Moxxie was forgotten by Crimson and only remembered being Crimson the mafia leader upon his clones death, which also caused his memories of being Moxxie to be replaced with his memories as Crimson th

It was a dreary evening when Moxxie, from Helluva Boss, found himself tied to a peculiar contraption in a dark, deserted alleyway. Around him stood his imposing father, Crimson. A man of hatred, Crimson was still boiling with a rage so potent, it radiated from his eyes. With a sinister smirk, he looked down at his captive son. "Crimson," Moxxie pleaded, "You don't have to do this. We can discuss-" "Discussions are for the weak, boy." Crimson interrupted. He circled the contraption, his silhouette intensified by a flickering nearby street light. Suddenly, the machine whirred to life. A strange aura surrounded Moxxie, blue energy crackling around him. Unnerved by the echoing reverberation and otherworldly light, Moxxie tried to break free but the straps held him firmly. "You'd make a better Crimson than a Moxxie." Crimson said, the sarcasm cutting through the air. Then, he missed a beat and the glow from the machine started seeping into Moxxie. The transformation had begun. Moxxie's body contorted and stretched as if he was made of molten wax. His form shifted, wavered, increased in height, slowly ripping the too-tight fabric of his once fitted suit. The sleeves split at the seams, revealing elongated arms which steadily turned a darker red. His yellow sclera seemed to become brighter, more intimidating. Moxxie could feel changes deeper than the physical ones. His memories, thoughts, behavior all started to alter, merge, and slowly fade out. There was a flash of intense pain as his consciousness ended its resistance and he could no longer remember anything about his past life. His old self, Moxxie, was being completely replaced by that of his father's, to the point where he no longer recognized himself. He felt a surge of invigorating power rush through him, carrying an insatiable hunger for control and authority. Lastly, his attire transformed. The torn suit changed into a bold and sophisticated ensemble, one similar to Crimson's mafia attire. His shirt twisted into a tight red high-collar shirt, the coat transformed to a navy blue one with light blue accents, his pants became a dark blue with red stripes, and his hooves morphed into black and red-heeled dress shoes. On his head, a black fedora appeared, adorned with a band of red and white. Gradually, the transformation ceased. The energy lessened, and the machine whirred down. There, standing tall, was no longer Moxxie but an exact replica of his father, Crimson. The clone marched towards a reflecting window pane along the alleyway with his newfound power and authority. His eyes reflected the golden fang that now mirrored the original Crimson's mouth. He looked himself over and ran a larger hand over his jagged horns. This was his new identity, born out of a perverse intent to demolish his previous persona. As the memories of Moxxie blurred into those of Crimson, there was no trace of the past lingering in his mind. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signifying the end of a helluva transformation tale. For the intimidating image that stared back at him in the mirror wore a devious grin. The reflection was that of Crimson but in the place of his son.