Three days had passed since everything (literally and figuratively) went to hell for Mad Dawg. He had been living like he used to, digging around garbage cans, stealing food where he could, and just trying his best to not be seen. At first, his plan was to head back to Imp City, find Moxxie or Blitzo's place, and hopefully crash there.

Still, he didn't know what Delilah wanted, or if Charlie was still after him, or if her dad was after him now… really, Dawg didn't know what the heck was going on, and he was the main character! Still, he was afraid to involve anyone else, he didn't want to hurt anyone else…

But he did want to hurt whoever had set those bombs off…

It hadn't been him. Mad Dawg REFUSED to believe he had destroyed the Happy Hotel! Yes, he had reason to. Yes, he was considering it. But in the end, he made a choice, and if it cost him his soul, he was gonna do what he felt was right. Even if it meant he'd become a battery for heck…

But things were so confusing… had he planted the bombs and forgot about it? That- Mad Dawg shook his head, refusing to think about that.

Currently, things were quiet, finally, and Mad Dawg sat down on a rooftop of an abandoned building. He had run through it checking for demon hobos and thankfully found none. Using a claw to open a can of baked beans, Mad Dawg slurped down the cold beans as he looked up to the light that was Heaven. He was angry, he was tired, he was… confused. Why was this happening now? HE had made up his mind, he made his choice! But- then how did- but that would- nothing made sense, and he shook his head to clear it. Getting mad at God wouldn't solve anything.

"YeS it will! it'S HIS faULT yOU'Re dOWN HeRe! hE SHoULD'Ve doNe MoRe tO hELp YOu!" Virus yelled, appearing next to Mad Dawg, but speaking in his mind. "thiNK, KACe! ThINK!"

"I am thinking. I'm thinking about all the people I killed." Mad Dawg whispered, feeling tears threatening to form as the faces of the ones who lost someone in the Omnic Blackout, covered by Virus' mask flashed before his eyes.

"But YOu SHoweD REmOrsE! yoU TrIeD everyThINg YoU COulD to fIx thAt! YOu gaVE UP youR OWN LIfE, AND fOr WHAT?! TO BE PuNishEd fOr soMetHiNG THAT wAsn't yOU'rE faULt?"

"Why… why are you saying that?" Mad Dawg muttered. Virus… would never even BEGIN to see what Dawg had done as 'accidental', he had made that very, very clear. "Virus, what's gotten into you?"

"nOt WHAt, WHO?"

Mad Dawg blinked, and was about to ask another question, when a laser blast struck the rooftop next to him. Jumping up in alert anxiety, Mad Dawg grabbed his chainsaw and ripped the cord, waking the engine up with a mighty roar.

"Hiya, Dawg!" A chipper but oblivious voice suddenly spoke up. Mad Dawg blinked, then felt his body relax a little.

"47!?" He exclaimed, seeing the Egg Boi (and a bunch of others, actually) climb their way up onto the rooftop. Mad Dawg felt relief, then panic. He wasn't sure who's side these guys were on, or whose side HE was on… well, only one way to find out! "Hey… you guys… uh… what's- what's going on?"

"Oh, not much." #47 shrugged, then cocked his gun. "We're here to capture you."

"…poop…" Mad Dawg muttered, deflating. There were… hang on. 1, 2, 3, 4… 22, 23, 24… 34, 35… somewhere around forty or so Egg Bois, and that most likely meant more were nearby. "Hey, look. Can't we talk this out?"

"That's what the Boss wants t'do!" #47 continued, seeming chipper and oblivious as always. Dawg now realized they all had some sort of weapon out, and aimed at him. Aside from a few that were aiming at other Egg Bois, or themselves, and didn't seem to realize it.

"PLAN TIME!" Mad Dawg thought, as a notepad appeared in his mind, followed by doodles of himself, Egg Bois, Sir Pentious, the Airship, and that weird 'S' everyone drew in third grade Dawg could never figure out how to draw. "SO. Sir Pentious seemed to believe I was under mind control last time we met, and he still might believe that. Or, maybe he found out the truth and now wants me dead… either way, I might be able to hide out on the ship for a few days and try and think of a REAL plan!' Dawg thought as the images moved about like an animated cartoon, depicting Mad Dawg standing on top of the blimp before disappearing in a puff of smoke. "From there, I might be able to get some more weapons, then, I'll head out and find whoever is responsible for this, take them down, and-"

"Sssso, we finally meet again, KACE." A hissing voice spoke up, and Mad Dawg blinked, snapping back to reality as he realized he was now on the airship, in front of the Naga demon.

"How did we-"

"You stopped moving, or responding to anything, so we picked you up and carried you back here." #33 called from the side.

"…oh…" Mad Dawg muttered, realizing he didn't have his bag, shotgun, crossbow, or chainsaw. So, deciding to go with plan 'B' (improvise like crazy and hope for the best) he turned back to one of his Ex-Bosses. "Pentious, my main snake man! You are looking LEGIT!" He exclaimed.

"What, as if there's ever a time when I'm not?" Pentious demanded, sounding somewhat offended.

"Hey, no, that's not what I was saying!" Mad Dawg quickly said, holding his hands up, and now seeing the chains on his feet. "Uh-"

"Bah! That matters not!" Pentious continued. "What matters is you're finally back! And no longer with those fruity wanna-bes who are attempting to TAKE MY TURF!" He finished by suddenly screaming off at someone.

"Screw you!" Cherri's voice could faintly be heard in response.

"BUT- I must assssk… what the heck happened, mannn!?" Pentious demanded, suddenly moving like a cartoon frantically appearing all over the place. "You were good! Like, you were heading out, and then BOOM! you were back with those losssers! What gives?!"

"I-I-Ho… boy…" Mad Dawg sighed, deciding to lie, and tell the truth. Similar to most people on their weddings when they promise to love cherish and obey until death do them part. "Look, I was working in IMP City, doing some things, making cash, yadda yadda. Eventually, I decided to hop on a train and go back to my old stomping grounds and see what was up. I was actually going to come seek you out, but then as I was heading to find your ship, uh, Angel Dust… he… he just came outta nowhere!"

Flashback…

"Nya ha, ha, ha! Ah, so we meet again you, canine chump!" Angel Dust laughed like a 30's cartoon villain, twirling his villainous mustache that he definitely had. "Nya! You made quite a ruckus, what, what!"

"Angel Dust… my old arch-nemisis…" Mad Dawg growled, defiantly, standing with a glorious 12-pack, arms the size of tree trunks, and a face so handsome it made the Lust ring into the Vanity ring… "What scheme have you concocted for me to fil this time?!"

"Ah, you see Mad Dawg, I have created a device which will set off EVERY alarm clock in hell… FIVE. MINUTES. EARLY."

"YOU. MONSTER!"

"Yes… and every time you reach for the snooze button, your clock will move away!"

"Wait, wait, wait. What does this have to do with a turf war?" Sir Pentious interrupted, seeing a pretty major hole in Dawg's story. Honestly, he was a bit suspicious that Mad Dawg had betrayed him and willingly gone to work with Angel Dust…

"Uh, right. See, they needed more parts, and they were going to attack your ship to get them!" Mad Dawg explained quickly, and Pentious gasped in indignation.

"They wouldn't DARE!"

"They totally would!" Mad Dawg nodded frantically. "See, that's why they needed me! They knew I had been on here before, and wanted me to try and sneak them on board."

"That sounds… wrong…" Pentious muttered. "Usually Cherri just blows stuff up and barges in like she owns the place."

"Yeah, well… truth be told, uh, she's terrified of you!" Mad Dawg continued. "Nailed it." He thought. "And they figured that it'd be easier to use me to get them aboard. The turf war was to distract you so they could get on and get the parts!"

"But they had the parts to build a mind control device?"

"Well, yeah. I never said they were smart." Mad Dawg shrugged. Somewhere in hell, Cherri Bomb looked up and narrowed her eye, having a feeling someone was getting a kick in the pants next time they met…

"Ahhh… fair." Sir Pentious nodded in understanding. "So, they mind controlled you, and then made you fight me?"

"Yup."

"How did you escape?"

"Well, when you retreated, they dragged me into an alley and shot me. I survived, somehow, and the device was gone when I woke up." Mad Dawg concluded his totally made-up story. For a moment, Pentious seemed to be seeing right through it, then, he sighed.

"Well, it's good to have you back. The Egg Bois kept asking if you were coming back. They didn't seem to grasp the concept that you were gone, they thought it was a really long lunch break…"

Mad Dawg smiled at that. Despite being in chains, there was something nice about being told people wondered where you had gone. He wondered if the Louds or his old family wondered where he was… if they didn't, he didn't blame them. He honestly felt like he was more trouble than he was worth, really…

"Hey, Boss? Can you let me outta these chains?" Mad Dawg asked, nodding down to the shackles on his legs.

"In a minute, there's something else I need to discuss." Pentious mused, and Dawg knew he had no choice. "What's the deal with these Angels?"

"Uugggghhhhhhhhh-" Mad Dawg moaned, lowering his head. "That- that is complicated."

"Well, they're saying they're gonna wipe us all out, so figure it out!" Pentious demanded, his tone annoyed and confused. Mad Dawg, unfortunately, didn't have the time or will to recap everything.

"Look, apparently, I'm an 'Unjudged', and that's put me in a bit of a tight spot." He began, honestly. He didn't want miscommunication to be an issue here, so he decided to try and be honest. "And… well, a bunch of demons want me dead, and now I'm afraid that the angels are corrupt, and wanna kill me, or erase me, because I'm an Unjudged, and a number of powerful Overlords wanna find me, I think, because I'm an Unjudged, and I don't know what that has to do with-"

"Hang on, hang on, hang on." Sir Pentious blinked, backing up his train of thought as something dawned on him. "Has- do- do you not know what an 'Unjudged' soul means?!"

"It means God never said I was supposed to be down here." Mad Dawg stated, matter-of-factly. "I wanna know how GOD, THE ALL PERFECT, ALL POWERFUL FATHER LET THIS HAPPEN-" He began to speak louder, his fur bristling in annoyance as he spoke, until one of his past Bosses cut him off.

