And here we are with the Harvest Moon Festival, folk.If this seems late, I was just taking a break. I always take a break after finishing a chapter and since the last one got posted in early August, I figured I'd hold things off until September and here we are. Other than Spring Broken, this episode was one I was also excited to do, it not only brought in a recurring antagonist in Striker, but also gave me loads to work with. Also, this'll be the chapter where Millie's parents get to met their new adoptive grandson and it was so much fun typing their interactions, and the rest of his new adoptive imp family. They may not be the Louds, but they have their own quirks that make them very endearing.

But firstly, let's talk about episode 6; Truth Seekers.

Holy...SHIT!

That was such a nice blend of comedy, drama, action, great animation, fear factor, and so on. It took three months, but the wait was sure worth it and I cannot wait to get to that episode! It's like things just get more intense now that we're closer to the season finale and I am loving it! Kudos to the crew for being able to pull that beautiful masterpiece together! Got in some good moments where Blitzo and Moxxie open up to each other, Millie being a great protective wife and we finally got to see Loona in action. I get Blitzo's being an overprotective dad, and I can respect but seriously, he has to think about promoting her to field work, because hot damn, can she kick ass.

Also, to those who are curious, I had decided to give my story, Losing Him, up for adoption, you can find it in the Loud House fanfiction section. I deeply apologize to those who wished for a comeback, but I lost all passion for that story. If you think less of me for making that decision, then very well, I don't blame you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel or Loud House. All properties involved belong to their respective owners.

Enjoy!


Blitzo strolled through the halls of the Goetia mansion deep in his thoughts and rubbed his neck a little, feeling like he just ran a whole mile or so. He looked to his right at all the glittery decorations.

The fact that he was invited back here was enough to incite rounds of laughter among any crowd of demons as there was no chance in any plane of existance hat the lowest class of demons actually managed to get attention like that. To be allowed to roam the halls of a place where royalty lives was a true privilege and a non-employee imp doing so was truly something many would find ridiculous. Despite all the odds, Blitzo managed to pull it off, but he didn't do it so he could boast about to every demon around, the aim was always about having free use of a valuable book of ancient Goetia magic to start up his company. "His highness thanks you again for returning the grimoire just as promised." A butler said.

"Don't remind me. What's so important about this festival bull?" Blitzo's still not necessarily thrilled about it, but he didn't want the company he started himself to lose their only shot at doing their jobs.

Sighing loudly, Blitzo lights up a cigarette in his mouth and then, Stolas ran up to meet him in a bathrobe.

"Once again, I'm sorry for having to move our little rendezvous early." Stolas cheekily apologized, giving an upside down smile. "See, I'm scheduled for an engagement this month on the full moon." When he saw one of the most important events that required his presence was fast approaching, Stolas knew he couldn't complete his responsibilities without his spell book.

Which came as a huge inconvenience to Blitzo.

"When you call me here, it's don't make a fuss." Blitzo gave his smoke to him as butler imps went about their business, "But, do you really need the grim-thingy for this whole farm celebration bullshit? Fifteen new clients are waiting for heads to roll." he complained. I.M.P's been keeping a steady streak of successful kills and satisfied customers, so it really irked Blitzo that Stolas picked now to put a halt to that.

Stolas inwardly chuckled at Blitzo's narrow-minded view. "Now, now, Blitzy. My grimoire is an important relic." he puts the cigarette out by pressing it on Blitzo's horn, further annoying him. "And it isn't supposed to be lent out to itty-bitty imps like you." he playfully teased, pinching his lover's cheek, voiced dripped with baby talk. Blitzo shoves him away with revulsion, the owl demon always thinks he's been cute with that sort of flirty talk, but from another point of view, it's a royal talking down at an imp. A constant reminder of their difference in the hierarchy. "The Harvest Moon is a very special occasion, after all! As one of the Goetia demons, it has been my annual duty to showcase it in the Ring of Wrath. It's celebrated by a very charming little festival with the locals." It was always such a humorous treat to watch Wrath imps entertain him with all their fun little games.

"Wrath, huh?" Blitzo rubbed his chin in some remembrance. One time, when he was there, it was for shitty horse riding lessons after stealing his then-girlfriend's car to drive there in the first place, using that very same flame's-who's now his ex-girlfriend's-credit cards to pay for them. It was what he felt should've been done after leaving her to pay for the hotel room. Best to not maybe share that with...whatever Stolas is that, so he went to full-on lying. "My employees are from there." Millie liked to talk about growing up on her family's ranch. "Never went there, I only hear it's full of inbred chucklefucks."

Stolas lights up with an idea. "Oh! Why don't you all join me at the festival? I can guarantee..." he tried to persuade with four very liddedl eyes. "...special access." he giggles, hoping Blitzo will accept.

Blitzo wasn't so taken with the idea, seeing as this could end in another Loo Loo Land fiasco, and wanted to spell it out that killing folks was their thing, not protecting them. "Look, I told you before, we're not bodyguards, okay? That was a one-time thing and it ended badly. Even if I did end up taking out that crappy robot."

Stolas' personal servant was waiting by the door and he kept trying to convince Blitzo that it won't so bad, tilting his head like a typical owl. "I'm simply offering a work-free day of fun!" Granted, Wrath was infamous for being a land of fighting obsessed imps, but when the festival is held, things are dialed back, by just a little bit. "I feel quite safe at the Harvest Festival. It's the same every year." he then brought up another point. "Once more, think how good an opportunity this could be for young Lincoln. By my count, the only other ring he's gone to would be Greed, why not show the lad more of Hell's magnificent sights?"

Fun at a festival could also be good to quench the inner problems going on with that boy.

Blitzo thought it over and as much as he was loathe to admit it, a day off not only sounded sweet, but being personally invited by the owl of the hour would be hard to say no to, it was actually kind of sweet of Stolas to go through such lengths to spoil Blitzo and by extension, his staff. "Well, only if this isn't some fuckfest invite, it does sound like it could be a blast and a half." he begrudgingly conceded, though still showed bitterness over their usual plans getting uprooted. "And like I said, we can't do jack shit without your book anyway."

Stolas made faux sounds of being regretful while still using the baby talk.

"Aw, I'm sowwy your clients will wait it out."

"Oh, fuck my clients. I'm complaining about not getting paid for a while." Blitzo dismissed with a wave. "You know what other good can come out of this? Finally getting the intern to actually cut loose for a change. He's been up for some nights, studying all those nerdy magic books you got for him, practicing runes. It's like he doesn't know when to just take it easy."

"Well, that should be expected. Especially for my student." Stolas counters in defense of the boy. "He is trying to find a way back home, in case you forgot."

"Believe me, it's hard to forget when he keeps on talking about it day in and day out." Blitzo reached in his pants and found his phone. "Anyway, guess I should round up the fam, get this road trip started already." he walked out where his van was waiting.

"What's the matter, Blitzy? Did I wear you too much?" Stolas taunted.

"Bitch, please. This number one boss can go on for hours. But, if this harvest festival crap is that big a deal, then there's really no point in distracting you. I just care more that the sooner this is done, the sooner I get that book back." Blitz shrugged, starting the car's engine.

"My, my. How considerate of you." Stolas smirks.

"Don't read into it." Blitzo didn't need to be patronized, least of all, Stolas of all demons. "Just don't go trying anything, alright? And maybe a better heads up next time you pick up the book. Running an assassination company is more difficult than you'd think. Almost makes me regret ever establishing it. Almost."


Due to the sudden stop of I.M.P's jobs, Moxxie and Millie, the lovable married assassins found more time to spend in their apartment complex located not far from where the company's building was. The couple were slumbering soundly in their shared bed together, it was one of the rare calming times in their lives as Hellborn species of Hell. Though, Millie would very much prefer it if a certain white haired boy she's regarded as her own son in all but blood moved in with them to make their little family complete.

But, Moxxie didn't want to take any chances and the landlord had a very stern policy on more occupants.

For now, they're content with it just being the two of them enjoying a relaxing sleep. At least, it was relaxing until Moxxie's Hell phone rung. Annoyed, he turned the phone off and tried going back to sleep, only for it to ring again, leading him to wake himself up and answer the stupid thing.

He can only think of one person who'd be calling so early.

"What is it, sir?" Moxxie tiredly asked, it had better be important.

"Hey! Hope I didn't wake ya, Mox! How does a company trip to the Wrath Ring for some harvest bullshit sound to you and Mills?"

Millie immediately woke up after hearing what Blitzo was calling about with excited glee. "The harvest moon festival is here?! Yee-fuckin' haw! We're in!" she cheers ecstatically, overjoyed at her favorite yearly celebration that takes place where she and her husband hail from.

Sighing, Moxxie rubs his hand down his face. "Well, Millie's on board." He has never once considered going back to Wrath in a long while, even though he's also a Wrath imp. It's not that he hated his home, it's mainly because most Wrath imps are big imposing physically capable fighters that love to get into fights with their fists, while he's a bit more inclined to use the good old noggin instead of fists, that and his usual preference to long range weaponry. Then again, Millie would be disappointed if he refuses, so at least for her sake, he's willing to go. A thought came to him. "Wait, where exactly are you calling from?" The reception sounded way too clear for it be far away, and he got the answer when his boss dropped onto their bed from the ceiling. "Mm-hm. That tracks." Moxxie deadpanned at the purring Blitzo.

"Hey. It's not like I came by to video tape you silly little scamps for a third time in a row. I do have some class, believe it or not." Blitzo defended.

"Yeah, well, do I really need to tell you again how annoying it-wait, you did that a second time?!"

Blitzo closes his eyes with a smile. "You should buy less shitty locks that are easy to pick. Oh, and one more thing. We have the okay to bring the kid with us. You know, show him the wonderful ring of dick in the brains hicks."

"Really?!" Millie was now even more happy. "We can bring Lincoln along?!" she held her cheeks with starry eyes and hopped on the bed in anticipation, she had been waiting for an opportunity like this. "This is the best damn news, Blitz! This means he gets to meet my parents! They've been wantin' to meet their new grandson!"

"You told Joe and Lin about Lincoln?" Moxxie questioned.

"Well, of course I did, honey." Millie said, as if it were obvious. "Momma would've shown me real Hell if I just dropped in with her grandbaby and not tell her about him through letters."

The two male imps shared a tentative glance with each other.

Clearing his throat, Blitz addressed the bruiser. "Mills, Mills. You know I love it how you basically named yourself Linc's mommy without even thinking about his still alive mommy on Earth."

"Thanks, B!"

"Anytime, you bloodthirsty bitch." Blitzo playfully pats her head which she happily takes. "But, why the Heaven would you go and tell other demons outside of the company about our little secret?!" he exclaims. "Newsflash. If those higher up than Stolas or other big wigs catch wind of this, it's all of our collective asses on the line! Most exclusively, my shapely sexy ass!"

"Oh, calm down, Blitz." Millie holds his shoulder. "They're my folks. They know better than to just rat out on me. In Wrath, snitchin' on blood leads to a beating and they're not the type to just tell them uppity snobby fucktards. If anything, they're happy to keep it from 'em. The hate they have for the prissy demons is almost as big as your own dong, boss man."

Blitzo contemplated. "Hmm, displaying astute faith in your pack while also flattering me with very accurate compliments." It's hard to argue a very true statement, he could do without the mushy family talk, but what's important to him is that his dick's bigger than others. "I'm sold!"

