The market district sprawled before them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows between weathered storefronts. Angelo scanned the quiet streets until his gaze landed on a figure lounging in a doorway, wisps of cigarette smoke curling around him. The moment Angelo recognized those familiar features, his jaw tightened with old tension.

The lounging man straightened as they approached, a cruel smirk spreading across his face as he recognized them. "Well, would you look at this circus coming to town," he called out, flicking ash from his cigarette. "The freak show's back - that you, Jello?"

Angelo's shoulders stiffened as he met Drake's mocking gaze. "Still hanging around doorways and calling people names, Drake? Some things never change."

Drake pushed off from the wall, deliberately taking a long drag before blowing smoke in their direction. "Oh, someone's developed an attitude," he drawled. "Remember when you'd just cry and run away? Those were the days."

Angelo's eyes flared orange, the glow reflecting off nearby windows as his voice dropped to something dangerous and cold. "Those days are long gone. These days, they call me the Angel of Death. Keep pushing, and you'll find out exactly why."

A muscle twitched near Drake's eye, but he forced a laugh that echoed hollowly between the buildings. "Look who grew a spine along with that sad excuse for a beard. What, got yourself a fancy title and now you think you're something special?"

Neiva shifted her weight nervously, watching the tension build between them like storm clouds gathering before lightning strikes.

"Still better than being a washed-up bully hanging around market entrances," Angelo replied with deadly calm. Drake's snort couldn't quite hide how the barb had landed.

Red stepped forward from where he'd been watching, his predatory grin spreading wider with each step. "Want me to handle this tough guy, Angelo? I can smell his fear from here - he's practically shaking in his boots."

"Keep your nose to yourself, circus clown," Drake shot back, though his voice wavered slightly. "This is between me and the original freak."

Red's laughter rang off the storefronts like breaking glass. "Oh, getting defensive now? I can feel that knot of panic growing in your throat. Must be hard, trying to act tough when your heart's racing like a frightened rabbit."

Drake's hand flew to his neck reflexively, cold sweat beading on his forehead. "Wha- what would you know? You... you don't know a damn thing!" The words came out more shrill than he'd likely intended.

"Really?" Red's innocent tone dripped venom. "Then why are you sweating like you've seen a ghost? Could it be because deep down, you know you're not the big man you pretend to be?"

Drake's crimson aura erupted around him as a vein throbbed at his temple. "That's it! Let's see if you're still running that mouth after I kick your asses like I used to!"

Neiva yelped and jumped back. Angelo extended a steadying hand, giving her a reassuring look as Blue moved protectively to her side, disapproval radiating from his scholarly posture.

Red's own crimson aura burst to life, the energy crackling around him like bottled lightning. "Oh, you want to dance? I could handle you solo without breaking a sweat!" His aura began to shift and writhe, the simple glow transforming into crimson smoky flames.

Drake's eyes widened in horror as his own aura flickered and died like a candle in strong wind. "Impossible..." He bit his lip until it whitened, hands clenching into trembling fists. "How could someone like you evolve while I..." Shock gave way to rage as his face flushed dark with humiliation. "What are you even doing back here, Angelo? Nobody wants you in Ashford!"

Angelo turned away, the dismissal clear in every line of his body. "Your opinion stopped mattering a long time ago." He glanced at the others. "Let's go. We're wasting time on yesterday's trash."

Red's evolved aura faded as he turned to follow, triumph radiating from his predatory smile. The crimson energy particles scattered like dying embers in the afternoon light.

"Running away again?" Drake's voice cracked with desperate anger. "I've seen the news about your Angel of Death act! Everyone knows what you really are - just a murderer with a badge!" His bravado crept back, though brittle as thin ice. "And Harry? He despises what you've become even more than before. Trust me, he'd still wipe the floor with you any day!"

Neiva watched Angelo's back go rigid at Harry's name, but no response came. After a moment that stretched like pulled taffy, Angelo simply started walking again, each step measured and deliberate.

