Maya brushed a lock of her silvery grey hair away from her face when the hot Wrath air blew into it. After servicing her first client in over three hours, she was only glad she made enough money to cover only half of her daily quota. Wearing only a yellow sundress with a short skirt that reached over her knees, the sleeves covering the small spots on her shoulders, and the skirt having stains that were best left not to ask what they were.

Three days of being in this crappy town in Wrath called Satan's Frontier, and she's been tired of being here. A prostitute's job was never easy as it looks. Just stand there, look sexy and seductive, and wait for your next catch to appear, but some men would play hard to get, only wanting more from the woman trying to lure them. She knew this after five years of experience of being in the world of Hell's prostitution.

But not by choice. In fact, she wasn't always in this profession.

She used to be a happy imp up in the Greed Ring. Her father was part of the head staff running a casino owned by Mammon himself, a position given to him by his stepfather, and she had anything she wanted from the riches he earned, while her mother enjoyed the perks of being married to a casino head staff member but always spent time with her daughter. But that was long ago.

When she was seventeen, tragedy struck that ended up with her moving in with her uncle Victor, her father's older stepbrother, but instead of caring for her and loving her like her parents did, he did the opposite, especially before the tragedy. The minute she moved in with him, he made her a new "hire" for his little business after earning his living as a pimp. Maya tried to refuse to join, but after a little "persuasion", she had no other choice. After spending the next five years in the "family business", which Victor always called it to her constant disgust, she gained enough experience from the many Rings of Hell, mostly from the Ring of Lust where she spent the rest of her life, she was able to get by doing this.

But being a prostitute had its downsides. Outside of Lust, she was always called names like 'slut' or 'whore'. The last time someone confronted her and called her the latter, she got slapped in the face so hard that the mark stayed on her face for days. She had to use tons of blush to cover the bruising.

After spending so much time in Lust and Pride, Victor thought it was time for one of his little cash cow to go out of her comfort zone, and he decided to bring his girls down to Wrath, where strong beefy dickheads would love some good tail to grope after a long day's work on the fields of harvesting food to provide for the other Rings. It would be easy money down in Wrath.

Some easy money, Maya would scoff to herself. She's been doing her job for three days, and she made very little money. If she wasn't going to satisfy another client, she was sure she would be punished for not making enough money to satisfy Uncle Victor. The last time she didn't make her quota, he tied her down on his bed and spent the whole night touching her in the most inappropriate ways imaginable. The first time this happened was after the first time she didn't make her quota during her first year, and she struggled so much to get out of the chains he used to bind her, but this left scars on her wrists, arms and ankles.

Maya's thoughts were cut off when she felt her cellphone go off, provided by her uncle as a means of keeping track of her work. She took the phone out of her dress pocket, careful not to drop the soul bills that were inside, and answered it.

"Yes, sir?" Her voice, after seeing the caller I.D. of the one on the other end, was filled with annoyance and disgust.

"Maya, why the unsatisfied tone?" the caller's voice responded with unsatisfaction.

"What is it?"

"How are we doing on today's quota on your end?"

Maya responded, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "What do you think? I've only pleased one client in only five hours on the job!"

"Don't use that tone with my, you little brat!" the voice on the other end snapped at her before calming down and continuing in a calm tone. "I knew you'd be having trouble on your end, but I have a better solution for that. Return to base so I could tell you the full details in person, and don't be late."

"Yes... Uncle Victor." Maya hung up the phone and walked down the dirt road to where they were staying for a while. Maya hoped that whatever it was, it was finally getting out of this dump once and for all.

She was making her way down to the place they were staying until she was stopped in her tracks by two large, burly male imps.

After eliminating his latest kill at his last location he was staying, Striker arrived in Satan's Frontier just before sunset. After getting a room at the local motel, even getting his trusted steed, Bombproof, his own stall, he and his horse walked around town to find a good tavern to have lunch.

Reading a map of the town he got from the motel, Striker tried finding his way around it. It had been so long since his last stay at this small area of Wrath, and looking around, he saw some places that weren't even there before.

"Hmph, you leave this place for a few years and a lot of things change." Striker muttered, tossing the map aside. He looked at Bombproof. "Guess it's best to walk around, try to refresh our memories a little. Hopefully our favorite joint is still standin'." Bombproof neighed in response, and the two continued walking through the streets.

The last time Striker was here, it had been a small town with a few establishments; a simple motel, a tavern, a tailor place and a general store. But somehow, some imps from different parts of Wrath decided to make their businesses here. Now there were many different stores for tools, a blacksmith, a boutique, and for some idiotic reason, an ice cream parlor, which felt pretty out of place for Wrath and would be more fitting for either Envy or even Greed. Whatever the reason, it was still doing well, especially since a sign on the door's roof said it was made from the milk of local Wrath cattle.

