(Disclaimer: I do not own Helluva Boss or any of the characters, all credit goes to the creator Vivienne Medrano, aka VivziePop. Please support the official release).

(Note: This takes place after Season 2 episode 4, and before my last Helluva Boss one-shot featuring my OC, Monroe).

~Different Life Values~

Striker grunted and groaned as he rode his demon horse through the back alleys of the Lust Ring, though it was very difficult since he had a rather large and painful slash across his left arm and the various other cuts and bruises he had.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it! I hope to Satan he's home and he's still awake!", he muttered under his breath.

Striker then came across Club Déviant, which was closed for the night. He jumped off of Bombproof's back and walked her over to an alleyway next to the club, tying her to a pipe attached to the side of the building.

"Stay here, ol' girl. I won't be long", he said as he petted her snout.

Striker then reached into one of Bombproof's saddlebags and pulled out a grappling hook attached to a rope, he look up at the balcony to a penthouse apartment above the club. He swung the grappling hook around several times before throwing it up towards the balcony.

The hook latched onto the railing, securing the rope in place. Then, struggling greatly since he was injured, Striker started pulling himself up the rope towards the balcony.

Meanwhile inside the apartment...

"Damn, that felt great!"

The penthouse apartment belonged to a male imp by the name of Monroe, who worked downstairs at Club Déviant as a singing and dancing drag queen. In fact, he was the most popular performer at the club, which benefited him as the owner of the club, who was his boss, paid him handsomely for his services.

That was the whole reason he was able to live a life of luxury, a privilege that wasn't afforded to most imps since they were part of Hell's lower class.

At the moment, Monroe was laying naked in his bed with his blanket draped over him, panting heavily in exhaustion. He had just finished having sex with his boyfriend, a tall and muscular incubus with long black hair who wore a spiked purple choker around his neck.

The incubus looked down at the tired expression on Monroe's face and let out a small laugh, "You're such a lightweight, babe. You really tired from all that or wanna go for another round?", he said as he gently ran his hand through Monroe's hair.

Monroe smiled as he shifted closer to cuddle up with his boyfriend, "You're such a jerk, Tory! You've got more stamina than me!", he said as he crawled on top of his boyfriend.

The feeling of their bare skin touching each other spurred both demons on, causing their libido to rise. Just as they both leaned in to start kissing, the sound of tapping on glass could be heard.

Monroe sat up and looked towards his windows, which lead to the balcony and were blocked by a set of black sequin curtains. "What is that? Did a bird get trapped on my balcony again?", he asked.

He stood up and started walking over to the windows, much to his boyfriend's dismay. "Seriously? Stupid flying vermin interrupting our fun, I was hoping we'd get to use my "little friend", if you know what I mean?", he said.

Monroe grabbed the curtain and pulled it aside, revealing Striker standing on the other side of the window. Both their eyes widened in shock, mainly because Monroe wasn't expecting to see him and Striker wasn't expecting to see him completely naked.

"AHH!", Monroe shouted as he shut the curtains and ran towards his walk-in closet. His boyfriend sat up in confusion before getting up and walking over to the windows, throwing the curtains aside.

He saw Striker standing outside, struggling to stay upright due to his injuries. The incubus snarled angrily as he opened the windows and yanked Striker inside, grabbing him by his shirt collar.

"I don't who the f*ck you are, but you made a big mistake!", he shouted as he was about to punch Striker in the face.

"Salvatore, stop! Don't hurt him, he's a friend!"

They both looked up to see Monroe stepping out of the walk-in closet, wearing a pair of black laced underwear and a white sleeveless sweater with a picture of a pumpkin spice latte on it.

The incubus, Salvatore, immediately dropped Striker like a sack of potatoes, which made Striker let out a yelp of pain. Monroe ran over to him and bent down, "Striker, what the Hell are you doing here? I know we're friends, even after we broke up, but you can't come sneaking onto my balcony like a burglar!", he said.

Striker panted heavily from the pain, "If you treat my wounds and also give me some whiskey, I'll explain everything. And maybe you can explain some things to me", he said.

