Shade: Here I am, writing cheesy stuff instead of working on my project to get promoted as a supervisor, but fuck it.

Disclaimer: Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel are creations of Vivziepop

Drawn to You

Created by Shade Shaw Reilly

It was only supposed to be for a few days. It was only supposed to be a couple of performances for the Harvest Moon Festival; The record company had thought it would be a great idea, to expand the market to potential new listeners, even if it were a bunch of inbreeding hillbillies living among volcanoes and deserts... He nodded to all this, but never believed that he'd have to go back there.

…

He remembers perfectly that, at the end of adolescence, he ran away from his home in the Ring of Wrath to try his luck in the world of music, much to the annoyance and eventually repudiation of his parents, leaving those damn words in his head that, like evil seeds, had germinated in poisonous roots in his subconscious: "You, dedicating yourself to music? Don't be stupid, Mox." "I raised a bounty hunter to continue the family business, NOT a fucking pussy who stays playing his fucking guitar in his room." "Why are you looking at me like that?! Why are you crying?! This is all your fault! " "If you're thinking of leaving this house, you'd better not come back or I'll bury a bullet in your fucking skull, and I don't give a shit that you're my only son!" "Get out, you're an embarrassment to everyone!"

And so, with just a carry-on, the rifle and guitar on his shoulders, Moxxie boarded the midnight train to the Ring of Pride, not looking back, but with a hole in the heart.

It was tough, like the same bumpy dusty roads where he used to ride in his father's van to hunt down outlaws. Moxxie was like many imps: small, weak and lacking in physical strength, but his talent in music, his ability to write his own songs and also his quickness with weapons saved his ass more than once, starting in shitty bars, singing y playing his guitar between bottles, spits and bodies being thrown from one side to the other; And although his voice used to be drowned out by drunken laughter and insults, while he still dreamed of working in an orchestra or a theater company in Pentagram City... One night, as if it were a fucking miracle, someone noticed him.

His guitar strumming was again, as always, drowned out by the laughter and swearing of regular drunks, but a heavy-looking imp had approached him, waving his beer in his direction. "Yo Moxxie, my mattress is free again, if you have nowhere to stay!"

"No thanks," Moxxie said without even deigning to look at him. "I'm not going to endure another night in your dunghill if you intend to make fun of my musical tastes again."

"Ah, but how sensitive! Ya weren't complaining when ya were sucking my…!" And two seconds later, the big imp fell to his knees before the musician, being pierced in his left knee by a 9mm Glock that the white haired imp had pulled from his coat with the terrifying speed of a black mamba attacking... For the amused red eyes of a Sinner who had watched the scene with interest. After seeing how the musician kneed the stalker in the face to get him off stage and start picking up his guitar to leave, he quickly approached to him, showing a 50 souls bill between his fingers.

"How many minutes can you give me with this in a private show, little one?" He asked to the musician with a strong Russian accent. Moxxie's look of wonder and desire at the money didn't escape to the Sinner, but the white-haired imp snorted.

"You must have been wrong, sir. I don't give that kind of show." Moxxie snorted indignantly. "Valentino's strip clubs are two streets down from here."

The Sinner, an imposing-looking purple bat, laughed. "Oh no, his Drag Queen spider doesn't catch my eye. Actually, I want to hear your voice, far from this drunken shouting, to see how good it is."

The musician blinked with delayed effect, as if he hadn't heard well. Then slowly he pointed to a space behind the bar where they could go.

Despite being born and always having been in Hell, Moxxie had heard of Providence, that heavenly concept (and, therefore, alien and unattainable to beings like him) in which the humans from Earth used to trust their forces and hopes to cope with the vicissitudes of their lives. Moxxie was no stranger to such vicissitudes, being an imp, the lowest and most despised race in the Underworld's food chain, being weaker and incapable of performing the physical jobs that most of his compatriots in the Ring of Wrath... In his case, you can call it fucking luck, you can call it being in the right place at the right time... But soon that world that Moxxie had dreamed of since his remote childhood in the four walls of his room covered by everything related to music (And he assumed, since his escape, his parents hadn't wasted time burning everything like trash) began to open up for him.