Gulping, Moxxie meekly raised his hand. "Um, perhaps we should have a company meeting about this. It would be prudent to pro-con this the best we could, less we end up causing a massive debacle. Which, you know, for us, is very likely."

"Uh-huh. Let's see, here." Blitzo counts one finger. "Pro, we get to hopefully enjoy some free food since we got a personally invite from the Goetia that's running the whole thing. Con, you end up looking like a fuck-up in front of the in-laws. Well, Moxxie, that's a risk I'm willing to take."

"What? No. That-That isn't what I'm worried about."

"Bullshit, Moxxie. Utter bullshit."

His wife holds his hands pleadingly. "Please, Mox-Mox! I just want Lincoln to get to know the rest of our family and it's been such a long while since I last seen 'em, too and I miss them all so much!" she glared lightly. "Well, except for my sister, but the point is, it'll be a fun time for all of us." Her eyes somehow got more begging.

Sweet merciless Satan, Moxxie could never resist that look in his love's face.

"I-I suppose if it means that much."

"Yay!"

Millie happily plants a big wet one on his lips as a reward.

"Good to know you can see things my way, Moxxie." Blitzo boldly stands on the bed. "I mean, it's not like we wouldn't have taken him anyway, without giving a flying fuck about what you think, but this is also good!"

Moxxie droned. "Always a treat to know you think so highly of my input, sir."

"What I'm here for!" Blitzo laughs. "And besides, what in Satan's nuts are you even worried about? It's just a ring get-together in the boonies where you hicks give thanks to some large chunk of rock in space or something."

"Extremely inaccurate."

"Oh, yeah? You gonna drop your drawers and moon the moon or something?"

"This. This right here." Moxxie points out their little exchange. "This is what makes me so concerned."

Blitzo jumps off the bed. "Get dressed in whatever farming threads you got and meet me outside, guys. Loona should be at the office by now and if I know the kid, he's up and about with the whole magic thing."

Millie runs to the closet, hands clapping. "I've been waitin' to give our boy these clothes!"

Oh, how Moxxie wishes he could just laze the day away in bed. Alas, it was out his hands now, when Blitzo sets his mind on something, there is very little chance to dissuade him from pursing it. In the process, he has to drag him, his wife, Lincoln, and sometimes even Loona along that directly leads to a series of constant tomfoolery and the boss never once feels bad about how it affects those he's supposed to be responsible for. If he could, Moxxie could call him out on it, but would Blitzo actually listen? That's the real question. It's too late, now and who knows? Maybe this will be fun and perhaps maybe try and get into the good graces of his in-laws for once, it's not like they could like him any less, right?


Waking up early wasn't anything new for Lincoln.

In fact, he's done it before plenty of times before he ever got into Hell.

Whether it's to score the sweet spot in Vanzilla or snag one of his dad's breakfast sandwiches, or get to the bathroom first. In this case, it's practicing demonic magic as part of his intent to one day break the curse keeping him trapped. Stolas had asked Blitzo to lend back the grimoire for something sounding important, so Lincoln had to make due with all the items and tomes that were collected from the library.

"Okay. Let's see here..." One of the books was basically an encyclopedia of curses, the requirements to cast them, and the means to break them. If he could figure out how to break simple curses, then he can work his way up to breaking the incomplete one he's dealing with. Casting a curse on a person wasn't acceptable to him, so he decided to use an inanimate object like one of the office's staplers. Reading texts, the runic letters were risen from their pages and surrounded the tool where it proceeded to spread pincer legs and a single mouth.

"I heed the call of the Pentragram! I must feed on flesh!" It turned to Lincoln. "May I feed on your flesh, good sir?"

"...No, but nice of you to ask."

Time to turn the talking stapler back into a regular stapler.

He douse it in waters gathered from the depths of Envy's waters, then added it in some ashes from burned crosses for that extra demonic boost and waited approximately ten seconds, nothing more. That exact amount of time passed and yet, nothing occurred.

"Was-Was something supposed to happen? I don't really feel any different."

"Dang it!" Lincoln groans, flipping through the pages. "Did I miss something?"

"Now hang on. I suddenly feel something in my back. Or, my top? Bear in mind, I was an average stapler before now, so I'm not really sure exactly if my body counts as a biological-holy shit!"

It sprouted wings and can now fly around the room. "Wings? How were wings included?"

"Hey, man, I don't really give a shit right now! I'm gonna eat flesh from the skies!" the flying stapler goes out through the window, ready to enjoy its newfound sentience...until its wings are shot and it fell down in the middle of a street, picked up by a passing Sinner with a handgun and purple furred head shaped like a goat's.

"A flying stapler..." the demon goat shrugged in acceptance. "Eh. I've eaten weirder crap. Hell, I've eaten literal crap."

Lincoln closes his window with a disappointed frown. "Well, if I can't break even simple curses, maybe I can try feeding demons office supplies." he sardonically says, putting the magic items away. He may good with the grimoire, but that's when his boss needs him to whip up some portals and go on the defensive and if need be, offensive when a job goes tits up.

"Thanks for the meal, bunny kid!"

He has to have a better handle of magic as an everyday thing, rather than a tool when it's needed.

Like the way his teacher does thing, the big owl's even able to perform spells without the need of the grimoire. Times like this is where he gets his newly bought personal Hell phone and plugs in the headphones and plays a song Octavia recommended him. Very negative sounding lyrics and paints a depressive mood, but he will admit, the tune's undeniably catchy. "Anybody in here?"

Hearing Loona made him stop listening to the song and lave his room.

The hellhound receptionist walked in slow steps while cradling her own head. "Hi, Loona."

"'Sup, Linc." Loona surrenders herself to the sofa cushions. "Fuck, it feels like a massive rave in my head. Whoever invented hangovers can go to town with a horse, because I hate them with every fiber of my being."

"From last night or this morning?"

"Last night, duh." Loona spreads an hand across the room. "See how quiet is? No work nights in a while. Free to go all out." she whimpers like an injured puppy as she rubs her still sore head. "Still hurts like a motherfucker."

Smiling sympathetically, Lincoln pointed to the coffee machine. "Don't worry. I got you covered."

He went over to get her a freshly poured cup of Joe for such an invent. "Three shots of vanilla?" she asked.

"Just the way you like it." Lincoln affirmed, earning a hair ruffling.

"That's my boy." she slurps it all in one gulp. The kid actually went and made morning coffee just for her because of how heavy her hangovers are, to think she wasn't all that positively receptive of his presence at first.

"Will Blitz be coming back, yet?" Lincoln asked, sitting next to her and scratching her back fur to further offer some comfort.

"No clue. Must still be over at his feathery sugar daddy's place." Loona guessed, her foot tapping happily as a response to the scratching.

"Great news, kiddos!" Both Lincoln and Loona nearly jump out of their spots on the sofa when Blitzo kicked himself inside with Moxxie and Millie in tow. "Stolas invited the company out for some moon fest junk in Wrath, so get yourselves dressed for an outing at some stupid festival!"

Lincoln dubiously titled his head. "Uh, Moxxie? Explanation?"

He's way more easy to follow than Blitzo.

"The Harvest Moon Festival is a unique event held once a year in Hell, specifically in the Wrath Ring." Moxxie eloquently tells the intern, expecting him to be unfamiliar with Hell's traditions. "To put it simply, it's not that different from a typical harvest festival on your world, Lincoln. The many imp farmers all gather together to celebrate a successful bountiful harvest. But what makes this particular festival stand out is that prince Stolas himself oversees the celebration every year, and can only perform his duties with his grimoire handy."

"Which is why he needed it back." Lincoln said in realization. "And he invited us all?"

Millie slung an arm around his shoulder. "Damn right! Our boss going to town with a prince is giving you a chance to meet grammy and grandpops! Don't that just make you all excitin'?!" she pecks him on the cheek.

"You mean you want me to meet your parents?"

"Well, of course, sweetie pie!" Millie tosses him the clothes she picked out for him. "Don't you want to meet your new grandparents?"

"Uh..."

Blitzo slaps his back. "Come on, pal! You really want to break your mommy's heart?"

Moxxie stands between them. "Now, sir, don't even think about guilt tripping Lincoln into coming along. If he wishes to stay behind, then we should respect his wishes." Lincoln smiles in thanks that Moxxie take into account of how he feels. "Besides, he could be busy with his own plans, right?"

"I was." Lincoln scratched his head, still embarrassed by his failure. "Didn't really work out, though."

"Then take a break!" Blitzo continuously encouraged. "Human souls like yours never get a peek of other rings, so take advantage of that shit to the fullest! We can't exactly go on a job until this thing's over with."

Lincoln was still unsure. As much as he would want to still work on his magical abilities, would it really be worth it if they just end horribly in the end? Of course, Millie really wanted him to go and his innate curiosity wanted to see exactly what this festival had to offer. "I guess some fun wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to us."

"That's momma's little boy!" Millie hugs him and urges him to go to his room. "Hurry and get dressed! You're gonna love your aunt and uncles, too!"

"Loonie, that goes double for you." Blitzo told his adoptive daughter with a clap of his hands. "This is a company field trip!"

The hellhound twirled her finger in the air, lacking any excitement. "Yippee."


Once the I.M.P staff all changed, they gather up inside the company van and made off for the Ring of Wrath, the third of the seven rings that's Lincoln been in so far in Hell.

Due to the special occasion for this trip, they all changed into country and farm clothing to not seem out of place and also fit in with the farming setting of the Wrath ring, it can safely be said that Wrath can be considered farm country of Hell. It's setting screamed that as the van passed by various barns, grass fields, and herds of demonic looking cattle. "Woah. It looks likes the grass could go for miles." Lincoln marveled. Millie picked out a brown vest over a plaid orange shirt, bright blue jeans, and black farming shoes for him to wear as everyone else had their own standard country-looking clothes. This ring was also extremely hot, and on the horizon, Lincoln saw actual robs of hot light resembling suns erupting from volcanoes.

Millie took in a deep content breath. "Home sweet home. It's about the same as when Moxxie and I left. Ain't that right, Mox?"

"Yes. That is very true..."

Speaking of, Moxxie was the only one of the M&M duo who wasn't all that thrilled to go back to their neck of Hell's woods. He kept fidgeting in his seat, extremely anxious for when they arrive.

"You know, Moxxie, Millie loves talking bout growing up here, but I don't think I've ever heard you ever speak about how it was fro you when you still lived here?" Lincoln can see the team's gun expert had some issues.

Moxxie expected Lincoln's astute observation skills would detect his own apprehension. "It's nothing too concerning, Lincoln. It's just, even though I was born here like Millie, I can't say most of her family have ever really...approved of me." he shyly admitted. "If there's one thing all imps from Wrath have in common, it's that muscles are the key to every victory of a battle. I, on the other hand, think more pragmatically and they don't necessarily agree with my point of view."

That confused Lincoln.

"How can they not? You know so much about weapons. How they work and how to handle them. It's what makes you such an important part of this team." Lincoln's praising brought great warmth to Moxxie who nearly teared up in joy. It was so nice to have a coworker that never belittles his masculinity or competence as an assassin for once. "If this ring is full of fighting lovers, then my sister, Lynn, would think of it as a paradise.

"Jock sister, right?" Loona took the time to memorize which sister was which. "No offense, Linc, but I wouldn't like her chances. The shit-storms that go on here isn't some workout.