[Time Skip]

Ten minutes later, Striker sat on the floor after having taken his hat, jacket and shoes off. He drank from a glass of whiskey in his right hand while Monroe wrapped some bandages around his left arm.

"Got yourself banged up again, huh? This wouldn't be the first time, you came to me all bruised and bloody after the Harvest Moon Festival in the Wrath Ring last year. What did you do this time?", said Monroe.

Striker stayed silent as he took another sip of whiskey, looking around the apartment. "Still got a pretty nice setup here. You still working at the club downstairs?", he said.

Monroe sighed as he finished treating Striker's wounds, then he stood up to put away the first aid kit. He came back, grabbed the remote for his flat screen TV and turned it on, it was already on the 666 news channel.

"And in other news, Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia was rushed to St. An's hospital in critical condition", said Tom Trench.

"That's right, Tom. Sources say Stolas was seen at the Richest Cup Cafe last week when a mysterious demon busted in and kidnapped him. At this time, we don't know who's responsible but--"

Monroe shut the TV off again, cutting off Katie Killjoy as she was talking. He then looked down at Striker with a mix of disappointment and exasperation.

"You did it again, didn't you?", he asked.

Striker sighed heavily, "Monroe, look--"

"I don't wanna hear it, Striker! This is the second time you've showed up unexpectedly at my place for me to treat your injuries after you failed to assassinate Prince Stolas!

"Your utter hatred for royals and the upper class was always infuriating to me because when we were dating, half the time that's all you'd talk about! It was began to wear me down as well as scare me, and that's why I dumped you!", Monroe shouted.

Striker couldn't respond, he just looked away in shame and regret.

"Wait, you dumped him? And what's this about you being scared? This prick didn't abuse you, did he?", asked Salvatore as he cracked his knuckles.

Monroe sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "No. He never abused me, thank Satan. No, he would always go on and on about how much he hated the upper class and I was concerned for my safety around him", he explained.

Striker suddenly stood up, flinching as he pulled on his bandages. "That's bullsh*t, Monroe! I'd never hurt you, ever! I was actually heartbroken when we broke up but I had enough respect for you to keep my distance and to let us just be friends", he argued.

Monroe looked down sadly before looking at Striker, "Really? Striker, I got to where I am because Asmodeus gave me this job, after I was personally recommended to him by Verosika. Because my pop star friend recommended my services to the embodiment of Lust, I've become very successful.

"I get paid very well doing what I love, and that money allows me to live in this penthouse apartment. Do you remember what I said to you on the day we broke up?", he said.

Striker shut his eyes tightly as he thought back to that day, they were in Monroe's apartment having a heated argument.

[Flashback]

About a year or so ago, Monroe was arguing with Striker about accepting the deal with Stella to have Stolas killed.

"Why, Striker? Why are you getting involved in the matters of royal demons?! What does assholes do in their marriage life is not your business!"

"It's good and easy money!"

"Oh yeah, and how do you know she'll keep up her end of the bargain! You often than not can't trust the words of a royal!"

Striker scoffed and snarled, "You're one to talk! Didn't you get your job at that club from Asmodeus himself? After you were recommended to him by Verosika Mayday? You've got some nerve to tell me not to trust a royal when you're living the privileged life yourself!", he shouted.

Suddenly, Monroe gasped and backed away from Striker, utter terror very clear in his eyes which were filling up with tears. Striker noticed this, his anger dying down and being replaced with concern.

"Monroe...?", he said tentatively as he reached a hand out.

"No, don't touch me! You bastard, are you saying you'd actually kill me next?! You hate the upper class, royals and overlords, and I'm technically one of the upper class! Are gonna kill me too?!", Monroe shouted.

Striker took a step back as he felt a painful stab to his heart, "Monroe, what are you saying? Of course I wouldn't kill you! Unlike those f*ckers, you haven't done anything to anyone of the lower class.

"Look, I'm actually happy for you that you are able to live such a privileged life thanks to the connections you now have, especially since you had such a sh*tty life growing up because of what happened between your parents.