The Sinner, who liked to call himself a 'Music's Valentino', had noticed his talent for playing and above all for composing songs, which, in his words, made everything more economical and profitable. He had first set Moxxie to write songs for his established artists for a time until finally he had been given the opportunity to sing for the radio… For nothing more and nothing less than the Radio Demon himself.

"Let's fill this space with some music while the interview with the Queen of Hell, Lillith Magne, lingers a bit; We've here this little fellow who came to sing us a song. You come from the… Ring of Wrath, don't you? A lot of dust, a lot of volcanoes and unpaved roads, isn't it?"

Moxxie swallowed hard, pressing his prized guitar against him, at the threatening smile of the Overlord, only two feet from him. A single mistake and not only Alastor will make him a bloody mass of black pulp on the ground... Judging by the look of his boss, giving him a look of 'You fuck it up and you're fucked.'

"Y-yeah, and..."

"Then let's not wait any longer! Delight us with some music for my lovely listeners!"

"...Who would say that my new goose that lays the golden eggs would be a damn imp..." The Sinner muttered as he counted the wads of bills in front of Moxxie, who was looking at him across the crowded office table "...And I'm not just talking about music, you know that, right?"

"Yes, sir." The white-haired imp replied, lowering his eyelids. "What did you call me for? Who must I eliminate now?" Then he looked down to pick up and study the file where the next target was. The Sinner leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigar.

"We have problems with these creditors and this cocksucker in particular has been bugging me for weeks... He's a heavy guy, but I entrust it to you, you're discreet and accurate, just like in your songs. I hope you solve this by the end of this week, as we have a presentation next Monday." Moxxie nodded and grabbed the file to leave when his employer cleared his throat. "...I still wonder where the hell you learned to shoot like that, I haven't seen such precision since the fucking Annie Oakley a bunch of years ago. Will you one day tell me who taught you?"

Moxxie paused on the doorway, not looking at him and he just murmured: "My father."

"Damn, I would like to one day shake the hands of the sperm donor and that womb who gave life to this little wonder that I see in front of me."

"That will not be possible, sir. They died."

They were dead, literally, symbolically, who fucking cares… Dead to him, as he had been dead to them years before.

He always hoped, even if was a tiny hope, that they would meet again, that even, at the glorious moment of releasing the gold record with his name on it, they would come out to strut and show off that this new consecrated artist with the name of 'Moxxie' was their son... But they never did.

And Moxxie continued singing and killing, with that same hole that had formed in his heart since years ago.

...

…That's why he had had mixed feelings when he returned to that ungrateful land where he had been born and had to leave to fulfill his dream, finally achieved. On the one hand, he was tempted by the idea of going back to the old family home to point out in their fucking faces that he had made it and their words were nothing but bullshit... but, on the other hand, what good would it do? His version of the famous parable of the 'Prodigal Son' (1) wouldn't end in a party and in rejoicing, but with a bullet in his skull if he dared to return... And Moxxie knew well that his father, who was the one who said that, always kept his promises.

Therefore, feeling saddened, Moxxie limited himself to his mission: Harvest Moon Festival presentations to try to win new consumers of his music, as well as eliminate a group of creditors of the owner of the record company that, according to sources of the spies, they had taken refuge near the volcanoes to escape not paying them. His employer had given him specific instructions, telling him that he should meet an imp family, owners of a small ranch that was near the chain of volcanoes, since they knew the place and could guide him there, in exchange for paying them for his stay and that they can collaborate in the persecution and execution of these bastards.

When he reached the place where the platforms and seats were being set up for the crowd of attendees at the event, Moxxie simply sat on a high bench and practiced some songs for his presentation, sure that with the noise of all the hustle around, nobody would pay attention to him… Until the noise of wild female growls made him lift his head… And his heart stopped.

