Run.
Do not stop.
Hooves hit solid ground, rainwater from an earlier shower splashing into the air from the impact. Tires screeched in the distance, the loud revving of multiple engines adding life to the dead silence ringing out through the empty streets.
The small figure let out a squeak, pulling his hood harshly over his horns that caused the fabric to tear slightly from the force of movement. Stepping into a damp and dreary narrow passage, he shrunk into the shadows in an attempt to blend into the background. The very same moment that his glowing eyes laid upon the numerous cars screeching to a halt across the long street in front of him.
Breathe. He told himself, covering his mouth with trembling hands. You have to stay calm! Don't panic.
Massive figures stepped out, making no effort to conceal the large firearms held in their hands as multiple doors slammed in unison, making the smaller figure wince and shrink further into himself.
"Young Master!" One of the figures called out. "If you can hear my voice, you need to come out immediately!"
Silence followed the demand and he let out a muffled growl of annoyance.
"This is your father's orders!"
Despite his legs shifting in fear at the mention of his father, the small imp whimpered under his hands. He couldn't go back there-
No. He refused to go back there without a fight.
Even though imps were considered the lowest class in Hell, his father had actually made a name for himself as an underworld broker and mobster. He supplied many deals with forbidden firearms and illegal narcotics that cemented his name as one of the most feared.
It was almost farfetched; an imp mob boss ruling his own part of the criminal empire and having command over stronger demons. While the young runaway had grown up among some of the elite in Hell, he still would have rather taken his chances on the streets than comply with what was expected of him.
From his earliest memories, the family had been eager to start training him in self-defense. When they'd discovered his natural talents when using firearms, especially when it came to sniping, his father had taken complete advantage of his skills.
"YOUNG MASTER!"
He almost let out a squeak of alarm at the loud proximity of the howl.
Another voice followed suit;
"We know you're here somewhere! Our Hellhounds tracked you here. Please make this easy for everybody and come out."
No. He was scared but he refused to give in so easily and go strolling back up to his father's hired lackeys and willingly get back into the vehicle that would take him back to his prison.
Easy for everybody . The young imp growled through his hands. They just wanted to get this done as soon as possible without the threat of their bosses' wrath brought down upon them.
For letting him slip past the locked doors and gates again. He'd honestly lost count of his multiple attempts in the past, but this was as far as he'd gotten. Ever.
Being around Hell's Overlords were bad enough, let alone the way his father treated his own loyal followers if they ever made a mistake-
"Your father is worried about you!"
He shook his head roughly. Liar.
The young imp almost barked out a bitter laugh at that one. Of all the things to try and coax him into giving up his hiding spot, that was their best idea? To pretend as if his father cared about his well being on the streets?
Why did they all lie to him? Did they honestly think he was that gullible? That stupid ?
He shook his head violently, moss-covered walls soaking through his stolen cloak and spreading up his spine. With a shiver, he took another step back.
This time he had to get away.
He refused to be a part of that "family" and do what his father and those associates of his demanded of him-
"Oi, you there!"
The imp held back a whimper of alarm at the sudden noise; directed right at him.
No!
This time, he did yelp at the image of a massive Hellhound suddenly standing into view and blocking his only exit. With a dangerous growl frustration rumbling in the back of his throat, the larger creature strode forward and moved to snatch the imp's arm. The imp made a break for it; using his smaller size to roll under the Hellhound's legs and scamper back the way he had come.
More voices began shouting, weapons clicked though the young imp knew that they couldn't use deadly force on him. They'd literally leave his father's estate in a body bag.
Unless-
A sudden pain shot through his left leg, causing him to cry out from both the shock and impact as he hit the pavement with an unceremonious thump. Panicking at the thought of a bullet stuck inside one of limbs he needed to use to outrun the mobsters, the imp felt relief flood at the small lump grazing his skin.
Rubber bullet.
Non-lethal force. Used for stopping a target in their tracks.
Wincing, the imp pulling his leg closer and inspecting the heavy mark that was already turning a sickly shade of dark crimson. He'd have a nasty bruise to wear for about a week or so but thank Satan that it was nothing serious-
He let out a shrill yelp of alarm when a large hand suddenly grasped his arm tightly, pulling him to his feet and leading him back into the cracked glow of the streetlights above them. The imp stumbled, limping slightly as he attempted to keep himself steady while the Hellhound yanked him along.
"I knew I could smell something near that filthy alley," the Hellhound muttered, his free hand pulling at the collar of his suit. The young imp's hood was ripped away, revealing fuzzy white hair and a terrified expression on his face, beginning to pathetically plead to be let go.
Please don't make me go back there.
Another lackey casually sauntered over. Coming to a stop beside them and quickly punching a number into his own cell phone with a grunt. After three rings, the receiver of the call picked up and everybody tensed at the sound of the voice on the line.
Even the young imp currently in the Hellhound's grasp.
"It's me, Boss. Yeah - Yeah, no. It's all fine now. We found Moxxie."
His eyes narrowed at the little imp who now had tears streaming down his freckled face.
"Again."
.-.-.-.
.-.-.-.
PRESENT DAY
"Announcing Prince Stolas and his daughter Princess Octavia of the Goetia Family."
An impish conductor tapped his wand several times, turning the page of his large musical sheet as his orchestra moved on to the next song; violin strings intertwined together in a soft melody while the flutists backed them up.