Lincoln's eyes widen when they pass a field with pikes and barbed wire keeping back feral beasts. "Uh..."

"Keeps tippers out." Millie explained. "Neighbors just hate trespassers, and look, we're here!" she brightly exclaims.

Rough n' Tumblebweed Ranch.

The farmhouse that served as Millie's childhood home. Two imps, a male and a female, were standing at the entrance with the female one waving to them in greeting and the van stops. The male imp was a burly muscular individual with a white mustache and white markings that spreads across his left arm. This was Joe, Millie's father and the proud owner of the ranch. His wife, Lin, shared an uncanny family resemblance to their daughter, almost like an older version of Millie, but covered in white spots and had a more mature-looking full figured body and slim waist.

Not wasting any time, Millie exits and went straight for a big bear hug from her dad. "Momma! Daddy! I've missed you!"

Joe chuckles warmly when she jumps into his arms. "Yee-haw! And how's my deadly little pumpkin spice doin'?" he ruffles her dark hair affectionately.

"I'm good, Pa!" Millie expressed her gratitude. "Thanks for letting us stay here for the harvest jamboree."

Lin assured her that it was the least they could do. "It's no trouble. We know you aren't making as much anymore since y'all went 'freelance' after all." she said with air quotes and maybe too condescendingly.

"Freelance pays really fine, Ma." Millie counters, a little agitated. "We're doing fine. It's fine." she guides them to her husband who was having slight difficulty with lifting up their luggage. "Anyway, ya'll remember my husband, Moxxie." she pushes him over and he shrinks back at their unimpressed frowns.

"Lovely to see you again, Lin. Joe." Moxxie amicably waves. "How have you been with all the flaming twisters and stuff around here?" A nice little joke should ease some of the tension in the air.

"We lost our old farmhand to one of 'em terrors last week." Joe darkly recounts.

Moxxie chuckles very nervously for accidentally bringing up some bad memories. "Oh, crumbs! My bad. I am deeply sorry." he regretfully apologized. "I didn't mean to open up that wound, sir."

"Hey, watch it! I'm the 'sir' around here, bucko!" Blitzo glowered.

If anyone had any right to make Moxxie try too hard, it was him.

Millie just remembered that this would also be her parents' first meeting with the imp in charge. "Oh, yeah. Ya'll haven't met our boss, Blitz and his hellhound."

Loona took a break from her phone to bark back, insulted that Millie made it sound like she was some common pet. "I'm not justhis hellhound, bitch."

"Yeah. She's also my daughter." Blitzo corrected with earnest.

"Only on paper." Loona pointed out as he walks for a formal introduction but she didn't follow. "None of y'all deserve to know my name."

Lincoln fake coughed in his hand. "It's Loona." she raised an amused brow and smirked at his cheeky grin.

Blitzo shoves Moxxie aside into farm animals. "A great pleasure to finally meet the sperm and egg factory that popped out this little gem of an assassin." Millie bashfully waves off the compliment while her parents share questionable glances. "You two raised one hell of a sturdy bitch!" he punched said sturdy bitch's arm.

Oddness aside, Joe and Lin took the flattering comments with pride. "That we did and proud of it."

"Last, but not least..." Millie was saving this introduction for last because it was so special for her family. She gently walked Lincoln over to meet her parents and presented him with maternal cheer and elation. "Say hello to Lincoln! The human child cursed to Hell I wrote to you about! And the proud baby boy of two coldblooded killers, which are me and Moxxie!" she shakes Lincoln.

Gulping, Lincoln holds a hand for a shake. "A-A pleasure, mister and misses." Both were taller than him and looked they could rough it with the best, so how would they respond to an unassuming kid like him.

Both silently looked at him in a beat of silence, and Joe broke it. "Boy, you better put that hand down..." he ordered through a threatening tone, before vibrantly opening his arms with a wide smile. "...and give your pappy a hug! C'mere!" Joe laughed and pulled Lincoln into a tight hug and the kid gets a familiar feeling of losing some oxygen.

"So that's where she gets it from...!"

Lin taps her husband's arm. "Now, that's enough, Joe. Give Grammy a turn." When he releases Lincoln, Lin was more gentle in her hug, cuddling close to his form with happiness and gives him a once over. "Let me get a good look at you, now. My word, you are just so precious!" she cooed, holding his face tenderly. "Millie's letters didn't do justice in how adorable you are!"

"I know, right?!"

They were taking it better than Lincoln had assumed. "Uh, thanks, Mr. Joe and Mrs. Lin."

"Now stop it with that formal nonsense, sonny." Joe pounded his own chest. "Just call me Pappy Joe! Boy howdy, ya don't have any idea how we've been achin' to meet ya when we first heard about ya! Does me proud to know my baby girl's passing on every knowledge of how to pop a man's spine in half! She has taught you all her moves, right?"

"She once took me to see how she can twist a head around with just one punch."

"Ha! Came up with that move, myself!"

Moxxie had to say this one thing. "Now, I understand your elation. But, uh, you should know that technically, we aren't legally Lincoln's parents. In fact, he works with us on the job."

"That right?" Joe crossed his arms stoically. "Why? Too afraid of the responsibility of raising a child?"

"No, no! You have it wrong!" Lincoln cleared things up. "My family-my human family-they're still alive. It's not like I'm an orphan."

"Blood or no-blood, Millie writes how you understand loyalty to your kin." Joe especially liked one entry. "Hell, she told us how you dropped a damn clock that was about to do her and the rest in." he held one his arms. "Hmm, lookin' like you need some more meat in those limbs, but if you managed to not die in Hell for this long, then there's no doubt a fighter somewhere inside."

Praise for some physical capabilities.

Not something Lincoln's used to hearing, at least not towards him.

"Y-You think?" Lincoln modestly asked. "I don't know about that."

Blitzo nudged his side. "Ah, don't sell yourself short, kid. He makes a really great intern."

"Glad to hear it, Blitz." Joe shook the boss's hand and made approving noises. "That's a fine name you got."

"It reminds me of war." Lin fondly said

Joe showed similar love for conflict like any other Wrath imp. "Ain't nothing sweeter than a little war to make a strong man!" he flexed a bicep to prove his point.

Complete battle freaks like their daughter. It was official, these were Blitzo's kind of imps. "I like you two."

If it was war they adored so much, then maybe Moxxie could appease that adoration using his area of expertise. "The thing about war, most battles were won thanks to technological advances in warfare." he went into a very informative lecture. "I've researched the history of weaponry extensively and it's inspiring how, for example, the progression of guns utilizing angelic technology has changed the landscape of Hell's combative-" Moxxie looked to see Millie making a cut it out signal as Blitzo and her parents stared perturbed. "-I mean, war is so fun!" he awkwardly declares.

"Guns get the job done and usually, that's all that matters." Joe conceded, though when it came down to it, he'd rather rely on his fists any day. "But a man ain't a real one if he can't tear the head right off a hellish beast with only his bare hands!" he punches his open palm with ferocious energy.

"Ha!" Blitzo laughs, knowing Moxxie wasn't anything like that. "Your in-law sure got you all figured, Moxxie! You do have little baby hands like your baby dick!" he insulted.

Moxxie made him take a step back. "Refrain yourself please, sir."

"If you wanna see strong hands." Joe got their attention. "Y'all should meet our newest hired help after we lost the last one. Hey, Striker!" he calls.

Noisy galloping sounds were heard and they saw a mighty steed make its way to them. It was a horse-like beast colored grey an black stripes with a mane and a tail that were set ablaze. Four glowing eyes shone along with its orange fangs and horseshoes. Its lower body looked as if it were a pool of lava flowing and it neighed loudly as it carried the rider. Striker was a tall imp, even rivaling Blitzo's height, but had a more distinct appearance like his serpentine face, pale red skin tone, and even the horns appeared more jagged. A golden tooth shined and there were rings inside his eyes and he sported a small black mustache. His attire gave him the look of a real cowboy, fit with the big hat on his head.

He even had the steel confidence just by looking at him as his red-spiked tail slapped hard on his steed's behind to make it jump over the fence in front of the group.

Blitzo stared at the hell horse with an open smile and hearts in his eyes.

The rest carefully moved when it neighed wildly. "Well, howdy there!" the cowboy imp tipped his hat in greeting, a hay straw in his mouth. He caught sight of Millie and noticed the similarities between her and Lin. He dismounts from the fiery horse to get acquainted. "Oh, looky here. The famous Mildred. Heard some good things about you from your folks, little lady." he winks her way.

"Oh!" Millie laughs sheepishly, shaking his hand that caused Moxxie to narrow his eyes.

"What are ya'll doing so far away from Imp City?" Striker snickered. "The free work finally slowin' down so you decided to move back?"

"Oh, no. Freelance isn't literally free work, we do get paid and it's-never mind." Millie has enough trouble trying to explain it to her parents. "We're just visiting for the festival. As it happens, the prince is our boss's boyfriend~." she teasingly drawls.

Blitzo was not amused. "Millie, I am not above hitting a female in front of her daddy, it wouldn't be the first time."

Now that got Striker's attention, this was the imp he's heard so much about from other parts around Wrath. "Boss, huh? Oh, so you're the bold imp that started his own killing biz." How funny it is, meeting him here.

"Hey, when you're good at something, you should capitalize." Blitzo responds with a shrug.

Still, Striker had to give Blitzo some credit for being one of the few imps in Hell that decided to take a chance and leave his own mark among all other bottom tier demons. "Not many imps start businesses on their own." Striker pointed out. As the lowest class of demons, they're all expected to take shit from all others and do nothing more than stay in their subservient roles, but Blitzo wasn't one of them and Striker respects that. "That's mighty impressive of you, sir."

Blitzo blinked, not expecting to get actual props for his efforts. "Yeah? I guess-I guess it is, isn't it?" he nods, satisfied and found himself shaking the cowboy's hand, too.

"Now if I'm right, you even conned that ditzy blueblood into getting you to the surface?" Striker asked.

Having one of Hell's elite in your pocket was even more impressive.

If only that was the only case. "Well, it's long and more complicated than that, but the short answer is yes." Blitzo then fumbled in his words when trying to explain that their partnership was strictly professional for all intents and purposes, and failing terribly at it. Moxxie and Millie silently chuckled knowingly and the former took great pleasure in seeing Blitzo in a stuttering mess for once. "But, he's not like, you know-he isn't my-I'm not his-we're not doing-we-it's a transactional fucking, you see." It sounded like he was also trying to convince himself.

Striker then saw Lincoln. "Well, I'll be." he crosses his arms and while the white hair was very misleading, he wasn't stupid enough to not see that there was a real live human right before him. "Here I thought Joe and Lin were pulling my leg. Lincoln Loud, I'm assuming?"

"That's-That's right." Lincoln nodded, trying to be cordial. "Is there gonna be some problems?"

Striker smirked with a humph. "So long as you don't start any, short-stuff. Apologies, it's that I never thought a living human soul would take up residence in these parts, let along survive it. I take it Blitz and his crew are to thank for that."

"They've helped a lot. But, they've also taught me a lot, too and that's more than enough." Lincoln wouldn't know what he'd do in Hell without them.

Striker turns his back. "For your sake, boy, it better be. Though, word of advice, can't get far down here relying on others alone and you sure as fuck can't do it with a soft heart. Little guys like you tend to get stepped on, you know."

