I returned to my apartment, slummed on the couch, and was in the throes of preparing for a good cry/jack off session when I heard movement, and then realized that sitting on the floor, shifting through a pile of papers in my kitchen, was Justice Bay.

Now, that was kinda weird.

"Hey," I said, "Justice."

"Yes?" She said, not looking up. She was in her big black coat, lips pursed as she looked at something- paperwork I'd hoarded and then forgotten about, I think.

"Don't you think this is a little fucking weird?"

"What do you mean, Michael?"

"Why are you in my house."

"Well, you did offer to get drinks sometime."

I pulled myself up and sat on my kitchen floor. It was red and white plastic cheques, made to imitate proper stone, with little creases between each square. Because I basically never swept unless I was ungodly manic, my bare feet touched all manner of crumbs and dirt, and under the line of my countertops I could see at least three pieces of pasta, long forgotten.

Justice looked up at me. Today she had deep red eyeshadow on, which suited her well I suppose- though the few dabs under her eyes just made her look sleep deprived.

"How did you get in here? How did you find me?"

Justice immediately looked back down, moving onto the next paper in her stack. "You're not hard to find."

"I'm very hard to find. Moderately. Anyhow, I locked the door. And May's gone," I leaned forward. Now was the time to think rationally, and with a multitude of clear thoughts. The devil's game, that was.

This wasn't Justice Bay, I'd realized. Moment I saw she was on the floor here, out of place and unnaturally looking in my harsh florescent lights. She might've been the real one, but I doubted it dearly. And while May might've wandered off, I had a better guess that this was May- that whatever creature she'd been, she had the power to shapeshift.

After all, it was rather hard for a lookalike of one of the most famous women in Hell to spend the night in an alley. And of course, I knew that color of eyeshadow- since, you know, I had it on my bathroom sink, still open, a shade just as recognizable as the rest of her outfit. And I doubted the real Justice Bay would ever break into my apartment and change into my weeks old clothes.

The coat looked like Justice's though, but there were still a few mysteries left. When May had shown up as Christina, she'd been nearly wearing the sort of clothes Chrissie would- maybe that was part of the bullshit of her magic. Approximate wardrobe-ing.

"I know how to open locks," Justice said, unexpectedly blowing a bubble of mint green bubblegum. "Please, don't you have somewhere better to be?"

"Shouldn't you be adding to your murder pit? Justice, Bay, Whatever- I have something I need to ask you, since you're here."

"I'm not particularly interested in catering to your enquires or needs."

Considering how May had acted, I didn't know if the Doppelgänger was aware she wasn't actually whoever she took the appearance of. Then again, there was also a chance she did know, and had been playing me all along- in which case, direct confrontation could lead to disaster.

Or just plain me dying again, which I admit happened a lot, but still: yikes!

"It's Monday morning. What do you want- Gin and tonic, a white Russian, or absinthe? I have wine too, but if we're going to break social conventions this early in the week, might as well make it hit like a bullet."

"Water and ice, Michael Lexington," I guess if Justice Bay (Justice May?) was a shapeshifting doppelgänger, I could at least feel a little bit better about having sex with her. May had been naive and strange, but Justice acted real enough, adult enough. And if she was evil- hey! That'd actually make me feel a lot better about my decisions, in the long term, if I'd just been being used.

"Well, I'm going to break out the rosé if that's the case," I said, getting each of us a glass. I drank my wine out of a mug shaped like a cat, and gave Justice May her ice water in a wine glass. "I know you're busy being threatening and mysterious, but can you answer something for me? That Nichael clone, I know you know a little more about him. He was some kind of mistake, right, some kind of double? I've run into another, recently, and could use your help clearing a few things up..."

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine for a moment, shiny and near-black. "I don't know how they keep finding you," she conceded at last, though still reading the paper before her, her finger tracing the words.

"You must trust I'm not going to kill you, coming here like this. You might as well tell me the truth, and then I'll let you get on with your snooping slash killing me business."

"I'll take care of them," she said stiffly, "So it won't be a problem. But there's only one, not two like you think- there's only... them. I'm not the one who found them, but they stumbled onto my land, so I gave a few good stabs and dumped them in the pond. They survived, and lately they keep surviving."

