Chapter 8: Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog

Leroy produced a lockbox from the back. He opened it, and A pistol was placed on the counter next to the shotgun. It was the same as the photos: Ornate with a golden finish, caressed with celestial flora and polished steel accents with glowing edges. The wooden grip was perfected with flows like a river and no blemishes to be seen. Blitz looked on in awe, as did Gresha. The canine in particular had eyes wide enough to spot a dust mite across what was left of the barren bar tables.

"It's not real." Leroy admitted before any words were spoken, and everyone immediately turned to look at him. He sighed. "We found this whole fancy tale about a blessed gun. I dunno if I found it or was told it, but it don't matter. It was a nonsense idea to get business... and now it's gotten us all trouble. I'm sorry."

"You fuckin sure?" Blitz piped up. "It looks real."

"Who do you think helped him build it?" Gresha confidently announced before wrapping an arm around Styx, whose expression now was with a sheepish grin.

Dumbfounded, the imp stared for a few moments. Styx responded by taking the supposedly blessed gun and carefully popping a side of the grip out of place to reveal a battery. After disconnecting it, the celestial lights dimmed before vanishing. Blitz remained dumbfounded, and continued to look at the weapon: A polished steel barrel tip, custom bodywork with brushed aluminum golden finishes, and internal wiring. It was almost like the pieces were there for something actually grand, almost too grand for anyone to get their hands on. If someone were to be roommates with the one who built it, however...

"How the who what fuck." Blitz stared instead of asking before suddenly escaping from his firearm trance. "No, why the fuck. Wait - We almost died for nothing! Fuck y'all!"

"We sure did." Leroy said sadly, looking down. "I appreciate y'all helping to clean up the mess, however I'm the only one who can clean up the rest."

"You never did tell me the story." Gresha pouted. "I wanna know the story behind the cool fake gun that I almost died for!"

"Took the words right outta my second mouth." Blitz muttered, arms crossed.

"Like I said, my dear, I don't even remember it." Leroy said. "Styx might though."

"Of course I do." Styx proudly declared. "I ever remember how to tell it."

"Let's hear it, then!" Leroy happily exclaimed, glad to be rid of the darker conversation.

Everyone gathered near the stage. Gresha happily say crossed legged on one of the tables, whereas Blitz and Leroy took a respective seat. Styx closed his eyes as he felt the sensation of the stage take over him, and his mind imagined a guitar as his hands fiddled on his lap. They began:

"In the farthest reaches of the top ring, laid a golden chest of mythical proportions. Adjacent to the ark, they said it was, crafted in Lucifer's retaliation to God. It was said that the chest contained a weapon so evil, so dangerous, that Michael himself even brought up concerns about it falling into the hands of the wrong people. Lucifer insisted that was the point and continued with it: The Ark of the Daemonum contained no commandments, but rather a powerful weapon, a sword so advanced that one human would have been able to topple empires with it, and arguably, if they got far enough, find a way into Hell itself and defeat it's monarchy. Lucifer himself called it... Victor."

"Fuckin Victor?" Blitz asked confused. "Why not Equine Tamer or Godkiller or something cool?"

"Victor Animarum." Styx said. "Winner of Souls, as it was known to offer the souls of it's victims to the wielder before the devil himself."

Blitz blinked. "Okay, that's... pretty cool and badass and I'm not as pissed that I almost died for this cool fuckin story."

The oddly stringed compliment caused Styx to smile. "Anyhow, it was tossed into the known world at the time, and a man named Judah of Nazareth found it curled up in the basket of where his son used to be. After hours of searching, he denounced god and was cast out of the city with a lightning bolt, causing his house to burn and leaving the rest unscathed. The only thing he could grab, or was told to grab, was the sword.

He soon discovered that the sword had another power: It could talk, in a weird way. Judah saw visions - Towering castles and weaponry far past anything he would ever see in a hundred lifespans. The notes left behind by him called it a demonic city of unrelenting grief and abandonment of the Holy Doctrine."

"Oh, yeah." Blitz chimed up. "Chicago."

