Mrs. Mayberry gracefully twirled around, clutching a piece of chalk in her hand, as her gaze fell upon her cheerful class. "Good morning, my dear students! I hope you all did your homework." She greeted them with an infectious smile.
The children, bubbling with excitement, began to bob up and down in their seats. A boy, sporting a dunce cap, was unceremoniously shoved into a corner.
"We love to do our homework, and we love our teacher too!" The children sang in unison, their voices filling the room with youthful exuberance.
"And when I present you with these fun questions, you should know just what to do!" Mrs. Mayberry announced, her voice brimming with enthusiasm, as she started writing on the board.
"2+6 is?" She asked expectantly.
"8!" The children chimed in, their responses harmonizing perfectly.
"And good behavior?"
"Great!" They exclaimed with an air of pride.
"Now, it's that part of the class where we say the time and date!" Mrs. Mayberry continued, her chalk gliding effortlessly across the board.
"It's 9 in the morning, on January 8th! The sun is out and shining," The children replied with unwavering cheer.
"And it's your husband's birthday!" The boy in the dunce cap interjected, unwittingly stirring an unforeseen turn of events.
The song ceased abruptly, and a heavy silence fell upon the room. Mrs. Mayberry's hands trembled, causing the chalk to snap under the pressure.
"Oh, my stars! Children, please stop singing! Hush up now!" she ordered, her voice betraying a hint of distress. The class obeyed, instantly quieting down, while Mrs. Mayberry leaned against her desk, her hand pressed against her forehead.
"I completely forgot about my husband's birthday! I haven't prepared anything special for him!" She lamented, her voice laced with disappointment and regret.
"Maybe we could call him and arrange a special birthday suprise!" A girl in a pink dress suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
The entire class crowded around the computer, eagerly awaiting his answer. However, instead of her husband's voice, they were met with an unexpected sight. A discarded article of clothing flew across the screen, revealing Mrs. Mayberry's husband engaged in an affair.
Mrs. Mayberry stood motionless, her usually cheerful expression replaced by an unsettling stillness. Slowly, she began to walk towards the classroom door, her steps measured and menacing.
"But wait, Mrs. Mayberry! Remember what you taught us! Think before you act!" The girl who had proposed the call intervened, attempting to halt Mayberry's course of action. In response, Mrs. Mayberry flung her aside, sending her crashing through the ceiling.
The children peered through the window, their eyes widening as they witnessed their teacher speeding away at recklessly illegal speeds, smashing through a fence in the process. Left in disbelief, they huddled around the computer once more.
"Fuck! Sweetie, what are you doing here?!" Mrs. Mayberry's husband exclaimed, his surprise evident in his voice.
"Shut up, Gerald! You scream like a fish!" She yelled back, before firing a shot at the woman he was with.
"Oh, god! What have you done?! She had a family?!" Her husband exclaimed, his voice laced with horror.
"We could've had a family!" Mrs. Mayberry retorted, her words accompanied by another gunshot, shocking the children and staining the computer screen with blood.
"Oh dear god, what have I done? In front of you all?" The words escaped her lips in a mix of despair and disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes as she frantically wiped the camera clean with her sleeve, attempting to conceal the evidence of her emotional breakdown.
"I'm so sorry, children!" she cried out, her voice trembling. "And don't forget to work on your times tables!" She then shot herself, causing the children to dramatically faint in response.
. . .
The dimly lit room was adorned with shadows, cast by the blinds that partially covered the windows, as well as by the figure of a sinner named Mrs. Mayberry. She paced back and forth, her silhouette projecting an aura of rage and determination. The air was heavy with the scent of a cigarette, held tightly in her clawed hand.
Blitzo sat lazily in his office chair. His eyes were fixed on Mrs. Mayberry, his only source of entertainment currently. With a smirk on his face, he interrupted her solemn thoughts.
"I mean, was she hotter?" Blitzo asked, unable to resist injecting his usual brand of irreverence into the conversation.