Lincoln lightly glared. "Then I must be doing something right."

So he can at least sass right back.

Not bad.

"Heh, whatever you say, kid."

"Don't let his looks fool you." Blitzo tells Striker. "Kid can pull through when pushed far enough. Believe me." What transpired with the cherubs was a clear sign of that, and Blitzo only wished that the boy could be more proud of it.

"I'll take your word for it."

"You know. You boys should enter the pain games." Joe told his employee and his daughter's employer. Said daughter, though, looked very downcast, which was weird since this sounded like her kind of contest.

Blitzo heard one of his favorite magic words. "I heard games! What games?!" he walked like a crab in a fast pace to the muscle-bound imp. "I'm in!"

Lin filled in for those unfamiliar. "Every harvest festival, there's a competition to be the roughest toughest bastard in Wrath!" Imps from across the ring engage in various physical challenges to earn the right to be considered the strongest of them all.

"Wow, you must have won, huh, Millie?" Lincoln says to his indignant coworker.

"Yeah! Except I can't play!" she bitterly huffs. "'Cause I'm banned for a stupid shitty reason."

Knowing her offspring was still sore about being exempt from the games, Lin sternly tells Millie that there was indeed, very good reason for why it happened. "Millie, you know you get too carried away. The last competition ended in fifteen separate funerals." As proud as Joe and Lin are for their daughter's exemplary skills in hand to hand combat, they're aware that when she gets too into it, she loses all control and causes nothing but problems. They taught her much about expressing her rage through her fists, but never could successfully teach her how to keep it in check.

"I'm aware. But, I only caused nine of them." Millie rolled her eyes and pouts. "How come Sallie May gets to compete?"

"Because your sister doesn't have a neighborhood headcount that bordered on the many."

Millie begs to disagree. "She so too does! She always bragged about it being bigger than mine!"

"Doesn't count if no one can find the bodies, sis." Seething in rage, Millie looks with Lin and Lincoln to see a female imp arrive with a shorter male one, carrying a lot of bodybags. They were soon accompanied by other male imps.

"There you all are." Lin frowns. "Didn't I tell y'all that your sister would be coming? I know me and your Pa raised you to not be tardy for kin."

"Blame it on the traffic, Ma." Sallie May tossed the big into a hole. "Folks are already stormin' the place, and hello there, little sis. I'd say I feel bad that you won't be breakin' heads with us, but I can't 'Cause I don't." she tauntingly grins at the still fuming Millie.

"Come on!" Millie pleaded. "How else will Lincoln cheer for his momma when she's puncturing a bitch's lungs?"

"Now, that's enough of that, Mildred." Lin demanded, having enough. "You're not an impling anymore, so I expect you to accept whatever shit's thrown your way. You're settling a bad example for the boy."

At this point, Millie's brothers and sister notice Lincoln who shyly waves. "Hi."

"...Nephew!"

Lincoln was met with his new 'uncles' dogpiling on him, giving him affectionate hair ruffles and noogies and he suddenly finds himself recalling a specific dream where he had ten brothers instead of ten sisters, but this was less troublesome. "Settle down there!" Lin shouts, making her sons stand in a line. "I know y'all are excited, but try being more careful. Humans are very fragile, you know."

Sallie May picked the kid up. "So, you're Mills' new kid, eh? Let me guess, adopted?" she teased her sister, again. "Does your man shoot only blanks or are you just not fruitful like Ma?"

Millies stuck her tongue out. "You're just being jealous that I got badass mom status now."

"Ah, you can have it. I'm not picky, just call me your Auntie Sallie May, okay, little man?" she tenderly patted his head. One thing Lincoln can't help but notice was that Millie's sister's horns looked like a male imp's and a light white color in her black hair and...oh.

"Um, okay." Lincoln bashfully smiles.

"Sorry your boy won't get to see you kick ass, sis." Sallie May patronized. "But hey, because I'm nice like that, I'll go ahead and do it for you, only much better."

Millie tries one more time to beseech to Lin. "Ma!"

"Young lady, my word is final." Lin didn't want anymore lip on the subject. "Look at it this way, you and Lincoln can still root for her and your brothers and now, you can cheer on your boss!"

Moxxie came to a very bold decision despite some hesitation. "You know, she'll also cheer for me."

Joe slapped his knee in a fit of laughter but saw his son-in-law's determined expression. "Wait, you?"

"Yeah!" Moxxie didn't take being underestimated very well. "I'm allowed to compete, can't I?" It'd make sense for someone physically capable like Millie, but not for an imp that can't even handle a nudge from his mother-in-law.

Joe admired the determination, but still found the very thought laughable. "Sorry, boy. But, I don't think sensitive thespian types would last very long in those bloody games."

"I was born in this ring, too!" Moxxie even tries doing his own southern drawl. "I have some fight in me as any other imp."

Striker figured he should at least prove it. "Huh. Well then, little fella. Why not help me wrangle a hog for dinner?" he points to a big pig demon sleeping in the mud.

Moxxie scoffs. "Simple. Just watch me." he reached for a concealed gun in his shirt, but Striker had other ideas.

"Nah, little man. Use these tools." The pale imp handed Moxxie rope and a single knife. "Its shell can bounce bullets off. Best bet is to stab it underneath and pry it open."

"Oh, right, right. I knew that. I can do that just fine." Moxxie nervously claims with an audible gulp.

Blitzo leaned in closer to give him one of his best pep talks to date. "Now just remember, your rep with the judgy in-laws is on the line here." Some nice pressure helps build up the fear of failure. "So, no pressure at all. You totally won't make an ass of yourself in front everyone important in your life." Oh, yeah. The clear signs of Blitzo being an encouraging boss.

Lincoln glared at Blitzo. "How is that helpful, Blitz? Moxxie, you don't have to do this."

"He's right, Mox." Millie nodded. She knew how much her love wants to prove himself to other Wrath imps, but she couldn't give a damn if he wasn't the strongest, the way he is now is good enough for her.

"N-No!" Moxxie shakes his head. "I-I am comfortable with this!"

"Great! Now, go knock 'em dead, tiger." Blitzo cheers and shoves him. "Kick its pig ass!" Now at the point of no return, Moxxie quietly creeps up to the slumbering demon pig. He was scared out of his mind, but didn't want to show it for all to see, he's supposed to be be showing unwavering resolve. With a jump, he lands on the pig's back, sending it into a panicked frenzy once Moxxie lassos the rope around its neck and the imp goes for the kill, but just as Striker said, the shell was nigh impenetrable. Squealing in fury, the pig trashed around and Moxxie struggled to stay on it as the rest watched, one half in concern and the other half amused. "Fuck yeah, Moxxie! Ride that hog! Make it that bitch you won't call back in the morning until you realize it took your wallet!"

"This is just fucking beautiful." Loona couldn't resist recording.

"Doing a-okay, Moxxie! You are the man!" Blitzo kept going on his fake cheers. "Send me that video back home."

Lincoln stares in disapproval which caught Loona's attention. "What? This is too good!" he turns away and she sighs, slowly putting her phone away.

Suddenly, Striker jumped in, knocking Moxxie away and handling things way better. In one swift move, he managed to succeed where Moxxie failed in impressive fashion, and Moxxie was left in pain and embarrassment. "Ow! I think I broke my clavicle." he soothes his now sore neck.

"Don't be so down, little one." Striker's tail rattled like a rattlesnake. "You were bound to fail." he cruelly mocked, taking the pig's corpse to Joe and calls for Blitzo. "Hey, boss man. You wanna help the men skin this thing for dinner?"

Blitzo gladly accepted the offer. "Buddy, you won't find anyone else who's down to skin some manly meat with a manly man."

"Heh, yeah, that's what she said." Loona quipped.

"What who said about what?" Blitzo asked, enraged. "Wait, what bitch is talking shit about the number one boss?!"

As they all went to the farmhouse, Lincoln and Millie helped Moxxied with his injuries, but that did little to repair his damaged pride. "Don't let him get to you." Millie comforted, wrapping bandages. "And hey, you don't need my parents' respect. They'll give it, eventually." These things just need time, trying to force or rush things only succeeds in more strenuous relationships.

Sallie May didn't believe that. "No, they won't." she didn't care about the way her sister was growling at her. "What? I'm speaking the truth, ain't I?"

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Look, Moxxie. It doesn't matter to me or to Millie if you're not some big tough guy. Trust me, I get it, and I'm telling you that it's not really worth it." he understood Moxxie's dilemma perfectly. At one point, he too was worried if he wasn't a tough enough guy due to growing up with so many sisters and went through a lot just to prove otherwise. Got him and his best friend nothing but trouble like a bear, a moose, bees, and a waterfall and he eventually understood that just because a guy isn't tough in the traditional sense, that doesn't mean he wasn't strong in his own way.

Everyone has their own way of having strength and it can mean more than just muscles.

Moxxie knew they made good points, but it was just in his nature to still at least try. "I will be there at those games!"

Lincoln and Millie were disappointed as the latter hummed in concern. "Say, sis, how pissed would you be if I bet on him dying?" Sallie May cheekily asked, and proceeds to back away when Millie got out her knife. "Just teasin'. If y'all need me, I'll be helpin' myself to some of mama's pies. Better luck next festival, sis."

"Pfft. Striker." Moxxie dismissed. "He's not so great."

Striker.

Lincoln turns to the house where he could see Striker through the window, cleaning the pig blood off his knife. Guy had charisma, arrogance, and had a very high opinion on themselves and took great joy belittling those weaker than him.

Common traits among demons.

But there was something about him that made Lincoln uneasy, he didn't like how he treated poor Moxxie, but there was an unknown factor that caused Lincoln to get the instinct of being wary of him.

Like there was more to Striker than just being the new hired help.


Inside the farmhouse, Lincoln was seated at the dinner table with IMP. Millie's brothers were eating like wild wolves, and Striker ate by himself in the living room as they waited for the festival to begin. "Here you go, sug." Lin baked a fresh pie that was only for Lincoln's taste buds. "I know some of the usual Hell recipes might be too much for you, but I made sure to memorize this here apple pie!"

"Thanks." Lincoln cut a piece with a fork and ate it. "Mmm, this is great! You didn't have to go so far, though."

"Anything for my new grandbaby."

Joe took a large bite out of some juicy steak. "Hey, sonny! Sure ya don't want none of this fine meat? Nothing to build the muscles more than Wrath grilled meat, cooked to make you the scorn of your enemies!"

"Now, Joe. You know damn well he can't." Lin rubs the kid's head. "His stomach's too soft."

"...Wouldn't go that far..."

"See there? Don't go doubting his pain tolerance, Lin." Joe flops the steak around. "Of course, he may as well not have any what with doing work for free and everything. Not something worth breaking your body for."

Blitzo tightly grips his chair's arms. "Okay, look. I let little comments like those slide because you're my employee's fam, and because I find your love of fighting charming and very hot. But just to make it very clear, our job racks in a ton of dough. A real thing you shouldn't doubt."

"Ma! We're done!"

One of the brothers burped out a bone and Lin exasperatingly takes all the plates. "I swear, you boys need a new lesson in table manners."

"Let me help." Seeing his father tirelessly cook food for his family taught Lincoln that parents like him and Lin should be more appreciate for all their efforts in slaving away in the kitchen, so he picks up the now empty plates and Lin beamed at his politeness.