It was the mud wrestling competition, something completely pedestrian by Moxxie's judgment... But that graceful, swift figure that moved with the speed of a panther in dirty mud, yellow eyes blazing due to the adrenaline and the excitement, her long black charcoal hair flying and tangling over the shoulders and back of that ruby red skin still visible to the sharp gaze of the sniper, her claws grabbing a random neck and twisting it to a satisfying bone snap sound, her fists sinking deep in a larynx, her fingers sinking into eyeballs until they pop or moving her hands in a mouth and move them upward to snap the jaws, all amid fiery shouts from the crowd, several gasps, a furious "MILDRED, COME HERE AT THIS MOMENT, NOW!" …And the pounding of his heart against his ribs as he saw the trail of shattered bodies and the repulsive smell of blood and mud in his nostrils.

…Oh, by the legions of Satan, who was that girl?

He didn't know until he saw her moments later next to him on the platform, still covered in mud. A big imp with a thick body and a white mustache sat her there, beginning to scold her: "I love that ya like to participate in the festival, but this was too much! Nine dead! Yer going to stay here until the end of the competition!"

"But, Daddy…!"

"No buts, missy! Ya stay here! I'll go find Sallie Mae." And he pulled away from her, with her pouting and crossing her arms.

"Sure, they let Sallie participate and not me..." She muttered angrily, then fixed on the dumb looked white-haired imp next to her, making her smile embarrassingly. "Oh, sorry about that, Ah'm just... Ah'm get really excited about these mud fights. Do ya like them too?"

"Oh yeah, I love them. They're entertaining," Moxxie murmured with a shy smile. "You were interesting to watch, you fought really good."

"Oh Satan, finally someone says it! Everyone here says Ah'm too rough and won't let me play, that it's only for men… Pfff, bullshit, Ah can flip hell cows faster than my brothers…" She laughed and then blushed, extending her hand to him. "Oh, Ah forgot my manners, Ah'm Millie!"

"Moxxie." He replied shaking her hand, still splattered with mud and blood, but strangely, he didn't care.

"...How fucking lucky of mine." The sniper musician thought as he realized that the charming young female imp belonged precisely to the family that he had to meet in order to achieve the additional work from his employer. Her parents, Joe and Lynn, greeted the neat white-haired imp with a mixture of polite disbelief at his insignificant appearance.

"How do ya plan to kill those fellows? Ya don't seem like the type who can lift a club without going flat on his back from the weight." The patriarch said sizing him up with a stern expression... Moxxie swallowed hard as he uncomfortably remembered his own father.

"Oh well, I-I can do this, sir!" He looked anxiously and on the verge of panic at anything he might use, noticing an old can on a chipped gate nearby, almost five meters from them. "Look at this!" And taking his rifle out of his saddlebags, Moxxie took aim quickly and took a single shot into the distance... Not at the can, but at a firefly that was perched on top of the can, without moving the can a millimeter from its place. "...Tada!"

Nobody said anything... Until applause was heard, as well as an excited voice that made his throat close: "Wow, how impressive, Moxxie!"

"T-thank you very much, Miss Millie…" Moxxie replied, doing his best not to reveal her blush, failing in the attempt. Patriarch Joe snorted.

"Meh, not bad, but in these parts we're not very into using firearms, we prefer to use our own hands to rip out the throats of outlaws and other sons of bitches who come into our lands..." He leaned towards Moxxie, who felt even smaller and insignificant than ever. "...But Ah suppose ya'll be useful for something, yer boss already paid us, he'll come in a few days, right?

"Y-yes, sir. Once we eliminate the target, he'll come to take the bodies and do some business."

