A/N: Hey guys! SteinMon here with another literary experiment. I have way too many idea roaming around in my head, so I thought I'd ease the burden with some Samples.
This last year's been an ass, so between working on my other stories, I pumped out this little beauty. I took some fan advise and started watching even more comedies (even though their recommendations were stuff I already watched regularly) to make up for the shit year. It... sorta worked. Still super friggin' depressed. BUT! Life is... decent. Now I'm just working on making it better.
I read a couple Helluva Boss stories for the kicks, found some I liked, but still wanted something my own in the category (go figure SteinMon). This is also my attempt at something a little more (a lot more) mature, since the essence of Helluva Boss requires it, and I'm not one to tamper with as close to perfection as perfection comes. However, I will be adding a main OC and a number of content I feel would fit into what I know of Vivziepop's version of Hell, because why not?! It's Hell! And there's so many opportunities to explore it!
That being read, I welcome your Reviews. If you have criticisms, I welcome those too. Please keep them constructive. I want to grow as an author, and I can't do that if people aren't willing to critique, or only want to tear me down. I'm not here to please everybody, but I am here to learn. There is a method to my madness, even if I don't always fully understand it. 90% of what I write, I don't write baselessly. There is a reason some things are changed, and others are the same.
WARNING: This is rated M for a reason. In keeping with the spirit of Helluva Boss, there will be copious amounts of Murder, Brutal Violence, Senseless Violence, Child Violence, Gender-Equal Violence, Accidental Violence, Drugs, Hard Drugs, Soft Drugs, Prescription Drugs, All-Natural Drugs, "All Natural" Drugs, Blood, Gore, Visceral, the occasional slow-crunch of Bones, Language, Offensive Language, non-Politically Correct Language, possibly butchered attempts at Foreign Language, Horny Demons, Hornier Humans, even Hornier Furries, and any number of things the average law-abiding citizen might consider "distasteful", but that I find hilarious because laughter is easier than being angry all the time.
This story is not for people who are easily offended, are offended on other people's behalf when they really don't give a shit, squeamish around violence, think sex is naughty, or think jokes are like dicks and take them way too hard. You know the drill.
If you don't like it, DON'T READ IT!
This is for Adults, or for any of you below the age of 18 who are so desensitized to this stuff because your parents never cared about your mental sanctity (Wow! Already getting in the spirit of things and insulting people! Nice!). All the same, Reader Discretion is Advised. (God I love this pre-story warning!)
But! Because this is my first "real" attempt at such mature content, don't expect me to dive head-first into 'X-rated' stuff. Or even dabble. No dabbling. That's not the vibe I got from Helluva Boss. That, and my mother would burn me at the stake if I did. Love you Mom!
Disclaimer: I don't own Helluva Boss or its subsidiaries. Those rights belong exclusively to Vivziepop, and anyone else who had a hand in it's creation. I just get to enjoy it for all it's worth.
Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*
Prologue: Who Rigged this Flashback Sequence?
"Gooood Mor-ning Hell! Bitches be damned! Which y'all know, y'all are. Weather's looking down-right dreary here in the Pride Ring, black clouds and red sky as far as your eyes, sensitive parts, and unmentionable mentionables can tell. Clouds should clear up sometime around merciless hour, leaving a dull red clear for miles to come.
"Warning to all you native-born demons intent on inter-Ring travel, it's gonna be raining bowels while a gang war's broken out between native Lust Ring's Pussy Pounder's and Greed Ring's Gatling Gold's Gangs in the Imperial Sector of the Greed Ring, leading to enough collateral damage that cleanup crews from Gluttony have been chuggin' overtime and all the meat slurries they can make. Basically, it's been an all you can eat buffet down there for any of you cannibalistic listeners out there. Sinners! Don't forget to order your meat fresh while they're still in stock! Gotta bring home that long bacon somehow.
"In other news, cult followers in the Envy Ring are still making sweet unholy sacrifices in the hopes rousing their dark–"
SMACK!
The local news immediately shut off as the disfigured proportions of an eldritch-formed alarm clock were abused.
YAWN!
Two arms stretched out from under their covers, joints popping and cracking. "Gleugh! Five more minutes!"
Pound-Pound-Pound-Pound!
"Hey Silver?! You in there?! You owe me rent you cock-sucking slacker!"
Like his nicked-named sake, a tuft of silver hair sprouted just barely from underneath the covers before looking out his near-shattered windows at the dusk red of a new day. "Oh Satan!" The sheets flew into the air as the figure bolted, snatching his jeans from the ratted and cockroach infested flooring in a mad-dash just as the door was kicked open.
An elderly, heavy imp, covered in wrinkles, warts and pustules from horns to hooves, most of which were exposed and gruesome in her far too revealing sundress, kicked in the door, baring a double-barrel shotgun leveled directly at the bed.
BANG!
The dirty, already half-dead mattress exploded, sending a haze of stained feathers raining down around the shitty apartment. Cracked plaster, exposed frame, leaky roof and all was soon snowing like a Sinner had started hitting the blow… and forgot to say 'When'.
The pale flash used the temporary smoke screen, cartwheeling as he yanked his pants over his nude bobbles n' bits, complete with appropriate scenic censory from every viable angle courtesy of feather fall.
"Sonuva bitch! Come 'ere!" the landlady snapped, already snapping the barrel back into place with fresh buckshot. "Where's my money?!"
BANG!
He was reaching for his steel-toed boots when he snapped his hands back, narrowly avoiding losing a finger or two. Instead he flipped back, cracking the plaster further as he braced along the wall and launched off.
"Hold still, ya dirty varmint!"
BANG!
The next shot blew a hole in the wall, revealing the next-door neighbor balls deep in a succubus. She shrieked in surprise, using said demon as a meat shield while the pellets still flew, nailing the hellish bastard in the back with shriek of his own, and a twitch and thrust that might have suggested that he finished early. Said distraction gave silver long enough to snatch his boots, quickly tucking the laces in with his toes as he shoved them on.
BANG!
A support in the ceiling took the hit as he soared between the narrow room, the floor above crackling and groaning as the wood started to splinter. His eyes immediately homed in on his final article and his weapon, hanging up behind the door.
"Pardon," he hastily muttered as he swung through the literal hole in the wall. Just as he'd hoped, the landlady began to follow, the bawling crescendoing as she stepped on the neighbor's wounds, smashing him and the demoness further into the bed, springs popping up over the matress frame.
"Now I gotcha!" Her prunish face and missing teeth were bespoke with glee as she aimed, right up until she saw the creaking door opened to the hallway. "Shit! Satan damnit! Fucking–!"
A loud creak in the original room drew landlady's, succubus's, and neighbor's attention alike, just in time to see another flash of white bolt across the room and crash through the window.
Silver dropped several stories before landing with a grunt, quickly and smoothly sliding on his white trench coat over his pale torso and just as quickly crossing the strap to his katana over his shoulder.
"Oh?!" He quickly reached to his neck desperately, sighing in relief when he felt the pendant still hanging from its chain. His ears perked when he heard swearing echoing from above. "Ah, this is Hell hospitality. No?" He flashed his best, 100-watt smile.
"Yeah," a voice next to him exaggerated out, ending with a final, "No."
He looked around to see plenty of imps on the street, doing whatever it was imps did in their daily lives. It only took a moment to quickly realize that his appearance stood out and the commotion was causing a scene.
And drawing attention to himself.
"Get back here with my money you fucking cum-wad!"
He looked back up to see the landlady aiming at him from the busted window.
Click.
She looked at her weapon in surprise, before aiming again and pulling the trigger.
Click.
A deep cough drew her attention back down to silver as he brandished two unused shotgun shells at her, laughing as she literally blew smoke out her ears. With a continued chuckle, he tossed up the shells before snagging them out of the air, walking along his way.
The landlady popped open the barrel of her gun, to find the bullets were truly swiped. Angrily she tossed the weapon down, unaware that it bounced off the floor and smacked the already weakened ceiling support.
A deep, wooden groan caused her to look up, pupils shrieking in realization as the floor above collapsed on her, dropping a bathtub – and some blank-blinking denizen occupying it – right on top of her with a Spalt! Sending a giant puddle of her, and whatever discolored visceral had occupied her sores, all over the floor.
Followed by the pipes that had broken with the bathtub, spewing water all over the whole scene, washing away the blood and sending the roaches scurrying in a hurry.
In the room next door, succubus and tenant were staring at the carnage, and the unincluded bather who continued to stare at the wall in frozen fright.
"You owe me double for this," the succubus stated matter-of-factly, even as her current "ride" deadpanned at such a shitty start to such a shitty morning. He hadn't even got to enjoy busting a nut in this whore. To make matters worse, the floor was starting to flood, and water was trickling up to the electrical outlets.