"No, you furry fiend! There's so much more at stake here, my dude!" Sir Pentious spoke up, Dawg finally seeing the 'how-do-you-do-fellow-kids?' energy Dust claimed he had. "You're an Unjudged soul, which technically means you're alive! If you die, like, die, die, then another demon can claim your body as their own and potentially escape hell! If the other inferior Overlords find out about this, you're in a LOT more trouble than you already are!"

"But- hang on. If I'm an Unjudged, that means I didn't die, right?" Mad Dawg blinked, confused. "So, how can I die, in the afterlife?"

"I- I actually don't know." Pentious confessed with a shrug. "Ssssome claim that the only way an Unjudged Soul could die would be if they willingly died. If they conceded to surrendering their sssoul and allowed death to take them. Otherwise, it's angelic weapons."

"You mean until I say I want to die, I'm immortal?" Mad Dawg asked, taking in the implications of such a concept. If he didn't die until he was good and ready (which, despite feeling like he had been dead for years, he wasn't ready. Yet.) He felt like he could do so much! He could challenge hell! He could find the ones responsible for what happened, and-

"Yo, yo, yo, hol up, G." Sir Pentious said, throwing an arm around Dawg's shoulder and dragging him back down to reality. "I know this sounds slick, and like it's the raddest action ever, but there's a lotta bad with this to, ya feel!?"

"Yeah? Name one thing!"

Slap!

"OW!"

"You still feel pain, you idiot." Pentious said, matter-of-factly, and Dawg realized he was right. "Look, let me spell this out for ya. You're 'immortal', kinda, but you're in the world of eternal suffering and pain! Do you see the issues here?!"

Mad Dawg frowned, thinking it over. Sure, when he was alive (and more importantly, above ground) he was as reckless as they came! He did this dumb stuff for fun, and because he could. But now, he was told he could only 'die' when HE wanted to die, and if he died, another demon could jack his body. Add to that, this place was fueled by torture and sin, and Mad Dawg very much saw the issues here, but he had some of his own.

'Does the devil know this?' Mad Dawg couldn't' help but wonder. 'If so, why hasn't he done anything about it? I mean, I doubt he needs ME to get back to earth, but still.'

"So, what's next?" Pentious asked. Mad dawg wasn't ready to reveal his super-awesome plan which totally existed, but rather, his mind snapped back to something Pentious had said earlier.

"How did you know my name was 'Kace'?" Dawg asked, remembering he had never said that to Pentious. Even when they were drunk and pissing off the top of the ship… man, good times… "Don't judge me. I'm in hell!"

"Huh? Oh, most of hell knows, after the broad-"

Without warning, one of the Egg Boi's exploded, having been shot from behind. His shell splintered and the yolk spilled out to the floor below.

"#47! NO!" Mad Dawg cried out in shock. The others grabbed weapons, and more than a few accidentally shot themselves in confusion.

"Y'shouldn't've run, kid." Came a familiar, but threatening voice. Stepping out from the shadows, Striker cracked his tail as he lowered his smoking gun.

"You." Mad Dawg snarled, pausing. "Whatever your name was."

"Uh, who is this?" Pentious blinked, confused.

"I dunno, some bounty hunter, I forgot his name." Mad Dawg admitted with a shrug. "Just some Imp." The insult felt dirty, as Mad Dawg respected Imp's, even when most others didn't…

"Hm. That's a shame." Striker muttered, frowning. "If there's one name y'should remember, it's mine. Striker."

"HA! You think a mere IMP is anything when compared to the great SIR PENTIOUS!"

"Wait, you're Pentious?" Striker blinked, then laughed cruelly. "Damn! Yer even more pathetic than I thought you'd be! Geez, when I passed on a contract on you, part'a me wondered if I was actually under estimatin' ya… now I see I was wrong."

Sir Pentious… was very, very hurt by those words, and Mad Dawg realized what he could do in this moment.

"Oh, OH! THAT'S HOW IT'S GONNA BE?!" Mad Dawg snapped, deciding to try and do something that would be really, really stupid. But, this was Mad Dawg. So, he didn't care. "Man, you hearin' this idiot, Pent?! He's saying he could take you down! YOU! Are you really just gonna stand there and let some inbred Alabama donkey speak to you like that!?"

Thankfully, Dawg's ploy worked, as Pentious seemed angered beyond the heavens that someone, anyone, would DARE comment on his 'cred'. He was Sir Pentious of the Pentagram! There was no one above him, only those below him! And if some raggedy, pathetic IMP was gonna walk in here and act like that wasn't the case, then was he in for a WORLD of hurt!

"Dang, this looks like Striker and Pent are about to throw down in an epic rap battle…" Mad Dawg thought, looking back and forth, before reaching for a conveniently placed boombox. Only for Striker to notice this, and assume he was reaching for a weapon, and shot the boombox.

"MY MIX TAPES! YOU CUR!" Sir Pentious shrieked, enraged. Then lashed out in an attack, throwing his weight at Striker, who had to jump out of the way and begin fighting his way through the sea of Egg Bois.

It… didn't go too well for the Egg Bois.

Mad Dawg was chained to the floor, and growled in annoyance as he found the chains tighten, as he hit the max of his movement, but he knew that he couldn't go further… he needed to get out of-

"Wait, I'm a giant monster, can't I break these?" He thought, then attempted it. "Nope. Crap."

"PENTIOUS! KEYS!" Dawg shouted. The Naga somehow caught the keys as his hat spat them out, and then tossed them to Dawg, who freed himself and then cracked his ankles, grabbing one of his nearby weapons. He cocked his crossbow and fired. Even as a mutant hell beast, he had decent aim, but this was ridiculous! The arrow shot between Pentious and Striker, severing the tip of the Imp's mustache, before digging into the wall. Thankfully, this gave Pentious time to wrap him up in his tail and throw Striker into the wall.

"Pent, I need to be honest with you." Mad Dawg huffed, reloading. "If I don't make it out of here, you need to know. I wasn't being mind cont-"

A spray of bullets cut Dawg off. "Damn it, author! Stop being so clichéd!" He shouted at… someone as he dove for cover. Pentious was forced to duck down as well as the innards of more Egg Bois sprayed around the ship.

"Now." Striker growled, tossing aside an automatic pistol an Egg Boi had been using. "This only ends one way; that freak coming back with me. Whether or not that includes all if you bein' so full'a holes yer gut's'll be leakin' lead is up to you."

"Uh, cool, but how about no?" Mad Dawg remarked with a raised brow, which only seemed to annoy the bounty hunter more.

"Yeah! How about we ask Mad Dawg what HE wants?!" Pentious nodded, indignantly. "Mad Dawg, you wanna go with this clown?"

"Not particularly."

"Then screw you, there's your answer!" Pentious nodded. Striker just looked to the two in utter amazement at the fact that they seemed to have a single shared brain cell, but neither was using it.

"Oh yeah? Unless that walkin' Korean barbeque meal is fixin' t'jump outta that there window, and fall several hundred feet t'the ground, I don't see any way he's gettin' outta here." Striker remarked, reloading one of his revolvers. "An' from lookin' at him, he doesn't seem t'have the mettle needed t'survive."

"Oh yeah?! Well, here'sssss a fact for you, you hay-chewin', pig-lovin', patsy! Mad Dawg is DEFINETLY bold enough to dive head-first out the window of this ship! And he wouldn't think twice about-"

CrAsH!

The Naga and Imp both froze and turned, seeing a giant hole in one of the windows. Several of the Egg Bois looking in surprise at it, before looking back to the pair.

"Holy- he actually did it." Sir Pentious blinked. "I- I didn't think he actually would. I was just trying to be his hype man."

"I AM THE HYPE!" Mad Dawg screamed as he fell. Yelling it because it felt right.

"Damn it." Striker cursed. "Where's the exit on this thing?!"

"How did you get in here?" Pentious asked.


Mad Dawg was running, and bullets were raining down behind him. He had no idea who was shooting at him now, but he could hear what sounded like hooves thundering behind him, and he realized that regardless of whoever or whatever was hunting him, Striker was the one he needed to be the most concerned about. As if to prove his point, Dawg yelled in pain as several bullets cut through him.

"Tenacious. Enduring. Some sorta six-shooter combo… Wait, why am I running?!" Mad Dawg blinked, suddenly realizing something. "I'm like, a six-foot or nine-foot hell beast." He stopped running and turned on the oncoming attacker.

Deciding that running wasn't working, Mad Dawg turned around and extended his claws, roaring animalisticly, as he stood on his hind legs, rearing to his full height. He was surprised to see a horse running towards him… and admittedly, it was a badass-looking horse, as its mane, tail, hooves and chest were ON FIRE. Like, literally made out of fire and lava. That was kinda awesome.

"WHOA, BOY! WHOA!" Striker ordered as his horse reared back, unleashing a powerful neigh. The flaming horse waved its front hooves at Mad Dawg, only to then be knocked onto his back as Mad Dawg tackled him to the street. Striker was thrown off his steed, crashing onto the hard ground, and rolled a short distance before pulling himself up. Striker blinked, then scowled in genuine anger when he saw that disgusting freak slamming Bombproof into the ground. The horse let out a shocked and pained cry, and Striker didn't think twice about what came next. Grabbing the blade, he had been using for years, Striker put it in his teeth, and jumped onto Dawg's back. Grabbing onto the Beasts' fur, he drove the blade into the creature's back, over and over. The dark purple blood wasn't what Striker expected, but he also didn't care in the slightest. He kept driving the blade into this thing's body, working his way up his spine, towards his neck. Thankfully, the pain was enough to get Mad Dawg off of his horse.

"Y'worthless, in-bred, mangey, flea-ridden BASTARD!" Striker yelled as Mad Dawg began trying to get Striker off his back. Despite his best efforts, Striker had to abandon ship, when Mad Dawg tried to ram his back into the wall of a building. Landing on the ground, Striker was forced to jump as a massive, hammer-like fist came down, making a hole in the street, only for another hammer-fist to make a hole in the side of a building. Striker could handle many things, hell-hogs, rabid ferals, other Imps, even most demons. But, and while this was a big but, and a but he didn't like considering, he always had trouble against particularly large targets, especially when he was in close quarters to them.