"Adorable and a gentleman? That settles it, there must be a God if I got myself the sweetest grandson around."

"If you really wanna help, Lincoln. Then follow your pappy." Joe wanted to show Lincoln the kind of work that a real man should do and the right place for that is the barn out back. Same place where all his wife gave birth to all their children, too. Ah, all the memories this place keeps, and of course, it still has the smell of where he and Lin first did it. And now, it's where he'll teach his grandson how to do some manly work, Joe is living the dreams of every grandfather right now. "Tell me, sonny. You ever worked in a farm before?"

"My friend, Liam, lives in one. He sometimes calls us for an extra hand or two."

Those chickens can be a pain, though.

"In that case, buckle up! We here in Wrath do things a lot rougher compared to Earth farms." Joe had himself and Lincoln big stacks of hay to feed all the hell goats that fought each other for the spoils. Next were all the eggs being laid that shot out like missiles, leading both to quickly catch them before they could explode upon the walls, and Joe didn't forget taking the kid n a tractor ride that involved a super fast tractor that also sliced apart pests that were in the way as Joe laughed like a madman. Standard chores and activities at a farm in Hell. "Whoo! Nice to see the old girl still have some fight in her!" Joe said after getting kicked by one of the cows after he milked her for all she's worth. "Way more productive than free work, am I right, sonny boy?"

Lincoln was in a mess of hay straws and feathers. "Somehow, it's just as dangerous. But seriously, we do get paid. Everyone in the company pulls their weight when they really want to. Even Loona...sometimes. Not to mention Moxxie."

"Hmm. That right?" Joe furrows his brow.

"Well, yeah. I'm not kidding, he can be dangerous in his own right." Lincoln states. "He's stronger than he looks, the guy clearly cares a lot for everyone in his life and is willing to do whatever it takes to save them."

"That's...something, I suppose." Joe begrudgingly admits, making Lincoln smile. "I'm gonna go ahead and make sure everyone's nice and ready for the games."

Lincoln waits outside and looks to Wrath's skies, lost in thought. Spending time with Millie's family, where there were a a whole pack of them going crazy in the house, it brought a huge sense of nostalgia to him, it almost feels like he's back in the Loud house. Even in Hell, there are those who shower him with familial affection, but is it really right to just accept them as a second family when he already has one waiting for his return?

His thoughts were interrupted when he got a surprising urgent feeling. He gazes at one of the house's windows where Striker's guest room was, he focused his sight and either he was going crazy, or there was some out of place glowing coming from there. "Done with all the work, runt?" Speak of the imp, there was Striker who had been observing all the chores getting done.

"Uh, yeah. Already leaving?"

"Just makin' sure Bombproof had his fill of grub." Striker pets his steed's muzzle. "Gotta say, surprised ya haven't collapsed from all the work Joe's had you do. Thought you would've done those fancy spells the Goetia's been teachin' you."

"You know about that?"

"That boss of yours really likes to talk." Striker chuckled. "Had a lot of stories to tell. When it came to you, I figured the only reason you've lasted was because you had that little book to get you out of shit. You're about the luckiest little son of a bitch to get access to somethin' that's off limits to us...lower demons." his tone had a slight edge at the end.

"I can't always rely on the book." Lincoln reasons. "I can defend myself just fine without it."

"Maybe. But goin' on the offensive never crossed your mind there?" Striker smirked, knowing he had him. "Your little company friends gave you tips on how to stay on the safe side, but this Hell, young'in. Ain't no such thing. Blitz also told me that you're rarin' to break the hold Hell has over you that keeps you from goin' back to your kin in the living world." he humorously said. "If you ever want anything out of life, then don't be a softie like that Moxxie. Blitz and me, we know what we're doin'. Think about that, kid." he climbs onto Bombproof and rides off.

Lincoln watches him go with a frown, what he said can be seen as sound advice, but he still didn't think he could trust anything Striker had to say.

But still, his words did have some truth, but he pushed it away.

Lincoln doesn't want to be anything like that, he could never be...and yet, Hell has shown him some things and well, it gave him a lot to digest and make sense out of. It's hard to think with the same mindset he once had after the messed up shit he's endured.

"Lincoln!" Millie announced throughout the farm. "Time to go~!"


As with past festivals over the years, all imps that live inn Wrath gathered together for this sacred event held only once a year. They stood side by side in a large crown, impatiently being on standby until the festivities could begin. On a large stand with speakers stood Wacky Wally Wackford, the ever incorrigible imp that took this shindig as a golden opportunity to make money out of. Behind him sat Stolas, waiting for his cue and keeping his grimoire close to his person, he grins when his eyes meet his delectable imp in the audience and fondly nods in approval to see Lincoln standing with Moxxie, Loona, Millie, and her family.

"Welcome, I say, welcome all to Wrath Ring's yearly annual Harvest Moon Festival!" Wally announced through a microphone. "To kick things off, we have the great prince Stolas here to usher in this year's harvest moo n and begin the painful pain games!"

Stolas takes the mic for himself and laughs warmly. "How very kind of you, dear Wackford. Greetings, all you adorable tiny Wrath Ring imps! Hope you're having fun on another year of celebrating the spoils of your hard labor that continues to feed all of Hell's citizens!" Sure, it seemed like he was honoring those imps' hard work, but the way he worded it reminded the audience how while every other demon outside Wrath get to revel in resources provided by them, they still have to work tirelessly to do so again and it just made them send heated glares at the royal. "I'm especially happy to host your entertaining games that will challenge the strongest possible imps to show their skill and dominance. Good luck to you all!" he waved his fingers at them, and made sure to send a special message to one imp who he was cheering to win. "And a special good luck to the sexy little one there. Yoo-Hoo! It's me, Blitzy!"

"Oh, fuck me. Use my name right." Blitzo rolled his eyes, irritated. "Just start the games, already!"

For those that weren't partaking, they opted to sit in the stands. "Excuse me, young sir." a fancy-looking imp talked to Lincoln. "His highness has requested your presence." Stolas and Wally were in a booth reserved just for them, but the prince wanted to share the experience with his pupil.

"Hello there, dear boy!" Stolas gestures Lincoln to take a free spot. "Come, sit! I take it you're enjoying the festival."

"Pretty good, so far." Lincoln replied. "Thanks for inviting us to come, Stolas."

"Think nothing of it, my pupil." Stolas looks through opera glasses. "You can say it makes up for taking back my grimoire until all's said and done."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Unlike Blitzo, Lincoln had no grievances. "It does still technically belong to you, after all and how else can you do your important job here without it?"

Nice to see somebody respects authority around Hell. "Too true, Lincoln. Although, I do apologize that Octavia couldn't make it. She never found these sort of affairs in a favorable light."

"Yeah, none of this really screams her, anyway." Lincoln can always tell her about it later. "You know, you sort of put Blitz on the spot. Not sure he wants the deal between you two known."

"How could I resist?" Stolas rang a bell. "Now then, let the games commence!"

Once the starter's pistol was fired, all imps that decided to participate ran like the wind to get a head-start. Moxxie did his best to catch up, but was trampled by all the imps that ran ahead.

It was a contest with many obstacles and challenges that pushed to the very limit and out of all of the participants, Blitzo and Striker were the fruitful to win as they had many things going for them. Moxxie was less fruitful as each contest ended with him failing and each time he lost, he had to get attacked by a Hell shark that seemed to have marked him as a new punching bag He at least managed to win thanks in large part to being on a team with Striker, and that was still a loss after getting drenched.

Nothing went Moxxie's way, only suffer defeat after defeat again and agaiin and then, the shark came back to deliver an elbow drop. "Motherfu-!"

Eventually, the games came to an end and now was the time to present the victor, or in this case, victors. "I say, I say, for the first year ever, we have a tie for the winner of the harvest moon pain games!" The imps cheer.

As per his role, Stolas congratulated the champions. "The winners are Striker and my darling sweetBlitzy~!"

"Just say my name right, it's not that hard!"

Stolas made it hard for Blitzo to feel great about the win with all the over excessive PDA.

Moxxie sat with his wife and Lincoln, despite all his efforts, he couldn't make the cut but he wasn't to let that Striker hold this over him. "Alright, I guess he has the physical advantage." Guns weren't his only forte. "But I'm great at other things, like singing."

But of course, he just had to tempt fate like that. "I'd like to take this opportunity to sing a quick song I wrote just now about me winning." Striker even had a guitar ready.

"Oh, what the fuck?!"

Lights turned on behind Striker as he played the instrument and began strumming that got the crowd in a frenzy. One fangirl rushed to the stage and Striker cruelly kicked her away in annoyance, but she was actually happy he did that and other fans attacked her out of jealousy for getting touched by the imp they also admired. The crowd kept on cheering for the vain cowboy continuing to serenade Wrath with his personal ode to himself and his superiority, acting like he's king of all imps.

Blitzo joins his employees in the stands, biting a festival treat. "Isn't that guy great?" It may sound too corny for him, but Blitzo found meeting and getting to know Striker to be a real treat, the guy had everything Blitzo could respect and may go as far to say that he's something of a kindred spirit.

Shame Moxxie didn't share that sentiment. "False!"

Lincoln suspiciously looks at the still-singing imp. "Blitz, I don't know. Something about him just doesn't feel right."

"Quit being paranoid, Lincoln." Blitzo chided. "That's no way to talk about your soon-to-be new coworker. I tell you, guys, it's gonna be fun working with him."

Moxxie and Lincoln did a double take. "Working with hi-what?!" Moxxie exclaims, aghast.

"Yeah, I asked him if he wants to join I.M.P." Blitzo informs. He felt that his talents were being wasted by being a simple farmhand, a mean SOB like Striker would be a great addition to the company. "We already got an intern. What's one more member of our little family? He says he's more of a solo act, but is willing to consider it. Just one more thing I like about him."

Failing to kill the hog, losing the pain games, and now this. It was no question that Moxxie was truly disheartened that Blitzo, his own boss, went and scouted for a new hire, it left the impression that the taller imp thinks of Striker as a more competent assassin than the gun expert could ever be. Granted, Blitzo likes to insult and denigrate 24/7, but he never once considered firing Moxxie. But now, it seems like he's looking for a replacement and that disheartened Moxxie even further, like this day's only purpose was to point out all his weaknesses and how people think less of him for them. "You asked...but..." Moxxie looked down in melancholy and Blitzo stared quizzically at him.

Seeing him in such low spirits broke Millie's heart and she does her best to offer support. "Mox, I think you've had enough for now. Let's head back to the house and get you clean."

"Yeah." Lincoln touches his shoulder in support. "I still believe Striker's not that better than you."

As if he overheard them, Striker gave a shout out to Moxxie. "Oh, before I forget. Moxxie, go fuck yourself, you pathetic bitch!"

Tearing up, Moxxie promptly leaves with his wife and Lincoln glared disapprovingly at Blitzo who remains oblivious. "What?"

"Do you have any idea how much that hurt Moxxie? Who am I kidding? Of course you don't." This was one of those times where Lincoln hated how callous Blitzo is. "Putting him down is just another Tuesday for you, Blitz."

"You talking about me wanting to hire on Striker?" Blitzo correctly guesses. "Oh, what? Does Moxxie think I'll be kicking him to the curb? He's just being a pussy of a sore loser. It's not Striker's fault that he's so much better."

