The sudden acidic drizzle covered the pile of accumulated shark carcasses, most of them riddled with bullets, forming a huge mass of intertwined and mangled limbs among the smoldering tatters of their striped suits and felt hats. There was no place in the formerly superb garden without being smeared with blood.

Hovering around the bodies, vulture demons were excited by what they saw, taking many photos and videos for their news portals. For finding a fabulous mountain of slaughtered mobsters in the garden of a mansion where a well-known crime lord lived wouldn't only delight the red chronicle, but also agitate even more the rest of the city's bosses.

Videos continued to circulate of several houses and some buildings burning in hellfire among more corpses of sharks and imps killed with knives and bullets, with the only signature in the form of boxes of contraband painted with stamps of different gangs, triggering intense rumors about who could have been behind these sieges. And now that many of those corpses were just outside the entrance to the mansion of the dreaded Don Crimson Knolastname made many crime leaders associate ideas while others let out a sigh of relief.

...It was no secret that mobster imp had numerous enemies.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to inquire directly. It wasn't possible to enter through the armored windows. The rear exit seemed to be locked with a heavy piece of furniture from the inside. The heavy doors of the main entrance were surrounded by chains... The whole mansion looked abandoned and dead.

One thing was certain: It was obvious that the old gangster would be in deep shit. And one could only speculate what had actually happened... Had it all been the work of some other powerful capo in some settling of scores? An internal crisis in the clan? A business meeting that had ended terribly badly?

...Don Crimson himself would have wanted that. He would have preferred that to having to admit that the fucked up situation he was in was the work and grace of his fucked up son. Who he had right in front of him, glaring at him.

The old mobster imp gritted his teeth in rage as he realized he could easily strangle him if he could just reach forward a little less than six inches, grab that little neck hidden behind that ridiculous red bowtie and squeeze, twist, snap, sink his claws deep into his flesh and slice him open all the way... If only he could move a measly six inches...

...If only I could get own damn his body to react. But from the neck down all was dull and dead.

Moxxie was aware of the murderous looks Crimson was giving him from the same leather couch he was lying on, knowing that even though he was completely incapacitated from using his weapons, he would still try to bite if he got too close. Even when he was completely paralyzed, Crimson was still dangerous.

So Moxxie was at a safe but close distance... Delighting at the raging frustration boiling in his father's eyes and throat at not being able to touch him.

Oh, Crimson had screamed a lot since regaining consciousness. Despite the wounds and the shot in his spine, he still had the strength to shriek and curse until his face turned purplish... Fed up, Blitzø had stuffed a pair of underpants into his mouth, closed in turn with duct tape that he had found in the cellar cellar: "Is already enough with your everyday bitch whining in the office to hear another one, Mox." he had said.

Blitzø had explained that Stolas' message had been sent less than half an hour ago, so they had time to treat his wounds after the fucking fight with Crimson's henchmen which although not difficult for him, was exhausting... As well as letting Moxxie recover a bit on the couch after the fight with his father. Accepting a bottle of aged whiskey given by Blitzø to disinfect the deep cut on his leg, Moxxie took a swig while watching his father futilely trying to formulate any words... Even knowing that all the thugs and servants in the mansion were dead.

Moxxie was having a sort of staring contest with Crimson, who seemed to be fuming out of his ears, not seeming to tire of continuing to shout through the gag... He had mixed feelings, for it was practically the first time he had seen him like this...

...A curious thing, after so many times Moxxie had dreamed of this moment.

All his life Moxxie had saw him in fear. Sitting next to him at dinner time or during meetings with the other members of the 'family', always measuring his words for fear of angering him, always trying not to tremble at his cold and hostile stare at anything he did or said... always feeling tiny and weak next to him. Especially weak. For his father seemed to be so powerful despite being an imp, the bottom of Hell's social ladder. And he could see how all the demons around him did as he commanded, trembling at the moment of presenting the state of their business or explaining how they finished their errands... And as frightened as his henchmen were in his presence, Moxxie could never help but want to be like his father several times as he grew up, to earn respect from him. To see him ever speak as a father and not as a boss. To be able to receive even a hint of his affection.