Silver winced at the crashing sound, peeking back at his apartment. From his vantage, it was impossible to tell what exactly had happened, but he shrugged it off.
"Well it couldn't get any worse," he mused, carelessly putting his hands behind his head with a smile.
Fizz.
BOOOOOM!
The whole apartment building almost blew itself clear to the living world in a mushroom cloud of smoke and fire, and the smirk wiped from his face in clear shock. Every imp that had been watching suddenly turned to look at him.
"Heheh," he chuckled nervously, scratching his cheek. "Oops." Oh well! Looked like he didn't owe anymore rent. Silver lining. But that left him without a roof over his head and he still didn't have any money. He sighed dejectedly, fishing his hellphone out of his coat pocket as he walked down the street, hoping to avoid any further attention than was already afforded him. He already stood out as it was in Imp City.
He looked down at the screen as it flashed on, scrolling quickly through his very – very – limited contacts to one he really – really – didn't want to call. Especially since it was labelled 'EMERGENCY ONLY'.
Desperate times, desperate measures.
His phone repeatedly trilled the sound of someone getting murderized as he waited for the other end to pick up. In the meantime, well… you know what they say about idle hands.
His eyes shimmered as his vision began to highlight certain imps. Namely, the rich, the privileged, and just assholes in general. His fingers wiggled dexterously in preparation, just as his call went through.
Click. "Hello?"
He shivered at the silk-smooth voice belonging to one Ars Goetia demon on the other end, even as he flicked his hands, subtly drawing souls from impish wallets as if by invisible strings. "Hi Stolas."
"Oh dear me, is that you, child? Oh, how are you? We haven't spoken in such a long time."
"Not a kid anymore Stolas," he deadpanned, snagging a wallet out of the air. He gave it a quick, one-handed glance over before tossing it like a frisbee back into its owner's pocket. "And believe me, I wouldn't have called if it wasn't–"
POW!
A car plowed right into him as he crossed an otherwise trafficless street, smacking him into the window with a CRACK! and rolling him over the top of the vehicle with several THUMP!s before he hit the hellish pavement in a heap.
"Watch where you're going, roadkill!" the driver called through a rolled down window, just long enough to pull over and view his hit-and-run victim. He barely made it a yard before his car lurched to a halt. The driving imp pressed harder and harder on the gas before he caught a glimpse in his rear-view mirror, two blue glowing orbs glaring directly at him through the haze of his car's exhaust.
Silver lifted the backend of the car as the tires continued to rev and spin with no traction to the asphalt, growling and hissing as he reached under for the frame and heaved, throwing the vehicle with all his might before it smashed into a nearby building with a CRASH! Normally one would expect repercussions for the level of mayhem he'd caused in his first ten waking minutes of the day, but, this was Hell. What were they gonna do?
"FUCK! YOU!" he huffed, his blue eyes glowing as he forced himself to breathe, the slits of his pupils slowly returning to round as he made himself calm down. Absently, he clutched the amulet around his neck with his free hand, willing restraint as the glow gradually lessened.
"Well that was rather rude," came a reply from his phone.
Grumbling under his breath, he brought his phone back up to his face. "Not you, your highness. Some jackass just hit me with his car."
"Oh my. Not too hurt I hope."
"I'm fine."
"I know your potential, my boy. I meant the driver."
Silver looked over at the upturned car, half-buried in a building just as it combusted and lit aflame. "Too soon to tell," he shrugged, even as his mild rampage was causing some of the denizen's to start shrieking and screaming in panic. He shrugged, straightening out his jacket before flicking the pilfered green bills from his sleeve into his hand. "Anyway, it's an emergency. I need a favor."
"Oh?" He could practically see the Goetia demon crossing his legs, prepared to get down to business. "And what exactly is this favor?"
A little over three-hundred souls. It was chump change, and not nearly enough to cover his phone bill for the month, because prices in Hell were (sometimes) literally murder. He quickly thought over his options as his eminent survival counted on it. No roof. No food. And few "normal" applicable skills.
"My apartment just got blown to the next Ring," he explained reluctantly, repocketing other demon's money.
"Ah, do you need a place to stay?"
"I need a job," he corrected, cracking his neck. That driver was lucky he got away with literally burning in Hell, and that he didn't sue him for whiplash. Or just outright collapse his entire socio-economic stability until he forced him into a deal that he would later come to regret but wouldn't be able to back out of short of selling out to some higher demon.
Ah! Good times.
As it stood, that asshole got the easy way out.
"Another one?"
Silver just sighed in resignation as he adjusted his phone. "Something more 'me friendly'."
Flashback
The groans and gurgling of blood resounded within the kitchen as he bowed super low, clutching a bloody chopping knife in hand.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"
He'd only been asked to cut up the fish in the restaurant. It wasn't his fault most of the cooks also had some… fish-like features. Or that one of them had grabbed him from behind by the shoulder. Still, he may have just killed his own boss on accident in his manic panic.
Flashback
Someone with his… unique… appearance attracted a lot of attention in Hell. He was used to sticking out like a stubbed toe. But dressed in his pink apron and pink vendors hat, he felt like a monstrosity at work. Too bad there were worse places to be in Hell. Like homelessness. Or as an experiment. At least here, he could bring joy to children, young couples, not-so-young fuck-buddies, and whatever other assortment of characters would wander in.
"There's no way that's you're really that pale!"
He grinned and ignored it. It wasn't the first time he'd had some unsavory types there, including this thug-looking gangster-wannabe, with so many piercings, he'd make a proper lightning rod. "What can I get for you today? We have the Hell-berry Cherry, Cerberus Tracks, and the…." He looked back over the strange concoction of acid blue gelatinous something or other that seemed to move on its own, before it seemed to look up at him, and silently hiss. "…And our current special, Glob' a' Blue."
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" He sighed as the demon poked and prodded at him, prompting his eye to twitch as he struggled to keep himself from freaking out. He settled for listening to the sweet sounds of little hellions bitching to their parents that they got the wrong flavor. Ah! Sweet youth.
"Are you ignoring me?!" He hadn't really expected to feel the sting across his face, or his heart pounding in his cheek. What could he say? He was a little rusty. So when the switch blade came in a for a second blow, instinct had taken over.
Everyone got an unhealthy helping of cherry syrup, free of charge. Sooo many children cried that day.
And he got fired.
Flashback
"I need you to guard the girls. Can you do that?"
He'd nodded like an obedient dog, glad that someone was giving him a chance after the last seven or eight fiascos. It wasn't every day someone with his obscure background and no proper job references, got a job working security at the House of Asmodeus.
Unfortunately, he had the misfortune of beating up and throwing out some higher up Goetia demon's – Prince Sitri, if he wasn't mistaken – son, who hadn't yet fully developed his powers, but was still using them to manhandle some of the succubi inside the House. Despite doing his job, he was kicked out almost immediately after that.
Even Succubi had standards, and if they gave a firm and resolute, or even a fearful whimpering, "No", then all bets were off. Plus no cash, no smash. House rules.
Sure, he'd about ripped off that leopard-like demon's face off, but the bastard deserved it.
Flashback
He was sitting at the bar when some shmuck from the Gluttony Ring purposefully pouring his booze all over his pants, making it look like he'd pissed himself.
"Watch where you're going, stupid!" the swirly, red-eyed, drunken demon slurred, inebriated, but still chugging back the drink like it was going out of style. And somehow, still walking straight.
"You. Just. Dumped. Your. Snn-snn. Vodka. On. Me," he gritted out. It was cool. It was fine. He was on probation, so he couldn't rip this guy a new hole. It was cool. Great. Fantastic.
Absently, he brushed the alcohol off his pants and back into the other demon's face. He only growled when the demon sputtered.
"You pickin' fights?"
He ignored him, perfectly willing to go back to his own devices. Calm. Cool. Collected. His therapist said he should remain calm, cool, and collected.
"Hey pale-ass bitch, you deaf? What? A little inbreeding jar some of those beans loose."
He clenched his drink, feeling the microcracks form in his bottle as he squeezed, imagining it was a particular demon's head.
'Nonono! Calm. Cool. And now only a sliver of collectedness,' he thought frantically.
"Bet your momma would love to get a bite of a real demon!"
He held on. He honestly did. But what else was he supposed to do with that.
Said demon cozied up a little too close. "I bet you bite just as hard. So maybe, you can make up spilling my drink to me."
So he took that bet. And he won. That demon lost his throat that day, and he swore he'd never had to slice through so much neck fat to cut out someone's throat with a broken bottle before. Gleugh! It was gross.
Then again, that might not have been a job thing, and just some random asshole he'd encountered.
