"Sir!" Moxxie snapped, "Slow down, you're going to get us arrested!"

Twisting and turning like a spooked horse, Moxxie was thrown from one side of the car to the other as his boss, Blitzo, sped down the road as if they were the only ones on it, the tires popping as they drove over what appeared to be a pile of glass in the road.

"Shut your trap, Mox! We've got shit to do and places to be!"

They did, in fact, have quite the itinerary.

Moxxie worked as a marksman for a company known as IMP, or the "Immediate Murder Professionals," a rundown assassination business where earthly sinners could channel their animus towards their enemies up in the living world, for a hefty fee. Started by his aforementioned boss, Blitzo, a red and white lanky demon with curved horns and the vocabulary of an alcoholic toddler, IMP capitalized on the astigmatic attitudes of sinners burning with blind rage and contempt.

After being provided a location and a description by their clients, Blitzo would retrieve a special book that allowed them to ascend to the land of the living, a place that was home to wonders and atrocities that even hades itself was lacking in.

The book, however, did not belong to them.

Blitzo had struck an oddly specific deal with one of Hell's higher-ups, Stolas Goetia. He was a tall owl-like demon with a pair of red eyes that sat above his normal ones, and feathers that ran up and down his body. He was the one that had so graciously supplied them with the book that they needed, and had even contributed money towards their trip.

After having conserved their funds for over a year, Blitzo had surprised the group with four tickets, one for each worker. Moxxie himself had been astonished by his boss's sudden financial literacy, and was suspicious as to how he had come up with the required funds without something going terribly wrong.

And, as usual, his intuition had been correct.

Blitzo had been offered some extra funds from Stolas, in either an act of kindness or bribery. He was the one who had given Blitzo the idea of a trip on the Titanic, having assisted with the financial groundwork required to save up for such an expensive trip in the first place.

Moxxie was the only one in the office that day who hadn't broken into a fit of jubilation. Not because he wasn't happy about a no-cost trip, but because of his apprehension about being trapped with a bunch of demons on something that was no better than a floating metal death trap in the middle of the ocean in hell.

However, his wife, Millie, a demon with messy hair and a smile that could strike anybody dead, coupled with a hearty serving of southern charm, had managed to talk him into it. She always found a way to soothe him and allow his mind to rest, if not only for a few moments.

"C'mon Mox," she had said that evening with her typical southern-accent and singsong voice, "It'll be fun. And…" Millie rested her head on his shoulders, before placing her right hand on his cheek, "I'll be there with you the entire time."
"Promise?" he had asked.

"Promise."

Now, Millie was seated at his side, much less phased by her boss's reckless driving than he was. She almost seemed excited by it, like the adrenaline was helping her achieve some sort of high.

Noticing the uneasiness painted on his face, she reached out and took his hand, their eyes locking as Moxxie's heart felt like it was going to pop, and not in a good way.

"Promise me you're not going to leave me here," Moxxie wheezed, "Right?"

"I promise," she smiled, "I'm not going anywhere."

He knew that they had said the same thing before, but he noticed himself becoming increasingly paranoid, and the reassurance was something that would temporarily soothe his overactive mind.

Suddenly, Moxxie was tossed from his chair and into the back of the driver's seat, the vehicle coming to a sudden stop.

"Ow!" he hollered out in discomfort as his face made contact with the hard leather, "Can you not drive like a hellion?"

"Stop whining," Loona hissed back at him, giving a rather unflattering signal with her hands .

Loona was Blitzo's adopted daughter, standing at almost eight feet tall and heavily resembling a wolf. A pit formed in his stomach whenever she opened her mouth, a slew of obscenities or insults directed at him usually following. The two of them were far from buddies, and sometimes her simple presence would send his blood pressure through the roof. She was the embodiment of her father, except larger and much more capable of inflicting injury on scrawny little demons like himself.

Blitzo had graciously appointed her to be the office's receptionist, and even with the easiest job, she somehow always managed to mess it up. And she was fully capable and competent enough to do the job properly, too, it was apathy and laziness that got in the way. Many a time she had declined calls from high-paying clients because she became too tired to finish the conversation, leaving them a dissatisfied customer and a hole in the company wallet. Her work ethic resembled that of a rock more than it did an actual employee.