"I know that you take have of your profits and send them back home to pay for your Ma's rehabilitation, so I know for a full on fact that you ain't greedy or selfish like all those rich bastards on the top.

"But can't you understand how I feel? Not every ring is some fancy-ass city, with some fancy-ass mansion, that only fancy-ass royals get to live in. Some of us have hard lives to live. And some of us have everything we care about taken away by fuckers like the Goetia or all the overlords", he said.

Monroe had turned away from Striker before he went off on his tangent, he then turned around to face him, tears still streaming down his face.

"I get that, Striker. I understand you've been through a lot, but there's something you don't understand: some of us have everything we care about taken away by the same people living on the same part of the social pyramid!

"Some of us could start out on the bottom, have someone in the same situation whom we thought loved us completely ruin our lives, only to be lucky enough to find a few of those upper class individuals who are willing to help us.

"It may have been luck or my own talent for singing and dancing that compelled Verosika to help me find a job and Asmodeus to give me one. I consider them my friends because regardless of what you think, they helped me out of a genuine desire to and not because they wanted to gain something.

"I loved you, Striker, I really did. But your attitude towards the upper class really scares me, you might not try to kill me and I honestly don't care if you kill Prince Stolas, but what about the upper class demons I know? The ones I befriended? I don't think I can trust you anymore...", he said.

Striker felt another painful jab to his heart, much worse than the last. "Monroe, what the Hell are you saying?", he asked.

Monroe sniffed as he pointed to his front door, "Striker, please leave. We're breaking up, as long as you hold this opinion over the upper class, I can't trust you not to hurt me or the people I care about. Please, if you really love me, accept our breakup and leave", he said.

At that moment, it felt like Striker's heart had shattered like a piece of glass. Of course, he had too much pride to let his emotions show, so he masked his sadness with anger.

"Fine, be like that then! Hope you enjoying kissing the ass of the upper crust while the rest of us fight of over scraps at the bottom! I thought you'd understand because you were one of us but it seems like, just like the royals, all you wanna do is try to talk down to or over us!", he yelled as he stormed out of the apartment.

After Monroe locked the door, he pressed his back against it and slid down to the floor, burying his head in his knees as he loudly sobbed. Striker didn't immediately leave, he stood by the door and listened in; the sound of Monroe loudly crying broke his heart even more.

Now that he was sure no one could see him, his walls came down and he started crying, holding a hand to his mouth to keep himself from screaming in anger towards himself.

[End of Flashback]

Striker stared down at his now empty glass of whiskey, the memory of that day was still very painful for him. He looked up at Monroe, who sat on the couch in Salvatore's arms as he had started crying from remembering that dreadful day.

"Um... how'd you two meet?", he asked trying to alleviate the awkward silence.

Salvatore looked at him, "We met at a bar one night, he was all dolled up in a dress, wig and makeup, so I mistook him for a woman at first. Once he explained he's a drag queen, we had a laugh about it. Then we started talking about random things and after a while, we started dating.

"He even asked me if it was okay that we were dating because he wasn't a woman, but I'm bisexual so it doesn't really matter. And our relationship isn't just sexual either, tonight was actually only the second time we've done it. Outside of that, we actually go out on dates", he explained.

Striker nodded in acknowledgement before slowly standing up, "Well, I think I've overstayed my welcome. Thanks for patching me again, Monroe. I'll be getting out of your hair now", he said as he walked back over to the window.

"Striker, wait!", Monroe shouted as he rushed over to him, "I wanna know how you ended up like this twice now. Who the Hell beat you up so bad when you were trying to kill Stolas? I've never seen him with any bodyguards"

Striker sighed and facepalmed, "Do you know about that business named I.M.P.?", he asked.

"You mean that business where Blitzo and two other imps go to the living world to kill people at the request of sinners?", Monroe replied.

Striker's eyes went wide, "How the f*ck do you know his name? Have you met him before?", he asked.

Monroe shook his head, "No, but I am friends with his sister. She went to the same rehabilitation center as my mother and only just checked out a few months ago, when we talked together, she always brought up how much she hated him for ruining her life.