Mrs. Mayberry glared at him, her incredulous gaze piercing through his smirking facade. The red glow of her anger began to radiate from her demonic form.
"I'm just saying." Blitzo continued, his smirk widening, "I had a hard time understanding the unprompted melodrama you just spat at me, tits."
Mrs. Mayberry's anger intensified, her fury pulsating through the room. Blitzo, seemingly unfazed, stood up to face her.
"Anywayyyy," He drawled, elongating the word, "I don't think you quite understand how we're operating down here."
Mrs. Mayberry's gaze bore into him, her crimson aura burning brighter with each passing moment.
"See," Blitzo explained, "we take revenge out on the living, and it sounds like the core cast of your sitcom of death... frankly, are all probably down here in Hell with you. Boop!"
With a quick boop on her nose, Blitzo trivialized her pain, oblivious to the depth of her desire for vengeance.
"Not... all of them." Mrs. Mayberry hissed, her claws clenched in frustration. "That whore survived. Now, they all call her a hero."
The scene shifted to a hospital room, where a bandaged blonde woman lay in recovery. Colorful bouquets of flowers filled the space, and by her bedside stood her husband and children. A woman reporter, microphone in hand, approached her.
"How does it feel to have survived such a crazy bitch?" The reporter asked.
Martha, the wounded woman, replied with hope in her voice, "I just hope that sick woman finally found peace."
"You are so brave." The reporter exclaimed, her words dripping with admiration. "Here's two million dollars!"
A golden check slowly made its way towards Martha, who accepted it with innocent gratitude. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment as she stood beside her husband, their smiles shining with newfound prosperity.
Between shots of Martha and her family in front of their picturesque home by the lake, surrounded by a picket fence, Mrs. Mayberry's voice narrated her disdain.
"Between the talk shows and the donation bullshit, she made so much goddamn cash... getting shot was the best thing to happen to her!"
The scene then shifted to Martha standing at a podium with the letters "VNN" displayed prominently. A news reporter and a cluster of microphones surrounded her.
"You're a hero!" the reporter exclaimed.
Martha was seen jogging alongside a dark-skinned woman with blonde hair. The words "You're a hero, girl!" were exchanged between them. In a grocery store, Martha's son, sporting a beaver-skin cap, engaged in a conversation with a cashier.
"My mama's a hero!" He proudly proclaimed.
The cashier nodded with agreement. "She is a hero!"
Ralphie, Martha's husband, and she shared an intimate moment in their bedroom. The sound of his pleasure-filled grunts intermingled with his declaration, "You're a hero!"
An old priest stood prayerfully by the church doors, while Martha, standing next to him, received his praise.
"You're a herooo!" The priest proclaimed.
The next scene showcased Martha at the front of Mrs. Mayberry's former classroom. Another teacher introduced her to the class, where "How to deal with trauma 101" was written on the board. The students chorused their admiration, exclaiming, "You're a hero!"
As Martha's smile radiated satisfaction, the scene abruptly shifted back to Hell, where Mrs. Mayberry's fury could no longer be contained. Her purple fists crashed onto Blitzo's desk, creating cracks upon impact.
"SHE IS NOT A HEROOOOOO!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the room.
Leaning in close to Blitzo's face, her anger flushed her features crimson. Blitzo, now visibly frightened, attempted to placate her.
"Mm-hmm. Yeah! Okay, yeah, my thoughts exactly." he stammered, his voice filled with trepidation.
In a desperate move, Blitzo discreetly mashed a red button hidden beneath his desk. A red light began to flash beside a label that read "Deranged client." The neighboring labels included "More coffee", "Soiled my pants", "Horny client", "Client giving birth", "Ghost", and "Stolas".
This light, however was ignored by the rest of the I.M.P staff. Loona was lying on the couch, holding up a photo of a human family and scrolling on her phone, while a nervous Moxxie shakily pointed a red and black scoped crossbow at it, as Millie encouraged him and Benedict sat off to the side cleaning a lever-action rifle, which was modified to take a box magazine and to have a scope and bayonet attached.