Flashback End
"That last guy was asking for it," he affirmed his excuse as straight-faced as he could muster. "I don't mean to bother you, but–"
"Nonsense! I'm happy to help," cooed the owlish demon. "Now that that is out of the way, I happen to know a certain little…imp, that may be looking for someone of your… particular talents."
"Should I be concerned?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at how he had popped the 'p' in 'imp'.
"Not at all." Code for 'probably'. "I'm sure he can fill you in on any… particularities that come up."
He sighed, not exactly liking how open ended his end of the deal was, but then again, he was the one who asked for it. Don't look a gift Nightmare in the mouth, and all that. "Alright. Where do I go?"
I. M. P. Headquarters
He looked at the piece of paper in his hand. Then he looked at the door. Looked at the paper. Looked at the door. Paper. Door.
After a rather unpleasant ride up the elevator, with music chiming that reminded him he was in Hell and made him bang his head against the siding, he was met with a surprisingly solid looking door. The building had looked rather sleek, even if it was a little rough-for-wear since the last Extermination.
And there was a half-spray painted sign that said it was supposed to be condemned.
"Is this the right place?" He looked back at the paper he'd wrote the instructions on, and looked back at the door, reading both aloud. "'I. M. P. Headquarters'. Must be it." But it looked so… so… competent. He'd seen his fair share of cheap, low-budget, and downright pitiful establishments. But Stolas might have just pushed a good job his way if the building was in this good of shape. Granted, it wasn't no House of Asmodeus, but the single office rental seemed cozy enough.
"Okay. Finger's crossed," he said, pumping himself up with his best go-gett'em smile.
Then again, there was the paper sign taped haphazardly underneath the main sign, reading 'Meeting in Progress'. That looked a little flimsy. He supposed he could always wait until the office was open again, but he wasn't about to stand outside all day.
'Nope! Already pumped myself up! Onetwothree go!'
Afterall, he did have a recommendation from a Goetia, and that wasn't for show.
Knock-knock-knock.
His knock was met with an unnatural silence as he waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he looked around with an exhaled puff of his cheeks.
"Shush-shush!" he heard hush on the other side of the door. "Pretend we're not here."
"But I–"
"Shush!"
"Blii-itz! Why are we whispering?"
"I swear to God, Moxxie. Shut your bitch up, or I will bitch-slap you in her stead."
Silver rolled his eyes, lifting his knuckle once again.
Knock-knockknock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.
"Why don't we just answer the door?"
"Sure. Yeahyeahyeah. And what if it's one of those taint-stain, debt collectors, Mils? Or worse! A door-to-door salesman."
"Exactly how much debt are we talking, sir? And what exactly is wrong with salesmen?"
"Hey! Don't look at me with your judging eyes! We all know that business has been tough lately."
"What happened to whispering?!"
"Ugh! You guys are so fucking loud!" a new voice shouted, nulling any attempt to remain hidden.
Silver backed up as he heard stomping approaching the door, swallowing nervously as one hand instinctively itched to draw his sword.
SLAM!
The door swung open. His eyes unconsciously slit, he bared his teeth, and his ears flexed back. He reacted on reflex to this new potential threat before it had time to attack him back. One hand came up fingered with blue-tinged white flames while the other spun some mind-fucking illusions, no time to draw his weapon while both aimed at the open door.
The blood red glare and snarling fangs of a hellhound greeted him as he huffed in shock as his heart slowly cooled back down. And judging by the scent – snn-snn – it was a hound-bitch. Quite literally.
"What do you want?!" she half-snarled, half-barked, unphased by the level of spellwork literally staring her in the face.
An anthropomorphic wolf 'greeted' him in the door, with grey and white fur, long and fluffy tail, and lighter grey hair that was normally swept to the side but was fluffed up with her bristled hackles. Her lowered ears were semi-hostile, the left holding two piercings while the right looked like something small had tried and succeeded to take a bite out of it. She wore a black choker with small studs; a grey crop top, the straps forming an inverted pentagram across her collar; black, fingerless gloves; black shorts; and black, toeless stockings revealing more canid toes. Honestly, he couldn't tell if the tears in her clothes were just worn, or if they were manufactured that way for that 'aesthetic worn chique' he'd seen other demons wastefully wear.
Silver swallowed nervously, as he did his best to silently calm his beating heart, the spells fading from his fingers, suddenly acting like he hadn't felt momentarily attacked a second before.
He made no effort to hide the fact that he was looking her over as he let himself unwind, just as quickly giving her a smile that said he was as likely to grab her ass as he was to steal her wallet. Maybe both, if he was feeling up to it. "I'm here to–"
"Are you here for money? A hand-out?" she interrupted, leaning into the door-jam to block his further view of the inner office.
"Uh, no," he got out, frowning at being interrupted.
"Are you trying to sell us something?" she prodded further, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"No."
"Then why are you here? And hurry it up," she demanded in a bored tone, pulling out a phone that she was immediately enthralled in browsing over.
"I was told to come here to find a…." He quickly scanned back over the paper he'd made notes on, only to find it had been incinerated by his flame. Luckily, he had Stolas tones to send a shiver down his spine. "…'Blitzy'?"
The hellhound paused her browsing, giving him the same once over scrutiny he had afforded her, smirking at him in a way that he found… oh so criminal. Like he hadn't been about to completely obliterate her. Just as quickly, she jerked her head inward. "C'mon in, Cheesecake. Mind your sword." She gave his hands a pointed look. "And your hands."
"No promises on either account," he whispered just under his breath as he watched her lead the way, feeling pleased with himself when her ear ticked and her tail twitched. When her back was turned, he mouthed, 'Cheesecake?', completely confused. This was probably one of those weird nickname things people did. Silver. Cheesecake. It was all the same to him. Just another name to use and shed once it was done with.
"And heads up, a human disguise is only going to attract more attention," she stated.
"Less attention than I normally get," he replied honestly.
As soon as he walked into the main office area, he jumped as she raised her voice. "BLITZ! Some shirtless albino guy in a trench coat came here on recommendation!" The she-hound was nose-deep in her hellphone, navigating flawlessly as he followed her into the conference room. "And he's a bit jumpy!"
"Loony, what have I told you about flirting with the cliental."
"Oooh!" a giddy little voice exclaimed. "Yay! We got another client!" Huh, someone with a sweet drawl he recognized from the Wrath Ring.
Silver stopped as he entered the conference room, blinking owlishly at the other occupants. Besides the hellhound, there were three others. Imps; all with their shorter stature, red tinted skin, yellow sclera, long arrow-pointed tails, and varies degrees of cloven hooves. But still different in their own ways.
"Well? Spill it?" demanded an imp that reminded him of a harlequin, with flappy hands and a full skull of two large curved black and white stripped horns, with a cragged heart-shape in the center of his head, and half his face blotched white. He wore a black collared coat with large red buttons and a red skull pendant securing the neck of the collar, with long fingerless black gloves that had yellow cross-pupiled eyes. The rest was lost to him below the edge of the conference table.
"Ooh! What kind of demon are you? You a Sinner?" asked the only female imp (imp woman? She-imp? Impess?), eyeing him with a kind of innocent curiosity that took him aback. This was Hell after all. Goatish black horns stood erect on her head with small white stripes, slate-black hair cut in a messy bob, a beauty mark on her left cheek, and small gap between her front teeth. She wore a black choker, black lipstick, a bare-shoulder gold-buttoned black crop-top that left a heart-shaped tattoo exposed on her right shoulder; with torn black pants, fingerless gloves, and toeless footwear revealed since she was leaning onto the conference table in anticipation of his answer.
"Millie!" the last imp exclaimed. His curvy horns stripped black and white, his white hair seemingly cowlicked up top but sea faring on the sides. White freckles dotted his cheeks, and unlike the other two, his legs were digitigrade. He wore a white-cuffed navy-black coat over a black turtleneck, bound over by red buttons, and tied with an equally red bowtie; as well as black fingerless gloves and pants.
"What? We've never seen a demon like him before. Have you?"
The smaller of the male imps raised a finger to speak before drawing back and tapping his chin. "Huh, fair point."
"Um–" He was getting thrown off his game before he'd even started. Never mind the guy that hit him, he should sue these folks for whiplash.
"He's using a human disguise, dumbass," Loona stated.
"Good girl, Loony. Moxxie, feel free to shut up any time now. If the client wants anonymity, then we just charge them extra for it," the other imp offered without offering before turning his attention toward their visitor. "Now, tell us, who do you want bumped off? How do you want them bumped off? And are there any souvenirs you want us to bring back?"
"I– Wai– Wha?"
"Unholy Satan, the customers just keep getting more and more retarded," the imp muttered under his breath, but still within Silver's hearing range, causing him to narrow his eyes. Just as quickly the imp – Blitz (Blitzy?) he assumed – cleared his throat loudly. "You're here because you want someone in the living world dead, right?"