"Yeah, that's right!" Drake's voice chased them down the street. "Keep running like you always-" His words died in his throat as Red's head snapped around, murderous intent blazing in his crimson eyes. Drake stumbled back against the wall, cigarette dropping forgotten from nerveless fingers.

Once they'd left the market district behind, Blue broke the heavy silence. "You still let them get under your skin. After all this time, you still can't walk away clean." His scholarly tone carried years of weary observation. "The more things change, the more they stay the same-"

"You're wrong," Angelo cut him off, conviction hardening his voice. "This time was different. This time, I chose how it ended."

"Speaking of endings," Red mused, strolling with exaggerated casualness as if the confrontation had never happened, "think our old friend Harry's kept up his training? I mean, if that bastard managed to evolve..." He glanced at Blue with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. "Can someone with dual auras even do that? How would it work?"

The question caught Blue's scholarly interest, his brow furrowing as he considered the theoretical implications. But finding no immediate answer in his vast knowledge, he lapsed into contemplative silence as they made their way deeper into the town that held so many bitter memories.

The sun continued its slow arc overhead, casting their shadows long against streets that felt both achingly familiar and somehow foreign, as if Ashford itself had evolved during their absence into something both old and new - much like the man who'd once fled its cruel embrace, only to return seeking answers about his past.

Red stopped abruptly as they passed a weathered bench pressed against an old stone wall, his usual mischief softening into something almost nostalgic. "Hey, remember this spot? This is where I first tasted freedom!"

"Really?" Neiva peered at the simple wooden bench with newfound interest. "Right there?"

"Nah," Red's grin turned predatory as he placed his hand against the wall's rough surface. "Right here. Some punks had Angelo cornered, thinking they'd found easy prey. That's when I finally broke through-"

"We're not doing this," Angelo cut him off, already walking away. His rigid shoulders made it clear that reminiscing wasn't part of today's agenda. The others hurried to catch up as he rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt.

Before them stood a mansion that seemed to mock the surrounding buildings with its pristine elegance - manicured gardens, gleaming windows, and architecture that spoke of wealth and privilege. Angelo stared at it, something complicated working behind his eyes. "So that's how it turned out."

"What do you mean?" Neiva asked softly, sensing the weight in his words.

"This is where it happened." His voice carried old pain as he gestured toward the immaculate property. "Where my parents were murdered. Last time I saw it, it was just ruins - they'd torn down the old house right before I left for Novaria. Never saw what they built in its place until now."

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Neiva let the moment breathe, sharing his silent grief, until a thought struck her like lightning. "Wait a minute - wasn't this your parents' property?"

"Maybe?" Angelo shrugged, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I used to hide in the ruins as a kid, but no one ever really explained who owned it. Though I suppose if they were renting, someone would have fixed it before I got to explore it."

"But if it was theirs..." Neiva's mind raced ahead. "Wouldn't you have inherited it? What did their will say?"

The word 'will' hit all three versions of Angelo like a physical blow. They turned to stare at her with identical expressions of dawning horror.

"Their... will?" Angelo repeated the word as if he didn't understand the word's meaning.

Neiva's eyes widened with growing disbelief. "Please tell me you got their will. Tell me you at least looked for it. Right? RIGHT?!"

The silence stretched until Angelo started rhythmically banging his forehead against the property's outer wall. "How. Can. I. Be. So. STUPID!" Each word punctuated by another thump. Red, finding humor even in crisis, began playfully poking and prodding Angelo's sides in time with the head-banging. Meanwhile, Blue's scholarly composure crumbled into an expression of such profound self-disappointment it could have filled an ocean.

Angelo finally stopped, forehead pressed against the cool stone in defeat. Red continued his gentle harassment until Angelo snapped upright, whirling on his duplicate. "Would you STOP that?!"

"So let me get this straight," Neiva's voice cut through their antics like a steel blade. "You never checked if your parents left you anything. Never looked into their savings." Each point made them flinch as if struck. "And if they really were from Infernia, you have no idea what property or possessions they might have had there. Did I miss anything?"