"Moxxie, stop shaking. You're going to shoot our only hellhound." Millie gestured toward Loona, who sarcastically retorted, "Wow, I feel so loved right now."
"Here, just take a deep breath." Millie demonstrated by inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Moxxie looked at her awkwardly.
"But it's a family! Under what circumstances would we need to kill a human family?" Moxxie exclaimed, his expression filled with distress.
"Well, we're paid to kill people, not to have a conscience." Benedict absentmindedly responded while tinkering with his rifle.
"Maybe a shitty dad or a mob family." Moxxie suggested, adopting a bad Italian accent. "That's understandable." He gestured dramatically at the photo. "But to eradicate an entire innocent, seemingly upper-middle-class family bloodline?"
"Hey! You don't know they're innocent!" Loona pointed accusingly at the photo. "This kid probably sets dogs on fire. Maybe this girl gets off on bullying Australian kids online. And this guy... This guy definitely watches."
"What does it matter if they're innocent? We get money, we kill. It's that simple." Benedict replied, growing irritated with his coworkers' moral qualms.
"Exactly, Benny! Now pick a target, honey." Millie pecked Moxxie on the cheek.
"I just think it's a bit excessive, and that we could be more selective with our targets." Moxxie finally lined up to take the shot, only to be interrupted by Blitzo storming into the room, accompanied by Mrs. Mayberry.
"Guys, I want you to meet-" Blitzo began to yell, but before he could finish, Moxxie fired the crossbow in panic. The arrow ricocheted off the walls, narrowly avoiding hitting Millie and Benedict. It pierced through the photo Loona was holding, almost striking Benedict, who managed to deflect it with his rifle. The arrow then hit one of the legs of the nearby eel tank, causing it to wobble ominously. Blitzo caught it just in time to prevent it from hitting the client, who looked far from pleased.
"Our newest client!" Blitzo announced, but then the eel tank fell over, igniting the room in flames. "DAMN IT, MOXXIE! I JUST BOUGHT THOSE EELS!" Blitzo yelled angrily.
...
"Bye! And don't worry, we'll get that skank in less than 24 hours, or your first kill is free!" Blitz nervously waved goodbye to Ms. Mayberry as she drove off in a taxi. Benedict had a feeling she wouldn't be coming back.
The building had been evacuated, allowing the firefighters to work. The I.M.P. crew now stood on the sidewalk outside.
"When did we start implementing that deal, sir?" Moxxie snidely asked, prompting Blitzo to turn around and glare at him.
"When you set fire to my office IN FRONT OF A CLIENT, YOU FUCKING DIPSHIT!" Blitzo aggressively seized Moxxie, his hands tightening around his throat as he bellowed.
With a forceful throw, Blitzo sent Moxxie sprawling to the ground. "Now, someone tell me that fancy book is still intact!"
"Are you referring to our only ticket to the other side? Yeah, I-" Loona began before Benedict interjected.
"I've got it right here." He stated, holding up the book in question, much to Loona's bewilderment.
"How the hell did you get that?" She asked, visibly perplexed.
"I pickpocketed it from you. No offense, but I simply couldn't trust you with such an important item." Benedict opened the book, initiating the arcane rituals required to open a portal.
"Offense taken. And how on earth did you pickpocket it? I don't even have pockets!" Loona gestured to her pocket-less shorts.
"Then where were you holding it?" Benedict pointed out, returning the grimoire to her so she could retrieve them once their mission was complete.
Loona drew a breath, ready to respond, but paused, experiencing a rare moment of introspection. "...Fuck." she eventually muttered.
While this exchange unfolded, Millie and Moxxie busied themselves setting up the pentagram for the portal.
"Alright! Let's go lick some ass!" Blitzo exclaimed eagerly, shoving Moxxie to the ground once more, preparing himself to jump into the portal.
"The saying is 'kick some ass,' Blitz." Millie corrected him with a smirk, giving him finger guns as she walked through the portal.