"Um… no," he answered.
"Then why the fuck are you here, wasting my time, dipshit!" the imp shot back with a fist pound to the table.
His teeth clamped back a growl at the insult as he glared down the imp. "I was told to come here if I wanted a job," he gritted out, noting that he had the hellhound's and the other imps' attentions at his snarling tone. He could practically feel them reaching for weapons.
"And what shit-for-brained nimrod sold you that tub of acid?" Blitz asked as he took a smug drink of whatever Hell-flavored drink he preferred, unaffected by the hostile air directed at him.
He let his natural charm reassert itself smugly. "Prince Stolas."
PFFFT!
Blitz spat out his drink in surprise, coughing as he wiped the lingering trickles around his lips away with his sleeve. The other male imp, Moxxie, deadpanning as he lifted his dripping hands, now covered in said spat-out beverage. The female imp, Millie, was already pulling out a napkin and wiping at his cheeks and horns with gentle care.
"Stolas?!" Blitz asked.
"The Prince?!" Millie exclaimed.
"Yeah."
"And you're sure?!"
"Positive. I can call him up to confirm if you like," Silver offered, pulling out his hellphone. Or was he supposed to go by 'Cheesecake' now? He wasn't sure anymore. Demons were so confusing, even if he was one. Sorta. Ish. On some strange technicality.
"Nonono," Blitz dismissed with a rapid flurry of his arms. "That won't be necessary. We needed the extra demon-power anyway."
"We do?" Moxxie asked.
"We do," Blitz affirmed, as if it were his idea all along.
"B-But since when?"
"Well, someone has to do your job for you, Mox," Blitz stated, earning a grumble of backtalk.
"Can we even afford a new hire, sir?" Moxxie demanded pointedly, ignoring the former insult.
"Yes, yes, thank you mister shit-in-my-Cocoa-Puffs." Blitz quickly returned his focus back to silver. "So, take a seat! We were just starting our meeting. Any training will be handled by M'n'M over here." He gestured to Millie and Moxxie each; Millie giving him an excited, but polite wave while Moxxie gave a sincere, but half-hearted lift of his hand. "And, heads up! It's all hands on. So if you happen to die during your introduction period, we at the Immediate Murder Professionals are not liable for any loss of digit, limb, life, or… anything really. So if you suck, we don't have to give a shit! Get it?!"
"Got it," silver nodded reluctantly, pulling his sheath over his head and setting it between his legs as he took the only available seat across from Millie, and right next to Loona. Though, he was fairly certain the training was supplementary at best given his normal routine. "So, when do you want to interview?"
"Ha!" Blitz exclaimed. Just passed him, silver could make out the contents of a whiteboard behind Blitz, mainly marked with a strange graph that he was afraid to admit that he couldn't read, large red letters that spelled "FIX THIS SHIT!", and a smaller "Blitzo is the best –by Blitzo" just underneath that. "What interview? Your hired!"
He paused, once more thrown off. Normally those hiring him tended to vet him out. This was… unexpected. "I am?"
"H-He is?" Moxxie stuttered in shock.
"Welcome aboard!" Millie welcomed.
"Um… what?"
"Don't die, dude," Loona offered 'helpfully' from over her phone.
"Now enough of this bullshit, and on to more important matters!" Blitz declared, clearing his throat before pacing in front of the whiteboard. "Alright now, I know business has been slow lately, yes. And it's no one's fault, okay? I'm not naming any names here… Moxxie."
Moxxie gave Blitz a confused but accusing look as the boss man went on.
"Now does anyone have any bright ideas on how we can get business drumming up again?"
"What. About. A car wash?!" Millie offered ecstatically.
"This is Hell, Millie. No one cares about cars being cleaned here, okay? Ooh! What about a billboard?"
"We can't afford a billboard, sir," Moxxie stated with an eyeroll.
"Helpful Moxxie. Really glad you're in the room right now," was Blitz's sarcastic reply, before he shoved the other imp away. He looked around the table for a second before he met eyes with the new hire, "Ah! What about you… um… what's your name?"
"I don't have a name." Not a name that would bare repeating anyway. Hence taking up whatever people called him by.
"Wow, your momma must've hated you."
"She's dead," silver stated with a shrug.
"Blitz!" Millie chastised.
"Oh how the fuck was I supposed to know, Mils?!" Blitz got over his surprise quickly. "Since you don't have a name, is there something – anything – we can call you? Calling card? Moniker? Stolen driver's license? Nickname? Something you picked up from a milk carton?"
"People just call me silver," he offered, gesturing with a shrug to his silver hair. "But feel free to call me whatever you like… within reason."
"Pfft. Good luck," Loona commented.
Blitz sniveled. "No! No! No! We are not calling my new hire something so tacky!"
"Then what do you propose we call him?" Moxxie asked.
"Shut up, Moxxie. I'm thinking. I'm thinking." Blitz paused his pondering to look over the newbie.
He was hornless, neat but messily trimmed silver hair, with electric-ice blue eyes that were both disarming yet mischievously cunning, every inch of his skin so white he might have been a ghost, with sharpened canines among his gleaming but confident smirk. Bright red, razor-like birthmarks highlighted each eye. He wore only his white leather trench coat, dark gray cargo pants, and his black combat boots. Save for his odd coloration, he looked remarkably human… given he was using a human disguise.
"We'll call him Moon Beam," Blitz suggested.
"Moon Beam, sir?"
"Moon Beam?" silver asked nervously.
"Look at him," Blitz direct. "If he went skinny dipping while the moon was out, you'd all go blind. Exactly the kind of flower-child shit this company's been missing!"
"So like a Flashbang?!" Millie suggested excitedly.
"No, Mils, not like a flashbang. Wrong side of the 60's. We're thinking 'Flower Power', not 'Vietnam'."
"I'm thinking more like paper mache."
"That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. Please, anybody but Moxxie!"
"Snow."
Silver suddenly perked his ears while everybody else stopped brainstorming, turning to look at Loona as she continued engrossing in her phone.
"Uh… Snow?" Blitz asked.
"Yep," she answered, thumbs twiddling away on whatever held her attention.
"Snow?"
"Uh-huh," she reaffirmed, looking up long enough to raise an eyebrow at his persistence. "Look at 'im. He looks like a pile of fresh Fallen Snow." Then she quickly added, "With a little blood splatter."
"Yeah, but like, as someone's idea of a sick (read: proper) joke," Blitz reasoned. "Might as well call him Snowflake, or Cocaine, or Piss on This."
"Snow? Snow. Snow. Snow. Snow."
Everyone looked back at their new hire as he experimented with the name, his voice changing each time it rolled off his tongue, touching tones both borderline angelic and totally demonic. His smile gradually grew, each repeat cementing itself a little further and further.
"Great, you fucking broke him, Loony."
Silver looked up at Loona, a casual smirk drawing across his face. "So I'm Snow now?"
Loona smirked back at him, looking pleased with herself. "You know what? Yeah! You're Snow."
He turned his chair around, leaning back against the table so he had more direct view of her face, smirk turning playful, and a chuffing sound escaping his throat. "I like that."
"Ugh! Now that we've named the class pet, can we get back to more important matters?" Blitz interrupted. "Business. Money. Ideas. Take it!"
"What do you guys even do here?" silver – now Snow – asked, returning to a more business-like demeanor. He'd only been told that it was more up his alley.
Blitz facepalmed as he pulled up a remote, muttering angrily to himself. "Since bird-dick didn't bother telling you, everyone! Pay attention in case you guys have forgotten what service we provide."
Click.
The TV static opened to show each of the imps braining, shooting, or decapitating people, with Loona wringing someone by the neck via her maw like some Kill-Cam compilation. Everyone was watching intently, Blitz passing back some popcorn to Loona.
"Ah, those were good times," Blitz mused.
"So you guys… kill people?" Snow asked slowly, looking between them. He wasn't one to judge, but given the current discussions taking place… he could see why they were having issues.
"Professionally," Blitz stated proudly.
"It's hard to forget, sir," Moxxie gritted angrily. "Considering you blew most of our salary on an obnoxious TV Ad last week! One that you additionally paid to have run for a full three hours on a channel nobody watches! The very antithesis of 'professionalism'."
"I don't know what 'anti-thesis' means," their boss replied stubbornly. "Besides, what's so 'obnoxious' about a super fun jingle, all right? It's a fun little distraction for when an advertisement is spitting bullshit."
"People love musicals, sir," Millie affirmed happily.
"Exactly, Millie. And we're basically just doing a musical," Blitz explained with a little jazz hands, before looking at Moxxie with pitying accusation. "Are you gonna crush my musical theater dream like my dad did?"