The three exchanged guilty looks before Angelo's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yeah... that about covers it."

"You're an idiot," Neiva declared with the finality of a judge passing sentence.

Angelo's grumbled response was cut short by a gentle male voice from the now-open doorway. "Is everything alright out here? Who are you people?"

The afternoon light caught the speaker's concerned expression as he studied the strange group gathered outside his wall - including three identical men and one exasperated redhead who all looked like they'd rather be anywhere else at that moment.

The moment the man appeared, Neiva transformed like a switch had been flipped. Her entire demeanor softened as she glided forward with practiced grace, radiating the kind of warmth that made people instinctively lower their guard. "Good afternoon, sir! Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?" Her smile could have melted winter frost.

The man shifted his weight uncertainly, gaze darting between Neiva's disarming presence and the three identical men hovering behind her. His eyes lingered especially long on Red, whose predatory grin wasn't helping matters. "I suppose... that would be alright. What's this about?"

"Let me introduce ourselves properly," Neiva's voice carried the perfect blend of politeness and authority. "I'm Neiva Wines, and this is Angelo Ashworth." She gestured smoothly between them before extending her hand expectantly.

"Ruel Shields," he replied, accepting her handshake with visible hesitation. "Pleasure to meet you..."

Red's carefully neutral expression twitched as his internal voice exploded with indignation. "Hey, what about us? We're standing right here!"

"Fascinating how quickly you've devolved from 'evil incarnate' to 'ignored child at a party,'" Blue's mental response dripped icicles.

"Both of you, shut it!" Angelo's internal command carried the weight of years managing their bickering.

Neiva shot them a look sharp enough to cut steel before turning back to Ruel, her smile never wavering. "If you wouldn't mind, sir - do you own this lovely property?"

The simple question drained the color from Ruel's face faster than a pulled plug empties a sink.

"Look at him squirm," Red observed with predatory interest. "His heart's doing gymnastics."

Blue couldn't resist adding: "Yes, thank you for that riveting analysis of his obvious panic."

Angelo stepped forward, trying to defuse the tension. "We're not here to cause trouble. This house - it belonged to my parents before they died." His attempt at reassurance had exactly the opposite effect.

"Are you saying..." Ruel's voice cracked like thin ice. "Are you claiming ownership?"

"No, no, absolutely not!" Neiva jumped in, shooting Angelo a look that could have withered plants. "We're just trying to piece together some family history. Angelo lost his parents as an infant, so there are a lot of blanks to fill." Her voice softened with calculated sympathy. "We were hoping whoever sold you the property might help us understand more about what happened back then."

The explanation worked like magic. Relief flooded Ruel's features as righteous indignation took the place of fear. "Oh, I see exactly what's going on here." His expression hardened with purpose. "That snake who sold me this place - I knew something wasn't right about that deal. He lives just a few blocks from here, and I think it's high time someone asked him some very specific questions."

Ruel strode off with the determined energy of someone who'd just discovered they'd been wronged, gesturing for them to follow. As they fell in behind him, his muttered threats about "shady real estate practices" and "criminal behavior" painted a clear picture of what awaited the mysterious seller.

The afternoon sun cast their shadows long against Ashford's streets as they followed Ruel's angry march toward what promised to be an interesting confrontation. Above them, festival banners fluttered in the breeze, their cheerful colors a stark contrast to the growing tension in the air.

Ruel led them to a weathered house that somehow managed to look both decrepit and sturdy at the same time. He pounded on the door hard enough to make the hinges rattle, his earlier anger still evident in every movement.

The door creaked open to reveal a heavyset older man, his patchy beard as unkempt as his balding head. His bleary eyes narrowed at the unexpected crowd on his doorstep. "Who's trying to break down my- Oh, it's you... Shield-something."

"Shields," Ruel corrected through gritted teeth. "Ruel Shields. And I've got some questions for you."