Once the preparations were made and his things were in the guest room, Moxxie went out for a walk around the ranch grounds, trying to forget the fact that the murderous girl who had made his heart pound absurdly was in the same house, walking from one place to another, herding the cows, slaughtering and disemboweling the infernal hogs with an expert hand and with a single knife blow to let them bleed out amid horrible screeches and moving bales of hay to the old family truck, rivaling in strength and resistance with her bigger brothers... Feeling an annoying sensation in his chest of envy and pain at seeing her family so united, so happy... So alien to what his family was.

At one point in the afternoon, as Moxxie was tuning his guitar strings in a small space that was apparently used to light a bonfire, she saw her sit next to him.

"When Ah saw ya with that, Ah thought it was just a cover, but ya really know how to play! How difficult is it? How long have ya've been playing? What genres do ya like? Are ya going to play the rest of the festival?"

Moxxie could only stutter a couple of responses, to Millie's curious expression. They had only spent a couple of days in the house and they were supposed to embark the next day to the canyon in search of the targets. In those couple of days, the female imp had approached the musician to talk more and learn about his impressive skill as a marksman and his extensive knowledge of firearms, quickly becoming friends. Despite the painful pounding sensation in his chest like a bird caught in his ribs, Moxxie felt strangely comfortable around her, talking about any triviality, watching her light the fire (for he had failed miserably) cook of pair of field rats strung on a stick (And Moxxie, after swallowing hard, dared to sink his teeth into its flesh, finding that it didn't taste bad after all) and finally, between laughter and relaxation from a couple of bottles of beer, Moxxie began to sing a well-known Southern nursery rhyme much to the delight of Millie, who didn't hesitate to join him:

I love my little rooster

and my rooster loves me

gonna cherish that chicken

'neath the green bay tree

little rooster goes

cock-a-doodle-doo, doodle-doo, doodle-doo!

In his established career as a musician, Moxxie had collaborated with other singers, but this was the best duet he has ever participated in, and the only audience was the crickets and the infernal moon.

He felt his blood start to boil at the moment he saw her.

They had entered the knot of the chain of volcanoes, between unbearable heat and almost toxic fumes surrounding them, reaching the point where the debtors of his employer were hiding. The original plan, which was about Millie and her brothers ambushing them while Moxxie, hiding at the top of a cliff, made sure that none of them, which was a dozen and their bodyguards, who in total made them fifty, could escape from that massacre... The plan had gone well at first, the white-haired imp alternated between blowing up between blood and brain matter the heads of some shooters hidden among the rocks, and gawking at the carnage that Millie was doing with a pair of hunting knives, plunging them into their aortas and wrists, moving with the same grace and beautiful fluidity as in the mud when he met her for the first time.

...Then a scream took him out of his reverie, when a shooter had managed to hit Millie on the knee, making her almost fall from the gorge where they were, almost making Moxxie give away his position, then the shooter had grabbed her hair with one hand and then he squeezed her arms from behind, using her as a meat shield. Millie hissed in pain trying to release herself, her brothers screamed:

"HE HAS MILDRED!"

"LET IT GO, YA SON OF A BITCH!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO WE HAVE A FUCKING SNIPER FOR?! WHERE THE FUCK IS HE NOW?!"

His blood was boiling. It boiled for her, it boiled for that words, for her brothers' words... For his father's words when one day, in a practice, he had cut a tendon to his favorite hellcat, Chaplin, and put it in front of Moxxie, inciting him to shoot him, even amid the terrible whining of his pet.

"Go ahead, Mox! Prove I've raised a sharpshooter and not a fucking loser with a gun!"

Moxxie had never felt so much hatred and rage towards his father at that moment, even after the frozen looks of disapproval, the confinements in the closet for not doing something to his parent's liking, the destruction of the phonograph (2) that was so hard to repair, the beatings, the total absence of any words of affection from him and his mother... If only he could move his hand and move the barrel of the rifle a few inches up, right towards the eye of that bastard who had contributed to his unfortunate birth... He had hit him, on the shoulder, freeing his injured hellcat. Of course, his father was furious and it was a miracle that he didn't beat him because at least he had said: "It was a decent shot, son."