"Oh boy," Snow muttered. Seriously! If killing was the job, he could have killed at least ten people already. Twenty if he was trying!
"Sir–"
"'Cause right now, all I see is my dad's asshole talking to me! Crushing my dreams of being who I truly am inside," Blitz performed dramatically.
"Are you trying to crush his dreams, Moxxie?" Millie asked with playful deviousness.
"I– What?" In his confusion, Moxxie turned to Millie.
"I thought I knew you," she continued seductively, her tail curling. Snow could practically smell the pheromones she was smacking Moxxie with. Thankfully, the male imp wasn't blind to it either, if that little blush on his cheeks was any indication.
'Huh… curious,' he pondered, tempted to tap into their emotional spectrum, but thinking better of it for now. At least, they were sexual partners. At most, probably dating. For now, he would continue his silent observations of his team. No… 'co-workers' was a better word. He got the feeling that 'team' was a touch – or fifty – off base. Besides, a 'team' was a good way to get stabbed in the back in Hell. And if anyone was surviving, it was him.
"I can't believe you, Moxxie. And after I made you 'Employee of the Month'!" Blitz accused, holding up a framed picture of Moxxie. It was… unflattering to say the least, since it made Moxxie look like someone had Hell-pepper sprayed him.
"Oof. That's unflattering," Snow winced.
"That's an understatement," Loona agreed.
"Okay sir! I'm sorry. A commercial jingle isn't comparable to musical theater. Nobody actually likes the jingles!" Moxxie tried to explain.
"I liked it," Millie countered genuinely.
"Do not– Do not agree with him in front of me," Moxxie begged, pointing a shaking finger at her.
"What about you, Coke-Line? Do you like jingles?" Blitz asked, putting him on the spot.
"Well, I kinda like jingles," he answered, ignoring the literal 'crack'-name while giving Moxxie an apologetic look when the imp slammed his face into the table. "But they're no 'Les Misérables'."
Moxxie's head shot back up, looking at him with wide, sparkling eyes. "You– You watch musicals?"
"What are we talking? 'Sound of Music'? 'Fiddler on the Roof'? 'Phantom of the Opera'? 'Wicked'? Or something more modern, like 'Hamilton'?" Snow inquired, getting weird-eyes from everyone at the table, except–
Squeeeeeeee!
Moxxie eyes were practically stars as he bit back a giddy squeal.
"What?" Snow asked, returning the looks he was getting.
"We'll have to give you a taste of real artistry then," Blitz proclaimed, clicking his remote again, the TV responding as it played the commercial jingle in question. Almost as if Blitz were waiting for an opportunity to play it.
Commercial Break
"Hi there! I'm Blitz! The 'O' is silent, and I'm the founder of I. M. P.! Are you a piece of shit that got yourself sent to Hell? Or are you an innocent soul that got fucked over by someone else?!" Blitz spieled, as a multitude of renditions of him in costume slide-showed by to make his point.
"After lovingly killing my wife for fucking the delivery man, you can imagine my surprise when I wound up here, after the State of Ohio killed me," a rather jacked Sinner in an Ohio State jersey explained, while Blitz held a sign off to the side that read 'Some guy who hired us!' "I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!"
"Well, lucky for you, thanks to our company's special access to the living world, we can help you take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!" Blitz assured as Millie and Moxxie set up a ritual. Blitz 'mumbo-jumbo'd his hands over a book, causing the ritual to ignite before the boss-imp trust-fell into the occurring portal.
~When you want somebody gone,
~and you don't wanna wait too long,
~Call the Immediate Murder Professionals!~
~Hand grenade or cyanide,
~we'll make it look like suicide,
~Call the Immediate Murder Professionals!~
~We do our job so well,
~because we come straight out of Hell~
~We'll kill your husband or your wife,
~we'll even let you keep the knife,
~We're the Immediate Murder Professi–~
BANG!
"Ugh!" groaned a kid as he suddenly stepped in the way of the commercial Moxxie's shot, causing the commercial imps to look at him.
Commerical – Hospital
A doctor threw open the operation room door as two nurses followed behind with a gurney carrying the child.
"Doctor, he's not responding," a curvaceous pink-haired nurse called out in a rather masculine voice as the doctor began preparing his equipment.
"More water, stat!" the other called out a blue-haired male nurse that looked and sounded like puberty hadn't ended. The lady nurse didn't hesitate to throw a pail of water at the kids face, leaving the side of the patient's cheek swollen and tongue hanging limply. "That didn't do anything."
"Damn it! I'm not losing another one!" the doctor declared, passing out defibrillator pads as they all pressed a set against the smaller human. "Clear!"
An unhealthy voltage of blue had the child gasping as he revived, the present hospital staff looking at their work with wide eyes. "Holy shit, it actually worked."
Meanwhile, Blitz, Millie, and Moxxie waited outside the boy's emergency room for whatever verdict would come. Blitz was smirking at a magazine while Millie was doing her best to comfort a visibly distraught Moxxie.
The doctor walked out, shuffling through the papers on a clipboard, blindly ignoring the strange appearance of the imps. "He appears to be in stable condition," he assures, adjusting his round, tinted glasses. "But he'll need surgery. What kind of insurance provider do you freaks have?"
"The fuck is insurance?" demanded a confused Blitz.
Commerical – Outside Hospital
CRASH!
Millie and Moxxie were sent out the window headfirst with the gurney and the unconscious kid, Blitz holding onto to the back. A pair of ropes pulled taunt, one around Blitz's foot, the other attached to the back of the gurney, momentum sending them and kid plummeting while Blitz and bed remained suspended for a moment longer. Then the ropes snapped, sending Blitz and gurney falling after them.
~Kid's die for free!~
End Commerical Break
"C'mon! Tell Daddy Blitz what you think!" The boss rubbed his hands together with a self-satisfied smirk.
Snow just stared at the TV, his eyebrow twitching like he'd been beat over the head with a brick. Again. "That was– How di– With the– Was that a church?! How'd you get access to the living world?! And how the fucking Hell did those doctors get certified?!" He was practically livid as his hair bristled and eyes slit.
"That's what you got caught up on? Really?" Blitz sighed, looking disappointed. "Mmm, and the jingle was so catchy too."
"There was so much bullshit going on, the jingle didn't even try to mask it!" Snow criticized, wondering why he was here again.
"I'd like to go on record and say that incident was Loona's fault," Moxxie stated. "Dispatch is supposed to give us the right info on the target. It's very simple."
"Oh sit on a dick, Moxxie," Loona shot back with a roll of her eyes, still on her phone.
"You sit– sit on– a– and the– D-Do your job!" Moxxie somehow managed to get out, botching the comeback before it was even conceived.
"Hey, now we don't blame our screw-ups on Loona, okay?" Blitz reprimanded, walking up to Loona to rub his cheek against hers affectionately, only to illicit a threatening growl from her in return. "She didn't do anything wrong."
"Are you kidding me, sir? She's awful," Moxxie stated in disbelief. He could name sooo many incidents just off the top of his head.
Flashback
The phone trilled like a siren of ringing and yipping puppies before Loona snagged it up, still fully engaged with her issue of 'Hellhound Monthly'. "Hello, I. M. P."
"Loona, I got stabbed," Millie called over the phone. "Call Mox–"
Loona hung up without another word as she returned back to her magazine, never having really left.
Flashback
"Happy Adoption Anniversary, Loony," Blitz greeted cheerily, holding out a wrapped and bow-tied present to the hellhound. "I got you a little somethin'."
Looking completely uninterested, Loona pointedly asked, "Is it a cure for syphilis?"
"I– oh–" Blitz stammered, caught off guard by her question.
"Then I. Don't. Want it!" she yelled back, grabbing and throwing the gift to the ground. A large swarm of spiders emerged from the box, encompassing Loona faster than she could shout. "UGH!"
"I'm sorry. You love spiders" Blitz called out with a wince as he stood outside on the window sill.
"God damn it," she fumed, as some spiders boogied on her ears and another bungeed from her snout.
Flashback
Moxxie walked into the main office as Loona watched the '666 News' as Princess Charlotte "Charlie" Magne began singing something about there being rainbows inside demons, or whatever acid trip caused her to spontaneously start singing on live TV.
"Excuse me, did you just fax me an Ad for weight loss?" Moxxie asked, looking over the 'Chub B. Gone' Ad with no small amount of confusion.
"No," Loona responded indifferently.
"What– Why– Why would anyone send me this?"
"Come on. You know why," she said as she gave him a 'no duh' look.
Flashback
"Whoever left the fucking avocado salad in the fridge, I'm taking it," Loona called out as she rummaged through the breakroom fridge, "because I have the worst hangover right now." She pulled out a small red container, tossing the lid and practically pouring the contents down her gullet in one steady stream.
