Weather was never just right in Hell. The day sky was clear and shimmering upon the official funeral proceeding. An ornate urn was being lowered into a hole in the ground. A tombstone carved out of sapphire marked the grave.

Stella stood silent under her black veiled hat. An idle thought crossed her mind that some people threw themselves over the coffins of loved ones. As if that would somehow stop the dirt from piling up over the bodies. She shook her head.

Cousins and relatives twice-removed tried to chat her up. Stella was fairly certain she had never met half of these family members. Still, she did her best to give a minimum of responses. She didn't really pay attention to anything they were saying.

One of the servants had brought her a glass of wine. She had barely finished half of it before a second glass was served. She raised her brow, but she accepted the extra drink anyway. A few seconds later, a white towel had been shoved over her beak. She sniffed and grimaced.

"Really?" Stella glanced at the dressed-up imp. "Chloroform? Just how lightweight do you think I-"

Something collided against the back of her head. There was a sound of shattering glass. Then, everything went dark.

(?...)

She bolted upright in bed. At first, she was confused by her surroundings. When did she have blinds instead of curtains? What model of alarm clock was that? Why did her hands have one too many fingers?

After blinking several times, she lightly patted her face. She mentally berated herself. Of course, the life as a bird demon had been a dream. People can't turn into alternate universe demons when they die.

Her alarm clock rang out and she slapped the button. She showered, dried off, got dressed, and poured some coffee. She pulled open her cupboards and groaned. She had forgotten to pick up cream and sugar. She had a toasted bagel and then grabbed her car keys.

…

Work had been listless that morning. She finished typing up a few reports, but she didn't remember what they were about. She listed off a few bullet points during her video call, but she forgot the main topic after she had signed off. She couldn't even remember which hallways she had walked along to find lunch.

When her soup bowl was empty, she sat back and rested her eyes. She took a few deep breaths.

"Well, don't we look like s**?"

The woman opened her eyes and sat up. A man was sitting across the table from her. She hadn't heard any footsteps. When had he joined her? She faked a cough and smiled politely.

"Uh, yeah. I guess I didn't sleep too well last night."

He smirked. "Too much time re-watching Helluva Boss?"

"Oh, you've seen that show too?" She felt herself smile more genuinely.

"A little." He nodded. "That Stella character is kind of a b**, isn't she?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I wish they had developed her a little more. But it gives us a reason to root for Stolas."

The man looked up and down. "She kind of reminds me of you."

She tilted her head. "Excuse you?"

He shrugged. "I mean, she torments her husband. You killed me. Kind of the same level of ferocity."

She squinted. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"Oh, am I being too subtle?" He bowed his head. "My deepest apologies, princess. Allow me to be more direct."

The man put on a wide-brimmed hat. His teeth sharpened and showed off one golden fang. His eyes spun into yellow and green patterns. His clothes warped into a cowboy's attire. Spiral horns and a snake-like tail grew.

She gasped and stood up, knocking over her chair in the process. "Striker?! You're… real?"

"About as real as I can be." Striker adjusted his hat with one claw. "You did murder me, after all."

Images flashed in the back of her mind. Some were happy. Some were sad. Others were a confusing mess of rage and mania. But then, everything clicked. Her eyes flashed magenta and chased the illusion of humanity away. The royal peahen stood in her standard dress and crown.

"W-Where are we?" Stella looked around. The colors of the office building bled into each other until it was an indistinguishable mess. "Did you come back from the dead to get revenge?"

Striker crossed his boots on top of the table. "As fun as that sounds, that's impossible. Demons don't get an afterlife. 'You only live once' is quite literal."

"Then, how are we talking to each other right now?" asked Stella.

Striker rolled his eyes. "Short answer: you're **ing dreaming. The complication involves that little piece of me inside your throat."

"Eww…" Stella tapped her neck. "Wait, does that mean you can take control of me?"

"I wish." Striker shook his head. "Sadly, I can't do anything with only a mouthpiece. It just lets you look through my memories whenever you talk like me."

Stella blinked twice. "Why are you telling me this?"

Striker sighed. "I have a hunch regarding the buster that knocked you out. If I'm right, you're going to need me to calm him down."

Stella tilted her head. "And how will I know if it is who you think it is?"

"Oh, for ** sake!" Striker facepalmed. "Just switch to my voice after you wake up. Can you do that, Princess?"

"Fine." Stella turned on her heel. "But if this is a trick, I'm going to seek an exorcist."

Striker spat to the side. "Knock yourself out, ma'am. Oh, wait. You already are."

(Hours later…)

Stella fought to open her eyes. When she tried to move her arms, she found they were stuck to her sides. Whatever was lighting up this room, it wasn't doing a very good job. A nearby wall looked like an orange peel, flaked off in rough patches. The rest of the room was full of indiscernible, gray shapes.

She looked down at herself. Someone had tied her to a chair with a combination of duct tape and ropes. Her legs were bound to each other with similar materials. She sighed. She just woke up, so she didn't have enough energy to unleash her true strength.

A door opened on the far wall. Small footsteps tapped against the floor. Then, the door shut again. A light was switched on. Stella saw an imp in a butler's uniform. She wasn't sure which one this was. Recalling what she had heard in her recent dream, she went through the motion of regurgitating dry air.

"What's the matter, Princess?" asked the imp with a deadpanned voice. "Wine and chloroform finally make you sick? Or did the blow to your head mess you up that badly? Please say it was the latter."

Stella made eye contact. 'Oh… that was his hunch.'