Striker continued down the road until something caught his eye. He saw a female imp in a yellow sundress with long silvery grey hair- an uncommon trait in imps- being stopped by a pair of burly male imps. For a female imp, she stood out more than the other ones here in Satan's Frontier, but she certainly did look attractive enough to draw a crowd.

The first male imp, one with a white goatee and a torn navy blue vest, spoke first, "Hey, toots, got enough time for one more round? Got an extra twenty souls for you."

The female imp just glared at them, saying, "Listen, I gave you two my services earlier. Don't you think you should wait until later?"

The second male imp, who was wearing a grey t-shirt and a torn beige cowboy hat and had tattoos of a steer skull on one arm and flames on the other, grabbed her shoulder before she could move past them. He said with a sneer, "Hey! You still owe me more minutes after you bit my dick!"

"You were the one who was shoving my head down too hard!" the female imp said. "Now if you excuse me, I have someplace to go right now!" She tried getting out of the tattooed imp's grasp, but he was too strong for her to break free, and the goatee imp tried to grab her other arm.

Striker didn't like seeing this little scene one bit. While he didn't quite get why they would ask for sloppy seconds after it seems she pleased them, he didn't like how they were treating this woman. He noticed a bunch of other imps around, but they were somehow ignoring what was going on at the moment.

He was about to make his way towards the three to end this little scene, but then he saw the tattooed imp double over and holding his crotch. The female imp seemed to have kicked him there since her legs were still free. Then she used the barbed end of her tail to throw dirt in the goateed imp's face, blinding him enough to release his grip on her. Seeing that this was her chance to escape, she darted off in the direction she was walking, going past Striker and his horse but not paying attention to them.

Striker watched her run towards the end of the street, but he whipped his head around when he heard the men shouting.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SLUT!"

The two had recovered from their pain and darted towards the same direction the female imp was heading. Seeing that these two needed to be taught a little lesson, he pulled Bombproof to the middle of the road, blocking the two in time as the hellhorse neighed. The male imps were knocked down from the horse's strong build, and while the goateed imp fell back onto his rear, the tattooed imp collapsed into a mud puddle that was right next to them.

"Bombproof, sit!" Striker commanded his horse with a sneaky grin.

"What the- WHOA!"

The tattooed imp was just recovering from his daze when Bombproof suddenly sat on his shoulders, trapping him underneath and his head being closer to the puddle.

Striker said in a phony apologetic tone, trying to hold back his laughter, "Oh, jeez, I am so sorry 'bout that, sir! I don't know what got into my horse." He looked over to see the female imp hiding behind a bunch of barrels, trying to hold back her laughter before running off. With the female imp out of their sight, Striker had Bombproof stand back up again to let the imp back onto his feet.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" the tattooed imp yelled at him "Were you tryin' to kill me?!"

"I would've if my boy sat on your back and crushed your spine, or you'd be lucky enough to live without ever walking again." Striker sneered.

"I'll teach you to mess with me, snake face!" the tattooed imp snarled as he reached into his pocket. He took out a switchblade and pointed the blade at the snake-like imp. A crowd of imps who were watching from nearby gasped seeing a little brawl coming up, a few mothers even covering their children's eyes.

Striker, however, showed no fear of the imp about to stab him. With a swift dodge, he avoided getting slashed in the stomach, leaving only a small tear in his jacket sleeve. But the imp didn't go down without a fight and tried to stab him again. Suddenly, Striker grabbed his arm just when he was just about to stab him, and he flipped the burly imp down. Despite his opponent looking twice his size, he still managed to flip him over like he was just a light sack of potatoes.

Just as the tattooed imp was recovering from his daze, he stopped frozen when Striker reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol. Just before the goateed imp could approach him to tackle him to the ground, he sensed his approached and reached for another pistol, pointing the tip to the middle of his forehead ready to blow his brains out.

Striker looked at both imps, sneering at them as he pointed the pistols, "Never bring a knife to a gun fight."

The imps could have fought back and grabbed his guns, but they weren't going to risk getting their brains shot out by this strange imp who managed to overpower them so easily. Feeling defeated with no other choice, the tattooed imp put his switchblade back into his pocket and slowly got back onto his feet as Striker still kept both guns pointed at him and his buddy.

The goateed imp stammered, "Okay, buddy, you win! How's about we make it up to you? Whatever you want, we'll give it."

Striker thought for a second at his offer before making a decision.

"There is one. Could you fellas take me to a joint this place has; the Watering Hole? It's been a while since I've been here, and I got a little lost after seeing so many things that haven't been here before."

The two imps agreed and showed him the way to the tavern, and Striker called Bombproof to him and they were on their way.

Helluva Boss belongs to Vivienne Medrano aka Vivziepop, and Maya belongs to me. Kind reviews are all I ask.