"Mine's better." Blitzo declared, proceeding to walk through the portal as well. Moxxie attempted to rise from the ground to join them, but was abruptly grabbed by Benedict, who tossed him through the portal before following suit.
They emerged in the yard of a picturesque country home, nestled by a lake and surrounded by woods. Quickly, the four of them crammed into the tight space beneath one of the windows, peering inside.
"Oh, that must be her. This is almost too easy." Blitzo chuckled menacingly. "Hey, Ben, you want to take care of this one? It's simple enough for you."
"Rude." Benedict responded as he and Moxxie observed the scene through the window. Benedict meticulously scanned the room while Moxxie's expression shifted to one of horror. They could see a family of four, Martha, Ralphie, and their two kids, sitting at a table for dinner, looking happy and wholesome. "She's just a happy mother who recently left the hospital." Blitzo helpfully supplied, terrifying Moxxie further.
"I got it, sir." Benedict aimed his rifle at the woman, aligning her within his sights as she wore an 'adorable' expression.
"Wait, are we really going to kill an entire family?!" Moxxie started to panic.
"Eh, murder schmurder. We're already in hell, what's a bit of homicide going to do?" Benedict said jokingly, his aim still lined up.
Benedict's remark elicited a chuckle from Blitzo. "Excellently put, Bendy! Besides, we're only killing the mother, we're ruining a family!" Blitzo playfully messed up Benedict's hair, but the shorter imp swatted his hand away.
"But, hold- hold on, hold on, let's think about it-" Moxxie lifted the rifle up just as Benedict fired the shot, causing it to miss and hit a photo hanging up on the wall.
"What was that, Ralphie?" The target inquired, her attention directed towards her husband.
"I don't know, Martha, but whatever it is, it's gonna be tomorrow night's dinner!" Ralphie responded menacingly, retrieving a shotgun. His wife followed suit, grabbing her own firearm.
"Alright, kids! Guns out!" she declared, downing a glass of wine as if taking a shot and then shattering the glass on the floor. The two children, a boy and a girl, immediately brandished their own firearms.
"It looks like we've got some rabbits to catch, youngins'!"
Meanwhile, the I.M.P crew remained hidden in the bushes, their previous confidence now replaced with panic. "What the fuck was that, Moxxie, you baby dick prune?!" Blitzo's anger flared, looking like he might strangle the imp for the second—no, third time that day.
Moxxie hyperventilated before releasing a strange combination of a breath, a burp, and a cough. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, they just seemed so wholesome and happy! I panicked!"
"Panicked? PANICKED?!" Benedict was equally furious, knowing that Blitzo would probably deduct his pay for this blunder. "YOU INUTILE, PEZZO DI MERDA, VIGLIACO, FIGLIO DE PUTTANA, COZZO! (USELESS, PIECE OF SHIT, COWARD, SON OF A BITCH, ASSHOLE!)" He vented his rage in Italian.
"Sai che parlo italiano, vero? (You know I speak Italian, right?) "
". . .Merda. (Shit.)"
One of the family members must have overheard their angry exchange, as a shotgun blast tore through the wall, leaving a hole right through Benedict's arm.
"God damn it, that's the third time this week!" He exclaimed, more annoyed than anything else.
"SCATTER!" Blitzo yelled, prompting everyone to, well, scatter. The parents blasted an even larger hole in the wall. Millie, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal, dashed for the water, while Blitzo and Benedict followed the age-old advice of running for the hills. Moxxie took cover in the bushes but was soon ambushed by the two children.
Millie gracefully dodged Ralphie's bullets, executing several cartwheels before diving into the lake. Ralphie pulled out a bottle and cautiously stepped onto the pier overlooking the water.
Suddenly, Millie burst out from beneath the dock, wielding a knife in hand, as Ralphie swung his bottle clumsily. She effortlessly evaded his attack, leaping up behind him, ready to strike. Unfortunately, Ralphie swiftly struck her out of the air with his bottle, knocking her unconscious. As her vision faded to black, she could see him leaning over her with a menacing smile.
