Life as an imp was incredibly harsh and Hell just made everything worse. Few seldom get the chance to make a name for themselves while the rest of their kind fall into irrelevance. Blitzo was one of many who wanted that chance. He once had dreams for himself but few knew the true side of his soul… if he had one anyway.

The Immediate Murder Professionals - Blitzo knew the irony of that acronym - was the company to help compensate tackle his emotional problems. After all, no amount of quiet tears in his lonesome would compare to the euphoria of killing someone at the satisfaction of a client and the money that came with it. The problem was that the business had not been thriving ever since he started the company. He had two married imps and his adopted Hellhound daughter as his employees but that was it. Anymore and I.M.P. would be in the red, which was not something he could tolerate.

Something needed to be done for the company to make more money and to tell Moxxie to shut the fuck up about his spending habits. He was already fucking a talkative bird just to have access to his grimoire and the last thing he needed was a possum to tell him how he should manage the company's finances. Despite his misgivings towards his employee, he did have a point. Still, how was he going to deal with that issue?

Blitzo shrugged his shoulders at the thought while leaning back in his chair. He'd think it over after some self erotic role-play in his office. Thank goodness the room was soundproof.

His phone rang and spoiled the mood. Whatever he had in mind was gone as he reached into his pocket and reluctantly pulled it out. It better not be Stolas and his desire to set up another date. That hungry bastard had several strange tastes but Blitzo knew that it was his only way to get the Grimoire and get into the mortal realms, well, one of them. After he caught a glimpse of the caller ID, he let out a relieving breath knowing it was his daughter. His fingertips tapped the green phone and answered. "Loona, what is it? Can't you see I'm busy here?"

"A sinner is knocking on our door. He said he's not a client but wants to talk with you," Spoke the bored hellhound, "Should I tell him to fuck off?"

"What the Hell, I'm in a good mood today. Send him in?"

Loona's phone bumped loud enough for him to hear. "Okay, he's your problem."

A sinner who wasn't a client? What did today have in store for him? Hopefully, the sinner would have a good reason. Sometimes, there would always be those homeless people who were trying to make ends meet but I.M.P. was not a charity shelter.

He rose from his seat and made his way towards the door, opening it to find a large pink room, which was a contrast to his dark office. On the other side was a couch where his two married imps were conversing with each other while stealing a glance to his left, only to find his daughter sitting behind a counter and texting on her phone.

Blitzo immediately noticed the sinner standing across from her. He must have been in the military due to wearing a camouflage uniform. That was not all as the stranger was covered in a dark ethereal cloak over his clothes and his face sealed behind a gas mask.

The first thought that came to his mouth was the introductions. "Who the fuck are you?"

"My name is Railtracer," He answered with a Russian accent, "You must be Blitz-is the 'o' silent in your name?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

Wait? Did this guy actually pay attention to his name for once? Then the sinner reached into his pocket and revealed layers of paper in a neat square until he unfolded a poster in his hands. "I was looking for you all thanks to this piece of advertisement."

"Let me see," The imp walked up to him and snatched it out of his hands, only to find an IMP advertisement about him hiring new employees into the company. It jogged his memory but this was back when he started out and he only took on Moxxie and his wife, "This is old! Where did you get this - the trash can?"

"A trash bin but that is semantics. Is there a process when you interview new employees?"

Oh, he wanted to join the company. He should have begun with that but then he realized what those details entailed. "You do realize that you're a sinner, right? You're not allowed to leave Hell no matter what you do?"

"If you think I'm trying to leave Hell, you are absolutely wrong," Was he trying to bullshit him? It was bad enough that he was using a Grimoire to reach the mortal plane and much worse knowing that a Hell-born noble knew about his business operations, but what was the guy's point, "I could honestly care less what goes on up there. Just looking for a job that pays decently."

"Look, I appreciate the offer but our operations involve leaving Hell to kill people. Even Loony occasionally joins us now and then."

