified emotion. "You could have died, Tamara."

The slim young woman jolted back a tad, her flinch making her take a step back from the man. His words rang too true in her ears and for a moment, she forgot that she was already dead in the truest sense of the word. Her ex had made sure of that.

"So what if I had died? If I had fallen into this pit to nowhere," she gestured at the pit, the blackness seemed to glare at her, as if angry that she didn't fall into its gaping maw. "I would have just woken up later right? Somewhere else in this stupid Carnival."

Tamara's voice had started losing confidence about halfway through her sentence, his face telling her that it wasn't quite so easy. He ran his hand across his hair and shook his head, looking almost contrite before closing the space between them with a single, long step. Tamara wanted to back away from him, but the pit behind her prevented any sort of movement. His hands closed gently on her upper arms, no force in it whatsoever, no aggression. It was only so he had all of her attention — which he definitely did.

"Tamara?" He waited until her eyes met his, fright and distrust making the pretty grey of her eyes murkier. "No, if you died now, you wouldn't wake up. The Big Boss is gone Tamara, fighting a war-" a finger aimed towards the sky again, "up there, remember? He ain't around to wake you up, Chickie. Not until he either wins or loses and he comes back. He left me here to protect you, okay?"

"Trust me."

The words went unsaid, but she could hear the words lingering unsaid on his lips. She hated it, the crooning persuasiveness of his voice, his false gentility, his soft blue eyes that looked so deeply into her own and seemed to see everything that was inside her. Since the first time she saw him, locked in that cage, he had a pull on her. She always did have a weakness for the "bad boys" and that was what killed her in the end. Twice more in fact; her chest ached at the memory of the cold steel that ended her pseudo-life for the second time. How unfortunate for her.

She despised that he was so alluring, so irresistible, though everything should say to the contrary. His hair was plastic, his skin was pasty and he looked like he hadn't slept in forty years, giving him a sickly appearance. But there were things about him that made him so attractive to her — the way his lips curled in a tantalizing half-smirk, his blue eyes glimmering with mischief and knowledge, his oozing self-confidence and pride, his tight leather jacket that shone in the dim tent lights. He was so devastatingly handsome and she cursed him for it.

Tamara pulled herself out of his hands without saying a thing, her lips a tight line in an effort not to cry. Her entire situation more than majorly sucked and she could not do a damn thing about it. In an effort to distract herself, she went to retrieve the two dolls that she had left on the vanity, but was given a shock when she saw that a third doll had joined the other two, it leaned against the doll of her tormentor, looking like it all but belonged there.

She walked up to the trio of toys and took the new one in her hands, turning it this way and that to examine it. It was beautiful, far more than the other two — even the perfect female one. The one in her hands had fine, classic features, making it look rather androgynous but a feeling in her gut told her that it was definitely a male. Dark brown hair fell in waves down to its shoulders and framed translucent blue eyes dramatically, creating a sharp contrast. From its back, a pair of large, white wings sprouted — made from actual feathers if her sense of touch was correct. An angel.

'How strange…' Tamara thought as she ran her slender fingers across the feathers, where had these dolls even come from? Why were they here, with her? She couldn't hold back a slight groan as she realized that she was going to have to carry three of these things now, since she couldn't even imagine leaving them behind. But, for all her reluctance, she couldn't figure out why she couldn't.

"Whatcha got there, Chickie?"

That nickname again. Was he going to start calling her that all the time now? She didn't know which was worse, Chickie or Tammy. Both left a sour taste in her mouth — then again, she suspected it had something to do with the guy who was doing the naming rather than the nicknames themselves.

"Dolls. Three of them," her voice was abrupt. She didn't want him mistaking this for friendship — again, the spot where he stabbed her in the chest ached and she winced. No, definitely not friendship. Ever.

"Creepy things, ain't they?" the slim brunette turned around, her long, curled hair making an arc as she did so.

Tamara refrained from making a sharp comment and instead chose to go a safer route — she didn't really want to end up with a knife through her twice in two days. Was that even right? Who knew. "How can I trust you when I don't even know your name?"

Surprise flitted across his face before he took her hand, nearly making her drop her cargo, "Scorpion, at your service."

A soft kiss was placed on her hand and Tamara ignored the rising heat making its way up her neck. There was no way she was going to blush, not with this creep, not again. Other than the exceedingly dramatic introduction, she realized that his name was ridiculously corny — no doubt based off of that tattoo of a scorpion on his neck. There was no way that it was his real name, but it didn't really matter anymore, at least she had a name to call him.

"I would say it's a pleasure, but it's not," Tamara's tone was even as she pulled her hand away from the Carnie, again resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her dress.

Scorpion didn't seem put off by her obvious disgust, in fact, his beaming smile told her otherwise, "What do ya' say about cuttin' out of here?"

Tamara blinked, grey-green eyes losing their darker emotions for a moment in her surprise, "Leave? And go where, Scorpion? Isn't this the only tent still sort of standing up?"

"Not quite, baby. I got the ginchiest crib this side of the Underworld, given to me by the Big Daddy himself. I'm his favourite," the pale Carnie looked so proud of himself, with his hands curled around his bright red scarf and a huge smile on his face, that Tamara almost laughed. Almost. Instead, she just shrugged, not seeing another way through this mess without at least pretending to be on his side and listening to him.

"Alright. But," Tamara paused, fear crawling into her voice like a living creature and making it meek. "Please tell me that there's a way to get out of here without going through the entire tent again."

She could feel his gaze on her as she looked away — she didn't want to explain herself, she felt no need to since it wasn't his business. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if he already knew everything about her and how she died. She was surprised when she felt a feather-light touch on the where the doppelganger of her ex had managed to get a good punch in — even the slight touch made her jaw start hurting all over again.