...Deep down he always knew that this was always a foolish and unattainable desire. For his father had never loved him. Not as a son.

Just watching him grunt and hiss as he continued to sit and be tied to the chair was proof of that. For Moxxie knew that if Crimson could, he would finish what he had started... Reflexively, Moxxie touched the thick bandage under his right eye, hurting badly, as much as the stab wound in his leg. His demonic regeneration would heal those wounds, but he would be left with a deep white scar on his face. Permanently.

At least this would be the last scar his father would give him in this life.

He contemplated the traces of dried blood that were clinging to Crimson's sideburns and neck, trailing down to his torn smart jacket. Vestiges of the two large black and red holes on either side of his head made by him... As an act of supreme mockery and derision, Moxxie placed his two severed horns on the ground in front of his father. Very close to him.

...There's a reason they say an eye for an eye. So, a horn for a horn.

Moxxie went back to touching the broken end of his own horn. A large chunk had been ripped off and he doubted it could be repaired, something that mortified him a bit... No matter optimistic his boss was about it.

Sipping noisily from his third glass of whiskey, Blitzø had several band-aids and bandages on his face after Moxxie's insistence before continuing.

"Hey Mox, I still think we can use for your horn the same magic glue I used on those googly eyes on my ass," Blitzø said approaching Moxxie to show him an old Sinstagram photo where he had been tagged. "Do you remember, when I came to your house at 3 in the morning to help me take it off?"

"...Yeah, it took us over an hour to do that. You didn't want us to cut it out of your pants and Millie suggested the metal sponge she usually uses to torture." Moxxie replied, smiling, the first time in those hours, as he saw himself with his boss's ass with plastic googly-eyed just a inches from his face.

Pictures that embarrassing were in Moxxie's phone and photo albums... Because they were his real family. They always had been.

...And contemplating the photo, Moxxie knew he had to do something else before he started. As he waited for...

"Blitz, could you wait here while I go up to Crimson's room and get something?" Moxxie asked him, turning around long enough to see the surprised expression on Crimson's gagged and bloodied face, interrupting his unintelligible rant full of (surely) insults towards his son. Blitzø raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Eh, sure. It'll give me a chance to pretend he's Cash's old bastard and I'll get even a little. Or I'll put a bag over his head so I can imagine him better. Which do you think would be a better option?" he casually asked Crimson after removing the duct tape from his mouth, instantly receiving a storm of spittle and insults in Italian and English after angrily spitting out the makeshift gag:

"YOU FUCKING FUCKING FROCIO, PAGLIACCIO DEL PICCOLO TEMPO (1), YOU GRACELESS COCKSUCKER! AS SOON AS I CAN MOVE I'M GOING TO RIP OFF THAT FUCKING SMILE OF YOURS, AS WELL AS THAT OF THAT DISAPPOINTING WEAK FAGGOT I HAVE FOR A SON AND THAT LOUSY BITCH HE HAS FOR A WIFE, NOT WITHOUT FIRST SEWING HER BELLY WITH BULLETS SO THAT ALSO DIE THAT FUCKING SPAWN SHE CARRIES THERE! DANNATI, DANNATI TUTTI...! (2)".

...And then Blitzø again forced the underpants into Crimson's mouth and wrapped his head with twice as much tape, leaving the old mobster flailing in rage, snarling against the gag.

"...Nah, forget it. You don't sound like Cash. The magic is loose if you keep babbling your bullshit. And why leave your mouth free if you're not going to suck me off either." Blitzø replied, lighting a cigarette and looking at Moxxie, about to leave the living room. "Go ahead, Mox. Have fun looking in your daddy's panties... I'm going to have some fun with this big ugly ragdoll~" he added with a grin, snapping his fingers.

From a distance, Moxxie could see the old mafioso imp swallowing saliva at the greedy expression of his boss. Chuckling under his breath at the funny scene, the sniper left the room and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Also feeling his heart burn with rage at those last cries from Crimson regarding Millie and their son... And considering what he intended to do with them...

