"Criiiiiiim. It's been far too long."

An imp wearing a tailored suit and fedora strolled into the large, luxuriously cushioned room. Red smoke wisps floating in amongst each other like a misty waltz as they slowly faded into pure nothingness.

The Overlord Valentino sat wide-legged, smoking his cigar and adjusting his fluffy coat as the smaller demon made his entrance, flanked by his own personal bodyguards. One of Valentino's own imp servants hurried forward with his eyes on the ground, sliding a chair forward so that the small mob boss could take a seat.

Once seated, one of the Hellhound henchmen lifted a large rectangle-shaped case and slid it towards the much larger demon. Sharp, knife-like teeth spread into a wide grin at the glowing symbols etched across the case, his own eyes lighting up in sadistic glee.

"I can always rely on my favourite little imp~" He cooed, taking a long drag on his cigar before snapping his fingers. Another imp under Valentino's employment rushed over, again with his eyes to the floor as he opened up a briefcase full to the max of Souls.

Crim sniffed, nodding vehemently as his own men took the briefcase full of money. Valentino leaned forward with a playful smirk tugging across his cheeks. "Aren't you going to count it?"

"I have more important things to do than checking whether you're being cheap on me," Crim responded with a snort, hand tucked under his chin.

"Important?" Valentino's eyes narrowed, despite the smirk still plastered across his face. "Oh! Your dear little wife. I believe she's coming up to her due date, right?"

Crim's eyes darkened.

Valentino stubbed out his cigar, mashing it against the table. "Please pass on my regards. I heard about her sickness."

While his Hellhounds growled in warning, Crim got to his feet with a snarl. "My wife is nothing to do-"

Valentino waved off the potential threat about to spew from the gangster's mouth. "But that's besides the point, dear friend. It's not just money I'm paying you with-"

A knock rang out into the room, causing Valentino's signature smug expression to stretch a fraction. "Enter."

Stepping inside, was a much younger impling with a long, spiked tail that rattled as it swished nervously on the spot. Eyes were kept low, not daring to meet Valentino's own out of sheer fear of angering the Overlord. Just as all his employees had been taught.

"A kid?" Crim blinked. Valentino lit up another cigarette with a hum.

"Indeed. This is one of mine," the Overlord exhaled scarlet smoke. "His duties are mostly centered in my manor with the rest of my imps. But this one has a knack for hitting a target head on, something we only recently discovered after some fool tried to break and enter into my territory."

Crim raised a brow.

Valentino noticed the subtle interest. "Instant death," he continued, moving a long finger across his throat. "But besides combat, he has little to offer aside from mediocre housekeeping."

"And why are you telling me this?" The mob boss questioned.

"Because he's a gift, of course!" Valentino's face was a picture of faked generosity, throwing his arms into the air with an energetic flair. The young imp shuffled around uncomfortably while Crim glanced over at his bodyguards.

"You're gifting me an imp?" Crim spoke slowly. Did… Did the Overlord not realise that he himself was of the same species?

You are either extremely ignorant or just an asshole.

Screw it. You're both.

"I figured you'd be the best mentor to teach him to advance those skills." Which was just a bullshit way of saying: "I don't want him anymore, so he's your problem now."

Crim rubbed his temple with one hand, claws pressed against his skin as he let out a low groan. He was due to be a father within the next month. But now… This ? He regarded the child dressed in tatters and sighed deeply.

"How are you with handling assault weapons?"

The boy gulped, "N-Never used one, sir." His tail rattled anxiously.

Crim tilted his head to the side, "But you're willing to learn… Uh…"

He frowned at Valentino who simply chuckled. "He doesn't have a name. So call him whatever the hell you want."

Rolling his eyes, Crim shook his head. So be it.

He had the perfect name for a lad who could land a hit with a speciality in using specific firearms…

.

.

.

"STRIKER!"

Leather hit dirt, sliding into the new collection of tunnels surrounding the giant mineshaft. Blitzo kept his golden guns held tightly, ordering Loona to remain behind him as they honed in on Stolas' bound form and Millie who was trying to pry open the chains wrapped around him.

Mils. Thirsty owl.

So where was-

Blitzo's grip slackened.