But Blitzo insisted that she keep the job, on the grounds that "we don't get rid of family." Moxxie heavily disagreed with that, and whenever he accused his boss of nepotism, Blitzo would retaliate with an argument, that was after Moxxie explained what the word "nepotism" meant.

Now, instead of coming up with a wordy sarcastic response, Moxxie bit his tongue, not wanting to start any fights. At least not yet.

"Alright," Blitzo huffed, opening the driver's side door and stepping out, taking in a deep breath, "Help me get those trunks out of the back, I ain't waiting for you cactus-suckers forever."

Opening the door to his right, Moxxie followed his boss and moved to the back of the car, popping the trunk open.

The first thing he saw upon his departure was just how large the Titanic truly was. It towered over them, higher than anything they had ever seen. Four grand smokestacks were mounted upon her decks, spewing black smoke and soot into the air. Fine black paint coated the sides of the hull, like frosting atop a cake, only contrasted by the white paint on the upper decks.

Mounted aside the main lounging areas were arrays of lifeboats, about twenty in total from what he could see. He scanned the ship for any flaws or weak points, but the vessel was at such a great distance that he couldn't get a sharper view.

"Mox! You can drool over the ship's ass later!" Blitzo slugged his right shoulder, "Get the damn bags!"

"Yes sir…" he responded, lifting a red leather suitcase from the back.

A horn honked from behind, and Moxxie spun around to see a chariot pulling up, far more sophisticated than the run-down hunk of metal that Blitzo had rented. The top of the carriage was encrusted in gold, and the vessel itself was painted a silky lavender shade, giving it a "royal" aesthetic.

The vehicle came to a stop, with much more grace than his own car had. A valet stepped out and opened the doors, two very important looking guests stepping out and handing the man a wad of coins.

He recognized both of them as the Goetias, Stolas emerging first, followed by his daughter Octavia shortly thereafter.

Both members of the family were dressed to the nines, Stolas donning a royal robe with long, flowing tails of velvet that rose up and down like waves on the open sea, coupled with a large hat.

Stolas's daughter, Octavia, wore a purple dress and a pair of black heels, the outline of a crescent moon outlined on the side of the garment, along with dozens of stars. Two spherical earrings hung down from both of her ears, golden in the reflection of the sun..

The outfits practically reached out and demanded their attention, emanating extravagance and toying with their focus like a cat with a mouse. Despite Stolas's familiarity with his boss, the sight of somebody so high above him still struck fear into his heart, and Moxxie inched closer to Millie for support, just in case. It wasn't everyday that he was in the presence of demon royalty.

Moxxie handed off a suitcase to Blitzo, just as Stolas pulled up at his side, carrying a thick blue book that had an engraving of the moon and stars on its cover. He recognized it instantly as the grimoire that their company relied on so dearly, and just the sight of it being out in public worried Moxxie immensely, since if it were lost he would be out of a job..

"Blitzy," Stolas said, with a somewhat suggestive tone that made him uncomfortable, "You promised me that your employees would keep an eye on my book. I hope that deal is still on?"

"You bet," Blitzo smiled, gritting his teeth, "Don't let any of these freaks hear about it though, either keep it on the down-low or get me some booze."

"You're funny," Stolas laughed, "We wouldn't want my Stella to get a hold of it, now would we?"

Stolas's wife, Stella, was quite the handful, at least from what Moxxie had been told. The stories of the constant fighting, the violence, and custody battles, were all nightmare fuel, especially for somebody who was already married. The thought of his own marriage crumbling to the ground like that of the Goetias kept him up at night, and knowing that the possibility was always there kept him on edge.

"You gawkin' at the owl?" Millie laughed, "You're already spoken for!"

"Very funny," Moxxie replied, "I'm perfectly fine with our marriage, thank you!"

He spoke those words with the hope of warding off his own fears, and tried to direct his attention to more important matters.