Like he was right now.

Despite the anger threatening to overtake his mind, Mad Dawg actually had a bit of a plan right now. He could tell Striker wasn't on the kinda playing field he was used to. So, he needed to keep Striker close, move fast, and take away any chances he had at escape. Right now, keeping him trapped and pinned down were his only goals. While in almost any other circumstance, doing this to an opponent would push them into further anger or desperation, Mad Dawg was willing to take a risk, and gamble that when backed into a corner, Striker would go for his guns. That was predictable, and predictability could be dangerous.

Mad Dawg was proven right when Striker went for his guns. Mad Dawg used his bulk and nearly slammed Striker into a wall, only for the slippery Imp to crawl away at the last second. Which was what Dawg was hoping for, as he finally scored a solid, clean punch directly on Striker's face, blackening an eye, and drawing blood.

"Ragh! How-" Striker snapped, in disbelief he had been outplayed. He didn't see how his tactics were failing him, but Dawg saw it. He saw it all too well. Now, all he had to do was keep on tricking the Imp, and he'd-

Bang!

"AGH! Forgot about the guns!" Mad Dawg cried as he was shot in the upper chest by one of Strikers' guns. "Dang it! I need something good! Some sorta miracle-"

"Mad Dawg! Catch!"

Blinking in confusion, Mad Dawg saw… actually, he didn't know who that was. Some flying purple sheep? Dawg thought he had seen him before, but didn't recall… whatever. Whoever they were, they tossed Dawg his bag. Slinging it onto his body, Dawg grinned as he grabbed a weapon from it.

RrRrrRRrr…

"Since when the hell did'ya have a chainsaw?!" Striker exclaimed, jumping back in shock as Dawg drove the whirring blade down at the Imp. Unlike other fights, and even some cage battles, Dawg was fighting with nothing but pure anger. Nothing but uncontrollable hatred. This was good, as it made him a threat to be reckoned with, but it also made him sloppy, reckless, and sometimes a bit too predictable.

The thing was, Striker wasn't expecting a chainsaw, so that element of Dawg's sloppiness couldn't be exploited the way he normally would exploit a foe… now, the small Imp was desperately trying to get away from the whirring blade which was slicing through anything it touched with liberal carelessness. Striker fired bullets, but Dawg somehow blocked them, or seemed to deranged the pain didn't hurt. Eleven shots were taken as trash, walls, posters, a random homeless demon were caught in the teeth on the chainsaw and it scratched, bit and chewed through everything it touched.

"AAAH! MY LEG!"

"Whoops."

Perhaps out of desperation, or perhaps by accident, Striker let loose a grenade, only for Mad Dawg to whack it like a baseball with his chainsaw. "FORE!" Dawg shouted. Miraculously, the grenade didn't explode. But it landed between the two… which neither of them noticed.

"But- how did you-"

"If you hit a grenade with a baseball bat, it won't explode." Mad Dawg commented. "There isn't enough force there to break the shell and rupture the interior mechanisms, and that grenade landed between us, this is gonna hurt." He commented, looking down.

The resulting explosion threw both demons out of the alley and into the road. Landing roughly, Dawg heard a metallic scraping and saw two things; one, his chainsaw was sliding away from him, and B.) Striker's gun slid towards him. From a ways down the road, Striker quickly pulled himself up and grabbed the gun that went his way, and Dawg grabbed the other one.

The two demons stared at one another, realization dawning on the others' face as they took in the situation before them. Two demons, two guns, one bullet. Whoever checked would be shot by the other…

"This really is how it's gonna go down, ain't it?" Mad Dawg thought, then grinned. "¡Entonces hagamos algo loco!" He declared in his mind, working on the Spanish he had been learning. He wasn't sure if his pronunciation was correct, but he was trying.

Striker would be lying if he claimed he wasn't even the slightest bit nervous. For one, he wasn't sure if he had a loaded gun, and while he could use anything as a weapon, the distance between him and his query was… gun-worthy, or something like that. Furthermore (and more importantly) Striker had recently been reminded to never underestimate your prey, especially when they're backed into a corner, as even a lowly Imp can pack a punch when they're desperate. But instead of an Imp, this was some furry hell-beast. With a chainsaw. Who jumped out of a blimp.

The pair stood, still as statues, at opposite ends of the road. To Striker, this was an everyday occurrence. To Mad Dawg, he had one shot to get this right… and that was only if he had a bullet.

"This really ain't a fair fight, y'know that, right?" Striker drawled, trying to get into Dawg's mind. "I could be blindfolded and still hit ya'. Yer odds'a hittin' me are slimmer than successfully leakin' int'a shot glass while it's spinnin' on a record player on the back of'a running horse."

"And yet, I welcome those odds." Mad Dawg mused. "Besides, there's a fifty percent chance you ain't got a bullet! So, I'm golden either way!"

"Huh. Well, you'll die braver than most then. I'll give you that."

"You saying that from one legend to another?"

"HA! Don't even kid, pipsqueak. You ain't nothin' but a hound dog." The Bounty Hunter cruelly laughed. "I've killed bigger, badder, and more infamous beings than you could even begin t'think of!"

"I killed a ten-foot tall dude with a metal arm that could destroy skyscrapers in a single punch." Mad Dawg suddenly spoke up, eerily calm. Striker wanted to call B.S., but there was something about how Dawg was talking that gave him pause. "I tore down a terrorist organization, at the cost of my own life-"

"Then how the hell do you know you took em' down!?" Striker demanded.

"Because in my last moments, I watched him burn." Mad Dawg growled. He remembered all right, it was a sight he would never forget. Before the light grabbed him, and he woke up getting hit by a van, he had seen it.

Fear, desperation, regret, anger.

All of it, in just a few moments. It was clear to both of them, that this fight was over. In that moment, Doomfist, Akande, realized he had lost. He had realized one of the most terrifying truths anyone could realize.

He was going to die. Right then and there. And no deal could be made, no truce could be offered, but only blood could quench the thirst which Beta-576 had arrived with.

Striker still wasn't sure if he believed Mad Dawg or not (what? This brat was at most, seventeen. There was no way he had actually done this stuff) but he also saw something… a bit concerning in Dawgs' eyes.

Disconnect.

As if… he wanted this. As if he was hoping this would be it, that this is where he would die. Was the kid depressed? Suicidal? A truly fantastic actor who was fooling even Striker?

"Kid, it don'have t'go this way." Striker spoke up again, trying to seem calm, almost friendly. "I can see yer scared. I ain't sayin' that t'degrade ya, yer a lot more courageous than most I've met. But this fight isn't gonna end the way you want. Just put the weapons down, and come with me. We can talk this out, like men." Striker then added under his breath: "Hell, even normal demons… somethin' you sure as hell ain't…"

"Who hired you?" Mad Dawg asked, not sure if he had asked this already or not.

"You agree t'come with me, and I'll tell ya."

"…eh, I don't need to know that badly." Dawg shrugged, Striker seemed somewhat irked by his response.

"T'hell with it." The Imp decided, and fired.

The casing ejected from the gun, a puff of smoke and sparks exploding from the barrel of the gun as the cartage rotated and fired the bullet, an audible clinking sound echoing as the casing hit the ground.

But Mad Dawg was gone.

"Wha-"

"Surprise." Came a voice from behind him.

"Oh. Fu-"

CRACK!

Striker was driven face-first into the ground, and hit so hard he actually got stuck in the ground, by Mad Dawg's fist. With a grin, Mad Dawg grabbed the other gun, and ammo belt the Imp had on him, and knew he had to get going again. He wasn't sure who had the bullet, but he knew he had a time advantage. As such, he had to go. NOW.

"kiLL HIm, yOU idiOT!" Virus shouted, frustrated. Mad Dawg blinked, then realized he probably should… only to then be sidelined by Bombproof. The mutant only had moments to jump out of the way of the demonic horse, who let out an angry snarly and reared back. Baring his teeth, Mad Dawg decided to run for now. There was an old saying Solider: 76 had taught Dawg when he had first joined Overwatch, and he felt like it applied here.

"When over the enemy's lines, never forget your own line of retreat."

Now, technically, Dawg had no line of retreat, as all of hell was 'enemy lines', but that made him realize what he needed. He needed a place to regroup, a place to lay low. So… like it or not, he was heading to Imp City. On the one hand, it was obvious Striker would come looking for him there, but on the other hand, it might be the perfect place to hide for a time. The way he saw it, Dawg could blend into the hellhounds, and eventually disappear. Most likely, he'd head for the outer rim of this ring, or something… heck, maybe he could fake his death! Even if that wouldn't get Striker off his tail forever, it could be long enough for him to get away from the Imp and make a better plan.

"In the midst of chaos, there is an opportunity." Another lesson from 76, which Mad Dawg began to take into consideration. Realistically, Mad Dawg figured everyone was thinking this at the moment, but whatever. He needed to focus on himself right now if he wanted to survive! He kept running, moving quickly through hell, leaving the city and heading for the 'country' he could call it, only for a bright flash to tear across the sky, like fireworks signaling some sort of celebration. Dawg ignored it, this was probably some stupid thing that didn't affect-

"Denizens of hell. Heed my words!" A female voice suddenly echoed across literally ALL of hell. "I, am Delilah, ARC Angel of the Lord Almighty! Somewhere, in this rotten cesspool of sin and debauchery, resides a soul known as 'Mad Dawg'. He is the same one I offered exemption over not too long ago, so you should remember who he is."

"Delilah, what are you doing?" Mad Dawg thought, surprisingly calm considering what was happening around him. Thankfully, while all the demons and monsters had frozen where they were when the voice began to speak, Mad Dawg was able to force himself to keep running. However, more than a few demons looked his way as he ran, as if asking if he was who was being talked about.

"Your kind are a wretched lot, and deserve nothing more than the extermination my Brothers and Sisters bring upon thee!" Delilah continued, Mad Dawg scoffing in disgust at her words. He didn't believe Delilah was who she said she was. From what he knew, God was loving, God was kind, yes, he had created hell, and yes, he sanctioned the Exterminations each year, but this felt… wrong. "But… even you are not beyond redemption."