Meanwhile, Moxxie regained consciousness in the attic of the house, bound to a chair made from a transformed corpse. His captors, the two children, appeared significantly less adorable now.
Nervously, Moxxie attempted to diffuse the tension. "Oh, well hello there, little ones. Aren't you just adorable?" His words were cut short as the children responded in an eerie, synchronized manner, their smiles laced with malice. "It's nice to have a new critter to play with." They said, their voices sending shivers down his spine. Glancing around, Moxxie couldn't help but notice the grotesque memorabilia adorning the walls. Taxidermy creations, a macabre human skin with the words 'Bless this Mess' etched upon it, and various other horrifying artifacts surrounded him.
"Oh, crumbs." He exclaimed, fully comprehending the gravity of the situation he was in.
Back in the forest, Blitzo and Benedict found themselves in a desperate chase, with Martha relentlessly pursuing them. Her shots rang out recklessly, threatening their lives with each passing moment. They hid behind a large bush, as that worked out so well last time, as Martha walked by, taunting them.
"Come and let mamma Martha put a bullet in yer' head!" She said in a sing song voice as she walked past, eliciting a small sigh from the two imps.
Benedict turned to Blitzo and started to make several strange hand signs and gestures, trying to depict them splitting up and approaching Martha from two different directions, then ambushing her and taking her out.
What Blitzo got, however, was very different. 'You want us to run in circles then meet back up and off ourselves in unison?' He thought, with a confused look on his face.
Realizing the miscommunication, Benedict let out a slight sigh and decided to try a different approach. He pantomimed sneaking by performing the stereotypical silent walk, with his arms out like a deranged velociraptor. Then he mimicked a stabbing motion from behind and mimed death by loosely holding his hands around his throat and collapsing to the ground.
Apparently, his death was too convincing, as Blitzo pulled out a handkerchief and started to mourn silently, mouth moving yet no words coming out. Benedict quickly got up and quietly slapped Blitzo across the face to snap him out of it, before giving him a thumbs up, which Blitzo returned, and they prepared to execute both the plan and Martha.
Unfortunately, just as they were about to set their plan in motion, Blitzo's phone abruptly began to ring, its screeching sound piercing the tense atmosphere. Startled, both imps flinched, with Blitzo almost dropping the device. Annoyed by the untimely interruption, Benedict shot him an exasperated look while blood dripped from a wound on his arm.
"Stolas, this is a really bad time!" Blitzo hissed into the phone, recognizing the caller as Stolas himself.
Stolas, currently luxuriating in a bubble bath in his constellation-themed bathroom, responded snidely in an almost childlike voice. "When isn't it a bad time, Blitzy?"
"What is it?" Blitzo whispered back, Irritated.
"I've been meaning to follow up on our last little conversation regarding my grimoire." Stolas explained.
Blitzo, caught off guard, retorted, "What did you just call me?" Stolas could see Blitzo's image through one of the bubbles and popped it before continuing their conversation.
"My book, Blitzy." Clarified the owl. "The book I was given to do my job, that I have allowed you to use to do yours?"
Meanwhile, Martha finally caught wind of their conversation and fired a shot exactly where Blitzo's head would have been if he hadn't ducked just in time. "I can hear ya', darling!" She taunted, relishing in Blitzo's misfortune, while Benedict swiftly retreated into denser brush to conceal himself.
Undeterred, Stolas carried on as if the imminent threat of Blitzo being shot didn't concern him. "I've been thinking. I've permitted you to access the mortal realm, albeit illegally, for some time now. However, I do require the book back to fulfill my duties." he mused, scratching his beak thoughtfully. "I propose a deal: favors for favors. How about that? Doesn't it sound... enticing?" Stolas emphasized the last word in a suggestive manner, while Blitzo desperately evaded gunfire in the woods.
"You gotta stop using your fancy ass rich people talk, okay, I'm trying to concentrate on not getting fucked in my A!"