Millie watched from the breakroom table. "Why would you drink on a work night?"
"I'm hungover from this morning, dumbass!" Loona snapped back.
Moxxie entered just as she finished, looking to the box in her hand. "Isn't that my lunch?"
"You know what!" she huffed, dropping the container, "I can't take this assault right now! I need to blow off some fucking steam!" She kicked the former avocado salad box, nailing Moxxie in the face as she charged out of the breakroom, out of the office, and out of the building.
"AAAHH!" she roared, running up to a nearby imp strolling her baby along. Without hesitation, Loona punted said stroller, sending it flying.
"AAGGGH!" cried the now airborne hellion.
Flashback
"Bliiitz!" Loona called out in her usual bored manner from the receptionist desk, actually having answered the phone this time, "That clingy rich asshole is on the phone! Says it's urgent! Wants to talk to you!" She quickly added in a lower tone, "Sounds a little DTF-y."
"Oh God, it was one time!" Blitz complained, throwing his water cup to the ground as he and Moxxie hovered around the water cooler. "If I hadn't slept with that privileged asshole, none of us would have access to the living world."
"You what?" replied a stunned Moxxie after he took a sip of his own water.
Blitz's Flashback within a Flashback
An owlish demon with light blue-grey feathers and a white-framed face slept and cooed peacefully in amidst tarnished covers and "ruffled" feathers. Blitz on the other hand, was naked save for his signature coat as he tried to sneak away with a large tome in hand.
"Got the book, got the book. Got this fucking heavy book," he sang to himself just under his breath, seething at the weight. He quickly snuck outside to the balcony of the large mansion, hefting the book onto the railing. As he tried to climb up, he shifted too far forward.
"Uh-oh! OH SHIT!" he cried as the book pulled him downward.
He landed on a cake, splattering it across several said 'rich assholes' as they had tea. One of these just also happened to include the Misses.
"Sorry! I fucked your husband!" he stated simply.
End Blitz's Flashback
"Blitz!" Loona yelled.
"I heard you alre–"
"So, what can I do you for this time, Stolas?" Blitz asked once he'd taken the conversation to his office, speaking on his hellphone and fiddling nervously as he played with a bobblehead of Moxxie.
"There's a political candidate causing trouble up on Earth for a few of my associates," came the regal and haughty tone befitting demon royalty. With his long feathered avian tail and the long, slim bird-like digits and claws of his legs. His crowned top hat, gold-buttoned red tunic, gray trousers, and plush burgundy surcoat with dappled white fur collar only completed the aristocratic appearance. "He's trying to convince people global warming exists."
"Doesn't it?" inquired Blitz
"Well, yes. But more people die if nothing gets done about it," admitted the Goetia demon, before his tone turned pouty, "and it gets lonely here."
"Ok, well, yeah, that makes sense," Blitz admitted in a bored tone.
"You know what happens when I'm lonely, Blitzy?" Stolas asked over the phone.
Blitz groaned as he pulled the phone away to keep his voice down for once. "Oh God fucking damn it."
"When I'm lonely, I become hungry," Stolas explained calmly, but not without some build in intensity. "And when I become hungry, I want to choke on that red **** of yours! **** your ***** and lick your ****, before taking out your **** and ******* with more teeth until your screaming ******** like a fucking baby!"
Blitz hung up the phone as the onslaught of mental-ear assault began to visibly disturb him. Consequences be damned, he broke his hellphone in half, smashed it to pieces with his office rotary phone, grabbed the pieces and tossed them in a blender, set it to puree and liquidized it.
Taking the reduced source of his torment, he turned to a nearby Loona and handed her the blender cup. "Eat this," he directed, waiting until she was chugging it. "And you know that bridge over the freeway?"
"Yeah," she stated after she finished.
"Shit off it!" he ordered.
End of Flashback
"Well that explains how he got access to the living world," Snow muttered as he compartmentalized. He wasn't as shocked by Stolas sleeping around. The Goetia prince hadn't been happy with his wife for as long as he had known him, and all that pent up frustration was bound to manifest in one way or another. It personally wasn't his business. The fact that Stolas had let Blitz keep his grimoire, gave more weight to why the prince pointed him toward this job.
'Watch his property. Protect his JOI-toy. I'm so charging him for this.' And he wasn't charging in small bills either. Papa needed some dough, and he wasn't sure killing humans for a boss that pilfered his employees paychecks for shit reasons was gonna cut it. Granted, it was Hell, but come on!
They didn't even to check to make sure he was qualified!
"Look, the point is, Loona is a valued member of our family, and we don't get rid of family," Blitz stated.
Loona looked up from her phone for a moment to smile at his words. As she looked back down, she caught Snow looking straight at her with a grin, the smile wiping from her face on reflex as she glared at him, silently daring him to call her out. He winked at her in reassurance, drawing his hands up behind his head as he leaned his chair back against the conference table.
"We aren't a family, sir!" Moxxie protested. "You are the boss! We are the employees! You treat her like she's some troubled teenager! She's more like a meth-addicted homeless woman you let man the phone!"
Loona's response was a crisp middle finger while she continued to stare at her phone.
"That is offensive! Without homeless people, I wouldn't have half the joy and laughter I do in this life!" Blitz stated, even as he cracked the window to look down on the misfortunes of one said homeless demon begging while being blatantly ignored by a nearby demoness.
As soon as Blitz caught sight of that demon tail, he bit his lower lip and wiggled his eyebrows, waving before swiftly closing the office blinds.
"While we're on the subject of 'family', can you stop finding me and Millie outside of work."
"Come on, Sweetie, it's not that bad," Millie tried reassuring.
Moxxie suddenly looked like he'd popped a brain aneurism. "Excuse me? WHAT?!"
Flashback
Millie and Moxxie were in their apartment prepping dinner. The pot was boiling and Moxxie was at the cutting board chopping carrots. "Honey, can you get me the butter?" Moxxie asked.
"Sure sweetie," Millie smiled, moving to open the refrigerator.
A hand popped out as she did. "Spoiler alert! The butter's spoiled," Blitz stated from inside the fridge, surprising Millie just long enough to dump said butter in her hand. She giggled at him.
"What's funny, Honey?" Moxxie asked in curiosity.
"Really impressive wordplay," Blitz explained, continuing to look in on their domestic life with doe-eyes.
"WHAT THE–?! WHY ARE YOU IN OUR FRIDGE?!"
Another evening, it was the middle of the night while Millie and Moxxie were asleep in bed. Save for the occasional chitter, all was quiet. At least until Moxxie blinked away sleep at the sound of a loud purring drone. Blitz was standing directly on and in front of him, just looking at him as he slept.
"What'cha dreamin' about?" Blitz asked, still purring as though nothing was wrong.
"I was dreaming my parents were being murdered," Moxxie answered in startled surprise, before his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "But now, I'd like to go back to that."
And yet another evening, it had been a wonderful night, Moxxie had taken Millie out to dinner, and he'd even taken the time to light some candles and serenade her with his guitar.
"~Of all the imps in Hell, it's for her/him that I fell
"~Oh Millie~" he sang, winding down the song he'd written just for her as they looked in each other's eyes.
They moved in to kiss when a light ding alerted Moxxie, causing him to check his peripherals. Lo and behold, Blitz had just turned on a camera recorder as he snooped outside their window. "Are you fucking filming us right now?!"
End of Flashback
"Just. Stop. Doing. That," Moxxie grinded out.
Snow leaned his neck over the back of his seat, suddenly curious. "Wait, so you two are dating?"
"Oh– Uh, married, actually," Moxxie explained, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. He looked at Millie as she giggled, both smiling at each other as they started to get lost in each other's eyes.
Huh. Snow had seen plenty of Hell – mostly the bad at that – and he thought he'd seen all it's facets. But the way they looked at each other, like the Pentagram rose and set because they each walked the Rings together… that was new. He could feel it radiating around them. And it left a hollow pit in chest that he couldn't rectify. But it was… nice. He might actually enjoy working with them.
"I don't see what the issue is. Is there something you don't want me seein'?" Blitz taunted.
If he could overlook being annoyed by his Stolas's Nest Fluffer.
Moxxie's eye twitched, before he bitterly replied, "No!"
"You a baby-weiner-haver?" Blitz continued prodding, causing Loona to shake as she held back her snickers.
"Sir! What you say, and how you act is totally INAPPROPRIATE!" Moxxie might have lost it then and there if Millie hadn't reached for his shoulder.
"Calm down, Mox. You're gonna have another panic attack," Millie warned as she got him to sit back down.
"I AM CALM!" Moxxie raged.