THAT made Mad Dawg screech to a halt in pure, unadulterated anger. She did NOT just say that! Where did she get off talking about 'redemption' when she had forced Mad Dawg to either stay in hell, or destroy the hotel!?

"Mad Dawg must be found, and returned to the Father. If you bring him to us within forty-eight hours, then we shall leave in peace. If not… we are sanctioned to kill every last one of you, until we find him."

If Mad Dawg wasn't afraid for what was happening already, he certainly was now. He wasn't afraid for his own safety (not really, he didn't care what happened to him). But the thought of everyone he liked and tolerated being exterminated?! He couldn't let that happen! But… this made no sense! Why would Delilah say one thing, then turn around and do this?! Wouldn't it make more sense to send the Angels after him and him alone? Was she lying? Was this a trap!?

"What if all of it was a trap?" Virus asked, speaking without the filter, putting a hand on Dawg's shoulder. "What if, from the moment she met you, she's been lying, and lying, and lying again. She isn't an angel. She can't help you. The devil didn't want the hotel made to begin with, so what if this was part of a ploy to get rid of it?"

"But why would she show me everything she did?!" Mad Dawg tried to reason.

"Because this is the devil we're talking about. The father of lies, the prince of temptation! He didn't just want the hotel gone, he wanted to destroy any chance or hope it had! And just liKe wItH TaLon, theY NEEdED a tOol. anD yOu fElL rIGHT InTo TheIR HanDS." As Virus continued, the filter returned, and he laughed sadistically. Mad Dawg kept running, and running. Unsure of what else he could do. By now, demons were beginning to notice him again, and he needed to get outta dodge. NOW.

About an hour and a half of running later, Mad Dawg stood atop a stone arch. Below him were a set of train tracks, and now, Mad Dawg was waiting for his ride to Imp City. By now, he assumed Striker had freed himself, and was on his trial again, but Dawg had gone all over the place, running through alleys, dumpsters, and even taking a leisurely dip in a disgusting lake, following it up by powering through a dump. Hopefully, this would mask his scent for the time being. Holding his breath, Mad Dawg waited, before finally feeling the faintest of shakes. The train was coming, the vibrations told him this much… however, he was so focused on the vibrations, that he didn't notice until the last moment that Husk had appeared behind him, but a quick glance over his shoulder rectified that.

"Husk?"

"Dawg." Was all the winged bartender said in a low tone. Despite being decent at reading people, Mad Dawg had no idea what Husk was thinking or feeling right now. It was honestly rather unsettling, as it didn't help his current predicament.

"How did you-" Mad Dawg began.

"I have my ways." The cat demon remarked, seeming more aggressive than usual. There was a notably long silence, until Dawg finally broke it with a simple question.

"So, what are you…?"

"You."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that." Dawg shook his head, knowing what Husks' answer would most likely be.

"And I was hoping you'd be gone by now." Husk commented, dryly. His anger seemed… genuine, as if he had been betrayed. Which, to Mad Dawg, made no sense. What had he done to earn the ire of Husk? Well, he wasn't gonna stick around and find out.

"Huh. Well, neat. Nice seeing you-"

"Oh, don't even think about trying to run you freak of nature." Husk growled, baring his teeth. The sound of the train could be heard now, and Dawg looked down to the tracks.

"What about jumping?" He asked.

"Huh?" The question genuinely caught Husk off-guard, and he was even more surprised when Dawg jumped… only to roughly land on the roof of a box car, digging in with his claws, and riding away on the train. Husk blinked, then questioned if Dawg forgot he had wings. Still, Mad Dawg seemed to be forgetting a lot lately. Husk jumped after Dawg, the wind catching his wings, and the cat-demon flew after the train. It took him a minute, but he grabbed onto the end and climbed up on top of the box cars, finding Mad Dawg, who seemed to be looking for a hatch of some sort.

"You made a damn big mistake, kid!" Husk shouted over the sound of metal and wind. He lunged forward, tackling Dawg. He wasn't sure why he did… but heck, he wasn't really thinking right now. He was just angry and not letting Dawg get away with it.

"I know!" Dawg shouted back. Growling as his head smashed into the roof.

"Is that why you're running?!" Husk asked, before going for the kill. "Like you ran from that power plant?!"

"I dunno!" Mad Dawg confessed, feeling remorse and pain at the reminder of one of his biggest mistakes. "Husk! Please! You gotta believe me! I was going to do what Delilah wanted, but I couldn't go through with it! I had the explosives, yes! But I didn't plant them!"

"Awfully convenient of you to have them, and then the hotel gets destroyed! And I'm supposed to believe you had a sudden change of heart at the last second?!"

"I know! That's what I'm trying to figure out! I didn't plant them, but someone did!"

"Well, after I beat the crap outta you, we can ask Delilah together when I drag yer' sorry carcass back to her!"

"NO!" Mad Dawg exclaimed, seeming almost afraid. "Husk, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I think Delilah was behind the bombing!"

"I don't believe you, and I don't care!" Husk snapped. "Here's what I know is real. You were the first demon in forever to walk through those doors who showed any chance or potential of really changin'! Vaggie trusted ya, Nifty trusted ya, Charlie trusted ya, I mean, she trusts everyone… hell! Even I TRUSTED YOU! And then… then that crap with Dust happened, and yet you still came back!"

"What's your point?!"

"I'm pissed at you, kid! You took all our trust, and you spat in our faces!" Husk snarled.

"Why do you care?! You're an alcoholic barkeep!"

"Because I saw you as a fellow brother-in-arms!" Husk retorted, and Dawg felt like he was punched in the gut. "That memory crap, with whatever their names were! I saw what you did, you fight with them, bled for them, hell! You DIED for them! We never talked much, but I saw you were a solider and I saw who you were! But then you went and showed everyone who you really were!"

"If you were half the solider you claim you were, you'd know that hard choices have to be made for the greater good!" Mad Dawg exclaimed, deciding to try and fight reason with reason. He didn't believe a thing he was saying, but he had to try something. "I don't wanna hurt you, Husk. But I need you to stay away from me. Something's wrong, and I don't-"

"What's wrong is the literal GENOCIDE you'll bring upon us if I don't bring you to that Angel!" Husk snapped, and Dawg knew that was a fair point. "I don't like this, but you're leaving me no choice here, kid."

"…walk away Husk." Mad Dawg finally said, rising to his full height. "I'm not gonna warn you again." There was something about the way he spoke, that left Husk wondering what the heck Dawg was doing…

Husk was going to attack, but then… he stopped. He remembered back to the memories he had seen in the hotel. How Mad Dawg had openly broken down in tears when the young girl had died… how he had tried to kill himself, more than once. Yet, through all the turmoil and strife, he kept fighting. He fought for those he cared about, for himself, for the innocent… he could relate to that. After finally finding Mad Dawg, the kid wasn't preparing for another attack, or reveling in victory. In fact, he had all but attack the Angel when she congratulated him on the mess he had made. He had been acting with such pain, that Husk honestly did somewhat wonder if it was real. What if… what if Mad Dawg was telling the truth, and he was being set up? That happened all the time in hell, really. Patsy and scapegoats were dime-for-several-dozen, but to have an Unjudged as your scapegoat?

"Something isn't right…" He thought. Delilah had now announced Dawg's presence to all of hell, twice. Once, sure. Maybe it was to get him to her, but then why would she give him some sort of trial? According to Baxter, the kid was an Unjudged… that should've meant he was outta here within moments! But, no. He wasn't. The more the winged bartender considered all the pieces of this problem, the more he realized they weren't fitting together as they should. After all, why would an Angel want the hotel destroyed? Wouldn't they be happy about the prospect of redeeming the sinful? His time as a solider had taught him to look at things from all sides, and his time as a drinker told him not to get involved. "Honestly, if the kid was older, I wouldn't care." He reasoned. But, Mad Dawg was a teenager… that made all this more complicated. Besides, after everything that had happened, and all he knew that Alastor had done to him (even if Mad Dawg didn't know it yet), Husk felt like he couldn't attack Mad Dawg. Not yet.

"I'm giving you a four-hour head-start." Husk stated, and it was clear that this was non-negotiable.

"If you come after me, I could kill you. For good." Mad Dawg warned.

"And if I don't, we die in three days." Husk countered, turning his back to Mad Dawg. As he walked off, Mad Dawg called out to him, making him stop, even though he didn't want to. "And if you kill me, then that's more blood on your hands."

"Thank you…" Mad Dawg timidly offered. "Not about me kil-"

"Don't thank me, you mutated lab rat." Husk growled. "I still blame you for what you've taken from me. Y'wanna thank me? Either emancipate yerself, then buy me a bottle, or don't put up a fight when I come for ya." With that, Husk flapped his wings, and disappeared. Mad Dawg sighed, feeling another potential ally slip through his fingers… and he had no-one to blame but himself. At least, that's how he felt.

"Whatever, just find a place to sit for a few minutes." He ordered himself, hopping over a few gaps before finally finding a rooftop hatch. Squeezing down with some difficulty, he landed and looked around, seeing a small gathering of Imps and demons in tattered rags trying to keep to themselves. Dawg raised his hands in a sign of comradery, and thankfully, they ignored him.

"Just gotta… rest… then, I'll… get this bread…" Mad Dawg weakly thought, stress and anxiety catching up with him, and leaving him feeling numb and tense. Thankfully, he was able to fall into a restless sleep, but it was still a sleep in which he could collect some energy for the journey ahead.


"-ITCH!" A demon cartoonishly screamed as they were shot in the face by an old flintlock pistol, and sent flying out a hole in the wall which still hadn't been fixed after this time. "MOTHERFUC-"

"How many was that today?"

"That… was the eighth."

"This is bullshit! Why does some angel want Dawg?!" Loona spat, looking over to the bloodstains and blade marks which now covered the interior of I.M.P. HQ. In the past few hours, multiple demons (eight, according to Moxxie's calculations) had barged into the office, and while at first, it seemed like they were here for business… it quickly became clear they only wanted the glory of killing or bringing Mad Dawg down. Since a number of demons had seen Mad Dawg and the Nekro-Lycan at the fighting pit, they all (semi-correctly) assumed this is where they could find him. At first, BLITZO of all demons had politely explained that Mad Dawg was no longer a member of their team (even going so far as to say he never was. But, to Moxxie's surprise, he seemed to say it out of an attempt to protect Mad Dawg…) and had even offered to cut a deal to hunt Dawg down for a client. But then the demons had decided to simply torture, or kill the Imps for information… and then they realized they were vastly under skilled when compared to the members of I.M.P.