...The shot that Moxxie made was right in the left eye of that bastard that was holding Millie, making him fall backwards, something that was incredible in itself considering that the shooter was almost the same height and physical constitution of the female imp, so Moxxie could have hit her too in a near absolute probability. An impressive, flawless, perfect shot, that even his father, if he was there, could talk with a certain hint of pride... But Moxxie didn't think about it, he could only think about getting out of hiding, giving a shit if there were more shooters, just to go towards her and take her in his arms, just as he did with his beloved pet.

"Millie, Oh Satan, are you okay?!"

She composed a pained smile, which she widened as she watched the sniper musician remove the denim blue scarf from his neck to press it against her bleeding knee. She giggled. "Ah'm jus' peachy."

"Fuck, we still have to get rid of some bastards, and Mills is bad." Sallie Mae was saying, pulling a machete from the shattered head of an enemy. "What do we do?"

"...I'll take her back. I eliminated all their snipers, only the ones on the rock above remain, you can easily beat them." Moxxie replied, surprising himself at the authority and assurance of his voice. Millie's brothers looked at him in disbelief. Sallie Mae snorted.

"Hey pipsqueak, we appreciate yer nice gesture, but let my older bro who's stronger carry her…" They were speechless as they saw the weak white-haired imp picking up their injured sister in a bridal style, carrying his rifle on his shoulder, giving them a look of fierce determination. "…Go."

...It was certainly not pleasant the scolding that Joe and Lynn gave Millie for 'being so careless and lowering her guard', but the look and smile of thanks that she had given him, as well as the even more pleasant sensation of her warm body against his, even running between the slopes to the old truck to drive back to the ranch, they had made worth it.

While informing his employer about the success of the operation and organizing his arrival to close a business that he had to present, setting it up for a couple of weeks, Moxxie dedicated the time he had between his comings and goings to the small cities of the Ring of Wrath to negotiate on behalf of the record company... And visit Millie, talk to her, to accompany her in her convalescence, with her looking extremely happy to see him, almost always with some fire flowers or gromsbloods (3) that he picked up on the way, between blushes and a stammering "To-to make you feel better", which the young female imp always received between blushes... To then place her lips on them when she was alone, also feeling her heart pounding.

Millie soon realized, more when she left the bed to walk with a crutch and attend the last days of the Harvest Moon Festival, that that crazy rumbling of her chest was always present when she was with him, when she saw him play the guitar, even among a half-bored and indifferent audience of the festival, feeling her breath stopping when she saw his yellow eyes move towards the bench where she was.

…Oh, by the legions of Satan, what does she feel for that boy?

Millie knew that where he was currently living, Moxxie was a celebrity, a successful singer, performing as an opening act for the Hell Queen Lillith Magne's shows and some premiere singles that were been auctioned on the Radio Demon's station... He was so different to this environment of peasant devils who worked in the fields to provide food for the other Rings in Hell, unable to aspire to anything else due to the limitations of their race... But Moxxie had told her how he had left this place to prove to them that even being from an inferior race wasn't an impediment to trying to be something other than what one was supposed to be.

"Look at you Millie, you kicked asses of other imps bigger than you when we met!" Moxxie told her with the same enthusiasm when he explained how to disassemble and reassemble a machine gun or a rocket launcher, making her blush.

They were sitting on the same stage where they had met, with some sausage sticks, to celebrate that Millie had recovered completely thanks to their demonic regeneration capacity. She had summoned him there not only to see the sunset, but because she wanted to tell him something... And it turns out that he also had something to say:

"Ah want to... thank ya for what ya did, ya saved me. That was a really impressive shot, even my brothers commented on it"

"O-oh, it was nothing, Millie. It was what I had to do... When I saw you that way, I couldn't help but think about... about..."

"About...?"