"Shh-shh-shh," she hushed softly, eliciting angry whimpers from her husband as he continued to glare at their boss. "There, there." She gently held his head, petting him gently on the horns.
Poke.
The cast of I. M. P. blinked in confused unison as Snow reached over the back of his chair and the table to poke Moxxie on the head, the anger temporarily forgotten.
"What was that for?" Millie inquired, suddenly noticing that Moxxie's breathing had leveled out and his face looked more relaxed.
"Nothing," he answered, returning back to his seat with a dismissive wave, unaware that the hellhound was watching him intently.
"Mm-mmm," Moxxie muttered, causing his wife to yelp and blush as he turned his head into her breasts and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Millie's so nice."
"Ugh!" Blitz groaned in disgust. "Look I don't judge the boring couple stuff, or whatever candy-sweet bullshit you do outside work hours, but don't do it while you're on the clock."
Moxxie turned back around, still holding Millie as he glared at his boss.
"Hey now, don't you judge me!" Blitz protested.
"Oh, I do, sir," Moxxie shot back with unusual calm as he sat back up in his seat, brushing down the front of his jacket seriously. "Quite a lot actually."
"Mox, he's our boss," Millie tried to ease him back down, even as she came down from her fluster.
"No, no, no, it's fine Mils," Blitz placated half-heartedly before smirking. "Your husband is just… how do I say this without being offensive… retarded… and a pussy. All it took was a boop to the shnoot from the new guy and he needed you to pwotect him." Blitz made sure to annunciate the baby talk.
Snow sighed in annoyance. That was not what happened.
"Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad, single life?" countered Moxxie.
"It actually does," Blitz answered nonchalantly.
"The only reason you have a wife is because you're easy to manage," Loona stated, looking up from her phone, stepping in to protect Blitz from that line of assault.
Moxxie's face contorted in offense before Millie slammed her hands on the table. "No he's not you bitch!" she stated pointedly with two middle fingers.
"Do not talk to my receptionist that way! She's sensitive!" Blitz retorted.
"Yes I am!" Loona snarled and gnashed back.
Snow watched as the room divided down the middle with resignation; squared up Moxxie to Blitz, Millie to Loona. He was half tempted to speak up, but just shrugged as he looked up at the clock. Time was money, and he was technically getting paid to watch them fight. At least he wasn't getting dragged into it.
"And you! Whatever you are!"
"Oh God damn it," he muttered, sitting up.
"C'mon fifth wheel!" Blitz demanded. "We need a tie breaker."
"I'd rather do what I was hired to do," he stated pointedly, looking at all those present with a strained devil-may-care grin. "What happened to business ideas?"
"Good luck getting him to focus for five seconds," Moxxie shot off.
"You know, you're being a real downer, Mox," Blitz stated with a huff.
"I'm being a downer," Moxxie demanded.
"Way to prove my point on being retarded. That's what I just fucking said."
"You guys are all fucking assholes."
Company and Co looked over the other side of the table, and Snow jumping slightly at the new addition. Laying on a table and hooked up to some cheap replacement for a heart monitor, was the same child Moxxie had shot in the commercial.
"Wait a second. How are you–?"
"Loona opened up a portal before we went Splat!" Blitz stated, looking at Loona proudly. The hellhound just rolled her eyes back at him.
"No. I mean, how is that kid still alive? He. Was. Shot," Snow clarified before blinking as another thought hit. "And how long has he been here in Hell?!"
"Yep, kept the bullet as a souvenir for when Moxxie decides to grow a pair," Blitz stated pulling out a bullet that had 'First Kid Shot' engraved in tiny letters. He pocketed it inside his coat, ignoring Snow's other questions before turning back toward their… victim? Rescue? Hostage? "And shut up kid! You're lucky to witness this!"
Moxxie sighed aloud. "This company is such a mess." He pinched the bridge of his eyes in frustration.
"You're just noticing this now," Snow commented, slouching in his chair. Just what the Heaven was he signed up for?
"Alright, let's get back to talking about my outfit," Blitz diverted, earning glares from the other men in the room.
"Nobody was talking about that," Loona stated in annoyance, before looking back at her phone.
"Which is why I'm trying to get that ball rolling. So, how does it look? It's good, right?!"
"Would be easier to compliment if you weren't fishing for it," Snow commented. "A little. But not by much."
"And if it wouldn't boost your ego," Moxxie added.
"It's been a literal hell having to pretend to be paralyzed, so you fuck-shits wouldn't kill me! But now, I want that. I want death!" the kid begged after pulling off the monitor cables.
Snow suddenly sat back up in his seat. "How much are you paying us to end you?"
"Extortion? On a child? Nice," Blitz stated, somewhat impressed. "You might actually be worth your paycheck."
"Would help if there was money for that paycheck," Moxxie snipped back.
"No one asked you, Moxxie!"
The kid suddenly pointed to Blitz. "You are a selfish, greedy, clown! And I'm a kid! We're supposed to like clowns. Even the creepy ones."
"Hey now, that's not very–"
"If I wanted to hear from a spineless jackass, I'd rip out your spine and ask you some shit," the kid interrupted, laying it into Moxxie.
"That's my husband you're talking to!" Millie stepped in.
That kid's chortle was enough to split hairs. "That's your husband?! I figured you for a slut, but I didn't know you needed dick that bad!"
"Okay, now that's too far," Snow stated, gripping the sheath of his katana with renewed fervor.
"Oh?! And what are you gonna do about it, you Devil May Cry reject?!"
"What the Hell is Devil May Cry?" Millie asked, earning shrugs all around.
But this bratty little shit wasn't done yet. "You're the most human-looking of the group, but you look like your momma fucked a spackle machine on her period! It's fitting really since you practically jump at every shadow on the wall like a little bitch! Plus, you've been making flirty-eyes with that mutt this whole time?! Bestiality much?!"
"You've been doing what to my Loony?!" Blitz demanded, having completely missed the entire thing.
"Mutt?" Loona demanded, looking up from her phone.
Snow could feel his heartbeat coursing through every vein in his body, from the follicles of his hair to the claws of his toes, giving way to an unpleasant heat that ignited in the pit of his stomach, slowly demanding action of his body as his amulet began to burn into his chest. A throaty growl emerging as his pupils slit.
"And you…!" the kid continued, pointing to Loona.
"What about me?" she dared, feeling especially pissed after the 'mutt' comment.
"Nothing," he finished anti-climactically. "I don't talk to dogs. I'm a cat person."
A little whine escaped Loona as her gaze leveled into a bitter glare, returning back to her phone almost despondently.
"Wow. Uh, you know, kid, you kinda are a piece of shit," Blitz stated, earning a chorus of agreement from his employees.
A guitar rift phone chime sounded from Loona's phone. As she quickly read it over, her pouting turned into excitement, complete with swaying tail. "Oh fuck! Guys, I just got a text from our client. Guess he was the right target after all."
"Who?"
"Him." Loona pointed a thumb at the brat.
"Me?" the kid asked in surprise.
"Yup."
"They wanted to kill an actual child?" Blitz double-checked.
"That's what they're saying," Loona reaffirmed.
"Well, Christ on a stick, I guess there is a God!" Blitz stated, happily drawing out a flint-lock pistol. He would have shot the little bastard in the heart right then and there, if his newest employee wasn't suddenly in the way. "Hey-hey-hey! Outta the way Booger-Sugar! That little shit is going down!"
Snap!
The sound was crisp, and clear as Snow stalked toward his prey, his weapon in hand. The kid backed away, immediately falling off the desk he'd been using as a bed with a grunt of pain as he hit the floor, his hat falling away. He looked back up quickly as a monstrous visage seemed to pull away the light, leaving only the gleam of pearly white canines and five glowing blue eyes visible to gaze back at him, two where his eyes should be, two on his temples, and one in the center of his forehead. His ears grew sleek and covered in fur, and his silver hair seemed to ripple hazily and spread to the rest of his body as ebony-black claws grew from his digits.
"A bullet… is too quick. Too… instantaneous," Snow chortled out, angry spats and chittering echoing hollowly from his mouth. "A quick death, but filled to the brim with as much pain as possible. I'm not one to needlessly torture children, but for this mini egomaniac in the making, I'll make an exception."
A pause.
"What kind of edge-lord bullshit is that?" the brat asked in confusion before he was snagged by the front of his shirt by Snow's free hand, lifted up and shoved painfully against the office wall.
"The kind that has a single question." The blanked-out face of Snow moved in closer, his breath steaming vilely in the kid's face as they met eye to eyes. "When was the last time you told your mother, that you loved her?" His voice was almost tender in its demonic tones.
"What?" the kid asked in confusion.