Nothing else particularly caught his attention. Darting his eyes around, the only thing that stood out was the majestic view of the ship. Other than that, there was a tall man in a black suit donning a cane that stood out among the crowd that glanced in his direction before turning away. Something about the man stood out, Moxxie unable to move his eyes away from the figure, but that could've just been because he had a thing for men in suits.

"Big-ass ship right here!" Blitzo hollered, pointing at the massive vessel before them, "We get to spend a week on this bitch!" He turned to face the other IMP employees, "You're welcome, by the way!"

Moxxie knew that Blitzo had very little to do with the fundraising. If anything they should be thanking Stolas. But, he rolled his eyes and pretended not to care, deciding that it wasn't a hill that he was willing to die on.

"Hell yeah!" Millie squealed with a high-pitched voice, "I hear they've got over a hundred restaurants!"

"And a pool!" Blitzo added, "Can't forget about that!"

"They've also got a state-of-the art propeller system," Moxxie said, "It's the greatest feat of engineering that we've seen in a long time! Seventy-five rotations per minute and twenty-five knots at top speed!"

Everybody except for Millie flashed a bored glare and rolled their eyes.

"Dear god," Loona sighed, "Can you not be a dork for two FUCKING seconds?!"

Moxxie once again held his tongue, but he stared back with a furrowed brow to express his frustration in a non-violent way. Not that it was very effective in getting his point across. He sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders, a defeated look in his dark eyes. Almost instantly, Millie wrapped her hand around his shoulder and nuzzled his forehead, a crooked smile spreading across his face.

"Oh hush up," Millie hissed at the hellhound, "At least he doesn't have a bitchy attitude like you do!"

Loona flipped them off before turning around and preoccupying herself with something else, leaving them alone.

"Ladies, ladies!" Stolas intervened, "Let's not let tempers flare. We still need to board!"

Stolas's concern for the trip outweighed even that of Blitzo, probably because he had put far more money into it. Moxxie didn't imagine a trip such as this coming cheaply. It was almost like you had to burn all of your money in order to board, and judging from the smoky air surrounding them and mixing with the stench of saltwater and dead fish, he wouldn't be taken aback in the slightest if it turned out that the passengers were actively throwing bills into a fire. Simply from their appearances, most of the passengers appeared to have excess wealth that could be wasted on frivolous expenses like the one that was moored to the dock before them.

Millie and Loona huffed and turned away from each other, but seemed to be remaining civil.

"Now," Stolas said, "One of you is going to need to help me with unpacking…"

Moxxie knew where this was going, and was less than happy when the nobleman's eyes drifted in his direction.

. . .

The little imp struggled to carry the heavy and cumbersome piles of suitcases, needing to stop for breaks every couple of seconds to catch his breath and make sure his arms didn't fall off.

"Hurry up!" Stolas called out, his hands on his hips "The ship leaves in twenty minutes!"

Why don't you carry it yourself then?

"I'm trying!" Moxxie choked, his legs buckling and almost ready to give out.

He was becoming increasingly frustrated with how the trip was panning out, and they hadn't even gotten past the port yet. Why would Stolas task him with carrying everything anyway? His appearance didn't exactly radiate "big strong demon that can bench-press two-hundred pounds. Could nobody else be bothered to help?

"Did you have to pack your entire mansion…?" he muttered to himself, "For goodness sake, you can live without your bags of rocks for seven days…"

Staggering with great discomfort, he inched closer and closer to one of the luggage carts, where stewards would transport their luggage to their cabins with great ease and efficiency. There were hundreds of carts scattered across the deck, manned by men and women in white uniforms and hats, almost as white as the spotty clouds above their heads.

Despite the physical pain, the surrounding scenery was much more pleasant than what he was accustomed to. For the first time, he didn't physically recoil while taking in the scenery, a luxury that was heavily lacking in imp city. Worn-down buildings and the occasional fire or car accident was the extent of his view at home, and it became monotonous and draining after a while.

In contrast, here there was a bright sky above him, water all around, and people that weren't actively wielding weapons. It was one of the biggest perks that came with traveling among nobles, they tended to be far more civil than the imps back home.

Who knew? Maybe he was catastrophizing again, and the trip would be perfectly fine. It wouldn't be the first time that he had over-dramatized something and been shocked by the results.