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The hellish feeling from earlier, though it had faded completely, with his eyes returning to their normal gold, had left some havoc in Moxxie's mind, especially remembering those moments. He sighed and continued on to the third floor, where he knew was the place he had to go...

...He had only been there once when he was a child according to Crimson, searching for his mother after a nightmare. Returning to his room under orders (screams) from his father. And being strictly forbidden to go back in there without permission.

Crimson's room was gloomy. The only source of light was only a small chandelier on the ceiling, faintly illuminating the same greenish wallpaper of dead fish and shark jaws as the rest of the house. From the entrance Moxxie could see the huge bed with silk sheets and hangings. Heavy curtains covered the guillotine-shaped windows. The antique gramophone next to a large shelf of books, several bound with the skin Crimson had had torn from his enemies. A luxurious bathroom annex. A closet and a couple of pieces of furniture next to the bed.

The place was pretty much the same as Moxxie vaguely remembered it, only adding a flat screen TV, a luxurious bar cabinet... And what Moxxie was looking for: Crimson's personal laptop on his desk.

This time Moxxie hadn't bothered to find out the password to gain access: Crimson wouldn't have been as easy to crack as that hammerhead shark. And because he knew that as confident as he had felt in control of his little kingdom, Crimson would have thought it unnecessary to protect his laptop... And to Moxxie's delight, he was right.

From there he had full access to the entire empire Crimson had built for himself with blood.
Every single email he had sent for years, many of them with documents dating back to the 1940s and even before. The lists of secret strategic plans to hit competing banks and businesses. Files of each of Crimson's employees with their most intimate information, no doubt used when blackmailing or threatening any henchman who was thinking of resigning... As well as his bank accounts and statements. Quickly reviewing several of them, Moxxie was finally able to verify what he had been suspecting for a long time:

Crimson wasn't really broke and desperate for money as he had claimed to try to justify selling his own son to his shitty ex-boyfriend without giving a shit that he was already married to someone he really loved. He just represented the cardinal sin that kept his blackened heart beating...

In the room only Moxxie's fingers could be heard flying over the keyboard as he executed the orders and money movements, registering the routing codes in order to transfer them to his own savings account, which at that moment only had about 250 souls available because technically I.M.P. was still on vacation.

Between occasional glances at the entrance of the room and with his pistol at hand, the sniper spent almost twenty minutes between loading times of the Moneymakerz's main page (3) transcribing again and again the necessary information to authorize the movement... It was a good thing that Mammon, being the Lord of Greed, had designated that transfers between banks were almost automatic, not having to wait too long to access the money he seized from others or earned from his countless deals.

Taking a long drink from the bottle of whiskey, Moxxie contemplated the current amount available as reflected in his personal account:

...Nearly 750,000,000 souls.

It wasn't the fortune an Ars Goetia like Stolas would have, much less the Royal Family, but it was far more than the total I.M.P. had billed in all its years of operation.

At another time Moxxie would have had a heart attack seeing that insane amount of money in his bank account, almost always somewhat empty after debt payments, apartment rent, the weekly purchase food and other basical things, and every now and then small pleasures for him and his Millie when they could afford it, like a trip to the beaches of Envy or a dragon dildo with built-in vibrator and double grip to make them both go crazy in bed after a nice dinner accompanied by a bottle of wine.

Now he felt that maybe this might be enough... No, scratch that: nothing would be enough to make amends for this fucking mess made by Crimson.

But it might do some good, if only to atone for the guilt Moxxie felt for all this, however undeserved, however much he kept repeating to himself that this was not her fault at all... Moxxie tried to distract himself from those thoughts while on the computer he kept uploading automatic transfers to his bank account, as well as a couple made to Blitzø's account, by quickly rummage through the shelf and especially in Crimson's closet, quickly flipping through books and tossing away articles of clothing, Italian shoes with heels, spare felt hats...

It's not that Moxxie is eager to seize Crimson's personal belongings out of some absurd nostalgia or in search of trophies, but because he was hoping to find something among the elegant outfits, the more personal knick-knacks and above all in the photo albums.