"Let's simplify it then. Once a month, on the full moon, you give me the book. In return, we engage in a night of... passionate fornication." Stolas face turned a deep red, sinking into his bath as he uttered the last words. "Aaaaand you can keep it the rest of the time. fair, my little imp?"
"Fine! Whatever!" Blitzo spat back, his attention still fixated on avoiding any further danger.
"Ooooh, Blitz, I can't contain my excitement! I can't wait to feel your slimy **** inside my ****-" Stolas rambled on, his words abruptly cut off as Blitzo's phone was thankfully knocked out of his hand, while Martha pinned him to the tree by his neck using the butt of her gun.
"Gotcha!" Martha's words pierced through the air, though Stolas's sexual rambling served as a disturbing backdrop. "So, you're a little devil, huh? Come to drag me and my kin to hell? Well, not today, Satan!" Her determination fueled her actions as she forcefully pushed him against the sturdy tree. "I'll send you all back where you came from!"
Martha swiftly incapacitated Blitzo, rendering him unconscious and skillfully binding him. With resolve in her eyes, she began to drag him away, intent on taking him somewhere else.
Just as she thought she had the situation under control, Benedict leaped from the hiding spot in a nearby tree, clutching a hatchet in his hand. However, Martha's reflexes proved to be quicker, causing him to miss his target and embed the hatchet into the solid ground.
"Well, well, well, a two-for-one special on devils. Isn't that great?" Martha raised her shotgun, a mischievous laugh escaping her lips, while Benedict futilely tugged at the lodged hatchet, eventually resorting to drawing his pistol.
"Eat lead!" Martha yelled, pulling the trigger and unleashing a shot in Benedict's direction. He skillfully evaded the attack, contorting his body into an awkward c-shaped pose. This dance between bullets and dodges repeated several times, each instance showcasing a different pose—forming a star, emulating the thinker, lying flat on the ground, standing sideways, a solitary conga line, and even precariously balancing on his one good horn.
Benedict gasped for breath, visibly fatigued. "That's a double-barrel shotgun, yet you've fired far more than two shots! What the hell?" He exclaimed, gesturing toward the enigmatic weapon.
Martha defiantly raised her firearm. "I've got fifty-seven more goddamn rounds in this two-round magazine." To emphasize her point, she fired a shot into the air, ruthlessly ending the life of an unsuspecting bird.
Benedict opened his mouth to retort but abruptly halted, his expression contorting in pain as his gaze slowly shifted downward. There it was, Martha's boot planted firmly between his legs.
"Fanculo. (Fuck.)" He weakly responded, clutching his nether regions before collapsing over in agony.
Back in the attic, Moxxie found himself back in the attic, desperately struggling to free himself from the tight ropes that bound him. He grunted and pulled, exerting all his strength, when suddenly, a flicker of light caught his attention. It was the glow of a raging fire in the distance.
"Millie!" He exclaimed, a surge of panic igniting within him. With a burst of determination, he launched himself and his chair toward the girl, who was wielding a knife, managing to break free and seize his rifle. Without hesitation, he made his escape through the window, sprinting toward the source of the fiery illumination.
Meanwhile, the situation for the other three members of the group was far from favorable. They were bound to a pole, helpless and vulnerable, as Ralphie cruelly poured gasoline onto the pile of kindling beneath them. His maniacal laughter echoed in the air, amplifying the tension.
"Benedictus had a clear shot, damn it, Moxxie!" Blitzo fumed with anger, his frustration directed at his employee's missed opportunity.
"Satan! We return your wretched creatures to the depths of hell! May the embodiment of evil be glorified as we carry out your work!" Martha theatrically proclaimed, before dramatically tossing the torch onto the pile. In an instant, the imps were consumed by the engulfing flames, prompting Benedict to scream out in pain. The others regarded him skeptically, fully aware of their own immunity to fire.
"We're fireproof, you dumbass. Quit crying out for your mommy to come save ya'." Blitzo scolded, provoking a surge of angry curses from Benedict.