He gently pressed his thumb claw on the kid's chest, holding it there as a trickle of blood began to form around the barest contact. The kid struggled as the claw pressed further and further. He winced and huffed as he tried not to breath in too deeply, less the claw pierce even deeper until finally….
"Because now, you'll never get the chance."
Woosh!
A trail of red splattered up the side the wall and the ceiling, a glimmer of black and red, white and blue, shimmering with the barest flick of his wrist.
A faint red line appeared cleanly down the middle with all the sharpened precision of a scalpel through both flesh and bone, even as the kid's face contorted in realization before he peeled apart with a slurch!
The little shit didn't even have time to scream, and his next few minutes of limited function as his brain processing slowly ground to a hault would be absolute agony! And then… well, there were only two places this kid could go in death. And he was confident he wasn't gonna see no Pearly Gates.
Snow gruffly exhaled as his partial demon emergence retreated back into his disguise, and slowly, the heat faded from his amulet as his blood calmed. With a flick of his wrist, his blade was near clear of blood before he wiped it in the crook of his coats arm, cleaning any excess blood away before he sheathed it. He'd have to properly clean and polish it later.
'Probably a good thing I used my blade,' he thought. He might have revealed far too much too soon if he had truly lost it. He had almost gone full-tilt as it was.
"The actual fuck?!"
Snow turned to see his new co-workers blinking owlishly at him as he nervously, scratched the back of his neck. "Um… I… can explain?" he stated, watching as Moxxie rubbed the spot where he had poked him, clearly imagining some worst-case-scenario.
"You didn't tell us you had such a beautiful weapon!" Millie stated with stars in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow, moving his katana just to see her eyes following it with glee.
"No one asked," Snow countered with a deadpanned, looking pointedly at Blitz. "There was a distinct lack of an interview when I was hired."
Blitz opened his mouth as he pointed at him before retracting as he thought over a justifiable response.
"He does have you there, sir," Moxxie admitted with far less gusto in his boss's failure, having just witnessed the borderline vindictive torture of a child. Granted, this particular child deserved it for calling his wife a 'slut', but still. Child. Sorta.
"And what kinda demon form was that?!" Millie asked excitedly. "Are you a Sinner?"
"Um, last I checked, I could travel between Rings," he stated. That instantly disqualified him from being a Sinner.
"Well?" Blitz demanded. "What the Satan's sulfurous bong are you? I've seen some shit hit the fan before, but never like that load of TIDE Pods!"
He just smirked smugly as he all but sauntered back up to his chair. "A demon has to have some secrets."
"You're not one of those weird hybrid's, are you?"
"Spoilers," Snow accentuated with a charming smile that caused his eyes to gleam. Ah! It was nice to have the upper hand again. Give nothing away, and it couldn't be used against him. All was as it should be….
…Except for the hellhound giving him scrutiny. That sent an odd feeling up his hackles.
"Ow! That fucking hurt you asshat!" All the imps and the hellhound blinked in disbelief as they turned sharply toward the sound.
Snow just looked at the imaginary watch on his wrist. 'That seems like long enough to wait for brain-death.' He turned his seat, crossing his leg over the other and clasping his hands together like some stereotypical villain. He was met with the oh so sweet vindication of a newly formed Sinner in Hell. He almost couldn't help the predatorial grin on his face. Like a fox in the hen house.
"Welcome to Hell. Officially this time," Snow stated with a vindictive smile.
There, just over his own – former – body, stood that little shit-stain. Almost literally, with an off-brown tint to his new scale-like flesh, a couple pairs of horns were wove out the back of his skull, and an extra-large mouth for obvious reasons. Given the kid's death though, the skin around his face was split, looking like fly trap as it began to peel and open down the middle, revealing the flesh and bone of his skull underneath. His jaw also split, revealing several rows of sharp teeth and multiple forked tongues in his mouth.
"What the- What the shit!" the kid cried desperately, moving to feel his face as its new flaps continued to open and close like the pedals of a flower, only to reveal dark claws on his hands. The line of prunish flesh continued to split clear down his whole body. Theoretically, he could probably open up his whole chest cavity. Dope.
"Careful there, kid," Snow warned seriously. "You might end up spilling your guts out."
"W– What?!" he cried out in fright.
"Pfft!" Snow laughed, having to hold his face as he held back his laughter. "I'm just messing with you! It seems only fair after you were acting like a little shit!"
"Excuse me, but what the actual fuck just–" Blitz started.
"We killed a human in Hell," Loona explained simply. "And given that mouth of his, I doubt he even had a chance to knock on Heaven's door."
"But that– We just– How do– What now?!" Moxxie asked desperately.
"Given what a real piece of work this kid was, there's only one obvious solution," Blitz stated with a grin.
"Dibs on desecrating the body!" Blitz called out, rushing toward one half while Moxxie and Millie were a step behind him on the other, giving no consideration that the kid was there to watch.
Snow deadpanned as he watched them begin kicking and stabbing each of the half-child, or whatever was left of the body, taking out their frustrations on the corpse. Loona walked up with her phone in hand, clearly recording the whole thing.
While he – the ever responsible one it would seem – watched the now departed soul look on in horror at way his body was near dissected and abused. He sighed as the little high of vindication faded, and he realized they now had some sort of responsibility for this kid being in Hell. Maybe there was a pamphlet for new Sinners? A school? Some night classes or something? 'Well, fuck!'
But in the meantime, he brained the sturdy Sinner kid into unconsciousness, partly to spare him the sight of witnessing the brutality being done to his body, but mostly to tie up the newly formed demon to one of the chairs. Security reasons.
For some reason, these imps had a lot of rope. And he was not asking questions.
"You know, folks, with this company, I really wanted to prove that we're capable of doing the same things anyone else can!" Blitz overviewed as they continued to kick whatever was left of the body, leaving bruising contusions all over it. Then they dragged the body to the unused Maintenance Office in the basement for dismembering, like a bunch of savages, so Snow was forced to razor-slice the rest of it up into more manageable pieces before Moxxie whipped out the chainsaw and left a fucking larger mess for them to clean up. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't find it therapeutic.
Thankfully, the kid stayed nicely tied up in his seat, and silent too, only continuing to watch in horror as his former body was further dissected. Snow had to brain him again.
"Like killing people! So, from us here at the Immediate Murder Professionals group, we promise to settle your unfinished business or your money...is gone and you're never getting it back and you can write us a bad review but we'll play dumb to it because it's Hell and no one fucking cares," Blitz finished his overview as they bagged up the dismembered pieces.
Once the… for lack of a better word, "job", was done, Blitz hugged his employees close, much to Moxxie's annoyance. "You know, even though this kid was a target, he's still a child. And it's important that we handle this going forward respectfully. Especially, since he's here now, watching us." This caused them all to smile.
The brat struggled against his bonds, trying to hop around on the chair while Snow leaned heavily on it with his elbow, weighing it down. "Kid, do not make me konk you out again!" he growled out a warning, causing the little demon to shrink in fear. Probably for the first time in both his life and after-life too.
"It looks like we won't even need M'n'M to train you. You are a natural-born, heartless killer," Blitz said, wiping a tear from his eye. "They grow up so fast."
Snow sighed as he pinched the bridge of his illusionary nose. "What have I gotten myself into?"
The Living World
A News camera took news footage in front of the News station, headlining "MOM SUCKS AT DRAWING OWN KID" while the scrolling under-caption read "MISSING BOY! THERE IS A MISSING BOY! YET ANOTHER MISSING KID! MISSING KID". The newsman on screen looked on in disinterest as he held up his microphone for a woman who was crying uncontrollably as she held up a poorly drawn picture of her missing son.
"Please!" the woman sobbed, "if anyone has seen my little Eddie, please contact us at– Ullg!" A bag dropped out of the sky and into her arms, the make partially stitched with the two halves of her son's shirt as it dripped blood onto her shoes.
She and the newsman looked up, even as the camera rapidly panned up to capture where it had dropped from. It revealed the red hazy outline of a portal, with three imps and some pale-ass human looking down at them through its shimmer.
"You're welcome!" Blitz called out with a wave, pulling back into the rift.
"Well that could have been worse," Millie commented as they turned away.
"Don't you think we should tell her?" Moxxie asked, gently holding out his arm for his wife, which she accepted.
"What? No!" Snow stated. "What kind of mother wants to know that her child died and went straight to Hell because he was an asshole?!"
"Fair," Moxxie conceded.
"MOOOOO–" And then the portal closed, cutting off the desperate cries of a child.
Author's Note:
Heads-up: I'm not sure how often I'll be posting these yet, or if it will continue. This is mostly to relieve the pressure on my brain. Because it's a Sample Story, if I get serious about writing this, it will be subject to changes. So not everything here will be gospel if I come back to it.
I have the ideas, but only time and feedback will determine if anything comes out of it.