To his anger and frustration, but at the same time amazement, the only thing he had found after much rummaging was a yellowed and slightly chipped photograph showing a kind of bar that was clearly from the Circle of Wrath...

...Moxxie could tell by the rural setting, the lights in the background of that wooden plank stage. The beautiful summer dress with bows on that young imp with long dark hair and digitigrade legs who was sitting on a stool, holding an acoustic guitar and smiling broadly at the camera... Still leaving visible in the deteriorating photograph three spots on both cheeks.

Moxxie let out a sob, unable to control the tears already streaming hot down his face, his heart beating violently. His trembling claw touched the torn edge of the photograph, caressing with his fingertips that beautiful, kind face, looking there so joyful and full of life... So different from the sad, melancholy smile in the large family picture in the main room...

"...And yet, you always smiled just like here, whenever we were together, mother." Moxxie whispered aloud and wiped his less bruised cheek, pocketing the picture.

But no matter how much he rummaged through it again, tossing the pile of fine clothes and shoes on the floor and turning the pages of books and albums once more in search of more photos or memories, Moxxie hadn't found anything else of his mother. It was clear that Crimson had gotten rid of everything else after murdering her.

The 'pling' of confirmation of the last automatic bank transfer stifled a bit of the angry growl Moxxie let out as he looked around the completely messed up room, feeling a renewed sense of hatred boiling in his heart.

Oh, how he would love to set this whole damn place on fire and make it all collapse like a fucking tower of cards, but he thought it would be better to leave it open to anyone who wanted to get in there, be it some rival gang or even vagrants... After all, Moxxie could decide what to do with this dump:

He was the sole heir and now 'patriarch' of the Knolastname family.

...But he had the luxury of destroying Crimson's personal laptop, if only for security reasons.

Reaching into her deepest pocket, Moxxie pulled out his personal USB Killer (4) that he usually carried with him when they had orders to destroy electronic equipment of their targets in the human world as well. The one he had was one of the powerful ones on the black market, equipped with more than one devastating computer malware... One of the few expensive purchases Moxxie had made in his life other than rare rifles and tailored jackets with colorful bowties.

After a few seconds of inserting the device and then hearing the slight crackle of the hardware frying everything inside instantly, the computer shut down completely. And try as Moxxie might, it never came back on. Whatever documentation or data was inside the computer was gone forever.

Nodding in satisfaction, Moxxie left the room, never to return. And he really hoped more never to set a hoof in that fucking house again.

"...Blitz?"

"...Sure, you didn't want to support any of my dreams because you thought I was going to fail! Don't deny it, you told me so, Cash!" his boss said angrily before mimicking a nasally, affected voice: "'Ugh Blitzo, you know you're going to fail at that as you're trying to be a clown and be funny, unlike Fizz-' Well look how far I've come in life, you cheap old shit! Where are you now, huh?! I hope you're in double hell, in your underwear and pissing all over yourself, just like we found you and you deserve to be...!"

From there Moxxie could clearly hear the sound of a loud punch. And then a couple more, followed by muffled moans from the old imp still manhandled in front of him.

Shaking his head, Moxxie stared at his boss still engrossed in his venting to his own parental problems... Looking rather excited. It wasn't the same as facing Cash Buckzo himself, but at least it was something. He cleared his throat to get Blitzø's attention:

"Blitz? I'm done. I hope you were able to blow off some steam."

"Oh yeah, at least I got some of it off my chest." Blitzø snorted, spitting in the old mobster's face, much to Crimson's effervescent rage. "So, did you find any weird dildoes or sex toys in your old man's panties? What took you so long?

"I was... Checking something." Moxxie replied, limping slightly towards his boss. Grabbing a small cloth bag where he put the severed and bloody horns along with an additional object, Moxxie looked at where Crimson's heeled shoes should be, when in fact there was a... "Can you check if it's dry already, Blitz?"

Blitzø grinned mischievously and lightly kicked the cement bucket that was wrapped around Crimson's feet upwards, almost reaching his calves. They had found a pie pan in the kitchen, using it to tuck the old gangster's feet in while the cement mixture finished hardening. Crimson had always ordered that special quick-drying mix. Perfect for making blocks to bind the tails of his victims as quickly as possible. Or to mix the remains too dismembered to be tied together with a chain.