"Blitz, I just-there's something about Striker I don't like." Lincoln voiced his reservations. "You've only known him for about a day and suddenly, he's your BFF? How much do you even know about him?"

"I know he recognizes a fellow imp that won't take shit from anybody in Hell." Blitzo crossed his arms. "Be real, is this more about him giving Moxxie shit all day."

"That-" Lincoln couldn't come up with a counter argument. "Actually, there is that. But I'm not kidding, you should be more careful about just randomly hiring someone without running it by the rest of the employees. "

Blitzo dryly laughs. "Funny, I did that with you and you certainly didn't really hesitate now did you?" he teased.

That, however, struck a nerve and Blitzo's cockiness disappeared when Lincoln furiously scowled. "In case you forgot, I didn't really have much choice, now did I?! But why should that have mattered to you, anyway?" Seeing no point in convincing Blitzo, Lincoln left to follow M&M back to the ranch. "After all, you got yourself an unpaid inter out of it." That looks to be the only thing Blitzo does give a crap about, not even doing whatever he could to help Lincoln get back home.

Blitzo watches them leave and he hated admitting it, but a part of him did start to feel a little guilty.

Didn't come as a shock, though.

Folks can only put up with him for so long before they leave him, or he just gives them reasons to do it to save himself from the pain.

"Hey there, Blitz!" Striker had finished his song and went to meet up with him. "Everything cool?"

"Huh?" Blitzo blinked. "Oh, yeah. Just great. A-Okay."

Striker sensed that was bullshit, but didn't have time to get into that pile of shit. "Say, why don't I take you back on Bombproof? I think he likes ya."

"Done!" Blitzo brightens up and dashes to get on first. Striker hung back and looked at the stage where Stolas was still sitting, watching the higher-ranked rich prick be up there, watching imps like Striker and Blitzo duke it out as if they were putting on a show just for him, it pissed the cowboy off to no end. Still, Striker calmed himself as it wasn't quite time yet.

Soon, that hedonistic royal owl will get what's coming to him.


The end of the games didn't mark the end of the festival and the whole crew proceeded to get on back to the farm for more supplies for the real show that will soon take place, Blitzo was fawning over Bombproof while Millie's family placed Jack-o'-Lanterns into Joe's pickup truck. Inside were Lincoln and Moxxie, the latter still down from his less than stellar luck so far. "Here." Lincoln gave him a slice of leftover pie. "It's really good."

Moxxie graciously took it and admitted that it had flavor. "Lin always did make great pie." he sighs. "Shouldn't you be with the rest? Joe and Lin probably want you to lift the truck."

"I don't want bother their work." Lincoln got to the main issue. "Moxxie, I meant what I said. Win or loose, tough or not, you're you and that means more to us than anything else. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Lincoln, it's not like I want to be. But, for a Wrath imp, not having any sort of physical prowess is about as humiliating as it can be and everyone makes sure I'm aware. They even go far as to imply I'd make a horrible parental figure just for that." Moxxie sourly says. "No demon in Hell is free from being made fun of for one of quality or another. The really difficult part is how nonsensical Joe and Lin can be. If guns can get the job done, then they should be happy that their daughter's married to someone who's not afraid to shed blood."

"Okay, this won't help, but I gotta tell you, everything else about you sometimes makes me forget that your an assassin for hire." Lincoln smiled weakly. "I mean, I can't say I've ever heard of one that likes opera music."

"Simple, most of them are philistines." Moxxie waves his hand. "But that's besides the point. They should see me in action, maybe then they'd respect my preference for firearms as opposed to their way of conducting business."

"Have you ever said that to their faces?"

"Satan no!" Moxxie sweats bullets." I can't show such disrespect to the in-laws!"

"Maybe that's the answer." Lincoln uses the logic of this ring. "Millie's parents prefer physical strength, but they could also prefer someone strong enough to stand up for himself and be proud of who he is and frankly, I'll take the gun-toting opera loving Moxxie any day."

Despite his depressive mood, Moxxie managed to crack a smile. "You really mean that?"

"Heck yeah, and it's not only that. You're loyal, smart, wise, and very understanding." To Lincoln, Moxxie was a prime example of a demon that actually has good qualities and the boy can't help but connect with him based on their similarities. "In fact, I like to think any kid would be lucky to have you for a father...I know I feel lucky." he signifies this with a friendly hug. "You know, if I were actually an orphan."

Moxxie's eyes snapped wide at that last part and came the happy tears as he returns the kid's embrace.

Lincoln said this because Moxxie needed to hear it, and also because the kid meant every word.

Being with I.M.P, it really does feel like a family sometimes...

Yet, there are still lingering emotions of guilt when he thinks about the Louds.

"I suppose if some good came from today, it's that you had fun, right?" Moxxie asked.

"Weirdly, yeah. I did. You still want to stay here?"

Showing his face after his loss will surely lead to more ridicule, but Moxxie's willing to bear it so long as Lincoln gets to have a good time. "You know what? I should at least actually try to enjoy things for once. Follow me, I could bring some things from the room." The two walk upstairs, but then they stopped once looking at the door leading to Striker's room. A light was shining through the bottom opening, it was the kind that radiated a slight Heavenly sensation, which raised some red flags for the now suspicious Moxxie. "...This is troubling."

"This is Striker's room, right?" Lincoln sees this as finding out more about the cowboy.

Both slowly went in and they freeze upon uncovering an opened case that was the source of the light. The human and imp become shocked when they see that the contents was an old-school rifle decorated in with glowing white designs. "A gun?" Lincoln had a feeling that this weapon was no ordinary Hell firearm.

Moxxie's gun knowledge confirmed that feeling. "Oh, my crumbs. That's not just any gun." he breathed in awe, running a hand through the weapon to get a feeling to it as if he was caressing ancient treasure. "We're looking at a genuine carmine crafted blessing-tipped rifle!" As with the Sinners of Pride, demons have been known to collect the discarded weapons of Exterminators and make new ones from them, but it was odd that an imp not only had one, but one that seemed like it was recently made. Moxxie was both amazed, yet profoundly anxious that such a weapon was in his wife's family's home. "How-How in the fuck did he get such a rare item?"

"Try asking first, little dudes."

Taken by surprise, Lincoln and Moxxie see Striker leaning by the entrance, they hadn't even noticed his presence. "Shit! Why-Why is this in your room?!" Moxxie demanded, putting Lincoln behind him. It was common knowledge that weapons originating from Heaven are the only things that can erase Sinner completely, but they're also the only known power to use against the top dogs of Hell. "I'm certain you're that with this weapon, you can-"

"Shot a hole through demon royalty?" Striker cuts him off, not even bothering to hide his intention.

Moxxie nervously answers the rhetorical question. "...Yes?"

"Like Stolas..." Lincoln gasped. "Y-You're gonna use this to kill Stolas!"

"Give the boy a prize." Striker mockingly grins, tossing away his hay straw. The cowboy clawed away at the door to close it, leaving them alone in the room with Striker, who threateningly advances on them.

Moxxie still puts on a brave face, making some distance between his tormentor and Lincoln. "Okay. While I am very much unnerved by that gun and you being more threatening now, I'm at least gad that my instant dislike of you has been validated, because you are a grade-A ass-hole!" Moxxie chokes once Striker's tail constricts around his neck and is tossed against the wall painfully. Snickering sadistically, Striker pins him down, reveling in his futile efforts to push him off.

All Lincoln could do was stare in horror, legs frozen in fear, this guy was hurting his friend and he was scare.

"Wait..." This guy was hurting someone he cared about.

Striker was so heavily focused on choking the life out of Moxxie, he didn't notice Lincoln grab a vase and wack it across his head, causing the cowboy to let go of Moxxie and nudging a table to fall.

All this commotion could be heard outside by Millie.

"Lincoln, run!" Moxxie takes the boy's wrist and runs for the door but could only open and not enter when Striker grabs him by the tail and puts him in a fierce choke hold.

"No! Leave him alone!" Lincoln tries to assist, but Striker whips his tail against Lincoln's feet, making him trip up and fall. Striker's boot was pressed against the kid's chest, and Lincoln couldn't get back up.

"Pathetic, the both of you." Striker sneered viciously as Moxxie slowly lost consciousness. Lincoln tried prying Striker off him, and saw Millie climb in through the window. She dove at their attacker, pulling Striker's scarf back and drove her knife to the farmhand's back. Seeing what he was doing to the love of her life and to Lincoln-her son-that put her into a feral state. She attempted to slit his throat, but her lack of self-control became her undoing when Striker slammed her to the wooden walls with extreme force, depriving her of her dagger.

She slid down in defeat, clutching her arm.

"Millie. Don't you dare hurt my wife..." Moxxie groans, reaching for her.

"No..." Lincoln whispered in dismay. "Leave her alone..."

"Damn." Striker rubbed his back. "Your Ma wasn't kidding, bitch. You do get carried away. Too bad I don't go down so easy like a fucking weakling." He picked up M&M by their horns and his tail restrained Lincoln. Making sure to not get caught, he took all of the three out back to the cellar and threw them in, where Millie got her leg is caught in one of the inconveniently placed bear traps, but more convenient for Striker. "Much as I wanna kill y'all right now, that might lose a lot of points with your rodeo clown boss. Plus, not like you three little runts are worth all the cleaning, so just sit tight until the festival's done."

"Why do you want to kill Stolas?!" Even with the circumstances, Lincoln refused to show fear.

"I wouldn't expect an out of water guppy to understand." Striker ruefully responds. "But don't worry, little human. It'll be done quick, the owl prince won't even notice there's a hole right between his eyes."

Lincoln and Moxxie race to get out, but Striker closes and locks the entrance on them. "No!" the human punches the wooden doors frustratingly before collapsing to his knees in despair. "Please, no..."

He knew if Striker succeeds, he'd be losing a teacher and ally, but he was more concerned with the fact that Octavia will lose her father and he couldn't forgive Striker just for that alone.

"Millie! Are you okay?!" Moxxie and Lincoln went to check on the latter's wife. "Oh, Satan below. This is all my fault." Try as they might, they couldn't get the bear trap off.

She reassured them that she was okay, she wasn't the toughest gal around Wrath just for her fighting ability. "Boys, I'm fine. I got worse than this during the flower toss at my brother's wedding." Millie laughs in nostalgia for that happy day becoming a day of fighting over flowers. "Didn't stop me when I caught that fucking bouquet and it was fucking worth it. You two just need to go up there and fuck up that brown nosing cocksucker for me."

"But I can't break through. I couldn't even get Lincoln out fast enough." That added more Moxxie's shame. "I'm not strong to do anything." If it were Joe or Blitzo, they'd make sure Striker would be put down in no time.

"You're not strong with your hands, baby." Millie tenderly lists his face. "But, you are strong at what you're best at."

It's one of the reasons why she loves him so much.

Although, Moxxie looked offended. "Wait. Are you implying I do poorly with my hands?" he asked obliviously.

Lincoln and Millie blankly stared at him. "Guns, Moxxie. She means guns."

"Oh, right. Yeah, yeah." Moxxie takes out the gun he had that whole time and fired it at the entrance, allowing him to walk out. Lincoln looks at Moxxie, then at his pistol, then back at Moxxie with an profusely confused gaping face and 'are you kidding me?' eyes. "I-I probably should've used this much earlier when-when he had us on the ropes, huh?" Moxxie laughs and shrugs awkwardly at his own little blunder..