"RRRAAAAAAHHH!" ScHuLK! "DIE!" CrUnCh! "DIE!" CrUncH! "DIE!" CRuNCh! "DIE!"

Especially Millie.

For some reason, the southern Imp seemed to absolutely blow a gasket the second someone showed up looking for Mad Dawg. But, by the tentacled beard of Cthulhu, she had maintained her composure. Until someone threatened Moxxie. While the gun specialist wasn't too nervous about fighting the random intruder, he recognized as a Nothic, Millie didn't give him or the Nothic a chance.

Knockknockknockknock…

A frantic, soft knocking came at the door (which surprisingly, hadn't been punched in yet. Thankfully, those who came looking for Dawg (while they may have left in pieces, Moxxie couldn't recall at the moment what happened when an Imp killed another imp or a demon) they were polite enough to use the door.

"Crap. Mox, check who it is! If they're looking for Dawg, stab em' in the junk, if not, tell em' we're not taking jobs right now!" Blitzo exclaimed, heading back to his room to answer a ringing phone. Moxxie checked his gun, and opened the door, casually.

"Sorry to tell you this, but we're not taking clients at the mome-DAWG?! Oh, crumbs! Where have you been!?" Moxxie asked in shock. "All of IMP City is looking for you!"

"Listen Moxx… I'm in a real bad place dude. I need your hel-" Mad dawg urgently began as he entered his old place of work/living space. Loona's jaw dropped when she saw him, and Millie ran up and hugged his leg reassuringly. Despite sleeping, and despite having a bad feeling about bringing his issues to them, from the blood everywhere, he reasoned they already had issues relating to him.

"Mad Dawg! Yer al'right!" Millie exclaimed, her eyes shining at the sight of Mad Dawg. The teen didn't get why Millie liked him so much… but he liked her, too. She was so kind to him… and that was something he needed, now more than ever.

"Is- is this-" Mad Dawg began, taking in everything around him. As said earlier, the place looked like a sharknado had torn through it! Right down to the damaged aquarium, and dead eels.

"Yeah, all because of you." Loona blinked, her snark mixed with a bit of concern. "Dawg, what the hell did you do!?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Mad Dawg exclaimed, clutching at his hid as he felt the creature deep within him stir and begin to growl, wanting to be free. He knew this was the absolute worst time this could happen. He needed to keep control! "I- I don't know what's happening!"

"Mad Dawg, I'm saying this as your friend, I hope you understand that. You need to GO." Moxxie finally spoke up, and Mad Dawg felt his blood freeze. The white-haired Imp clearly didn't like what he was saying, but pressed on to avoid being attacked by his now furious wife, and equally angered receptionist. "Seriously, you're in a lot of danger. You need to get outta here! Demons know you from Robo-Fizz's fighting pit! They're still looking for you! We can't hold them off forever."

"And what the hell is he gonna do!?" Loona protested, angered. Moxxie groaned, clearly not knowing, and willing to admit to not knowing. Still, Dawg hated to admit to it, he had a point.

"I don't know!" Moxxie exclaimed. "I'm willing to do all I can to help, it's just… there isn't much we can do!" It was clear Loona was going to protest, so he added: "What? You think we could go and try and either talk or fight to those Angels?! We'll get exterminated!"

"Mox. I don't know what to do man! I need your help! Or… or… or Blitzo's! Or-"

"Blitzo said… Blitzo said we can't help you."

"What?" Mad Dawg said quietly.

"I don't know how to explain this- I don't like this Mad Dawg, Millie's moments away from having a full-on breakdown-" Moxxie muttered, saying 'moments away' because he didn't want to admit she was way past that. "Loona's already ripped several arms off of Imp's who tried to break in here and find yo-"

"No! No way! Not happening! Get the FUCK out right now!" Blitzo ordered, appearing from nowhere, shoving Millie off of Mad Dawg, and trying to shove Mad Dawg back and out the door. "Do you have any idea what your sorry ass has cost me!? Look around you! All this is because of you!"

Mad Dawg was scared, that much was true. But he also wasn't about to be pushed about like that. Whatever hint of sympathy or remorse were clear in Blitzo's tone didn't matter to Dawg.

"Hey! I didn't ask for ANY OF THIS to happen!" Mad Dawg snapped, despite knowing Blitzo had something of a point, he didn't want to admit to that. There was so much more to this, and he wasn't going to take the blame on it all! "You're the one who told me to go back!"

"Seriously?! THAT'S your answer?!" Blitzo demanded, angered. "After you wouldn't shut the hell up about how bad you felt, I was telling you to go because it was so damn annoying! And now you wanna turn around and blame me for all the crap that goes wrong?!"

"Why not? It's what you do with Moxxie every day!" Mad dawg countered.

"Oh, piss up your own ass and die you overgrown lab rat!" Blitzo retorted, slashing a hand across the air. "There is so much more going on than you know! And you think I'm gonna drop everything and help you because you screwed up!?"

"Aw, what's wrong, you don't like seeing the teenager do what you never could?!"

"If that has something to do with getting laid, you're way, way, WAY off the mark, Mad Dawg!" Blitzo spat, and Dawg seemed horrified, as if he was having a flashback.

"You- you think- I- THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK I'M ON ABOUT!?" Mad Dawg full-on roared. "I HAD NO SAY IN THAT MATTER! I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! YOU THINK THAT DOESN'T STILL HURT?!"

"WE'RE IN HELL! YOU THINK ANYONE CARES?! ALL OF THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU!" Blitzo shouted, and then it was clear that while Millie and Moxxie were mortified by his statement, and Loona was disgusted, Blitzo himself seemed to regret it. There was a very tense silence as both parties tried to think about what to say next, until Dawg finally mumbled:

"You're right. This is all my fault…" Mad Dawg admitted, slumping down against the wall, and sitting on the couch he used to sleep on. Putting his head in his paws, he mumbled; "You're right… they're all right… I'm just a monster… I'm no hero. I'm not even a good person! You, Charlie, Angel, Molly, Annie… I've hurt all of them…"

"Hey, wait… no…" Blitzo muttered, having to do something he usually hated. Swallow his pride, and admit he was wrong. Normally, he'd never do either. But this… was a delicate situation. If he wanted to take care of those he cared for, he knew he was gonna have to help Dawg out. Plus… "Kid… that- that was a really terrible thing to say, I know. It's just- you're not the only one who's been hurt, and the threat of Exterminators weighs a lot heavier on some of us, than others."

Blitzo sat down next to Mad Dawg, and put a hand on his back. "Kid, I- I can't imagine what you went through, seeing those memories, and now having all of hell after you? That's gotta suck, big time. I wish there was more I could do to help you, but… I'm sorry kid. I've gotta look out for my own during this. Moxxie is taking care of Millie, and I've got Loona. I'm sorry Mad Dawg, you've gotta go, for all our sakes. We'll do all we can to keep the others off your trail, but you've gotta go. Far away from here." The leader of the Immediate Murder Professionals, clearly seemed hurt by what he was saying, but Dawg understood why he was saying it. In fact, he almost respected him for it, was he not so terrified and under so much stress. But still, Blitzo had to care for his daughter, and Moxxie and Millie had to protect one another.

"W-wait, B." Millie sniffled, clearly trying to remain calm. "C-couldn't you ask Lord Stolas to-"

"To do what? Harbor a fugitive from God?" Mad Dawg cut Millie off, now realizing the uncomfortable truth of all this. "To tell the rings that a Goetia PRINCE does favours for an Imp?!" Mad Dawg paused, the tears forming in his eyes shone as frustration and anger coloured them.

"Man, this really sucks." Mad Dawg muttered, almost childishly. "But I think the only way I'm gonna be able to deal with this, is if I either turn myself in, or find whoever's behind all this." Lowering his voice somewhat, he added: "And I hate to admit it, but I think I might have to make a deal…"

"You can't be serious." Loona said flatly. "Dawg, you're an UNJUDGED! You make a deal with the devil, your soul is his, with NO way out of that!"

"What choice to I have!?" Mad Dawg asked, angered. "Sit back and let everyone I care for get slaughtered?!"

"I dunno, why are you out here in the first place?" Moxxie asked, raising a fair point. "Is someone out here who can help you?"

Before Dawg could answer, and more importantly, admit he didn't know, as he was running out of fear for what he had done to Charlie, and didn't have the first clue what the heck he was actually doing. Any attempt at formulating a plan, or finding out some sort of escape route, or even just planning for the next five minutes went out the hole which served as a window as banging on the door came once more.

"I know yer in there!" Came a voice.

"Crap! Hide!" Loona ordered, shoving Mad Dawg into a nearby closet and closing the door behind him. Thankfully, she was back at the desk when the door was shot off its hinges, and a familiar face strolled in.

"Oh, HELL to the HELL no!" Blitzo snarled upon seeing Striker. "Mox, get me a gun!"

"Way ahead of you, sir." Moxxie snarled, cocking a gun and tossing one to Blitzo. Millie brandished her axe and Loona bore her teeth.

"Wait, do they know him?" Mad Dawg wondered.

"Relax, Blitzo, I ain't here for you." Striker remarked, cool as ever. Heck, he didn't add the 'O' to Blitzo's name to spite him. "Whatever problem you have with me ain't my concern right now."

"You tried t'kill me, and Moxx, and Blitzo, AND Stolas!" Millie snapped, angered. From where he was hiding, Mad Dawg's jaw hit the ground. This guy had WHAT!?

"Okay, so?"

"…"

"…"

"I'm not gon'lie, I wasn't expecting that to be your answer." Millie finally spoke after collecting her thoughts from the genuine mind-breaker Striker had hit back with. Sure, hell was hell, Imps would stab one another in the back all the time, but she hadn't expected him to be so, well, vocal about it. Or at least so passé about it all. Moxxie noticed the exterminator weapon and felt his body tense. This had to be for Mad Dawg. More importantly, someone very powerful had to have hired him… "Look, you all had some sorta mascot, apparently. I'm lookin' fer him."