Everyone silently nodded, even Styx. "He would never get the chance to kill others with it, though, as after years of a prolonged and miserable life of being outcast from all circles, God finally spoke to him again, demanding that he denounced the devil and renounce God. Judah refused, asking his God why he would first choose to punish Judah before trying to save him and get the man's son back. God insisted that he did try, but it wasn't enough for Judah. In a final act of defiance, and in one some say Lucifer helped him with, he stabbed himself in the heart and let his body be taken down to the depths of Hell before God could take him. Since then, the sword was said to have been cut into different pieces and considered a failure, but many still believe their pieces to be out there, with Lucifer keeping one for himself and forging the revolver with a celestial artifact... and a piece of sword containing Judah's soul that he kept for himself. It was placed in the ark of the old sword, and has been hidden away ever since. If it's true, it would be the only blessed weapon in all of Hell to have the abilities of all three realms: The demonic powers of Hell, the angelic capabilities of ending the lives of all, and Judah's soul acting as the border between the power and it's corruption of the wielder."

The entire room was silent. After Styx had take a breath, they looked at Blitz, who appeared to be somewhere between enraged, violently horny, and in awe that he had just heard the greatest story ever.

"Bullshit." The imp finally called. "I've heard better stories from my therapist."

"Your therapist must be a GREAT fucking storyteller!" Gresha shouted, much to the shagrin of Leroy, who calmed her down before the table flipped.

"Don't know if it's true." Styx said, sliding off the side of the stage and walking towards the group. "I just know it's a damn good story. I, uh, just found it in a book. Leroy liked it and... yeah, we're here now."

"Yeah." Blitz stared fiercely. His footsteps towards the sinner echoed in the silence. "We're here."

"Problems?" Styx asked nonchalantly, repeating the motion of crossing their arms. It was this time that he saw Gresha and Leroy quietly making their way behind the bar and into the back room somewhere, and the duo were secretly happy. Now Blitz and them could finally argue in peace.

"Yeah I've got a few." The imp retorted, eyes glowing in unfiltered, and unfucked, disapproval. "For starters, you fucking suck as a roommate. For seconds, you suck at giving that, too. For third, you just fucking suck ass for making me almost die to the Two Twinks of Pride Ring all because you and Caterpillar Cock and Balls wanted to fish up some shit story about the fuckhead upstairs." He suddenly leaned close to Styx, his sharp breath and sharper tongue resonation a scent of intimidation. "Yeah, I'd say I've got a few problems." the imp whispered, quietly enraged.

"I know." Styx said, taking a step back for room. "Seems like you got pulled into this at the worst time. I'll apologize for that, but I'm not apologizing for your unwaveringly carnal daddy issues that you're trying to project on everyone else."

"You should be fucking glad I chose to project my shit on to you!" Blitz yelled. "Fuck, I was even trying to project it INSIDE you before you ruined everything!"

"What the fuck?" Styx asked, physically taken aback. "So, this wasn't about the kindness or trying to be a better person at all? This was about sex? Loud, forceful, public sex?"

"Oh, you really need to grow the fuck up!" Blitz exclaimed, now settling his voice at a booming volume. "You think I fuck around with people's emotions like that, you sick fuck? I'd love to see you try and pull off half the shit I've been able to do this week. I traveled across a goddamn ring by myself and managed to find someone who's fucking talented AND likes me for who I am. Can you fucking say the same?"

"... What?" Styx asked. It was their turn to be dumbfounded as their look of anger fells into concern and, even though they would not admit it, sadness. Blitz sighed, turned away and using their crossed arms to subtlety hug themselves in a pained expression. Styx could feel hot tears of rage begining to rise.

"I fucking said what I said." The imp choked. "I'll get my shit and leave you alone. I'm... sorry for bothering you."

"Blitz, no. Please. What the fuck are you talking about? Us? Me and you? Is that why you've been so pissed off at me?"

Blitz said nothing, but turned towards Styx and began to inch closer as the duo were now inches away from one another. With black tears now flowing from the eyes of both, they looked in each other's eyes, red meeting blue.

"We just met." Styx said quietly.

"Yeah, I know." Blitz answered in a softer tone. The imp took the sinner's hands as he talked, sliding them down their arms until Blitz had a gentle grip on Styx's sides. "I know we have, but... we've already done a bunch of shit together, right? I wanna see what else we can do together."

Styx was completely stunned, but did not try to run from the sensations this time. A wave of complex emotions fell deeper into their heart, which was now fluttering out of excitement and uncertainty. They remembered the days events, quite literally fucking around and almost finding out, from the literal hot coffee and almost being murdered to death because two mercenaries decided to indulge the false claims of celestial weaponry. It was all so much, so distorted and emotional... and very gay, and Styx thrived in every minute of the mania.

The two leaned close, and their lips met in a final act of defiance.