"I love you with all my heart, hon. But for fuck's sake!" Millie groaned, exasperated.

"Let's just hurry up and stop Striker." Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose. "Should we warn Stolas?"

"That would incite a mass panic." Moxxie infers. "Striker would make it work for him." He knew that the powerful Goetia could easily handle a lone assassin, but with a Heaven gun, risks shouldn't be taken and he wouldn't put it pass Striker to fire on some of the imps to get an easy target, including Millie's family.

"What about Blitz?"

"I'm afraid we can't afford to waste time. Come on!" Moxxie runs ahead, but Millie calls to her boy.

"Lincoln, wait!" Still in pain, Millie had enough in her to speak to him. "Are you sure you want to go?" She had faith in Moxxie to protect the intern, but her maternal feelings begged her to do everything in her power to keep him away from Striker.

The kid didn't deny that he was scared, but imagining Octavia's grief outweighed it. How can he call himself her friend or Stolas' student if he did nothing to stop an attempt on the prince's life? "Yes. I am."

Still worried, Millie was proud all the same. "Then, take this." she gives him one of her knives. "Just please, be careful."

Lincoln gives her one last hug. "I will." Just like his promise to reunite with Rita, he was adamant in going back to Millie when this is over.


Seeing that the time was almost arriving, Stolas was ready to wrap up the celebration with the responsibility he's always accomplished over the past festivals through many centuries. It was dismaying that Lincoln was nowhere to be seen to observe this once in a year presentation, but he still had a job to do, and Stolas didn't want to hear any reprimanding for shirking that job. "My dear commoners of Wrath and farmind!" His grimoire is levitated and flips to a special page. "I, Stolas, of the Ars Goetia graciously cursethis year's harvest with the glow of the true Harvest Moon!" A large portal opens in the sky, revealing a beautiful red-colored moon that sends it's magnificent glow across Wrath and the imps who admired it.

Stolas stood satisfied in holding up his duty, unaware that from afar, Striker was positioned in a house with his Heaven rifle, looking through the scope and ready to be the imp who killed a high tier demon.

But then, a click was heard as was an outraged question.

"Uh, excuse me. The fuck is all this?!"

Blitzo had arrived, his flintlock aimed at Striker after seeing what he was about to do and did not like it.

A gun pointing at him did little to deter Striker, he actually had a plan for this. "Blitz! Figured you were still at the ceremony." he treated it as if he just ran into a drinking buddy.

"Like Heaven I wanted to stand surrounded by a bunch of hillbillies worshiping corn shit with a thirsty owl on stage." Blitzo wasn't willing to take that risk, so he went back to the house, he just didn't expect to find this.

"Heh, and now you seemed disappointed in me." Striker observes with feigned disappointment and standing up from his sniping position.

"Yeah, well, I'm not a fan of someone I offered a job to about to off my easiest lengthy ticket to Earth behind my back. I like to think that's more than enough reason to be pissed off!" Blitzo bitterly reasoned.

Striker was a deceptive imp, but he wasn't lying when he said that Blitzo's aim to be the head of his own private business was impressive. He had both the drive and killer instinct. But despite all that confidence, Striker could see behind all that bravado, there was obvious fear and self-loathing, powerful weaknesses that can be manipulated by the right kind of cowboy imp. Among his many talents, Striker was a big one. Blitzo may think he has the upper hand because he's the one with the gun, but Striker's not so easily disturbed, unlike Blitzo. "Blitz, don't be like that. I'm only doing this to help you out. Anything for a fellow imp who's way superior to most of our kind." Striker boldly walks up to the now wary boss. It suddenly felt like many eyes were on him. "Although, if you were so above sucking on a disgusting rich pompous Goetia for that book, I would've made sure it was for a worthwhile cause besides working for scraps at the beck of pissy Sinners. You could've made a name, killing of Overlords." His talk made Blitzo waver.

"I-I get easy money!" Blitzo protests.

"But is that really what you want to be remembered as? The guy for the departed to whine at for their ends?" Striker criticized. "You have more grit than the standard imp, yet you keep letting yourself get weighed down by your own fear of failure and all you have to show for it are a bunch of weak little scrubs."

Blitzo took offense to that. "Hey, at least my team is loyal!"

"Like that little human you keep around?" Striker slithers around the room to keep him distracted. "He's angling to get the fuck out of Hell, if I recall. Which would be such a waste, wouldn't you agree? The brat has access to demon magic that's kept away from us, all because we're considered less than shit by Hell's big wigs. All that juicy knowledge and you didn't think to maybe use a goldmine like that? Think of how useful he can be."

"L-Lincoln's just an intern! He's-"

"What? You're gonna tell me you actually wanna help him get back up top? Spend the rest of his days with his little family?" Striker spat in disgust. "Don't bullshit me, man. Why bother caring about what some mortal runt wants when it's your needs that matter? Small fry like him aren't worth crap, and you're the boss, right? A real boss wouldn't let his lackeys slow him down. It's why I prefer to work alone for so long."

If only Striker knew how much Blitzo wanted to fire, but he found his grip on the flintlock loosening. "Will you stop with all the talk and tell me what the point is?!"

"The point, Blitz, is while you've got a lot of good stuff going for you, you don't think big." Striker believes imps of his and Blitzo's design can do so much more than just take killing jobs from disgruntled sinners, they could make it so that no one saw them as weak, not even the really powerful demons. "Why struggle to run a business that is rigged against you?"

All Blitzo wanted was for Striker to keep his trap shut for just one second, for the cowboy spoke a lot of unfortunate truths. Despite his success, I.M.P is still not as big a hit as he hoped. He was in imp. In Hell, imps aren't good for anything other than servicing all the other demons like how Wrath imps provide all the food, or Stolas' many servants, or a bumbling circus clown performer that never could succeed without his sister or childhood friend. Blitzo wanted to prove that he could bring about his own success, but he could not do so all alone, he needed help and that was what angered him most of all. He didn't feel any of his current successes were good enough if it mostly involved him having to depend on others.

"What do you want from me?"

"What I want is for you to wise up and see the benefits of partnering up with me and kill the unkillable." Striker tempted, trapping Blitzo to the wall. "Starting with the one who treats you like a plaything."

Blitzo stops and contemplates all of it, it all just sounds like the kind of thing any imp like him would take. In the middle of thinking, Blitzo sees the door creak slightly and smirks before getting Striker's attention. "Ooh, that's kinda hot."

Striker was pleased to see that Blitzo was seemingly coming around. "We could be the most dangerous beings in Hell, Blitz."

"Wow, that was an excellent fucking pitch."

Admittedly, Striker did have a way with words. "I workshopped it all day." he pushes the gun out of the way.

"You know what?" Blitzo grinned maliciously. "Fuck it. Sounds like fun." He had him...only it was Blitzo that had Striker when the cowboy realized too late that Moxxie and Lincoln were there and the shorter imp took the Heaven rifle for himself to use against its previous owner. "Took you two long enough!" Letting Striker continue trying to sway him, giving his employees enough time to leave him without his trusty tool. "Wow, you should've seen your dipshit face!" he insulted Striker, and looked behind to see a knife held by Striker pointed at him. It looked like Striker was ready in case Blitzo didn't join him. "Whoa, okay. Can you scream cliche?" Striker pulls the flintlock forward and made Blitzo pull the trigger and Moxxie came really close to getting hit if not for his quick thinking of using the rifle as a shield to deflect it. "Oh, why you daddy fucker!" Blitzo angrily bit down on Striker's arm and elbows him in the face to free himself. He tries whacking him with the gun, and Striker disarms him to tangle Blitzo's arm, then pushes right into Moxxie, causing to rifle to be dropped.

Moxxie tries reaching out and screams when Striker steps on his hand. "You dumb fucks lost the upperhand fast!"" Striker taunts, pointing it at them.

Blitzo wouldn't count them out just yet. "Ha! You seem to have forgotten one thing, bucko!" he whistled loudly and Striker prepared himself the hellhound of I.M.P.

Only for her to not show up at all. Loona was outside browsing through her phone, not even bothering when her ears picked up Blitzo's whistle.

"Ugh..." Loona irritatingly groaned.

"Fucking dammit, Loona." Blitzo hoped she knew this would lead to a lot of grounding and regressed phone time.

"Like I told ya." Striker tells him. "Can't have any faith in scrubs."

Except for one. "Forget about me?!" Lincoln bravely grabbed the rifle and struggled to pry it off Striker's hands.

Striker gritted his teeth. "Trust me, you little shit. I haven't!" the imp cowboy pushed him off and struck and swung the butt of his rifle against his face, then to the gut, and coiled his tail around the human's neck, lifting him up and restraining Lincoln with one arm. Alarmed and further angered, Blitzo and Moxxie move to assist, but Striker wagged a finger at them. "Ah, ah, ah. Be a shame if the boy gets hurt." he tightened his tail's grip on Lincoln's throat.

"Don't listen to him...!" Lincoln exclaimed through choked grunts.

His coworkers growled hatefully at Striker and reluctantly lowered their weapons.

Outside, Loona heard this as well and this time, she actually stops searching. "Lincoln...?" she questions with a worried frown.

Inside, Striker laughed triumphantly. "You see, boy? Little fellers get stepped on in these here parts! It's only natural. After all, without your babysitters, or your little book, what do you have? Nothing and no one to save you! Especially not your precious fam! How about this? After I'm done with ya, I go ahead and take care of your pals at I.M.P, and when I kill your teacher, I take that book and track down your kin? They must be so worried sick about you! It's only right that I reunite you lot! Haha! What do you think?!"

Lincoln's eyes slowly closed and it seemed like this was it, this was how his story would end, until he heard Striker's last threat.

'...No.'

He was scared, so terribly terrified, but what was more of a powerful motivator was hatred.

Burning hatred, and he had more than enough for the imp called Striker.

What he did to Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo. What he's trying to do to Stolas, the pain he'll cause for Octavia. He's hurt the people he loves in Hell, and he was threatening to do the same to the people he loves on Earth out of spite.

It ignited a fire in Lincoln, the same kind of feeling he felt back during the cherubs incident.

At the ceremony, Stolas notices the grimoire's pages glowing and equally perplexing was the Harvest Moon gaining a darker shade.

As if both were reacting to something.

Or rather, someone.

A fire set off in him. "You wanna know what I think?" he manages to say, opening his eyes to reveal them glowing red. "Fuck you!" he bellowed, brandishing the knife Millie lent him and in a flash, used enough strength to stab the imp assassin's hand.

This shocked all others, none more so than his coworkers. Striker shouted and he broke his hold on him. "You little son of a bitch!" His momentary shock was all Blitzo needed to kick him in the leg and in the gut. The rifle was once more out of his hands and back to Moxxie's. Blitzo charged with a lamp to smash on Striker's face and then tried punching the two-faced imp.

Striker evades by ducking and claws at Blitzo's face with just his left hand. His handicap gave the boss a winning edge as Striker got a headbutt from the boss imo. Blitzo's own tail coiled around Striker's waist and threw him across the room. In a surprising show of strength, Lincoln lifted a potted cactus plant up and threw it at his hated adversary, and he's nearly shot by Moxxie with the rifle. All three cornered Striker who was now at the mercy of Blitzo ready to shoot him point blank. "I still think it's embarrassing." he still found it in him keep ragging on Blitzo. "You're wasting a lot of potential relying on a week little-" A bullet almost hits him, and for once, he breaks a sweat.