"This sounds weird to actually say out loud, but: name and pronouns? Any backstory?"

"I don't know," she said, and knowing she actually was the doppelgänger, that made me a little bit sad. The doppel always seemed to know a little more than they should have, me and Nichael's history, Christina's recent memories... I trusted they knew something of Justice, too. But nothing of themself? "They were someone else when I first saw them, and I didn't ask then. And then they were that angel of yours, only to run off, changed into someone else. I'm not positive as to how much power they have over it, and the inner scientist is intrigued. The inner realist feels they should be killed before things get messy."

"That's troubling," I said, taking a moment to sip my rosé. "I haven't been fond of them, really, but I... know what it's like to not really have an identity. You must understand, right?"

"I don't care for that sort of thing, no."

"What, empathy?"

Justice had thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows that bounced whenever she emoted, exaggerating her every glance. "I have standards. Morals. I feel a lot of things, but I consider myself foremost a professional- that means understanding that anything which bends the laws of nature like a shapeshifter is better off dead. I'm sorry they're like this, sorry they made whatever foolish deal they did, but know helping them is not a useful priority or end goal. This does not make me inhuman."

"I'd want to help."

"Good intentions ruin all men," she said. The next page in the stack was a drawing, and she flicked through: the rest were, too. The top one was those of embarrassing, venting drawings you do sometimes, something so self-fulfilling and pointless. Nothing new, or interesting, or good: just a woman, her face cut open by a nasty, deep gash. Spilling blood. Fifty-five tiny eyes (I'd always count carefully), each a different shade of neon. Gross gore for a gross mood. "What is this?"

"When I'm thinking violent thoughts, I try to draw them out."

"Hm. It's not very good." Well, rude, but true: it was dark purple and searing green, and some of the pastels had blurred into a brown/black, obscuring the linework. "This is why you need to die. To stop all the violence, to fix your mind forever. Humans weren't meant to live as long as you have. I'm no one special, if you must know, just someone who feels the Earth twist, and knows it must be corrected."

"That's quite a high position you're giving yourself. Some savior of the waking world."

"No one knows who I am, and they won't if I succeed. I'm repairing a clock, not shooting a dictator." Justice popped an ice cube into her mouth, and began to chew as she stood up, dumping the rest of the ice cubes into the sink and placing her glass on the counter. "Do you want the double? Any investigations or uses you care to find with them should be constrained and careful, of course- the public should not learn of their abilities, and when you are satisfied, you should kill them. But if you want them for a few days, I'd understand."

"You would?"

"I'm sensitive somewhere. If you find anything out, I'll ask you before I get to killing you- for the sake of knowledge. But Michael-"

"Yes?" I asked, bemused, as the doppelgänger strode through my house, putting aside her coat and indeed letting me confirm she was wearing my old tank top and shorts.

"You need to kill them. The cycles are stressing the universe. Do I have proof? No, not really, I live alone in the woods and dick around with little understood magics." Justice was interesting to watch, though her voice was flat and serious she picked up a sort of nervous energy when she spoke. It was like every word was leaping out of her mouth, and she was forced to keep speaking until they'd all been freed. "But it can't be good, can it? All these soul deals, these contours across space time, and all of us here: by-products of eternity, pocketed in a present that shouldn't exist while the future loops forever. Bound by you. Bound to you. It's going to be tricky to fix that... Like separating conjoined twins. But you have to die die. Any magic as grand as fantasy must be stopped."

"Why are you so certain about this? Why'd you decide this was your calling?"

"I don't care if you know, so I'm not going to tell you. I can't be positive, but I can care about the things I think are right." Justice it stopped by my bedroom door, giving me a knowing look before opening it.

And there was May on the bed, reading a magazine- it had to be her because it wasn't going to be Christina, which of course meant that Justice was Justice-

And funny enough, that didn't really change a single note of our conversation.

"Hey Michael," May said.

"You know, I thought she was you," I said to Justice. May regarded me with a dim smile. "Wow. A doppelgänger of my own. Wonder how I can get her to actually shapeshift, though. Also, why are you in my clothes?"