"Either way." The imp ripped off his suit. He now sported a worn-down cowboy's outfit. "You're going to pay for what you did… and I don't mean with your **ing money." He pulled out a revolver and a round magazine of six bullets. "I'm going to enjoy taking my time."

He looked down at his hands. His fingers banged the gun and the ammunition against each other. However, they were not leaving the magazine. He growled as he repeatedly hit them.

"You're holding the bullets backwards, Gunter."

"Oh, thanks, Big Bro." Gunter gasped and did a double-take. "W-What?"

A familiar, deep voice left Stella's beak. "The points have to face the same direction as the barrel."

"H-How are you doing that?" Gunter pointed with the revolver, still partially open and still empty. "I'm warning you. Don't ** with me!"

"Your threat's as empty as that gun, little sheriff."

Gunter dropped his items and held his hands against his head. "No, no, no… you couldn't possibly know that nickname. That was his play name for me. He never told anyone that."

Stella felt wide awake now. Shadows danced around her feathers. Her true form flowed out of the bindings and chair with ease. Clawed wings picked up the revolver and magazine. She filled the gun properly and clicked the chamber into place.

Gunter fell onto his rear and scrambled away. He ended up with his back against a wall too far away from the door. He hyperventilated and water leaked from his eyes. The demonic peahen closed the distance.

The revolver flipped around. Its handle was held toward the scared imp. The current carrier returned to her default shape and colors.

"Huh?" Gunter looked up in confusion.

"How about we start catching up?" asked Stella/Striker.

…

It was currently clear that they were sitting in a motel room. However, the interior was colored differently than the motel that Stella frequented. She sat up against the foot of the bed. A toothpick occasionally danced around while hanging out of her beak.

Gunter sat with his feet dangling off the bed. His hands were wrapped around a drink in a paper cup. His eyes were looking down, not really seeing anything.

"Ma and Pa are dead," said Gunter.

Stella/Striker shifted a leg. "Really now?"

"Heart and liver failure respectively," Gunter clarified. "Both were last month."

"Good riddance." The toothpick was pulled out. "One was a pushover. The other didn't know when to stop pushing."

"I know." Gunter chugged his entire drink. He crushed the paper between his claws. "But now, there's no one left home." He sniffed. "I'm not as strong as you, Big Bro. I can't just up and leave."

Stella/Striker raised a brow. "You snuck into a crowd of rich **ers and kidnapped this b**. What do you call that?"

Gunter pinched his tail. "I didn't finish the job."

The peahen's shoulders shrugged. "Well then, you are as strong as I am."

Gunter's eyes widened. He stared at the creature that sounded like his brother.

"True, your headcount is lacking, but you walked away from that **-stain of a house." Stella's hand flicked the toothpick into a waste bucket. "You just need to find the next step on your road."

"I don't know where to go." Gunter looked down.

"Might ** you off, but what would you say to a job that doesn't involve dropping ammo at your feet?"

Gunter blinked. "Like what?"

Stella swallowed, bringing her voice back to the surface. "Mr. Gunter, I would like to offer you a job as my newest butler."

Gunter tilted his head. "Have you lost your rocker, lady? I hit you and dragged you off! Why would you want me to be near you?"

"Firstly, I do feel sympathy towards your situation," said Stella. "Secondly, you're less likely to get in trouble if you're being watched. Thirdly, we're a little short-staffed."

"You're **ing crazy." Gunter leaned back. "Then again, I don't have anything better to do." He tossed his cup, but it bounced over the waste bin. "Alright, I guess I'll give it a shot. I've got nothing to lose."

"That's the spirit!" Stella smiled. "Now, could you get us back to where you found me?"

Gunter scratched his neck. "Um… I'm kind of out of money for cab fare."

Stella sharply inhaled. "I see."

She stood up and walked over to the nightstand. She picked up the phone and tapped a sequence on the buttons. After two blurred rings, something clicked.

"Stella?" asked Stolas's voice. "Where are you? This isn't a number I recognize."

"Hey, Stolas." Stella chuckled. "I'm in the middle of nowhere. Could you maybe open a way home for me plus one?"

Had the sound of blinking traveled over the phone line? "Did someone else bed you?"

Stella paused. "One moment." She covered the speaking side of her end. "Did you do anything to me while I was unconscious? It's not like I could reject or consent."

Gunter went wide-eyed. "What? No! Gawd no!"

"Okay." Stella turned back toward the phone in her hand. "No, he just kidnapped me until I broke free of the bindings."

"What?!" Stolas exclaimed.

A portal opened near the room's entrance. Stolas's true form stomped through, filling the place with a bloody red darkness. Roars mixed with an angry chorus.

"Who dares to threaten my wife?" Crimson eyes locked onto the imp. "It's you, isn't it?"

Stella hung up the phone. "Stolas, wait!"

Beastly limbs stretched out and grabbed the cowboy. Gunter screamed as bones shattered and fangs were ripped clean off. Blood smeared the walls and bedspread. The only thing on Gunter that remained completely intact was the revolver that was tossed to the side.

Stella stared unblinkingly at the scene before her. Any attempts to form a sentence were caught in her own throat. Stolas wiped his gaping maw before his shadowy essence receded. The owl prince rushed over and hugged Stella.

"Oh, good heavens! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Stolas gasped. "The back of your head! It's bruised and cut! We need to treat this at once!" He picked her up and rushed back out through the portal.

It barely registered to Stella that she was back in the palace. She stared blankly while Walter and Ray worked with the supplies in a first-aid kit. Her eyes remained open, even as she was laid to rest in the master bedroom.

…

'Holy s**.' Her face highlighted itself in pink. 'That was really...really... hot.'