Alright, here's the last part, guys! I do hope you enjoy this little interpretation of mine as to how Striker's meeting with I.M.P. went.

P.S: I couldn't post it here, but my mini-comic Signing Bonus takes place between this and the previous chapter to explain why Striker changed his mind regarding joining I.M.P. You can find it in my deviantart or in the Wattpad and Ao3 publications, if you haven't seen it.

Jake looked around in awe at the skyscrapers and tall buildings of Imp City. "Dat's a very tall house, daddy!"

Striker chuckled. "You'd be surprised at how many homes fit in there, pup."

So far, Jake's first trip to a big city was going far better than he anticipated. He expected the impling to at least get overwhelmed by the sudden change of atmosphere, but it was quite the opposite. Jake would point at something and ask about it every ten seconds or so.

Jake sneezed. "My nose is itchy, daddy!"

"It's because cities in Pride have dirtier air than Wrath, my boy. Don't worry, ye'll get used to it." To be sure, though, Striker gave Jake his scarf so he could cover his nose.

Imp City was unchanged since the last time he was there all those years ago. It wasn't that surprising, considering that its inhabitants are primarily Imps and hellhounds. It's a city trapped in perpetual development limbo, just like their kind is stuck at the bottom of Hell's hierarchy.

Striker had to check the address a few more times, but eventually, they found the building I.M.P. was located. The company van in the parking lot confirmed it. After dismounting, Striker tied Bombproof's reins to a nearby post.

"Stay here, boy. I'll come to check on ya later."

Bombproof shook and snorted in response.

The ground floor was mostly unoccupied, except for a few run down companies, but none of them was the office they were looking for. Striker held Jake's hand tightly as they headed to the elevator. Alright, Blitz mentioned that the office was located on the ninth floor...

"Whads this, daddy?"

"An elevator, pup. Saves us the trouble of walkin' lots of stairs up to the ninth floor."

"Can I press the button, daddy?" Chuckling, Striker picked the impling up.

"Remember how number nine looked like? Press that one. That's right, pup."

"Cad we have an edevatod back home, daddy?"

Another chuckle. "Our house is too small for an elevator, kiddo."

The elevator doors opened into the ninth floor. The door to the I.M.P. office was just a few meters away. Striker took a deep breath and grasped Jake's hand tightly.

Okay, here goes nothing.

He turned the knob.

"SURPRISE!"

PAM!

It happened too fast. Striker instinctively pulled a pistol out—and Jake behind him—and shot, narrowly missing Moxxie by a few inches and causing the thespian to jump into Millie's arms.

"Holy shit! That was quite an entrance, Strikes."

Striker blinked in confusion. It took him a few seconds to notice that the office as decorated with some balloons, a snacking table with a cake, and a sign on the wall that read 'welcome to I.M.P.'.

"Hi, misted Bwitz!" Striker put his pistol away as Jake ran towards Blitzo.

"Jakey! Is it me, or did you grow a few inches the last time I saw you?"

Striker patted Moxxie's shoulder. "Sorry 'bout the fright, little fella. You kind of caught me off guard." he apologized, to which Moxxie only responded with a dismayed nod. Striker tipped his a hat. "Mildred. Loona. It's been a while."

"It's nice to see you too, Striker!"

Loona merely shrugged. "Whatever."

Striker glanced around at the—apparently—hastily-done decoration. "Ye didn't need to throw a party, ya know."

"Are you kidding?" Blitzo wrapped an arm around Striker's shoulder, catching the cowboy off guard. "We have to celebrate a new member joining our little I.M.P. family!"

"Am I pat of the cwub too, misted Bwitz?"

"Of course, Jakey! You're the most important member of the family—after me, of course." Despite the embarrassing moment a few seconds ago, Striker couldn't help but smile a bit as Blitzo picked Jake up and the impling laughed. "Alright, who wants some cake?!"

Moxxie quickly whispered into Striker's ear. "I feel obliged to warn you: get used to seeing Blitz out of the office very often."