"I decided to put on your clothes," Justice said, stone faced, and offered no more explanation than that.

"She's called 'May'," I said, though Justice was ignoring me, and instead sifting through my bedside drawer, "Though since she's Jack too, I guess that changes things. Mayjack? Jackamay? And we were using 'they' earlier, but when she's a like, Chrissie, it's hard to not think of her as a girl."

"For someone once possessed with the concerns of pseudo-human life, you don't seem to mind talking about them like they're not in the room."

"Well, May doesn't mind most things," I said, gesturing to her. "And somewhere deep inside she must be aware she's a shapeshifting, identity-stealing demon."

May folded her magazine with an abrupt fwump. "I'm just a regular demon, man."

"Can you try something for me? Try, maybe, turning into Justice here? Or perhaps the sad sort of kid who'd wish to have shapeshifting powers?"

"I'd have no idea how to do that!" May said, sounding indignant at the very proposal.

"Have you seen her do it before?" I asked Justice.

"She was a man when I first saw her... them. Then they were that man who knew you, and managed to outrun me. Then I find them here, like this. I'm not positive how it works."

"How did you know it was the same person, though? How did you know May would be here, or that May even was May, and not the actual Christina?"

Justice watched me carefully. "There is one trick," she admitted stiffly. "One memory. Since they took the form of that angel, they've been very keen on everything you. That was one hint as to where they'd gone. And then to prove it-"

She cautiously, slowly, climbed onto the bed, bouncing as she crawled towards May. When she was very close, her knees touching hers, she spoke again: "The one who did this to you. Do you remember him?"

All at once, May's face turned dark, her brows tight, and lips pulled into a grimace. "He'll find me again," she said.

"Wait, I thought you were the one who attacked and dumped Jack in the lake?"

"Of course I was. But before then, when they were still someone else, they came to me looking for help, and had the same story: a man had done 'this' to them, and he needed to be stopped. Repeated the same thing when I captured them again."

"Whichever rogue demon did handled her deal, then."

"I'd think so," Justice said, standing up, a frown heavy on her face. "Michael Lexington. You have done nothing today to redeem your existence to me, and in fact further feel you must ultimately perish. Show some responsibility, and please treat the doppelgänger like a person. Until," She patted me on the arm and looked back at May. "You know."

She left, still in my clothes, and I waited until I saw the front door close before I hopped onto the bed with May.

"I think you'll need a new name. Any ideas?"

"Why not 'Tina' or 'Chris' or something that at least would acknowledge who I am?" May said. "I know you think I'm a doppel-whatever, and now evidently some kinda hellbeast trickster, but I thought we'd at least established I'm still Christina. Just not the alpha one, I guess. Not real, but there's no one else I could be, so-"

"You could be someone who's very, very deluded," I said, laying back. "And I'm sorry if I sound cruel for saying that, but maybe if you consider that idea you'll remember something else. What can you tell me about the man who did this to you? And do you know what 'this' is?"

"I remember the color green," May said, leaning back against me, tucking her head against the crook of my neck. "And something like beige, and white- a lot of that. A city like that, with stone walkways, and a river. I knew I had to find Hell, and I knew where I'd find it, too. The man wearing green. And he made me this: a splinter."

"But what is a splinter?"

"I told you. Not me, but me. Someone you keep saying isn't real, but I'm still here anyway." She pushed herself up and crawled over me so she could kiss me, which was nice, and part of me was saying: holy shit stop, but a lot of parts of me were like: wow, amazing. That's how it is.

"I think I'm going to call you Chereth," I decided, and May made a face which was very much unimpressed. "Or maybe I'll just switch between Jack and May, depending on your gender for the day."

"I'm telling you. Christina," she said, running her hands through my hair.

So I did call her that, but just in bed, and I think it pleased the both of us to hear that name moaned.

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was going to add the next scene onto this chapter, but decided I could just cut it here. text/exposition/plot heavy, hope it isn't awful. 

I have the climax/ending all plotted out at least, I don't think we're going to break 35k (at 20k now). I know roughly what I'm doing (feeling ok about climax stuff) but this is about the blindest writing I've done for a while, and a bit concerned because of that.