"No clue what you're talking about." Loona drawled. Striker shot her a look that made it clear he knew she was lying, but didn't press it much further. He didn't need to start something if he didn't have to.

"Well, whether or not y'all wanna tell me the truth, and save the trouble is up t'you." Striker commented with a shrug, casting a glance around the office. "Damn… this is the best us Imps can do? Real shame…" He shook his head.

"Uh, in our defense, a bunch of people have been bursting in here without destroying our door and looking for someone who we know nothing about." Blitzo lied, and Mad Dawg was surprised Blitzo was lying for him.

"Listen, Blitzo." Striker remarked, seeming cool as could be, speaking with the confidence of someone with an unbeatable hand in poker. "I get you and I don't exactly get along, but do you know how much we could make if we find this freak!? This contract is from the big kahuna himself! He offered me enough to make the gold vaults in the greed ring look like Lindsay Lohan's bank account after another relapse. You tell me where he is, and I cut you in for thirty percent."

"Damn, that much?" Blitzo muttered, and the others at I.M.P. realized that Striker was honing on one of Blitzo's (many, many, almost uncountable, really) weaknesses. MONEY. But, unbeknownst to them. Striker had deduced another one of Blitzo's… less known, or at least, less vocalized weaknesses. Probably one which he truly did fear, to some extent.

"Heh, it's more than money." Striker smirked, wickedly. "Think about it, B. This ain't just cash, or some high-end prick you're workin' for. You do this, and the Overlords themselves will know who you are! I know what you want, you want a name, a legacy! You want to prove you're more than just an Imp, and this is your chance!"

There it was. What Blitzo truly wanted. Recognition. His whole life, he had been trying thing after thing to gain some sense of recognition. Not just because he was an Imp, but because he truly craved the one thing that was so rare to him. Approval. From being a clown, to other performance gigs, Striker had been one of the very few demons in hell who seemed to be genuinely impressed by what he had done. Unbeknownst to Blitzo, Striker had been genuine in his words. But this? This was so much more than he could ever imagine!

"Oh crumbs…" Moxxie whispered, knowing where Striker was going with this.

"I mean, you're not wrong." Blitzo considered. Millie seemed ready to stab Striker repetitively (again), but eh Angelic weapon in his hands gave her pause.

"Y'know, when we first met, I didn't understand why you'd try't'defend that rich asshole who's sleepin' with ya, but hey. Love is love." Striker continued, his tail ominously snaking its way around the office as he approached Blitzo, still holding his angelic rifle. There was something dangerous in the way he spoke, as if he knew something Blitzo was desperate to hide. "But this… I don't get why you're defendin' this punk. You ain't bangin' him, he doesn't work here, so what reason do you have for this? Think about it, and really think about it. You an'I can change the entire landscape of hell! No more will us Imps be seen as the lowest of the low, we'll be seen as the ones the Fallen One went to fer' help!"

Blitzo went quiet, thinking over the offer. This sounded too good to be true! If Striker was hired to find Mad Dawg, that meant someone either wanted to deliver Mad Dawg to the Arc Angel, or wanted to kill him. The issue was, if Dawg didn't get delivered to the angel, then they'd probably all be killed. BUT, if this contract ended with Dawg going to the angels, then they could have more money than they could ever imagine! Not only that, but Blitzo would have the recognition and respect he craved.

"Be honest with me, B." Striker continued prodding. "Do you really care so much about some random mutt?"

"I mean, he was just on corpse clean-up…" Blitzo conceded with a nod. "We didn't even pay him."

"Are you out of your freakin' mind, Blitzo!?" Loona demanded, sounding down right offended.

"Hey, Loonie, I know you and him were kinda friends, but this has to do with business-"

"Weren't you the one always saying this business was a family?! What kind of family sells out one of their own?!" The female receptionist demanded, aggressively.

"This is a lotta money!"

"HE made us a lot of money!" Millie now interjected, disgusted that her boss was considering this.

"Yeah, and we can also make way MORE money if we agree to this!" Blitzo reasoned. He seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as anyone else about this, though. As if he wasn't sure he wanted to do this, but also felt like he had to. His pride and greed were outweighing the want for companionship. Something Dawg had offered in his own weird way, but neither side had ever really acted on. "Raaaagh! When did I grow a conscience?!" He muttered, unsure of what to say or do in this situation.

"I'll make it forty percent." Striker offered.

"He's in the closet." Blitzo answered immediately, point to a closet.

"DAD!" Loona screamed in a mixture of betrayal, and fury. Blitzo's eyes widened in shock when he heard that, but Striker pushed him to the side and threw the closet door open.

"SIKE, BITCH!" Blitzo shouted victoriously. Only for the whole room to go quiet. Striker and Mad Dawg looked at one another, Mad Dawg looking down from where he hid in the closet. There was an awkward silence as everyone took in what happened, before Striker looked back to Blitzo.

"Oh, fuck. Wrong closet." Blitzo muttered, realizing he accidentally gave Dawg up and his plan had failed. Improvising, he grabbed his gun and hit Striker in the back of the head with it. "DAWG! RUN!" Blitzo ordered.

Mad Dawg was confused, but he wasn't about to run from the members of I.M.P. not when Striker had a weapon which could kill demons. He launched himself at Striker again, attempting to pin him to the ground, but the rattlesnake Imp was faster, and rolled out of the way. However, in a five-versus-one, Striker had to remain on the defensive, so relied on his blades. He was forced to weave in and out from the axe, teeth and bullets that came his way, and annoyingly, it seemed to keep him from his target.

"It's me he wants!" Mad Dawg exclaimed. "Where should I go?!"

"No-where!" Moxxie yelled. "You stand here and fight with us!" His tone was serious, and his words meant a lot, but Mad Dawg knew he couldn't. I.M.P., despite killing people for money (yeah, Dawg never really considered the whole 'we-kill-for-money' thing, but whatever.) were his friends, and they were some of the last ones in hell he had, and he didn't want them to get hurt.

"Really, Blitzo? This is how you wanna live?" Striker decided to try one last thing. "Yer makin' a mistake…"

"I know." Blitzo muttered, annoyed. "But I'll make this mistake again and again before I give you Mad Dawg!"

"I wasn't asking you t'give him. I was asking you t'be smart." Striker commented, moving slowly, but Dawg knew what he was doing. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Mad Dawg ran forward as Striker whipped out and raised the Angelic weapon. Horror dawned on the faces of the Imps as that realized what he was doing. Dawg tackled Striker and grabbed onto him. Smashing through the door frame, Mad Dawg barrelled across the hall, through the wall where Veroskia had been working, and then through another wall. Sending the pair careening down to the ground below. The impact knocked both demons out for a few moments, and set more than a few car alarms off.

When Striker pulled himself up, he groggily saw Mad Dawg running off. Bombproof was by his side, helping him up. Striker was left speechless by what had happened.

"After everything he did and said to you… you still wanted to help him…" He muttered. "That's either Stockholm syndrome, or some damn impressive loyalty…"

The next hour or so was a blur. Mad Dawg had no idea where he was going, or where he was. All he knew, was that he was low on energy, but he couldn't stop for food or water. He hadn't eaten much the past few days, and now was regretting that. Unfortunately, he had gotten into a scrap with another hellhound, and managed to get away, but was weaker than before now. So, when a portal had opened before him, all he could do was stumble towards it before falling through it…

Some Time Later…

"..ke..u…" A female voice could faintly be heard.

"Wh…?" Mad Dawg moaned.

"C..n…y…an…ead!"

"W..wha…"

"Ugh…what…ck…king wake up!"

The darkness began to turn to light, and Mad Dawg's swirling vision began to come back to him. He was… exhausted, mentally and physically. But, even in his groggy state, there was something about this place that seemed awfully familiar. Something about the painted stars and deep purples in the room made Dawg feel like he had been here before, or at least, a place very similar.

"Oh, shit- finally!" A female voice spoke up as Octavia appeared in front of Dawg's face. "You're awake!"

"No… nonononononono!" Mad Dawg weakly protested. He was reaching his limits- no, he had reached his limits a while ago. He was somehow still going, but it felt like he was at his breaking point. It occurred to him he hadn't really ate or drank anything in a while, and as such… well, he was tired. Really, really, tired. He was so tired, that when he tried to get up, he unceremoniously fell face-first. Which probably was a mistake. Groaning in annoyance and desperation, Octavia managed to roll Mad Dawg over and opened his mouth, before pouring a beer down it. She stared at him for a moment, and then realized he may not be able to swallow. "That's a firs- dang it! Bad joke!" She reprimanded herself. But thankfully, Mad Dawg did drink… a bit. Enough that he could groan and pull himself up.

"Hang on, here." Octavia remarked, grabbing the bottle of water she intended to give him the first time and let him take a long drink. It was enough to get Dawg back up, and to bring him back down to reality. "There, better?"

"Oc-tavi-a?" Mad Dawg weakly muttered.

"Heh, yeah. It's me." The bird demon smirked. "You gave me a scare, there, Kace." She remarked. Maybe it was because he was so tired, but Dawg didn't growl at the mention of his name. "Shit, I thought you were done!"

"W-where-"

"My room." She answered. "Don't worry, no one saw me and the servants dragging you in here. I think we hit a plant, but no one will notice."

"How-"

"Portals, dumbass." She smirked. "You think my Dad is the only one who can do those?" Mad dawg blinked, then weakly chuckled as well.

"Hell yeah." He nodded in approval, holding a fist up for a fist bump. It wasn't really her style, but Octavia gave him a fist-bump.

"Well, it's good to see you're still in one piece." Octavia sighed, rubbing her face. "I don't know what the hell is happening right now…"

"Mood." Dawg weakly drawled.

"Why did you help me?"

"I dunno, I guess you're my friend?" Octavia shrugged, and Dawg snorted. "No, I'm serious! I'm not exactly used to having actual 'friends' who aren't sons and daughters of royalty!"

"No, you don't get it." Octavia spat, angered. "My entire life has been a balancing act between what my Mom wants for me, and trying to deal with the crap my Dad is putting us through!"