His daughter then spoke her mind about how she felt. "I do it because it's boring to be sitting behind this desk until you, Millie, and fatty get back."

"See!" He said to the man, "Much as I like to expand, you don't happen to be someone I'm looking for."

"How often do your guns break down?"

Blitzo was taken aback by the question as he planted his hands on his hips. "What?"

"You use guns, right? Sure, they might be produced in Hell but they still have their limits," Railtracer slipped his hands into his pockets, "Sometimes the magnification is off, gun jams at the wrong time at the right time to shoot, even the barrel feels like it's welded to a glue gun. Have you ever encountered that problem?"

He was about to reply but a smaller imp strode towards the conversation from his wife on the couch. His horns were striped in a combination of black and white while he adjusted his bowtie near the neck collar of his clothes. "That does happen to us. Do you know how to fix them?"

"Yes. Fixing weapons was part of my training when I was alive and I still did it until I died. Figured it would be useful to a company that is tight-strapped with money."

"How do you know we're not doing well?" Wondered the imp, "We've never told you anything."

Blitzo felt like he needed to be in control of the conversation. Not to mention, it wasn't his employee's business to talk about their financial situation. "Zip it, Moxxie. This is our conversation, can't you see?"

"Sir, we can hear you from the couch."

"That's not the point," The boss stated before turning his full attention towards the sinner, "How do you know that?"

Railtracer let out a slight chuckle despite his face being contained by his gas mask. "Mostly rumors. Some guys were talking behind your back at some of the banks about how your company is doomed for failure because of you."

"Now choose your next words carefully, buddy. I'm not fond of assholes who talk behind my back."

"Honestly, I think they're being too pessimistic," He replied before continuing, "Where they see failure, I see opportunity. If you hire me, I can help reduce those extra costs procuring weapons by maintaining them in the best condition. That way, you can spend less on replacements."

He was taken aback by the sound logic he was providing for his services, not to mention the confidence he had in his skill. The entrepreneur couldn't lie to himself that an employee who dabbles in maintenance was incredibly handy. "I'll be damned, I can't seem to find a single bad thing out of this interview of ours."

Still, he had some reservations as he walked up to the sinner and snatched his collar, bringing the man's head towards him.

"Let me be clear, if you fuck this up, I'll make sure your ass will hang from my ceiling. Do you understand?"

"Crystal," Answered the Russian as he stole a glance from the others, "I won't disappoint you."

Now that was a great sign that things were going to change for the better as he brightened his mood. "Good! I really don't want another Moxxie in this company."

From the corner of Blitzo's eyes, his employee's jaw dropped. The spiteful satisfaction in his heart was something to behold.

"Welcome to the company Railtracer. Loona, get him named in the system. Moxxie, show him our dicks."

"Yes sir," Soon the smaller creature brought the sinner's attention, "Come with me, Railtracer, time to take inventory."

Days passed since Pavel brought the heat on himself and the rest of his comrades at the safe house. They were supposed to plant Artyom into I.M.P. the next day; however, Uhlman had to postpone the operation and keep it low. Fortunately, they were all lucky that no one was investigating their building for a celebrity's car.

When the situation cleared up, now the former communist had to make his way to the home of a succubus and return the vehicle. It was an order he didn't want to comply with since it entailed some problems of him simply getting recognized by the people he stole from. Still, he would try.

He drove throughout the city in Hell, witnessing the sights of all sorts of sins its occupants were capable of, but no amount of excess in pleasure and pain would stop him. All he had to do was park the vehicle and make his way back to the safe house with no repercussions.

Then he found Verosika Mayday's home. It was a mansion on top of a hill, overlooking the rest of the neighborhood. If Pavel wanted to avoid attention, it was going to be hard to be a strange outside arriving at the noticeable building and its luxurious owner. He nonetheless drove through the street just to reach the driveway, ignoring the local rich kids on their phones. What was it with those damn phones?