At Crimson's frantic and agitated look, Blitz smiled at his best friend:

"He's ready and presentable. Shall we go?"

...

The churning water was almost foaming as the rusty, salty hull of the ship moved slowly through the dense fog, even though it had been full daylight on the Circle for hours. The permanent smell of death and decay had been with them long before they set sail.

Even though it had been centuries since that lake had harbored any life under its toxic waters, there were still 'scavengers' who scoured its grayish waters late into the night in search of freshly murdered bodies or skeletons with only shreds of rotting skin that had somehow broken loose from the bottom chains and were now floating on the surface, or for clothing and shoes that had been left floating after their owners disappeared...

Regardless of the foul smell, all of it could be resold. It was the Circle of Greed after all.

So it wasn't difficult to seize one of those 'scavenger boats' stationed on the shore. It was just a matter of scaring them off with pistol shots and then heading out into the lake with their lights off.

The noises of the city seemed to be drowned out behind that dense fog. As if they had reached a dimension populated only by the hundreds of ghosts and souls of sorrow of so many who had ended up under those putrid waters, accompanying with their laments the end of this requiem.

...All this painful journey that would culminate in the same place where many bad things began, would be the end of a long liturgy of retribution.

Moxxie contemplated the lazy movement of the filthy waters whose smell would have made him nauseous if it wasn't for the fact that he couldn't help but feel like a little imp inside a rowboat and accompanied by his father, that unfortunate handcuffed imp who had tried to beg for mercy and calling him by name before disappearing... And that dense fog that covered with its gray veil so many murders committed in that place. Many provoked by him.

Even now, being there again after so many years had passed since his escape from prison and his new life in the Circle of Pride, Moxxie could feel the atmosphere as heavy and dense just like the first time.

...A shiver ran down his spine just imagining what his poor mother had experienced being dragged into this place. Surely also with a dirty potato bag with a smiley face drawn over her terrified face, shivering with cold and fear as she tried to plead with Crimson not to do this to her, to think of Moxxie, of their little Moxxie... Surely with Crimson himself gazing at her coldly and disdainfully before tossing the cement block to the side of the boat...

Sighing, Moxxie glanced at Crimson, huddled in a corner of the bow of the vessel, only a few feet away from him. He was in the same position where Blitzø had left him when they boarded. His expression was distant, almost absent, but with a frown on his face as he stared stubbornly at the ground. The holes in his head had closed into a large plug of dried blood.

"Blitz, we're almost there. Stop the boat." Moxxie told his boss as they saw that they were near a pile of clothes, hats and shoes floating like dead birds. Blitzø, who was somehow at the helm ("You can learn any shit you need with the right video on Voxtube!"), turned off the old engine, making the old hull of the ship creak loudly under his feet.

Pulling another cigarette from his coat, the ex-clown took a look around, wrinkling his nose.

"...Ugh, smells worse than my sock closet or your tofu lunches! Don't go into long goodbye where I'll end up puking from this dead smell and not just because of how fucking sentimental you are, Mox." Blitzø snorted. Moxxie shook his head, glancing sideways at his father who still refused to look him in the face.

"Don't worry... I have nothing more to say to him."

"Good. I'm going to try calling Stolas or Mills again. After I told them we took down Daddy Mafia they said they'd come all the way down here, but they haven't arrived... Huh, that's strange," he said, retreating into the captain's quarters, closing the door.

After a moment's hesitation, Moxxie moved decisively towards his father and roughly ripped off the duct-tape gag next to his underpants. And although Moxxie did it as fast as he could and backed away, always pointing his gun at him, Crimson didn't even try to bite him. He just stood there, mouth closed in a tense line and staring at the ground...

...Until Crimson sharply focused his piercing gaze on his son. And he smiled.

He smiled warmly.