But his celebration was cut short by the continuous strain on his muscles, and he knew that things were going to get bad if he didn't act right then and now.

Failing to stifle his muffled grunts, he let out a yelp as he felt a sharp pain coming from his right shoulder, and he dumped the bags into the nearest cart that he could find, the strain becoming too much for him to bear.

"Is that all, Hercules?" the steward manning the cart laughed.

"Yes, yes it is." Moxxie replied, keeping his voice as flat and monotone as possible.

As he bent down to assist in picking up the suitcases that had missed the cart and rolled onto the pavement, Moxxie felt a cold presence from over his shoulder, an invisible force seeming to beg for his attention, tickling his mind and triggering a sense of uneasiness, the same kind of uneasiness that one would feel when being watched.

"May I help you?"

Moxxie whirled around, the voice deep and threatening. There was indeed a man standing behind him. And not just any man, but upon facing him, Moxxie realized that it was one that he recognized.

The man wore a dark suit, and wielded a black cane, the same traits he had distinguished from the man staring at them just a few short moments ago. Also donning a top hat and black dress shoes, he appeared even more intimidating than before. Two fangs stuck out from the corners of his mouth, making for an almost reptilian appearance. His cheekbones were well-defined, a red glow coming from his eyes, one of which was obscured by a monocle.

Thin, darker red lines crept out from the mystery man's exposed retina, crawling across the crimson membrane and gripping the tips of his eyelids, giving him a tired yet also attentive appearance and demeanor. From the looks of it, this stranger either hadn't slept in days, or was doing unholy amounts of cocaine behind the scenes, as many junkies of that type did. Most typical junkies wouldn't don such ornate and lavish clothing though, so if he was involved with drugs, he had to be some sort of high-end brewer, or perhaps a dealer. It wouldn't be the first time that Moxxie had been approached by a dealer, and if it happened to be this man's intentions to sell him some sort of narcotic, then so be it. He could find an excuse to leave if the need were to arise, and he had the benefit of being surrounded by other bystanders in the event the man was a threat.

At least, he hoped so.

Still, he couldn't shake the ever-so-subtle sense of uneasiness and sinisterity that wormed its way into the back of his mind at the sight of this man. Something about him was triggering the "danger" sections of Moxxie's brain, while his body remained still and frozen on the spot.

If his gut feelings had been more reliable, Moxxie would've run off immediately. But this man seemed harmless, albeit strange. As long as he didn't stick around for very long, there wouldn't be any issues.

He caught the man sneaking speedy glances over his shoulder, eyes following a target that was seemingly obscured by the crowd, that was unless there was something missing that Moxxie wasn't catching. It was almost like this guy was trying to make himself seem creepy, and a pit began to form in Moxxie's stomach, his throat drying up and the urge to run creeping down from his brain and into his legs.

Quickly shifting his gaze back towards Moxxie's direction, the suited figure bent over and placed the suitcases in the cart before them, grunting as he did so, "Here, i'll get those."

Moxxie tossed the smaller bags into the cart as well, wanting nothing more than to be away from this sexy yet also terrifying character. He almost considered reaching for the handgun in his coat pocket, even if it was an overreaction. After all, it was for emergencies, and a threat to his own safety would constitute an emergency, right?

Giving a gesture of gratitude, Moxxie shook the man's hand before turning to walk away, a hand suddenly gripping his shoulder and causing him to flinch before being able to get away.

Oh no...

Satan please no…

Not like this…

He froze, the man bending down to eye-level, so close that Moxxie could make out the individual scales on the figure's face, and feel hot breath on his own. It reeked of alcohol and what appeared to be fish, the rotten stench assaulting his nostrils to the point of near-nausea.

"Little imps like you 'oughtta be more careful going out alone like this," The man grinned with a sadistic smile, sharp fangs poking out from behind his dry lips, "It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you."

He snickered, "It's a dangerous world out there. It would be so...easy for somebody to just...pick you up and take you away. And it's a damn tragedy, too. You're a cute little fella."