His foot pressed against the brakes and slowed down to park. He looked ahead to find a bunch of cars in front of the garage and he was relieved. Surely, they wouldn't notice another car in place. Then he turned off the car's engine and quickly slipped out of the car casually. Now he just needed to leave without causing a ruckus.

Pavel's hands slipped into his pockets as he strolled onto the sidewalk. It was done and now he just needed to return back home. Suddenly, a shadow peered over him from behind and a hand grabbed him from the collar. "What the-?!"

"So, you're the guy who stole Verosika's car?" The stranger remarked, "I smelled you a mile away."

"Chyort. Here I thought things would go smoothly. Can't you just let me go, I brought the car back."

He looked over his shoulder to see a tall and surprisingly well-cut Hellhound look down on him. The Hellborn started to scratch his chin. "Was this your way of apologizing? Seemed like a strange way of doing it."

"I know, I know." The Saved admitted to his captor, "I was running from some Neo-Nazis who wanted my head. Didn't want to steal a celebrity's car other than for my survival. Besides, my colleagues ordered me to hand it back… one way or another."

"Ha! That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

He let out a slight chuckle despite being held like a cat's neck being gripped. "Tell me about it. So will you let me go?"

"Unfortunately, no," He replied, "I'm Verosika's security detail. It's my job to deal with stuff like this. Got to bring you to the pool and let her decide."

"I understand. Name's Pavel, good to meet someone decent around these parts."

While they turned around and walked towards the mansion, his hand was shaken. "Pals call me Vortex. The only time I encounter sinners like yourself is when they're trying to tap my employer's ass on stage. What kind of work do you have going around stealing other people's cars?"

"Headhunting," Despite being genuinely honest with the guy, telling him the clandestine operations of Heaven would have him kicked out of the department, for good. Hopefully, questions like that wouldn't crop up, "My guys and I are paid to go find people across Hell and send them to processing. Beyond that, I tell you anymore."

"You guys traffic sinners? Sheesh and here I thought you'd be a gentleman."

They walked to the side of the house and made their way toward the backyard. "It's nothing bad. I'm just obliged to tell non-employees what happens when they get to upper management."

When they reached the backyard, a pool was in its center filled with handsome and beautiful succubus demons spending their day. Four of them were playing volleyball in the back, three were swimming in the water, and one was laid out on a pool float - her skin being exposed to the sun as sunglasses rested atop her face. Pavel immediately recognized the last one, the succubus who was angry at him.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Vortex cleared his throat as he approached the edge of the pool. "Verosika, look who I found."

The woman turned her head towards the Hellhound and raised her sunglasses above her eyes. "Oh shit. Where did you find him?"

"Just on the driveway. He was trying to return your car and I caught him before he left. Said he was just escaping some guys before being told to return it."

"And you apparently took his word for it," She answered with great skepticism, "Really?"

He made a slight gesture towards the front of the mansion. "Well, your car is back."

"Okay, I'll deal with him after I get my tan. Kiki? Please give our thief a bit of company."

One of the succubus girls in the pool replied in delight. "No problem, girl. Vortex, please blindfold him. Can't let his eyes get spoiled."

Pavel frantically looked at Vortex out of worry."What are they going to do?"

"Sorry man," He answered, "It's my job."

A succubus in a two-piece swimsuit had climbed out of the pool and led the way for the Hellhound carrying the disguised Saved. Being a communist was hard in the afterlife but the Russian quietly prayed to himself for a bit of mercy as the trio left the others behind and began to enter the mansion.

The inspections with the weapons had gone well and Blitzo was impressed with his knowledge of firearms. To Artyom's surprise, they also had a weapons catalog to assist in the maintenance or if he wanted to find out what weapon needed which part. Yet, he shouldn't celebrate his acceptance into the company. He was a hair away from rejecting and the real work of revenge hadn't even started.