"Alright, this way."

It was all the Scorpion said before he started moving towards the back of the tent, moving around the hole in the ground carefully. The lights no longer mocked her from the inside, it was dark and it looked twenty times scarier. The man led her to the very back of the tent, where there was another opening and a part of her lamented that she didn't find that place earlier — all of this could have been avoided.

"Wait, Tamara!" the Scorpion's sharp hiss made her footsteps stop and he made sure to push her behind him. They were in front of the opening, the tent's thin fabric letting them see what was beyond with the shining lights of the Carnival.

"W-what is-"

"Cut the gas!"

The young woman wasn't sure what he meant but the look on his face screamed "Be quiet!" so she kept silent, the dolls in her arms were now in a hug more than anything else.

She heard it before she saw it.

Click. Click. Tchtchtch. Clickclickclick.

The sound reminded her of a typewriter — a demonic typewriter, maybe. The chills that traveled up and down her spine made her shiver, her eyes flickering to the man in front of her. His back was wide and sturdy and he stood quite a bit taller than her, even in low heels — all in all, he looked like the role of the protector; but she knew better than to trust him implicitly this time around. It wouldn't come too much of a shock if he decided to toss her out with whatever was making those noises and leaving her to be eaten — or typed to death.

That's when the creature made its way in front of the tent. It had no discernible shape — it melted in and out like a living shadow, and the young woman could swear she saw forms briefly in its movement. A dog, a man, even a bike. But it didn't stay solid, and the strange sounds it was making were more than enough to frighten her. She shifted a bit and the creature stopped, its "head" turning to face the tent and it seemed to tilt to the side a little— like a confused dog. The comparison lasted but a moment before the clicks turned into soft keening; something alike to an alarm.

A few moments later, a second shadow joined the first and the sharp keening stopped, the clicks and shuffles beginning again. Tamara's blood ran cold as the creatures stopped all movement and seemed to head for the tent's entrance — they knew. They knew they were there and they were going to do whatever the hell they did — nothing good, she was sure.

Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

An extremely sharp screech was heard from far away, the high pitch making her cringe and the desire to cover her ears was almost stronger than keeping the dolls clean. In front of her, the Scorpion was covering his ears, his eyes clenched shut in obvious pain. It wasn't that bad, was it?

At once, both of the creatures outside fled towards the noise. She supposed that the noise was the real alarm. What were these things doing here? They weren't there before — the Carnival actually seemed to be a relatively peaceful place, apart from all the Carnies of course. And Lucifer. At least there weren't any things crawling there before.

"Are you okay?" both Tamara's and the Scorpion's voices melded together as they asked each other the same question. Immediately, Tamara's face heated up and there was no doubt this time that she was blushing. She damned her caring nature, she was supposed to be angry with him! She wasn't supposed to ask him if he was okay.

"Aw, I didn't know you cared, Chickie," the sarcastic tinge to his voice made the irritation in the pit of Tamara's stomach flare again and she sighed.

"What were those things?" she changed the topic. The more distant, the better. She wasn't going to let her guard down this time.

"Boss calls 'em the Horde. They're demons, like yours truly, but nastier. Don't got a form, don't got feelin's. Boss told us they can imitate others though, never seen it myself. All they care about is eatin'."

Tamara swallowed hard, looking up at the Scorpion, already having a feeling about what the answer was, but she asked anyway, "Eating… What, exactly?"

"Souls, Chickie. What else?"

The nausea she had been feeling since she woke up intensified and she was sure she lost whatever little colour there was to her face.

"So if one of those things get me…?" she trailed off, too scared to continue her thought. The Scorpion nodded before peeking out of the safety of the tent.

"You're done for, baby. Gone, finito, the end Froggy-dear. No more rebirths, no more Tamara," the man's voice was almost exasperated and she felt a little offended. She was new to this! There was no reason to get snippy with her just because she didn't know things.

Before she could say anything, the Scorpion's hand was on her upper arm, guiding her in front of him and out of the tent, where he promptly put a hand on her waist. There was nothing sexual about it, he was too tense for that, his sharp, blue eyes flickering from side to side as he tried to keep an eye out for any slithering darkness that didn't belong.

And for once, Tamara felt like she was actually being protected. However, she didn't let herself become too comfortable around him. Once bitten, twice shy. And she had already been bitten twice. There was no need to rush to trust the young man — if what he said was true, they were going to be spending a lot more time together. Unfortunately.

((((((((x))))))))

The slender brunette had been so focused on her thoughts that she didn't even notice they had stopped walking until the Scorpion had removed his hand from her waist. As soon as he did, she snapped back to her current reality and was met with the Carnie's impatient look.

"What?" she asked him, truly confused. Why did he look so irritated with her?

"I take you to my sweet crib and you can't even give it proper attention. Chicks are such a hassle!" he ran a hand over his hair as Tamara finally focused on what was beyond him.

It was true, the place was "sweet" and "the ginchiest" but it turned out that he was understating it a bit. It wasn't even a house, it was a mansion. True, it was a decrepit, creepy looking one, but it was still a mansion — and even looking as it did, it still gave off the impression that it was beautiful. She guessed that Scorpion really was Lucifer's favourite Carnie.

Tamara stood there, mouth agape for a few moments before speaking, "W-wow, you weren't kidding! This place is so boss!"

Seeming to finally get the reaction that he wanted from her, the Scorpion grinned and placed a hand at her waist once more, leading her inside his house. It was surprisingly well-kept on the inside, not nearly as scary looking as it did on the outside.

Who knew that Lucifer could be so generous?

Lesson Three: "He who is once deceived, is doubly cautious."
-Aesop's Fables: The Cat and the Mice