Moxxie swallowed hard, and although flattered to be called "cute," he couldn't stop the sweat beading at the top of his forehead.

But he didn't dare look away.

Being small and scrawny, this wasn't the first time that something like this had happened to Moxxie. He recognized the stranger's type, Imp city was practically crawling with filth like him, but most of the time they were doing it all for show, as harmless as an ember in the streets. All bark and no bite.

Sometimes, however, there was malicious intent hiding behind those deceiving eyes . And Moxxie could never tell which he was going to run into, which was why Millie would never let him leave the house alone.

For the first time in a long time, he was out alone, and even if his comrades were only a rock's skip away, he felt as if he was staring death in the face.

He was the perfect target.

"T-Thank you for your assistance, sir…" Moxxie stammered, trying to silence his pounding heart, "B-But I have other things to do. Have a-a good day!"

Using all the power that his goat-legs would take him, Moxxie bolted away from the strange figure, not wanting to stick around. Who spoke like that to somebody you just met, anyway? Actually, who spoke to anybody like that, regardless of their mutual familiarity? Even he knew that speaking in such a sinister manner was inappropriate at best, and predatory at worst.

The man's words echoed back in his head, like a broken record.

It's a dangerous world out there. It would be so...easy for somebody to just...pick you up and take you away.

Seriously? Who in their right mind spoke to somebody like that? There was absolutely no place for such language, and he wasn't referring to profanity. At first, he had hoped that maybe the man's intentions were innocent, maybe even romantic in nature, or at the very least, not actively harmful. It had quickly become clear, though, that there were most likely ulterior motives. What those motives were, Moxxie had yet to figure out. Perhaps he wanted to rummage through the bags for loot? Or maybe he was some human trafficker? Could he have been a socially inept insurance salesman, by chance?

The man's gaze greeted him as Moxxie turned around to check over his shoulder, tipping his hat with courtesy, as if they were best friends. A devilish smile was etched onto his face, forming a crescent with his lips.

Oh hell no…

Moxxie was practically sprinting at this point, and he eyed Millie's head only a few steps away, somehow managing to have lost her in the crowd despite her proximity.

She turned around first, seeming to take note of his distraught expression and fast movements, stepping aside to let him come to a full stop without crashing. Which was probably a wise decision, since Moxxie always had trouble running, consistently finding some way to crash and get himself hurt.

"Mox!," she exclaimed, reaching down to help pull him back up to his feet, "You're runnin' faster than my aunt Darsie durin' a tornado! What's happenin'?"

He stopped to catch his own breath before checking over his own shoulder, the man having vanished from sight. Great, now they were going to think he was insane if he opened his mouth

"There was some man," Moxxie panted, "A rich-looking guy. He had a hat and a cane, some sort of monocle too-"

Blitzo groaned loudly before abruptly cutting him off, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "Moxxie, get to the fucking point."

Moxxie was less than appreciative of his boss's rude interruption, but continued on nonetheless.

"I don't know.." he went on, "He just seemed...off. He said some...rather weird things to me. And also had a very...primitive understanding of the concept of 'personal space,' and he kept looking over his shoulder for some reason…"

As the words hung in the air, Moxxie began to realize how outrageous his claims sounded. It was hell, after all, people did far worse on a regular basis, and even if he had been mugged and killed, it wouldn't even be a drop in the bucket compared to the heinous atrocities going on at any given time.

"N-Nevermind…" he trailed off, "It's stupid, I'm just overreacting…"

"Yes you fucking are!" Blitzo hissed, "Now get your shit together, I didn't pay to put up with your constant whining!"

Paid with money that Stolas had given him...

Millie leaned in and whispered into his ear, "It'll be fine, just ignore him, hun."

Although he wasn't happy about being shouted at before they even left the dock, knowing that his wife didn't think he was completely insane made things a little bit better. And it wasn't like it was something he wasn't used to, Blitzo was almost always ripping him a new one for something, whether it was justified or not.

Perhaps one day, he'd even be okay with it.

Regardless, the group made their way to the gangway entrances, attached to the dock by a precarious wooden plank that had definitely seen better days.. The murky sea swirled beneath the planks, toying with Moxxie's intense fear of both heights and water. It was a journey that he was less than excited to be making, even if it would be quick and over within a few minutes.