He took an opportunity to excuse himself from his work and use one of the restrooms to make a call. When he entered the room, the saved calmly looked underneath each of the stalls to make sure that there was no one present. Once he was isolated, the Russian entered one of the stalls and pulled out his phone.

A few numbers were set out and he called his superior. Minutes passed in silence before someone answered. Uhlman's voice was on the other side. "Report."

"Mission completed. Target has accepted Matryoshka into the company," Artyom answered but now he wondered about the future, "What now?"

"A few of our comrades have set up some things you might need. There's a residence we've bought in case your colleagues ask where you live. You'll stay there and use the car we also bought. Can't have you step out of a strange white van when you need to go to work."

It was a start to his new life in Hell. Now he needed to wait for the next phase. "Any signs of our targets?"

"Not yet," Came a reply, "The department's best bet is that we find the blessed weapons. If I.M.P. goes out to buy from a dealer, join them and send any information about any suspicious dealers. Understood?"

"Yes."

A slight laugh escaped from his superior. "I know this might be a bit hard for you but pretend that you have a social life outside of your workspace. It will feel natural. Good luck, comrade."

When the call ended, Artyom rose from his seat and left the stall with his phone in hand. "For the colonel."

A sinner laid down on her couch eating ice cream while watching television. It was one of her fine habits to spend the free nights of work on her lonesome with the cold treat. She was surprised that even in this hellscape, frozen food was a thing amongst the sinner and Hellborn populations. Not that she complained about it; in fact, Mayberry was glad for it since sinners can't get fat. After all, a soul died the way it was, not giving anyone a chance to change themselves.

Her mind shifted to a dark thought to herself about her actions before her suicide. Was it worth it? Sure, Gerald cheated on her but now her soul was damned to eternity. The young woman's mind thought about the mortal world and the legacy she left behind. She was seen as a crazy psycho who finally snapped while that bitch and her family were treated like royalty. When I.M.P. told her about Gerald's side chick and their murderous family, why was she being punished? Wouldn't God see that as a good thing?

Whatever was being displayed on the channel had taken a break before the advertisements began. Normally, she would switch the channel but she resonated with the blonde girl talking on the show. The teacher heard of this through her limited contacts with the genuinely good teachers about the princess of Hell running a hotel that supposedly practices redemption. She watched the commercial play out as the Hell born was charismatic enough to try and entice her soul to find a place in Heaven.

It was a tempting thought to go there but reality often squashed any hopes. This was no different as the television audience and crews openly mocked the idea, disheartening the girl in the process. Mayberry felt pity for her. It wasn't her fault that the rest of Hell won't see her eye-to-eye. It would have been nice to validate the girl's sentiments but she made her decision in life and the rest of eternity would be placed in Hell.

Then her attention was placed elsewhere when the ceiling began to groan. As the woman finished eating her ice cream, a pipe fell from above and landed on the carpet in front of her. Water started to pour into the room, drenching the floor as she got up from her seat and watched the television get short-circuited. Soon after, a fire started spoiling the atmosphere.

The owner of the motel was a cheapskate and the fact he was unwilling to fix this building infuriated her. She wasn't going to deal with this bullshit anymore. Perhaps it was time to move out and start again but where would she go? Her eyes stole a glance at the burning television screen. Maybe this was a premonition of sorts?

It was a great day to be gay - both figuratively and literally. The porn star had been in the mood to go shopping and was up to his usual hijinks. Ever since Sir Pentious went out of his way to stake a claim over Cherrybomb's turf, he needed some ammo for his guns. His royal host and her girlfriend would have been disappointed in him, but he couldn't care less so long as his friend got the backup she needed. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.

He nonetheless felt a bit of shame knowing that Charlie and Vaggie became the laughing stock of Hell on live television. Angel Dust needed to redeem himself for that particular fuck up on his part. As much as he loved to mock the duo with terrible jokes, they deserve that at the very least. Were it not for them, today he would have continued to be a piece of ass for that damned Valentino.