"You wanna finish that fucking sentence, partner?" Moxxie challenged.

Striker smirked. "Vermin."

Tough talk coming from a guy that lost a fight against all three. "Who's weak now, bitch?! Not so hot shit now without this gun!"

At the insanely wrong time, the door is kicked open by Loona, colliding it with Moxxie, disarming him. "Lincoln?! Where are you?!" Loona gapes in shock at her young coworker's face, wielding a knife and looking like he could go out cold. Her eyes went to look at the downed Striker and judging by the looks of it, she figured out he must have been messing with her only friend. Her little brother. Baring her teeth, she lunged at Striker, grabbing his collar and slamming his head into the mirror window. Getting something from his pocket. "Mess with Lincoln, will ou?! Striker throws dust at Loona and all she sees are blurs.

"Good try, junkyard dogl!" Striker knew how much of a pain in the ass it is to tangle with a hellhound he was loathe to admit defeat, he knew when to cut his losses. He kicks Blitzo's gun out of his hand and makes a break for the window. "Maybe you'll get me next time, Blitzy." he remarks.

"No! You're not getting away!" Lincoln shouts.

Striker glared at him in silence before he smirked, and to Lincoln's confusion, Striker began chuckling to himself. "You know something, boy? You did the one thing not many have done. You went and surprised me. That!" he yelled in what sounded like respect. "That is what I meant before, remember? Someone gives you shit, you make sure how that's their last mistake! And those eyes!" Lincoln's eyes still had a red color. He hated to admit it out loud, but Striker couldn't hide how impressed he was. "Those are the kind of eyes you should be havin' if ya serious about surviving Hell! Guess I really did underestimate you, boy. But don't go thinkin' it'll become a habit!" he warns through a twisted grin. "Happy trails, y'all!"

Striker proceeds to jump out the window and Blitzo would've pursued him, but the cowboy was long gone.

"We..." Lincoln panted, losing his balance. "...have to follow him...he might...try again..." His eyes went back to normal and faints.

"Lincoln!" Loona catches him and the three demons gaze at the passed out boy in concern.

This Harvest Moon Festival was one for the books.


"I see. So, this would be assassin made his escape?"

After the events of last night, Lincoln had a lengthy rest following the confrontation with Striker. Upon waking up and getting band-aids, the first thing Lincoln did was run to Stolas and informed him of everything involving the attempt to assassinate Stolas with a Heaven rifle. "Yeah. He did." Lincoln scowled. That imp didn't deserve to be let off that easy, free to go for a second try. "Stolas, maybe you should have someone track him down. Right as we're speaking, he could be plotting, and-"

"Dear boy, please do not fret over this." Stolas liked the concern, but felt it was unneeded. "Opportunistic riff-raff opting to kill demon royalty are a dime a dozen in Hell. It's actually quite amusing that this wandering cow-poke thought he even a nary of a chance."

Lincoln wasn't so flippant. "But he had a gun made from Heaven weaponry! If we hadn't been there, think of how bad it could've ended!" he was sounding disrespectfully angry, it came from a student worrying for his teacher. "We don't even know how he got it!"

"But you were there, and you drove him away." Stolas oddly finds this as a sort of conversation he'd be having with Octavia, even make his own vow. "Lincoln, I made a promise to guide you in your mystical training and that hasn't changed and never will." A Goetia would normally be insulted that a mortal human thought it'd be so easy for them to go down, but Stolas saw Lincoln truly didn't wish to see any misfortune come to his teacher or see Octavia in intense grief as well. Lincoln always manages to warm to cold hearts of some demons with his affinity for compassion. "Should this Striker reappear, I can guarantee heavy...repercussions." His four eyes briefly glow with malice.

Attempting to kill him was something Stolas can overlook, but he refuses to ignore Striker savagely accosting Blitzo and Lincoln.

The boy wished to protest more, but chose to have faith in his mentor. "If-If you're sure."

"Of course I am, and tell Blitzy I plan on giving him a very...extended award for his bravery." Stolas laughed at his own impishness.

"...Right. Tell Octavia I said hi."

"It shall be done." Stolas hails the driver of his carriage. "Let us be off now!"

Thee prince opens a portal to head back to his luxurious palace. Lincoln was still troubled, but couldn't worry much bout it now, in fact, he could do more with unwinding from this whole ordeal. Granted, it was expected that things would get hectic, but the stakes were notably much more higher this time around. For a minute, it really did seem like Blitzo would really take up on Striker's deal. What he said truly affected Blitzo and Lincoln wanted to believe he was just stalling, but with Blitzo, understanding his whole deal and what he'll do, not easy at all. Another concerning fact was how he just let loose and stabbed the cowboy, it was a familiar feeling like when he unleashed his anger out on the cherubs.

For Striker, it was pure hatred.

The hate was still there, but Lincoln still couldn't believe he did all that.

He truly stabbed someone for the first time in his life.

In his defense, his and his friends' lives were threatened and it can be attributed to adrenaline coursing through him, but it felt like more than that. Lincoln never imagined himself ever going that far no matter what they've done, and in this instance, knowing that he did so frightened him.

The rush, however, was exciting.

Lincoln walked back to the farmhouse where I.M.P were prepped to head back to Imp City. Joe and Lin were taking care of bandaging up Millie's injuries, but didn't spare her from some admonishment. "I can't believe you let him trap you in the cellar, Millie!" Lin scolded. "I know we taught you better!"

"I was seeing all the red, Ma!" Millie can't help it if she got mad over her boys getting hurt. "And he was a slippery eel!"

"Excuses won't work!" Lin didn't let up. "You're better than that, Mildred." It was way harsh, but both just wanted Millie to be more mindful of her unchained bloodlust, they expect her to not just fight, but also fight smart.

They could go a bit easy on her, though.

Moxxie had enough. "You know, she protected me and Lincoln." he informs his in-laws, and in a very unexpected move of a bold attitude, denounces their actions for once, pointing out their own screw ups. "And maybe I'm not a strong beefy dickhead, just a sensitive soul. but Millie's strong enough to take care of us all! You two are on her case about being hurt by a psychopath you hired?" Joe and Lin couldn't hide their shared shame in that as Millie beamed up in pride over her husband's forwardness. "Shame on you!" he finally took Millie and Lincoln's words to heart.

"Wow." Lincoln smiled. "Way to go, Moxxie."

"Aw, Moxxie, you look so grown up!" Blizo shows his gratification through proud parent voice. "Speaking like a big boy buying his big pants and telling off the in-laws!"

Joe advances to face Moxxie who stood his ground and the older imp hums and nods, accepting the blame much to Millie's astonishment. "Wow! He really nodded! He's never acknowledged your input before!"

"I think you're making some progress." Lincoln encouragingly says to Moxxie and helps Millie up in her crutches. "And Millie, I guess you'll want this back." he shows the knife she gave him.

Fervently shaking her head, Millie denies it. "Fuck no, sweetie! That's the knife you used to stab a son of a whore for the first time, that makes it all yours!" she sniffles, swelling with happy tears. "My baby's first knife and his first stabbing action! I can't believe I missed that!" she bemoans.

"I-uh..." Lincoln holds the knife hesitatingly. "I don't think-"

"You should've seen it, Mills!" Blitzo had it all memorized. "Striker was all like, 'Grr, you little shit! I'm-a about to choke you, yee-haw!' and Linc grew a pair and was all, 'Go fuck yourself! I got a knife!' If you weren't still an intern, I'd pay you on the spot...but don't take that seriously. Still, I do smell some new video games in your future, sport!"

Joe and Lin had something to say about that, too. "Gotta say, that sure was heavy to hear." Lin rubs her arm. "I suppose some apologies are in order for thinking you were too delicate, honey. It's just Hell can be a very bad place and well, don't want to lose my first grandbaby so fast."

"Believe me, I understand." Lincoln surely surprised himself.

"Heh-heh, told you there was a fighter in there!" Joe tousles his hair and looks at Moxxie. While he may still have some reservations, the farmer is beginning see why Millie and Lincoln hold him in high regard. "I guess it helps to be both strong, sharp, and smart at the same time." I.M.P went inside the van and it drove away from the ranch.

"Come back, anytime!" Lin yelled in farewell. "Don't be a stranger now!"

Blitzo sees Lincoln through the rear view mirror and the kid had a troubled expression. "It really was pretty badass how you handled yourself, kid. That badassery may just get you home faster." Lincoln looks up to see Blitzo's light smirk and he smiled in gratitude. "Next time, I could listen to whatever feeling you get over a slimy ass-wipe, got any more feelings?"

"...Yeah. I do." Lincoln gazes out the window. "I think we're not done with Striker just yet."


Striker needed a place to recover.

Hideaway Motel was not the best place in Wrath to lay low until the heat dies down, not even his first choice either. But Striker didn't have other options and he wasn't expected to get far without treating his injuries. He was pissed beyond measure, thanks to Blitzo and his people, they completely fucked up his job, all that time and energy spent on being a new farmhand to a pack of farmers, waiting for the day of the festival to make his move, all for nothing.

He was left with only wounds and a damaged ego and the fact that it was smaller weaker imps that had to go and outdo him just rubbed salt in the those wounds.

Be that is it may, he had to give it to them. They knew how to give a challenge and that kid, Lincoln, did he ever show that there was more to him than he seemed, more than just a runt lost in Hell.

No, there is something in him.

It was unclear as to what, but it was something special.

Unique.

All that aside, Striker knew that in addition to losing the Heaven rifle being bad enough, but now, he had to report his failure to the one that hired him to take the job in the first place.

The demon who wanted to have Stolas killed.

"The target's still alive. Afraid I ran into into some...interference at the festival." Striker resentfully admits through the telephone in his rundown spotty broken temporary room. "But don't fret none, ma'am. I won't let it happen again." He fiddled with a similarly blessing tipped revolver.

Lot more toys besides the rifle.

"You had better! I didn't waste my time hiring you so that cheating prick doesn't die! I don't care who you have to go through! Make it happen or you can forget about your damn payment!"

So says Stella Goetia herself. Legal wife to Stolas and mother of Octavia, also known as the vindictive avian demon who's outrage over her husband's infidelity with an imp had gotten to the point where she without remorse, hired an assassin to kill him for it. All those times spent away from the palace, looking for the right demon for the job under the guise of socializing with other demon aristocrats led her to Striker and she wasn't going to allow it to be all for naught.

"I understand."

"Anything else, more failures to report?"

"...Nah. Just know the feathery dick-brain's head will be on a silver platter soon enough." They hung up on each other. "Tch. Royal whore." he spat. Huge payment or not, it inflamed Striker that he accepted a job from the type of uppity vain demon royalty that he detests so much, but opportunities like this come once in a lifetime. That doesn't imply she has his complete loyalty, since he purposely neglected to tell her about Lincoln. She believes she's the one in control since she gave him the job, but Striker won't bow down to no one and Lincoln could prove be a useful tool to show her who's the real superior demon. For now, he just has to make sure another failed hit doesn't occur again. Twirling his pistol, Striker turns the lamp light off with a venomous grin. "I'll get him next time and that kid better watch out..."

His hissing was the only noise in the dark room.

This indeed isn't the last time Striker will act.

Not by a long shot.