"Mox, you coming?" Loona hissed back, with the same inpatient tongue that her father had, "We're not waiting all day for your sugar-ass to get over here!"

Nervous out of his mind, Moxxie forced himself onto the path, trailing behind the rest of his group by a few feet. He shuffled along slowly, staring at the objective ahead as his back to safety continued to become more distant.

Deep breaths, Moxxie, deep breaths. You're going to be okay.

The wood creaked and moaned under his weight, which said a lot about the path's structural integrity since Moxxie couldn't have been more than ninety pounds.

You're going to be okay.

More footsteps threatened to snap the plank, and the panic was slowly beginning to set in. The trembling was subtle, first starting in his fingers and working its way up to his lips and face.

You're going to be-

A sudden gust of wind caused him to lose his balance.

You're not going to be okay!

Panic, coupled with the sudden shifting of his balance, caused him to flip over the side, clinging desperately to the plank that would determine whether he lived or died. Everything began to move in slow motion as his legs dangled freely below him, the waves foaming and lapping up against the long concrete wall that supported the main dock.

Oh crumbs…

He had known going in that something would probably happen to him on vacation given their company's track record, but this? And this early in the trip? Could he not even enjoy one simple day?

A passenger stepped on his hand, seeming not to notice Moxxie's struggles, causing his grip to slip, fingers letting go of the splintering wood..

"Whoa-" was all that he was able to get out.

No no no no no….

Tightly closing his eyes and bracing for impact, he took in a deep breath and prepared for what awaited below, the hungry belly of the sea opening up to swallow him whole.

I'm going to die!

…

…

...

Wait….

He was surprised when the feeling of free-falling never began, and he was tempted to open his eyes, partially worried that it was some sort of ruse, and that he was about to hit the water and die.

But, curiosity took over, and upon opening his eyes, Millie's concerned face greeted him, along with a tight grip on his right hand.

To say he was relieved would be the understatement of the century.

"You're lucky I have my hands full!" Millie shouted to the callous passenger that had so unsympathetically stomped on his hands, "Or I'd rip your intestines out and wrap 'em around your throat like a scarf!"

She hoisted Moxxie up over the plank and back onto solid land, holding him close as they finished the journey to the entrance of the ship.

He always felt safe and secure around her, and the recent incident was exactly why. She was always there to help him, and although he needed rescuing quite often, she showed up time after time, never leaving him to die.

"Thanks," Moxxie said, "For that."

"Anything for my hun," Millie giggled, "I'll kill the little waste of skin that stomped on you if you want me to?"
"That won't be necessary."

"What if I do it anyway?"

Moxxie stepped to the side once they arrived at the door, and let her enter, over-exaggerating a bowing motion before entering the ship himself.

"Your bitch had to save you again?" Loona said with angst as he entered the velvety hallway, "Pussy!"

"Furry!" Millie shouted back, "You don't talk to Moxxie like that!"

Loona stood up and growled, "I'll talk to him how I want to, bitch!"

Millie, although burning a bright shade of pink from rage, grabbed Moxxie's arm and walked away, probably in an effort to avoid making a scene. Which made sense, judging by the extravagant clothes donned by the demons around them. They definitely didn't want those types to get the wrong impression of them.

There were large chandeliers mounted above their heads, brilliant shades of gold being cast onto the shining floor, accompanied by the bouncing beats of a waltz being played by a string quintet. A sweet aroma wafted through the air, smelling like fruit and sugar mixed together. Stewards scurried back and forth, overwhelmed by the influx of passengers and work. It was much, much better than dangling over the edge of a plank.

"C'mon," Millie huffed, her footsteps hard and fast, banging against the tile floor, "We'll get back to them in a few minutes."

"Where are we going?" Moxxie asked, "Do you even know where we are ?"

"Shut up!" She suddenly donned a smile, "I'm taking you to the grand staircase, and damn it, we're makin' out!"

"Oh, alright." Moxxie replied, excitement in his voice.

Perhaps this vacation was about to take a turn for the better…