The homosexual gangster made his way to the bad part of town and strolled through the sidewalk. Then he passed by two muscular sharks in wifebeater clothes. "What are you doing around our turf? You think you could come back here and face us after what happened to the boss? Valentino ain't getting our neighborhood you hear!"

"I'm not here because of Valentino you schmucks," Angel Dust replied as he slipped his hands into his pockets, "Now scram before I carve you like your boy."

"Ain't happening, faggot."

They approached him with large grins on their faces. One pulled out a switchblade while the other reached into his holster for his pistol. It was their first mistake as all four of his arms brandished their guns in quick succession - two hands on a shotgun and two duel-wielding pistols. He immediately fired upon the Shark with the revolver, not giving him a chance to fire as the other shark rushed forward with his knife. Unfortunately, his dexterity overcame his foe's speed, and with a single pull of a trigger, a blast of pellets churned his fellow sinner into mushed meat. With a single pump, a shell popped out before the sexual deviant hid his weapons back on his person. "Oh no, I couldn't control myself. Too bad that you got a taste of my spunk."

His sarcastic demeanor upon the victims made his damned soul cherish the moment. It was too good to pass up a remark as he walked past their corpses towards his destination. He had all the time in the world to continue his stroll but the location was not far from his engagement with the local gangsters… or what was left of them.

Angel Dust had entered the perimeter of an airfield but the workers and their managers paid no attention to him as they were used to everyone using their workspace for smuggling operations. It was a known hotspot for sinners with criminal backgrounds to spend their hard-earned cash on all sorts of items. Nothing was sacred among these parts and that included weapons - ranging from blades and bludgeons to shotguns and submachine guns. Yet, these were common amongst the vendors since it takes time to properly make a sinner dead. The real weapons with value were the blessed weapons.

When he entered a hanger, instead of an airplane inside, it was filled to the brim crates. The volume was so much that they were stacked upon each other, enough to make an endless maze for an unfortunate soul to get lost in. However, the former gangster knew his way around after visiting his seller for a long time. It did not take long to find the fat bastard sitting behind a counter and protected by a bulletproof glass to prevent thievery. About anyone could steal these crates but they required special keys inside the airfield master's office.

An obese man sat behind the window while reading a book in one hand and holding a cigar in another. Once the sinner presented himself, the example of greed and gluttony dropped everything and gleefully smiled. "Ah, another of my favorite customers. What is it that interests you?"

"I'm in need of some automatic firepower," Angel began as he pulled out a wad of cash on the counter and slowly slipped through a small hole through the bulletproof glass, "After encountering Sir Pentious, he's going to want a bit of payback for me helping a friend of mine."

"Cherrybomb, right? Well, it's fortunate that you have come here on all days. Right now, there's a discount on normal weapons as we speak."

That certainly caught his interest while he leaned against the window. "What's that all about?"

"I got a source that someone had hit a jackpot of a lot of blessed guns. That might interest you," He added, "Perhaps I might interest you with a buy?"

"As much as I want to send a fucker into the void, permanently, I'll just do with the normal stuff."

The vendor smoked his cigar. "As you wish."

A disguised saved was laying in bed with a female Hellborn resting her head on his supposedly robotic chest. Pavel had expected punishment from Verosika, not a fun time with one of her girls. He should have known about their sexual nature; however, the man was too busy having his time with the succubus to care. His eyes looked down to find that she didn't mind resting in his arms as if she expressed her own satisfaction with him. Still, he couldn't stay here any longer as Uhlman would question him about his long time away from the safe house.

The bedroom door slowly opened as Verosika entered with a towel wrapped around her body and covering her head. "It looks like Kiki enjoyed every bit of you. Pity I was here to spice things up."

Just the thought of the moment took over the former communist's mind about the level of sexual tention that would come with that. Yet, she seemed to notice his wet dream.

"I know you're thinking about it," She continued while her hair was slowly drying, "So why did you still my car? You embarrassed me in front of my fans."