"...Well, I must say I'm satisfied. Now you look like me. Taking me to our favorite fishing spot... Just like I did with my own father when I was about your age." Crimson let out an almost nostalgic sigh, still smiling at Moxxie's undaunted expression. "Only I did it to finally take the place I deserved within the family. Very different from you that fucking betrayed me just because you were annoyed by my attempt at business expansion... Agggh!"

"I wouldn't call ruining lives that have nothing to do with this 'attempted business expansion'. Your problems were only with me, not with Millie or her family!" Moxxie interrupted him coldly as he grabbed Crimson by the hair to move him roughly against the wooden floor of the ship, then dragged him by his legs held together by the cement, "But it doesn't matter anymore. You won't be able to control or hurt anyone else ever again."

Crimson snorted.

"So you say, my son. But in reality I will live on... Even if it's through you. Because you are... You are finally what I made you." Even behind the face still streaked with dried blood, traces of scratches and bruises, Crimson's smile was still just as intimidating and cruel. Fixing his eyes with intensity on his son's dismayed face, he whispered: "I could say I'm proud. You didn't turn out to be a disappointment after all."

Moxxie was livid. He had hoped deep down that Crimson was begging for his life, terrified of being pushed into the same watery grave where he had buried so many others, like his own wife or his father... But Moxxie only found, amidst his ironic smile, a total coldness and indifference to his journey of no return. His heart froze.

...He had hoped deep down that in the final moment his father would let something else show after all the cruel and controlling gangster act he was. Maybe the loving husband or proud father he had once been in his miserable life...

But no. Nothing.

...And that made the feeling of sadness for what Moxxie was about to do hurt a lot less.

Looking into Crimson's eyes, just Crimson, not his father... Moxxie smiled serenely. Much to the dismay of the old gangster who hoped he could torment his son one last time.

"...What I am now wasn't thanks to you. It was thanks to my mother, to Millie, to Blitzø and all those who really love me." Looking for a moment at the floating, expectant garments below them, Moxxie imagined that hundreds of ethereal hands beneath the waters were waiting... Then he fixed his eyes on him. "You know what, Crimson? I feel so sorry for you. You'll die knowing that nothing you did to make me be like you, including taking my mother away from me, worked for you. Because I will never be like you."

There was a brief silence between the father and the son, broken only by the murmurs of the lake lapping against the hull of the ship. And then Crimson snorted once more, rolling his eyes.

"...How touching. Can I have a smoke? I need something to keep me from puking on your corny shit, Mox."

Moxxie just smiled crookedly. He remembered well how one of his duties as a family initiate was to light his father's cigars, as well as wipe his mouth after eating... Bending down almost to the level of the old imp paralyzed on the ground, as if to fulfill his wish, Moxxie merely whispered to him:

"...Addio, stronzo. Buon viaggio e non tornare mai più." (5)

And then Moxxie kicked hard the literal 'cement shoes' hard off the edge. The weight quickly dragged the old gangster imp into the fetid waters, disappearing under its waters in less than a few seconds, barely giving Crimson time to let out a choked scream. The grayish foam churned for a moment and then reflected Moxxie's face, so different from his tearful, tormented expression of his childhood self. Now he saw his present face, scarred, exhausted... And at the same time feeling that the cold stone that had been with him for almost thirty years had at last fallen away from his being.

It wasn't immense joy at being free, nor was it sadness that the last member of his blood family was gone forever... It was simply relief.

Relief that it was all over.

And from the expression he gave Blitzø when the former circus imp tapped him on the shoulder when he asked if he was all right, he knew that was what he was reflecting from within, accompanied with a couple of tears.

...And although that awful stone cold horrible inside him had long since loosened the moment he saw his father disappear beneath the filthy waters, the feeling of his guts being squeezed returned the moment they returned to shore:

After leaving the stranded vessel with a large hole in the hull from crashing it against a rock ("Don't judge me, it's the same when I can't dodge those pesky traffic lights, they're useless here!" Blitzø had exclaimed, playing it down), they walked along the shore, with Moxxie eventually accepting a cigarette from Blitzø, hoping to find a place where there was a signal to make a call...

...Until a sudden magical portal opened up in front of them.