The old man's expression brightened with calculated friendliness. "Oh? Looking to expand? Maybe add that spa room we discussed?"

"Don't play games, Bob," Ruel snapped. "You sold me property that didn't belong to you! This young man's parents lived there before they died."

Bob's gaze shifted to Angelo, deliberately ignoring Ruel's accusation. "And you are?"

"Angelo Ashworth." The name fell between them like a dropped stone.

"Ah, the Ashworth boy..." Bob's eyes narrowed as they tracked between the three identical figures. "Funny thing though - I distinctly remember the Ashworths only having one child."

The words hit like a splash of cold water. Ruel spun toward Angelo, betrayal written across his features. "You've been lying to me?"

"No," Angelo's jaw tightened as he scrambled for an explanation. "They're manifestations of my Auron powers - intimidation tactics for my investigation." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Both of you, back to me NOW," his mental command crackled with urgency. "No arguments, Red!"

"Aww, but watching you squirm is so entertaining," Red's internal voice dripped satisfaction.

"This isn't the time for your games," Blue's scholarly disapproval cut through their link.

"Make me," Red's challenge carried childish glee.

Angelo fought down his frustration. "Here, I'll show you," he gestured toward Blue, who smoothly dissolved into azure smoke that streamed back into Angelo's body. Both Bob and Ruel jumped at the display while Neiva released a carefully controlled breath, clearly relieved they had some kind of plan.

"There! Now about that property-" Ruel turned back to Bob, righteous anger reignited. "You've got some explaining to do. This is criminal!"

"Now, now," Bob raised his hands placatingly, though something shifted behind his eyes. "Do I really strike you as someone who would-"

"So you deny your crimes?" Angelo's quiet words cut through the afternoon air like a blade. His head was bowed, orange light beginning to leak from his eyes as his voice dropped to something dangerous and cold. "Refuse to seek redemption?"

Everyone turned toward him as tension crackled through the air like static before a storm. Angelo's head snapped up, his evolved aura exploding outward with enough force to make Bob and Ruel stumble back. Orange energy coalesced into flowing robes while a halo of solidified power materialized above him, casting dramatic shadows across his face.

Blue materialized in a swirl of azure light, his own evolved aura flaring as he positioned himself between Angelo and the others. Red's predatory laughter echoed from somewhere behind them, adding an unsettling backdrop to the scene.

"If staring death in the face doesn't change a man," Angelo intoned with theatrical menace as he advanced, Blue trying to hold him back, "nothing will."

"Angelo, this is completely inappropriate," Blue's scholarly disapproval couldn't quite mask his exasperation.

"Change your heart and seek redemption..." Angelo continued, clearly lost in his routine.

"Angelo, stop!" Neiva's sharp command carried equal parts concern and embarrassment.

"You see? Even Neiva thinks you're overreacting-" Blue tried again.

"Or strike at me, and face death's judgment!" Angelo pushed against Blue's restraining grip.

Red's cackling grew louder. "Really? Even that part? He's not even an Auron,"

"My, my," Bob's voice cut through the melodrama, remarkably steady for someone facing the Angel of Death's signature performance. "Quite the troublemaker we have here. But believe it or not, I've committed no crime. I'll explain everything - if you're willing to listen."

The tension shattered like dropped glass. Angelo's evolved state vanished as if someone had flipped a switch, leaving him standing there in normal clothes looking almost casual. "Alright then," he said as if he hadn't just been threatening divine judgment, "what's your explanation?"

The others could only stare, momentarily stunned by his instant transformation from avenging angel to reasonable investigator. The afternoon sun continued its slow arc overhead, completely indifferent to the bizarre scene playing out beneath it.

Bob's expression shifted into something unreadable as he studied the strange group gathered at his doorstep. His earlier nervousness had vanished entirely, replaced by the calm confidence of someone who'd just realized they held the upper hand.

"Well then," he said, gesturing toward his living room with deliberate casualness. "Shall we discuss the rather interesting history of that property?"