"Huh…"

"That night… that night when we hung out, and you revealed it was your birthday… you have no idea how much fun that was!" Octavia continued. "You didn't care about who I was, you were just there, and after a bit, you were there to have fun!"

"Octavia, one of the plants was moved about an eight of an inch from where it normally is, I was wondering if you knew what happ-" Stolas began as the door opened before he froze, seeing Mad Dawg in his daughter's room.

"Hey… Stolas…" Dawg weakly waved.

"How did you-"

"I brought him here." Octavia spoke up before Stolas could finish his question. "I couldn't leave him out there!" Stolas looked between his daughter to the weak Mad Dawg before he finally replied.

"You need to go." Stolas said in an eerily quiet voice.

"Fuck you, Dad!" Octavia snapped, Stolas taken aback by her anger. "You've made everything worse! You knew what you were doing, and yet you kept seeing that Imp! You've ruined this family, and I'm not about to let you try and get rid of the closest thing to a friend I have, just because you don't want people to know you're sleeping with an Imp!"

"Octavia, this has nothing to do with his boss." Stolas spoke, eerily calm. "Him being here means we could be seen as harbouring fugitives from angels, it doesn't matter if we are royalty or not, they could exterminate us."

"I'm not sending him out there to die!" Octavia countered, angered. "He doesn't deserve that!"

"Many souls down here don't deserve what they have been given." Stolas answered simply, and to his surprise, Dawg nodded.

"Octavia, this ain't worth dying over." Mad Dawg said, trying to remain calm. "I'm the one they're after. I need to get away from here, from everywhere, I need them to come to me somewhere where I won't put you in danger."

"You stupid furry bastard…" Octavia muttered, shaking her head. "Why are you like this?!"

"I dunno." Mad Dawg weakly replied. "I guess… I guess I see what everyone else has, and I can't bring myself to ruin that." He mumbled. Stolas seemed taken aback by the simple statement, and seemed to considering something before he spoke again.

If you go down to the basement, there is a secret door which leads to the edge of the city." He explained. "We had it built in case of some sort of attack. When you get to the edge of the town, there will be an old gas station, if you go in there, you'll fine a back door leads down to an abandoned subway tunnel. You can use that to get to the outskirts of the city. Once you're there, head for the Badlands and don't look back." Stolas said in a serious tone. "On the way there, you'll find an old abandoned diner, it has a phone that smugglers use, you can use it to call the news, or someone, and have the angels come find you, or… whatever your plan is."

It was clear both Octavia and Mad Dawg didn't like this, but Mad Dawg was thankful for the chance. "Thank you, Lord Stolas." Mad Dawg nodded. That seemed like a good idea, actually. Call Delilah from a way away, and make a deal with her. She calls off the genocide, and he stays in hell. Or, he talks to her Boss, or… he'd figure it out. Right now, he needed to be far away from everyone, and he needed to get in touch with Delilah, or… someone.

"Octavia, do you-" Stolas began, and she nodded. "Good, I'll try and keep your Mother distracted…"

"C'mon Kace, let's go." Octavia said quietly, helping him to his feet. Dawg nodded, and they set off through the halls.

"Is… is it weird to say I'm okay with you calling me Kace?" Mad Dawg muttered as they walked.

"Huh?"

"Normally hearing that name angers me, or upsets me… but when you say it, I don't get those feelings." Mad Dawg admitted as they headed towards the basement.

"Is it something you do when you're in love~?" Octavia asked, trying to keep the mood light. Dawg weakly chuckled and shook his head.

"No, I think it's because I see you as a good friend." That made Octavia stop for a second, she seemed genuinely shocked by his remark.

"R-really?!"

"Yeah." Mad Dawg smiled. "Sure, you, Loona, and Helsa all peer pressured me into drinking and talking about my past-"

"Hey, in my defence-"

"But I'm glad you did." Mad Dawg smiled. "That was one of the best nights of my life… although I still don't know what's tattled on my back."

Octavia held back laughter (and failed) at the realization that no one had told Dawg what they did… "If you survive this, I'll tell you." She remarked.

"You'd be better t'tell him now, there ain't no way he-"

"Oh, SHUT UP!" Mad Dawg yelled, seeing Striker across the room. "Enough with the cowboy lines!"

"Okay, how about this?" Striker asked, pulling out the angelic rifle. "Come with me, or she dies."

Mad Dawg now had his shotgun out, aiming it at Striker, who was aiming his angelic rifle at Octavia, who was aiming Dawg's crossbow at Striker. She hadn't used it before, but she had an idea how to do this.

"Either of you move, and she drops for good." Striker warned, and Dawg had a feeling Striker wasn't bluffing. Octavia realized this too, and began to question if Dawg was worth this. She came to the quick conclusion. He was not.

"Haven't I humiliated you enough already?" Dawg asked, trying to sound cool and collected. "Are you really willing to risk killing a member of the Goetia family?" To his surprise, Striker laughed.

"You think a member of the Goetia family matters in the grand scheme'a things!?" He remarked. "Man, you really don't understan'how the hierarchy works 'round here, do ya?!"

"No, I don't!" Mad Dawg declared proudly. Octavia looked to him, bewildered, and had to hold back a laugh.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN HERE?!" Stolas demanded, storming into the room. He was trying to act as if he didn't know Dawg was here, but when he saw some cretin aiming a weapon (that he was horrified to realize what angelically blessed) at his daughter.

"Heh… you." Striker smirked, as if he knew something Stolas didn't. Noticing Stolas' eyes beginning to glow he added: "Whoa, daddy! I'd be careful! By the time you use yer powers, you'd be down a daughter…"

Stolas now felt like he needed to use his powers even more, but was shocked when Mad Dawg walked in front of Octavia, and slowly lowered his gun.

"Okay." He said softly. "Y-you win." He tossed the shotgun away. "I'll go with you, just- just leave them out of this."

To everyone's surprise, Striker seemed genuinely taken aback by the request. "Well, well." He smirked. "Seems like yer finally thinkin' with yer head… both of em'…"

"If you're a Bounty Hunter, is your word worth much?" Mad Dawg asked. Striker seemed to consider something, then smirked, flashing his golden tooth.

"My word is my bond. When I take a job, I do it to the best of my ability. If I promise you somethin' I don't go back on it."

"Then look me in the eyes, and give me your word that you'll leave them alone." Mad Dawg ordered. "You give me your word on that, and I'll give you mine that I won't fight you anymore."

"That's all?" Striker asked, raising a brow.

"My word is my soul." Mad Dawg said, matter-of-factly, and this was something he lived by. "When I give my word, you keep my word, no matter what it costs." He stated, taking a step towards Striker. "You leave them alone, and you don't tell them I was here, and I'll walk out of here with you, and I'll go with you, no questions asked."

"Okay." Striker nodded as he kept the gun aimed at Mad Dawg's heart. "Deal."

"Kace-"

"No." Mad Dawg shook his head, he turned back and looked at Octavia. "Don't. Just- just let this go." He said, quietly.

Stolas had a for longed look on his face as Mad Dawg and Striker began to walk out of the room, only to open the door and run into the one demoness no-one (not Dawg, Stolas, Octavia, or even STRIKER!) wanted to run into.

"What are you doing here?!" Stella demanded. At first, speaking to Mad Dawg, and then seeing Striker. "I hired YOU to do a job, and yet HE is still alive!" Stella snapped down at the Imp.

"Sorry, bigger game came up." Striker coldly replied.

"Di…did she…" Mad Dawg mentally stammered. HE didn't really know Stella, other than she clearly didn't like him from the one or two interactions they had. But would she really hire Striker to try and kill him?! Was this who he was taking her too?!

"Unacceptable!" Stella snapped. "And you!" She now glared at Mad Dawg. "How DARE you show your face here! A mere hellhound, fraternizing with my DAUGHTER! And one under the employ of the Imp my Husband sleeps with!?"

"Wait, WHAT?" Mad Dawg sputtered, looking back to Stolas. "That's what-"

There was silence as everyone seemed to adopt a 'HOW-DID-YOU-NOT-KNOW-THIS?!' look. Then, everything clicked. The day Dawg had been forced to bail Blitzo out of here, he thought they were together once! But… Dawg's mind snapped back to the phone call he got before he met Stolas proper. Now, everything made sense.

"But why is she after me?!" He tried to figure out.

"I DunNo, BEcAUse SHe'S RoYALty anD yoU're... YOU?" Virus whispered to Mad Dawg. "THINk AboUt It, HeR husBanD IS baNGiN' tHe OnLY dEMoN Who MAY bE lOwEr On The TOTem POlE hEre thAN YoU! YOU REaLLY THiNK SHE'd cArE AboUT yoU IN THE sLigHteSt?! yOu SAW hoW StoLas WaNteD yOu OuT The mOmENT YOu gOt hERe! yEr juST An AnnOyANce, KacE!"

"No, that can't be it…" He muttered.

"If you want to prove yourself useful, then use the tools you've been given, and complete the job I hired you for, and KILL HIM!" Stella ordered Striker, and Dawg's last nerve was burned away.

"IT's NOw oR NEVEr... whO's It GONna bE, DAwg?"

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Mad Dawg screamed, a mixture of fury and fear in his voice as he lashed forward without thinking. He could take a lot of crap, he really could. But he had been having the worst day of his life, and he needed to retaliate. He didn't care what this meant, he was screwed as it was! He heard someone yell: "NO!" but Dawg didn't know or care who it was. He wasn't able to go full Nekro, he was too tired… but still, he could do enough damage as it was.

There was a scream, and Dawg drew blood… but the rush of freedom and power shattered into an icy grip of terror and regret as he took in what he had just done. Standing before him, was Octavia. Clutching at her face, now adorned with a long wound going down the right side of it, eerily similar to the scar Dawg had across his eye.

"No…" Mad Dawg whispered, tears forming in his eyes as Octavia managed to look up. Fear, confusion tears and pain in her eyes. "I didn't… I didn't mean to-"

"Why did you…" Was all Octavia could weakly get out. "I thought you weren't…"

The entire room seemed to come to a total stop. Servants, Mad Dawg, Stolas, Stella, heck, even Striker were just left in utter horror at what had happened. A few hoarse whispers attempted to escape the collective mouths of those who were present, but no matter what they did, no sound would come out.