Both Blitzø and Moxxie prepared their weapons, as they knew that this portal wasn't one that Stolas had made... So it came as a major surprise when a familiar face peered out from the edge of the portal, leaving them stunned. And with Blitzø exclaiming:

"Loonie?! What the...?!"

"Oh, they were here." she said in a dull tone, speaking to someone behind her, "Hey, old lady, birdseed-brain, they're here!"

Both male imps were surprised, thinking that Stolas and Millie would appear along with Loona. Something that would undoubtedly be like the coronation of all their effort and blood spilled after this long journey... But what Moxxie didn't imagine seeing was a huge figure emerging from the portal. One that he had expected, but not in this way.

...Imposing, holding his cane with the dollar sign on one end and focusing his huge green eyes as bright as the rest of his luxurious greenish and golden clothes compared to the torn and stinking of lake water suits of the two imp hitmen at his feet, Lord Mammon looked so out of place with all his harlequin aesthetics in the middle of that toxic dump he equally controlled with an iron fist and charging fees for almost everything... Focusing on Moxxie and Blitzø as if they were little bugs he could squash.

"All right, I have interrupted my important business to come here to punish a naughty little subordinate who tried to profit from my seal without my permission and without sharing profits." He lowered his head and addressed Moxxie as if he was going to devour him with one bite, making the little imp feel almost petrified and trembling... "Hummm, you are not the old Crimson. You look like him, but you're not him. I know his stench so well. So... where is he?"

Feeling uneasy, Blitzø was about to try to explain, but Moxxie grabbed his arm, shaking his head. Sighing softly, the thespian sniper faced the Capital Sin of Greed, pointing to a distant spot towards the lake.

"Your Highness, if you wish to settle a score with my late father Crimson, you must descend some ten meters to the north. Though I don't think he's available to talk at the moment... Or ever."

Blitzø simply smiled at that level of courage his employee and best friend was showing before the King of Greed himself... It would have surprised him if it weren't for the fact that he had already seen it more than a year ago with Moxxie had kept singing his love song at the King of Lust's face. Let alone after having seen him slaughter his own father with a clean claw. "Mox may be a whiny little dick, but what he has plenty of is balls as much as he has power with weapons when it comes to Millie Billie or whoever he cares about." he thought, impressed.

Mammon raised an eyebrow, looking irritated.

"...Well, with every fucking second I'm out here in this watery dump is another soul or quarter of a soul I'm not earning. So someone has to answer for this stupid affront my subordinate did." He leaned his staff right next to Moxxie's head, as if he intended to crush it. "...I guess I'll have to talk to you to settle this, little pipsqueak."

...At another time, after all the guilt he had felt and had been put on him because of his father's despicable actions, Moxxie would have been sick and tired of having to bear the burden of Crimson's crimes, mistakes, and bullshit. Having to answer for him and his actions would be something Moxxie would probably have to endure for perhaps a couple more years, to his weariness... But after the sense of relief that had washed over him after finally getting rid of him, something he had long dreamed of... It was something he could bear.

Because he had a good reason for it, at that moment coming out just right behind:

"Moxxie!"

"Blitzy~!"

...To see his wife also coming out of the portal followed by the owl prince, his daughter, Octavia and Sallie May, see her going towards him, looking unharmed and with a hand against her belly to give him to understand that they were well after all this ordeal while they were separated... All that gave Moxxie the strength to face this as many times as necessary. For no one had taken away the satisfaction of doing this.

For him, for Millie, for their family... For his mother.

Hugging his beloved wife and soon-to-be mother of his child tightly against him like he never wanted to let them go again after all this, Moxxie Knolastname faced his father's superior who looked at him questioningly...

Resolute and fearless, just like his father, but not (and never) being like him.

" ...Yes, you can speak with me, your Highness. Let's do business that will benefit us all. And I have an offer that may interest you."

...

...