Striker was holding Moxxie by his head, who had now gone limp in the snake's grip, arms dangling like he was a mere plaything that the larger imp had grown bored of. Blitzo's rage boiled in the pit of his stomach; a ticking time bomb ready to be primed to explode.

"What the fuck ," Blitzo hissed, through sharp, bared teeth. "Do you think you're doing?!"

Millie was barely conscious, Stolas was weakened by the holy chains and Moxxie looked dead -

Blitzo's finger hovered over the trigger. "Put him down. Now."

"I can't do that, partner," Striker's claws dug harder into his employee's scalp, earning a muffled whimper from the imp in question. Blitzo's hands trembled, stomach knotting at a thin line of black blood beginning to trail from Moxxie's hair and down his face.

A loud clink filled the air, Loona growled and Striker spun on his heel, his temper flaring as hot as the sun in the Ring of Wrath. Millie was bleary eyed and aiming one particular finger at Striker as Stolas rose from the spot where he had previously been restrained. Four eyes narrowed down at his would-be killer, reading to smite the arrogant fool like he so deserved-

"NO!"

All eyes were on Blitzo.

"Stolas, don't -"

Striker's sharp teeth spread wide. He fucking knew it.

Oh Blitzy , his grin never left his face. I never would've thought that you were this weak.

He grabbed the device connected to his explosives and hit the switch, Blitzo following the snake's vicious smirk all the way to where Stolas and Millie were currently standing.

The pile of boulders-

Blitzo's heart leapt in his chest. Holy shit-

"Stolas, Millie!" He screamed, extending his claws towards the two as the explosives went off, sending the pair violently to the hard ground with a twisted scream from Millie. Moxxie's eyes shot open at the sound of distress from his wife, beginning to pull against the monster who still had him in his clutches.

"No!" Moxxie squirmed, kicking out his legs. "Let the fuck go-" Eyes grew wide. "She needs my help!"

Like a merciful godsend, Stolas rose from the ground, having protected both himself and the female imp in his arms from the impact. The owl Goetia's face a picture of sheer fury.

Striker's claws dug in harder, "What can you do, exactly?" He thrust Moxxie towards Blitzo and Loona before shoving him in the direction of Stolas, who was still holding Millie's vulnerable form in his arms. "C'mon, little man. Tell me."

Tears spiked in Moxxie's eyes, of both frustration and hurt. "What is your deal with me anyway?" He snarled out with a restrained sob. What the hell had he even done to this asshole to make the snake hate him so much?

Striker chuckled lowly, a quiet rumble in the back of his throat. "I'd say it was nothin' personal but I'm afraid I'd be lying."

Moxxie's brows crossed. What was that supposed to mean?

"I knew you'd be at Wrath back during the Harvest Moon Festival."

Okay. What the actual fuck-

Striker released his hold on Moxxie's horn, the smaller creature dropping to the ground with a small whimper, a shiver of pain running up his back as his lower half connected with solid ground.

"Don't think I can't see you tryin' to get closer, Bossman!" Striker suddenly roared, aiming his revolver in the range of Blitzo's seething face. "Move again and I will plant a bullet in your fuckin' kneecap. Don't test me."

With Striker distracted, Moxxie shuffled away on all fours. He only got a little ahead before Striker's tail seized one of his ankles with a rough yank, sending his face against the floor.

"So you've been stalking us?" Blitzo hissed, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground while staring Striker's firearm head-on with no fear showing in his face. Striker shrugged his shoulders;

"I've been keeping tabs on your sad little company for quite some time. Why wouldn't I? You're the plaything of a member of the royal family while this mistake ," he spat, glancing down at Moxxie, "has deep roots with those filthy fucking Overlords."

Millie whimpered, though her eyes didn't open. Stolas' avian expression grew wider, turning toward Blitzo who looked equally stunned. Loona's hands gripped her adoptive-father's shoulders, with him noticing at the last second that he had lost his footing and had been at risk of falling backward.

Moxxie's mouth was as dry as the Wrath desert. Eyes zoned out while his heart violently thudded against his small chest, icy cold claws of anxiety clasping around him and threatening to take control.

"Named for his supposed strength when he doesn't have any to speak of," Striker continued, dragging Moxxie across the dirt as the tiny imp made zero resistance. "Like I said," his eyes grew thin and dangerous, his tone dripping with utter hatred. "Fuckin' pathetic."