"…You know what? No matter." Moxxie muttered, shaking his head. "I'm tired of talking about my father, my family, that has always been painful, because since I left, we never communicated again, I don't know if they are alive, if they continue to live here, or... The fact is that when I wanted to leave that back, I came here and I see you, your parents, your brothers running to defend you... It was like remembering them again, and it makes me envious, because I never had that... You're so very lucky to have them."

"Moxxie… Ah'm sorry, Ah didn't mean to remind you of that, Ah…"

"No, don't apologize. I'm the sentimental asshole here for bringing a sad memory when we should be celebrating because you're good again, and well… Also to tell you that… Why are you looking at me like that?"

Millie's gaze was glassy and a grimace adorned her lips as she leaned down a little, causing the musician's breathing to stop, his heart beginning to beat with inordinate violence... "When Ah said Ah wanted to thank you, Ah meant it, but Ah also wanted to be sure."

"Su-sure of what?"

"...About the way ya look at me."

"What?! What are you talking…?! Oh crumbs, please forgive me, I didn't mean to…!"

She silenced him with a kiss left him brain-fried; yes, Moxxie had kissed women and men before, but this was as if he had been hit on the head, and that hit was little more than glorious. Even accolades from the critics or the public, even the awards, even the applause, not even the fucking satisfaction of a shot fired at a target three hundred meters away, nothing was compared to the kiss he was receiving at that moment. Moxxie had never been in Heaven, he would never be allowed to enter such a place... But with this? This brief moment of utter happiness had to be that unattainable Paradise that was talked about so much, even with disdain. Never had Moxxie felt anything as beautiful and charming as this… Millie, her touch, one claw on his back and the other on his snow white hair, entangling it between her fingers...

"How many minutes ago did Ah breathe?" The female imp thought for a moment and then forgot about it as she continued to enjoy the wonderful sensation that Moxxie was giving to her, scratching his back a little as she pulled him closer, with his chest so close to hers that she could perfectly feel the violent throbbing of his interior, as well as her own, like drums. An indescribable sensation seized her to the marrow as she timidly slid her tongue into his mouth, receiving a very surprised but then very warm welcome inside him, as well as soon receiving a sweet visit to hers... A soft moan of happiness and pleasure surged deep in her throat when she felt Moxxie's claws stroking her long charcoal hair that fluttered in the wind. More, more... there was no other word that could define so exactly what this moment was.

They didn't care about anything else, that someone caught them, or the fact that Moxxie was a few days away from leaving after a sudden call from his employer... Only caring about the two of them and that little world that they had created together.

But like any kiss, be it the first or the last, this one will eventually end up accompanied by the very annoying feeling of lack of oxygen. They parted slightly, panting, still feeling the tingling sensation in their stomachs, watching with amusement and a little embarrassment the intense red that was appreciated on each other's cheeks as they pressed their foreheads tenderly.

"...Mah parents are going to kill me."

"Correction: They'll cut my balls off and then kill me." Moxxie pointed out with a grimace, making her laugh.

So in that course of those last days, which were lengthened in more and more days, even weeks, deliberately by Moxxie by delaying and even inventing contracts for the record company, to the growing frustration of his employer, that the hole that was inside the heart of the white haired imp was finally closed for good.

Moxxie spent her days off when he wasn't in to local stations, going to the volcanic plain to hunt hellish buffalo for the family dinner, shooting them down from afar with his rifle and Millie gutting them with her blades. Then they went to the local ballroom to spin for hours, each time getting closer to each other, to the growing suspicion of Millie's brothers, but not daring to say something to her savage sister after seeing her so happy... Finally, they would sneak off to some lonely barn to eat each other in kisses and caresses, declaiming love songs in duet, wallowing in swamps of desire to the limit of their strength, exhausted but not going all the way to avoid being discovered completely naked... Watching the infernal moon high above, lying next to each other, so close that, as their hearts beat, they seemed just one.

...