Prince Stolas strode forward, his velvet cape glittering in the crystal light of the glass chandelier. His daughter Octavia followed behind him, grunting and muttering darkly at the fancy dress she was currently forced to wear.
Across the ballroom stood the members of I.M.P, with the resident leader Blitzo causing a scene with bellowing laughter while knocking back shots of sparkling alcohol like they were tap water. His adopted-Hellhound daughter did her very best to distance herself from the rest of the staff, pulling her stuffy shirt collar down while the obnoxiously large bow-shaped ribbon continued to prod her snout.
She flicked it in annoyance, muttering a soft string of expletives at Moxxie when he reprimanded her for messing up her tailored outfit. His wife Millie laughed lightheartedly, sipping at a glass of wine while straightening her black-lace cocktail dress every couple of minutes.
"HA! Look at that stupid fuckin' outfit!" Blitzo jeered, slamming his empty shot glass down against their table. Whether that was aimed at the Goetia royals or one of the wealthy nobles amongst the guest list, the other members of I.M.P didn't know, but they instantly began trying to silence their loudmouthed leader.
Blitzo's voice was unbearably loud and the rest of I.M.P slouched further in their seats upon noticing the dark glares now being sent their way. In response to the other guests and their sour expressions, Blitzo flipped the bird with both hands; only stopping when Loona yanked his hands back down and Moxxie hissed an indignant;
"SIR!"
"WHAT?" Came their bosses' snappy response.
Despite everything that had gone down in the Lust Ring a few weeks ago and the fact that Stolas and him were currently on rocky grounds, Blitzo had still agreed to attend the Winter solstice celebration that the owl Goetia had been ordered to host by his absent father.
They were technically there as guests but provided back-up if any stupid fuck decided to cause trouble at a gathering hosted by the royal family. Besides, Blitzo may have been many things, but dammit he kept his word when agreeing to attend something, be it a job or anything else.
Entering the party had been… Uncomfortable to say the least. After all, Blitzo and his staff were just a mere handful of imps and a singular hellhound; the bottom of the hierarchy in Hell.
Oddly enough, Millie and Moxxie had almost been in their element that had raised a questionable brow from their boss as they ushered both himself and Loona over towards an idle spot towards the back of the ballroom.
Stolas hadn't even tried to wander over to their spot and had instead moved on to greeting the other guests before slinking off into the background. His daughter Octavia had also wandered away, typing away on her phone and muttering acknowledgements to random party guests.
The older owl had made a few glances in their general direction before letting out a small sigh at the lack of engagement. He knocked back a large glass of wine before setting it down on a servant's tray before exiting the party
Watching Stolas leave, Blitzo simply rolled his eyes and moved onto his next drink.
Make that another.
And another-
Fuzzy noises like the static of television, a slow sharp murmur in the background like tinnitus as so many voices echoed around him. The world was spinning-
Until Moxxie's steady hands held his swaying boss in place, stopping the idiot from slamming forward and potentially concussing himself on the table.
"Er, Blitz?" Came a Southern drawl from his female imp employee. Millie cocked her head to the side, giving her boss a look of passive concern. "You…Doing okay there?"
"Kinda' zoned out," Loona added, not looking up from her own cell phone. "Like. For a while."
Blitzo glanced down at the numerous empty glasses scattered around his spot on the table and grimaced. Whoops.
"Hey. Old imps."
Three pairs of glowing eyes looked up at the newest edition to their table. Princess Octavia now was standing over them, her arms stiffly folded over the uncomfortable gown that she'd been forced to wear for the occasion.
"Have any of you seen my Dad?"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the royal home, Stolas strolled along the cold marble tiles of the palace floor. Talons scraping against polished alabaster patterns carved into the thick mineral.
Owl in a cage. He gripped the silk necktie tightly, pulling it loose as it felt almost suffocating. Overall, he felt exhausted. Everything had gone so wrong in such a short amount of time…When it came to Blitzo, he didn't even know what to do or even say-
You show your age…
Four eyes closed in unison, a deep sigh escaping his heavy throat. His mind drifted toward the grimoire safely tucked away in the custody of the imp that meant so much to him-
Asmodean crystals were a known replacement. Perhaps it would be best for everybody if Stolas simply took back his book and sent I.M.P their own method of transportation… Even though Blitzo and his little friends had shown up, Stolas could almost cut through the thick tension with a knife.
It was an unpleasant feeling. One, however, that he was used to experiencing.
He shuddered on the spot, a lump growing in his throat as he settled on one of the stone steps that lead to the palace gardens. The deep red sky covered over him like a crimson cloak, the warmth of Hell's climate doing nothing for the shiver running up his spine.
Prince all alone, upon your throne…
CLICK.
Stolas started at the sudden sound, his head whirling one hundred and eighty degrees at the familiar figure standing above him. An imp-like shape, long, curled horns sticking out of a large hat and a glowing weapon pointing directly at his head. The tail of the intruder rattled loudly, the spikes twisting as the appendage twirled back and forth, the same way a predator would stalk its prey.
"Howdy." Was the last thing that Stolas heard before a heavy strike immediately sent him into the cold claws of darkness.
His eyes began to close, a loud rattle echoing in the pits of his mind.
Your power is so frail…