The next thing Dawg knew, a device was forced into his mouth. Some sort of magical muzzle sprouted around his jaw, injecting him a dozen times with… something. He fought it, but gas was forced into his nose and mouth, and he felt the world growing heavy, the room getting darker…

"Oct… I'm… sorr…" He weakly managed to get out, then fell to the ground. Striker wasn't taking chances, and he stabbed multiple needles into Dawg's back, injecting him with an absurd amount of diphenhydramine (sleeping juice, for you non-nerds) into his body, knocking Mad Dawg out, hard. There was the uncomfortable silence once again, and then Striker looked up.

"Like I told you." Striker remarked, looking back to Stella. "This job is more 'portant than the crap you hired be t'deal with between you an'im. Now… I don't know what the heck you've done t'the kid, but thanks. You just made my job a whole lot easier." With that, Striker grunted as he dragged the unconscious Mad Dawg out of the room, leaving the Goetia family in stunned silence.

"Mom…?" Octavia finally whispered, looking to her mother through her non-wounded eye. "What… what did you do?"


Despite being injected with a fair amount of chemicals, Mad Dawg began to stir once Striker was on the road again. He felt his body held down, and he felt really heavy, almost hungover.

"Hey, you. Finally awake?"

"Wha…?"

"Well good damn… do you have any idea what yer gonna do for me?" Striker's voice came again.

Mad Dawg weakly groaned, trying to pull himself up, only to feel a massive weight holding him down from all directions. The rattling of chains suggested he had been tied up with rope, or some sort of cable.

"Kid, you have no idea what yer doin' for me." Striker laughed as he locked down a few more chains. "Every hunter, every outlaw, we all have the dream of the one big score… the hunt that'll set us up for life… and by the nine rings, whatever you did to piss off satan was bad enough that I could retire one hundred times over!"

"…."

"Huh, nothin' t'say? Can't say I'm upset. Usually yer kind is pissin' about, screamin' threats an'shit at me right'bout now."

"Nah, you're not worth my time." Mad Dawg muttered. He tried to spit the words out, but they came out like a sleepy mumble. Still, they at least sounded angered.

Mad Dawg looked up and let out a low growl when he saw Striker inspecting his crossbow.

"…I like this." Striker smirked, looking down the sights of the crossbow. "Feels… right. Y'know?"

"Yeah." Mad Dawg said, glaring up at him. "Let me loose and I'll show you what it can do."

"Heh, not a chance." Striker shook his head. "I won't belittle ya, though. You've got one'a the weirdest arsenals I've ever seen… what kinda demon uses a shotgun, chainsaw and crossbow?"

"Hey, Ol' Rusty II, The Great Communicator and Talonhawk have gotten me through some tough scrapes."

"That, I understand." Striker nodded. "Still, Ol' Rusty II? What happened to the first?"

"I think it was destroyed when I blew myself up." Mad Dawg admitted. Striker chuckled, still unsure if he believed Dawg's tall tale about that, but he didn't feel like getting into that conversation again. "Besides, I'm not surprised you're impressed by em'. I'm a whole league above your sorry ass! I could pay someone who looks just like you to grind up and down on me at the Pumphouse for ten bucks, you're nothing special."

'Well, the kid's got sass. Gotta give 'im that.' Striker conceded with a smirk, kicking Bombshell to life, he rode off down the streets, dragging Mad Dawg behind him on a small cart. It was… an odd sight, not just because the higher class weren't used to seeing hellhounds and Imps roaming about without clearly being servants to the higher class, but also because they weren't used to seeing an Imp dragging a hellhound-thing around behind a horse.

"…so… what's with your horse?" Mad Dawg asked. "I won't lie, that's one of the coolest things I've seen since I got down here!"

Striker laughed at Dawg's almost child-like enthusiasm, and patted the horse's mane. "Yeah, me an Bombproof here have been through a lot t'gehter. He's a mean sumabich I'll tell you what."

"Bombproof?" Mad Dawg asked. "Huh, I would've called him like… 'Night Fury', or… 'Ghost Rider'… or… 'Jalapeño'… or 'Caliente Diablo'."

"Caliente Diablo?" Striker asked, a bit surprised. He looked back to Dawg, and added: "You're a Latino?"

"I think my Dad was, but that's a long story…" Mad Dawg sighed.

"Well, I thought about Ghost Rider, but it seemed too obvious." Striker admitted. "Bombproof just worked better in my opinion."

"Well, I can't argue with that." Dawg conceded. The ride was quiet for another fifteen minutes or so, before Dawg spoke up again.

"Hey, you ever see The Boondock Saints?" Mad Dawg asked, casually.

"No, I can't say I have." Striker answered.

"Eh, I liked it, it was an action film from the human world. Had a good fan base. Got a sequel." Dawg mused. The movie was old as heck technically, as it came out nearly seventy years before Dawg was around, but he could appreciate a classic!

"Lemme guess, the second one wasn't as good?"

"Eh, depends on who ya ask." Mad Dawg sighed, trying to find a comfortable position from where he had been tied up. "I thought it was okay, could've been a lot worse. I'm only bringin' this up because you remind me of one of the two main dudes in it. Y'kinda sound like him."

"Oh, I do, do I?"

"Yeah. Gruff, indifferent, impotent."

"Hey!"

"Ha!" Dawg laughed, and Striker hit Dawg with his crossbow in retaliation. "Nah, but for real, you sound a LOT like him, no cap."

"Whatever." Striker rolled his eyes.

"So, what's being a Bounty Hunter in hell like?" Dawg asked another question, seeming oddly calm with being chained up and dragged behind a horse on a cart.

"It's sorta like 7-Hell-11. I'm not always doing business, but I'm always open." Striker commented, and was a bit surprised when Mad Dawg started laughing.

"That! Boondock Saints! That's from the movie!" He exclaimed. "Those EXACT lines!"

"That's a load'a horse crap, I ain't never heard of no film like that!"

"Well, you ever been to earth?" Mad Dawg asked, and Striker was quiet for a moment.

"No, I can't say I have."

"Then I don't think you can say you've heard or seen a movie which was from earth, now can you?"

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"…you win this one, Mad Dawg." Striker admitted, tipping his hat slightly. "Say, what's this… Boondock film about, anyways?"

"Two Irish Catholic brothers become vigilantes and wipe out Boston's criminal underworld in the name of God." Mad Dawg answered, and much to his amusement, Striker seemed downright offended. So much so, that Striker shot Dawg in the side with his crossbow, making him cry out in pain. Neither of them said anything for another hour. Dawg was in a lot of pain, as the bolt was still in his body, meaning he couldn't heal… ugh, it stung!

Again, another hour passed before Dawg finally knew he had to ask Striker something.

"Hey, Striker?"

"Yeah?" The hunter growled, still offended by the last remark.

"Who hired you?"

"Heh… you ain't put it together yet? The big baddie himself hired me!" Striker chuckled, then blinked when he saw Dawg look up in confusion. "The devil, lucifer. He hired me."

"H…he what?!"

"Yeah, a few days ago, he called me, talking about how he had heard about my skills and talents, and so on. Now, sure. I'm one of the baddest gunslinger's hell has ever seen, but for the Fallen One HIMSELF to call up little ol' me? An IMP!? Heh, he could've asked me to take the garbage out fer him on'a Tuesday and I would'a said sure."

"Another bootlicker. Good to know your kind sticks together."

"Call me what'cha want, I'm a rich bastard, all thanks t'you!" Striker laughed. "Hey, free advice. Sleep now while y'can. We've got a bit of a ride ahead of us… an'if I think they're gon' do what they're gon' do, you ain't never gon' sleep again."

"Ha. Jokes on you, I'm an insomniac." Mad Dawg growled managing to extend a middle finger at Striker.

"Laugh now, Kace." Striker says, emphasizing the word, mockingly. "Because soon, all yer gonna do is be scremain'…" Striker looked back to the path ahead. He didn't know what the devil or the other Overlords wanted with Dawg, and he didn't care. If he was even somewhat compassionate- heck, scratch that. He wasn't compassionate at all, but even he felt dread at the thought of what they were gonna do to the kid… still, Striker didn't care. A job, was a job. End of story.


*Ringringring*

"Yes?"

"It's done."

"Good."

"…I hope you realize what you've started."

"I know, and he knows. The Father wants this, it is his will."

"Sure. Whatever you say."

Click.


FINALLY. This chapter just kept getting longer and LONGER!

Look, the story is almost done, so I wanna make sure I hit all the right notes as we wrap things up.

SO, Dawg's been captured, he's going to be brought before the dark dork himself, Delilah seems to have motives and plans of her own, and everything really seems to suck…

Can things get better? Or will they only get worse?

Most definitely.

Also, uh, warning for next time. We're gonna go like… SO, SO, SO DARK! And we're gonna see some faces from Helluva Boss Dawg hasn't seen yet! Also, if you have thoughts or ideas for what you'd wanna see when Dawg meets the Overlords, leave them in a review! And don't be afraid to be DARK!

Now… to piss off a number of readers!

I saw the news about a number of the Hazbin VA's being recast, and by 'a number' I mean most of them. That… really, REALLY sucks. I loved the VA's they had, they grew to be 'those characters' IMO.

BUT.

There was a SINGLE. PIOLIT.

I think because of the streams and social interactions between the creators and the fans, there's effectively a parasoical relationship which has been formed, and I think a lot of people are drastically over-reacting.

YES. The voice actors and singers were AMAZING.

YES. I wish they returned to reprise their roles.

YES. I am a bit hesitant about the new voices, considering we don't know who they are.

YES. It's totally fine to be saddened and upset by this news. Heck, I am!

NO. I'm not going to boycott the show like Twitter is crying over.

Please keep in mind, I speak for myself, and myself alone. You're free to agree, disagree, do whatever you want! I just wanted to throw in my two bits. Will the show suffer because they don't have the OG voices? Maybe. But Maybe it'll be amazing in its own way! Let's just WAIT before we all freak out, okay?