"Blitz, for fuck's sake, it buys us time, you idiot!" Benedict yelled, his tail furiously sawing at the rope that bound them, as he wielded a concealed knife. Their captors had made a grave mistake by neglecting to secure their tails and legs, affording Benedict the opportunity to free himself unnoticed, since he was positioned opposite Martha.
"Oh, Shit." Martha exclaimed, her plan abruptly falling apart. "I guess I'll just shoot you in your smartass mouth then!"
"That would be more effective."
"Blitz!" Millie reprimanded, her voice filled with disapproval, as Martha menacingly approached them, brandishing her gun. In that moment, Benedict managed to free himself and the others, who were unceremoniously dumped on the pyre, swiftly turning and pointing a concealed pistol at Martha. But before he could pull the trigger and end her life, someone else beat him to it, a single bullet piercing her skull.
Her lifeless body crumpled to the ground, revealing the executioner to be Moxxie, the long-awaited hero who had finally arrived.
"Moxxie!" Millie exclaimed, her voice brimming with joy, as her husband rushed forward to help Millie up. Benedict muttered something under his breath, claiming he had the situation under control.
"You're not getting your goddamn salary for this one, Mox." Blitzo angrily declared, while he and Millie embraced each other tightly.
Observing her husband retreat fearfully, Benedict swiftly pursued him, disappearing into the dense woods.
"Oh, yeah, thanks. I'm perfectly fine!" Blitzo shouted, his anger palpable, as he rose from the spot where he had been unceremoniously dumped, brushing off his disheveled clothes.
"I'm sorry, sir. I compromised our objective and put us in harm's way." Moxxie apologized earnestly. "It won't happen again. I promise." He assured, his voice filled with remorse.
"Apology accepted." Blitzo said, pulling Moxxie into a tight embrace. "If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will fuck you and your wife." He whispered into Moxxie's ear, before releasing Moxxie. Blitzo returned to his normal, if one could call it that, manner of speaking. "Alright-y, job well done. Now let's get off- Where the fuck is Benedict?!"
Benedict, moving slowly and with an exaggerated air of drama, distanced himself from the scene. "Witnesses have been taken care of, sir." He informed Blitzo, just as the house behind them erupted into a violent explosion. Retrieving a cigarette from his pocket, he skillfully lit it on a fragment of flaming debris that crashed onto the ground, narrowly avoiding a startled Moxxie. He took a puff and then abruptly started coughing. "Hate those things." He muttered to himself, discarding the cigarette behind him. Before it hit the ground, Blitzo leaped over with a yelp, catching it in mid-air.
"You never waste a good cig, Ben! Got it? NEVER!" Blitzo scolded him, puffing on the rescued cigarette as he strode towards the newly opened portal that led to their office.
Moxxie remained in a state of shock. "Did you just... murder a family?" He asked Benedict, his voice filled with disbelief and horror.
"Yes." Benedict replied, his expression unyielding. He walked through the portal, followed closely by Millie, who dragged along a deeply disturbed Moxxie.
One hour later...
The entire company, along with Mrs. Mayberry, stood around a table adorned with birthday hats, cake, and a large banner that bore the crude phrase, "Killed the Bitch."
"Aw, did you see my little Moxxie?!" Millie cooed, fussing over the still shell-shocked Moxxie.
"Well, he didn't really contribute anything useful." Benedict remarked, his arm now in a sling, earning a venomous glare from Millie. Wisely, he chose to remain silent, knowing he risked further injury to his already damaged limbs.
"Here's to another mission accomplished. And finally, Moxxie learned not to fuck up," Blitzo declared, raising his glass in a toast to the room.
"And killing people isn't that big a deal if they try to kill you first!" Millie chimed in cheerfully.
"That's messed up. But I paid for it!" Mrs. Mayberry interjected, causing the room, except for Moxxie and Benedict, to erupt into laughter, the latter of the two being too concerned with his own well being to pipe up.
"Yeah, fuck that family!" Blitzo added helpfully.