"Some Neo-Nazis started chasing me around the neighborhood and it just so happened that your car was a convenient getaway to escape getting strung up. I am sorry about that."

The succubus shrugged her shoulders, revealing a tattooed name crossed out. "No biggie. It's not as bad as what my ex-boyfriend did to my credit card."

"I am an officer and a gentleman," Pavel remarked on his past, "It's sort of expected of me to have a bit finesse."

The girl on his chest began to awaken. "The conversation is nice and all but can I get my beauty sleep here. I kinda need it."

Verosika walked up beside their bed, towering over her companion, "Remember, you're in my mansion."

"I know but I haven't had enough sleep ever since you rode the ox."

"Was it ever that terrible?" She remarked, "I thought it was fun."

Vortex walked into the room as the sounds of a cellphone rang. "Hey, Verosika, the sinner's phone is ringing. Can he take the call?"

"Sure. He had the decency to return my car, I'll let him. Get changed, sinner."

Pavel did not need to be told twice as he got changed and accompanied the Hellhound out of the bedroom before Verosika closed it on their way out. The duo descended from the staircase as the bodyguard spoke up. "You're lucky?"

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, stealing a glance from what seemed to be a newfound friend, "Did Verosika have something worse in store for me?"

"Verosika and her succubus friends were in the heat yesterday. They're trying to recover from that but had they not been in that mood, they could have killed you."

Those words managed to release a chuckle from his lips. "Who did the call come from?"

"A guy named Uhlman," Vortex answered as he passed the phone to the Russian, "Didn't answer it and I thought it was a bit personal to look into your contacts. Well, my job here is done. I'll see you on the way off the premises."

"Thanks, chuvak. I'll my comrades a good word about you."

The meeting within the council chambers was adjourned as the inner circle of Heaven's diligent servants walked out with their respective entourages. Archangel Michael was one of these, who was accompanied by a retinue of five holy knights. As he made his way towards the exit, his first thought to himself was a nice cold beer and a cigarette to cool off.

News of the convoy attack was faster than the operations security he tried to put in place. Some of his brothers and sisters even went out of their way to question his leadership after such a crisis. He needed to show results but despite the threat of being removed from one of the highest echelons of Heaven's military, sophisticated espionage and infiltration were necessary. His faith would be placed on Death's shoulder for success.

A moment of his time had been away just as he was about to leave the building. One of his brothers accosted him. "Michael, please do not tell me that you would rely on Death as a solution. Are you mad?"

"His department is our best chance of finding the perpetrators," The Archangel replied as he stopped to turn around towards his peer. An angelic blond male stood before him in a white suit and a red tie with a platoon's worth of saved soldiers at his side - it was none other than Abbadon, "What you and the others are suggesting is absolute insanity."

"It is necessary to remind Hell who rules the afterlife. That message alone will compel them to never attack us again."

Michael approached his brother before stopping a few steps away from him. His hands rested in his pockets, to avoid clenching his fists in the open. "There is a difference between sending a message and escalating a ceasefire back into a conflict. Lucifer does not know what goes on in these halls and if he mistakes this as an act of war, there will be bloodshed between our realms."

"You forget," Abbadon replied, "We can end this affair once and for all. He doesn't have the souls to wage the war. You're the High Marshal, all it takes is your word and the rest of the council will agree with your efforts to deal with those responsible for the attack."

"No. That is my thought on this matter. Our treaty with our fallen brother must be upheld. The saved see us as messengers of God's word and if we break that agreement, what does that make us?"

He turned his back on him and proceeded towards the exit. Yet, his kin managed to remark on his behavior. "If you think that way, you will not be High Marshal for long."

"I appreciate your concern."

DieKleineHexeCapraiaOfTheReich: Yes. It's likely that they will encounter some old faces along the way but being part of the Department of Purgatory has a way of avoiding trouble with the denizens of Hell... most of the time. As for the latter question, I don't want to say anything about it since it is in spoiler territory.