The effervescent hatred and desire for revenge that had gnawed at his soul on his descent into the murky depths had been fading, dissipating in a cloud of bubbles as he exhaled when he had landed with a thud on the muddy ground, staring into the greenish, blackish nothingness of those toxic waters amidst the choking sensation and pressure in his chest, his temples pounding furiously... His hatred returned at the thought that he had been stupid. Stupid not to have gotten rid of his treacherous son when he had the chance.

...But none of that mattered anymore.

Crime lords were short-lived, less so than Overlords. At least Crimson had had the luxury of leaving as the last glorious boss the Knolastname family had. Because his wimpy, faggot son would have undone the whole years of hard work to get to the top anyway. It was better this way, to leave without getting to see what a steaming mess his empire was going to end up being...

...He had gone out as one of the great ones, of that he was sure.

So he felt no regret for the lives of his mooks who had died in the line of duty, including dear and loyal Alessio.

He had absolutely no regrets at all.

If Crimson came to feel anything in those final moments like the rotten greedy soul he had always been, it was the sudden icy cold of the hundreds of rotting hands, corroded for so many years by the dark and greenish waters. With expressions frozen in screams or unhinged smiles on their unhinged faces as they circled him like the school of sharks he had had under his control for so long... Laughing wildly, grasping at his shredded clothes, at his limp arms, at his face petrified between astonishment and horror at the sight of that wailing chorus in front of him...

The last thing he saw amidst the sensation of fire in his lungs spreading rapidly through every corner of his body and turning after his flaming passage into an almost absolute calm...

...It was the rippling, distorted image of that beautiful imp from the Circle of Wrath whom he had seduced and lured into his den to bear his heir and whom perhaps he had once come to love... Now floating towards him, the red petals of her hair like a trail of blood as she shuffled her feet with only one of her little white shoes glistening as much as her eyes shining from their empty, mascara-stained sockets, reaching out almost tenderly for him with her ghostly arms as she circled his petrified body, inviting him into the eternal embrace at the bottom of the abyss, where she had been waiting for him for so long to finally be together...

If Crimson cried out, no one heard it.

Losing himself in the darkness of that lake of dead, just as his story and legend would be lost in the history of the city...

...In the end only remaining as a brief footnote as one of the many mobsters who came and went.

...

...

...And even when that presence had been reduced to a bad memory that from time to time would appear in his nightmares or in the darkest corners of his mind, as he intertwined his fingers against those of that sweet and beautiful imp just as they did after leaving the path to the altar a few years ago, Moxxie could feel that for the first time in those almost 72 straight hours of absolute horror, chaos and bloody frenzy to stop once and for all this mass of the dead that his father had organized against him, that the deep wounds of the past lodged in his heart like poisonous mushrooms could begin to heal... No, they wouldn't heal completely, but little by little it was enough.

It would be more than enough.

As they walked along the pestilent shore, being followed by a Stolas who insisted on carrying in his arms a Blitzø who was kicking and protesting between blushes that he could walk perfectly well by himself, a Loona and Octavia who said between laughs that the horrible smell made them less nauseous than the cuddles of their parents, as well as a meditative Sallie May who seemed immersed in her thoughts...

Moxxie took one last glance at the cemetery of floating garments in the distance, remembering the Mozart melody he had heard as he entered the mansion... The words appeared on their own in his mind as he remembered that particular part of that human symphony, being perfect for Moxxie himself... As well as for him.

Full of tears will be that day

When from the ashes shall arise

The guilty imp to be judged;

Therefore don't spare him, O Satan

Merciful Lord Satan,

Grant him eternal suffering.

Amen.

.

THE END

See you in the epilogue!

...

Notes:

(1) Frocio: Faggot. / PAGLIACCIO DEL PICCOLOLO TEMPO: Small-time clown.

(2) DANNATI, DANNATI TUTTI: "Damn you, damn you!"

(3) Moneymakerz: Banking application apparently linked to Mammon. Can be seen briefly as Blitzo looks at his phone at the end of 'Ozzie's.'

(4) «USB Killer»: Pendrive that has been modified to generate an high electrical surge that can damage or even physically destroy the hardware of the electrical equipment to which it is connected. They are readily available from online retail sites.

(5) "Goodbye, asshole. Bon voyage and never come back." in Italian.