…Certainly when everything was revealed, they hadn't seen it with good eyes. Not only did Millie's parents come close to grabbing Moxxie, hanging, chained him head down and castrating him for daring to put his claws on their precious killing machine, but the record company itself was extremely upset: Was their star wallowing with a fucking low-class imp from the Ring of Wrath? It couldn't be even a Sinner prostitute or something like that, because at least that wouldn't have been so shameful and low-class by the standards of his precious goose that lays the golden eggs. No, no, this cheesy shit had to end, before he came up with something like...

"I'M NOT GOING TO POST THIS FUCKING GARBAGE AND THAT'S ALL!"

"You wanted a fucking romantic ballad song for a long time, well there you have it!"

"BUT NOT DEDICATED TO A DISGUSTING LOW-CLASS I…!"

"…Finish it. Finish that fucking sentence and I'll blow your head." Moxxie hissed as he pulled out his old 9mm Glock and pointed it at his employer's face with the terrifying speed of a rattlesnake. The old bat laughed.

"You kill me and they'll blow your head off before you even leave this room, and that's where your whole fucking career will end. I took you out of those shit holes, I made you a fucking star, something unlikely for someone of your race... And this is how you pay me? I'd have preferred to lose you in a traffic accident because you were drunk than with this fucking scandal because you are unable to control your fucking heart and cock for a low-class girl."

"...Then you know my position, sir." Moxxie replied, lowering his weapon and taking his contract from the table. "Here it says, that I can retire from this shit when I want, right?"

"…Yes, that's what it says. Since the first thing you did was to hire a fucking lawyer to make a modification... Although I save myself by adding that the condition would be that I would keep everything: Copyrights and royalties of your songs, all the profits for the gold record... Everything. You'll stay on the fucking street like another fucking songwriter from any shitty bar... What do you say about that?"

"I say… Fuck you."

...

"What are we going to do, sugar?" Millie asked in a whisper, her voice muffled against Moxxie's shoulder. At first he just sighed, continuing to stroke her long charcoal hair.

That they were together at the time without Millie's parents showing up with spiked clubs and bear traps was a fucking miracle if it weren't for Sallie Mae and the other brothers, who did them the favor of covering for their little sister on a short getaway in the pumpkin patch and black apple trees. The sniper had explained to the slasher his decision to break with the record company by refusing to renounce her, accompanying with a demo of his last song...

"…My assassin love

She makes the murderin 'fun, for me

Oh la-da-dee!

Of all the imps in hell, it's for her that I fell

Oh Millie! "

"Did he really say that that was fucking garbage? Yer right, fuck them. It's the most beautiful thing anyone has done for me, and ya did it!" She whispered, shaking her head to kiss him again. He was really addictive, impossible to compare to anything else, and she didn't want to let him go… She loved him, God above and Satan below, she loved him as much as he loved her!

…He had made a decision. Or rather, they both had made it.

It would not be easy, of course. No money and nothing under their names, just relying on their abilities to kill. (Although in a place like Hell, with enemies everywhere, a marksman as deadly accurate as he and a melee slasher as ruthless as she... Could be hired by any assassination operation, even as a possible cannon fodder during the Turf Wars between Overlords) and in his music ... Although Moxxie certainly did not expect that such a wonderful opportunity as the one that had come that night in that bar would appear again, either by luck, by being in the right place at the right time, by heavenly Providence... He would never change it for the moments that he shared, shares and will share with his Mildred. His Millie.

And so, with just a couple of carry-on bags, the rifle and guitar on his shoulders, as well as a set of hunting knives and a machete on her back, Moxxie and Millie boarded the midnight train to the Ring of Pride, not looking back, but with a happiness in the heart.

I'd rather live in his world (live in his world)
Than live without him in mine (world, world)
(It's his, his and hers alone)

Gladys Knight & the Pips, Midnight Train to Georgia

END.

Author's Note:

(1) Saint Luke 15: 11-32.

(2) A phonograph or gramophone was the first device for the mechanical recording and reproduction of sound. It was invented in 1877 by Thomas Edison.

(3) Gromblood is a World of Warcraft herb or flower that can be found in hot areas.