"Wait, what does Blitzo have to do with you getting beat up while trying to assassinate Stolas?", he said.

Striker didn't want to but he knew Monroe deserved to know the full truth. So he explained to him about his time working as a farmhand on Millie's parents' farm. How he found out that the only reason Blitzo was able to do his business was because he made a deal with Stolas through sex.

Because of that, Stella had hired him to have Stolas assassinated but Blitzo and his employees got in the way at the Harvest Moon Festival. Then, when Striker kidnapped him and took him to his lair to torture Stolas before killing him, Stella suddenly changed her mind and then Moxxie and Millie showed up to kick his ass.

Monroe sighed as he shook his head, "I'm not even gonna begin to go into what is wrong with you, them and this whole situation altogether!", he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Salvatore shook his head too, "Damn, man! All that to get some royal money, and then Stolas' beard flip her switch just like that? Leaving you to clean up the mess? Lord, what an absolute patetico e stupido idiota you are!", he sneered.

Of course, Striker had no idea what he said since he was speaking in Italian, but he knew it wasn't a good thing and still he didn't object because he knew he kinda deserved it.

"Striker, I'm going to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly: knowing that I'm technically a member of the upper class, would you kill me?", said Monroe.

Striker gasped in shock, but then he surprised Monroe by throwing his arms around him in a tight hug.

"Striker?"

"Monroe, I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I never meant to make you feel like your life was in danger around me. I loved you, I really did...I still love you, but I know any romantic feelings you had for me have dried up like an old well.

"Just...please try to understand that I would never ever hurt you, I couldn't do that to you no matter how much I hate all those privileged bastards sitting at the top. I know you benefit from them, but you're not like them, you're still on our side technically".

It was then that both Striker and Monroe realized that the former had started crying, but Striker didn't care. He wanted Monroe to know how apologetic he was for making him feel scared and threatened because of his hatred for the rich and opulant.

But just because Monroe was technically one of them, it didn't mean he had the same values and ideals as those in the upper class. Actually, Monroe hated hearing people like Stella talking down to imps and others in the lower class, making them feel worthless.

Monroe already used to feel that way because of how his father, a member of that same lower class, used to treat him and his mother. Someone whom he thought loved and cherished him, who beat his mother every day and even tried to kill him.

Monroe knew better than anyone that both the upper and lower classes had their fair share of those who wanted to step all over others for their own gain and those who actually wanted to help.

Verosika was a real sweetheart who wanted to help him out, and people could say what they wanted about Asmodeus, but he was happy to hire him at one of his clubs and even happier to see his talents bringing in the profits.

So yeah, Monroe was living a privileged life but he never boasted about it or rubbed it in anyone's faces. Half of the money he earned paid for his mother's treatment at the rehabilitation center, despite he wealth, he lived a relatively modest life.

Slowly and anxiously, Monroe reached up to hug Striker back. "Now I know for sure you wouldn't hurt me...good. You're right, I don't have any romantic feelings for you anymore but I do consider you a friend.

"I will always be here to help you out like a friend should, but mark my words, Striker: if you get yourself into some serious trouble while making shady deals with royals, leave me and my loved ones out of it!

"I will absolutely never forgive you if you cause any harm to happen to me or them. It'll be your problem, so you fix it yourself! If that happens, just pretend you don't know me because I don't want to get involved.

"I love my life, Striker. I'm getting paid doing what I love and I'm able to help my mother who's trying very hard to recover from her mental trauma and H-8 addiction, I really don't want any crazy bullsh*t involving you dealing with royals to ruin everything, got it?", he said.

Striker sighed as he pulled away from Monroe, "I understand, I wouldn't want you to get involved and hurt either, that's actually why I deleted your contact from my phone.

"I promise if anything goes wrong, I'll handle it myself. I've always had to handle everything myself long before we even met, so it won't be a problem for me. You take care, alright?", he said.

He then turned around and walked out onto the balcony, climbing down the rope. Once he was back on the ground, he dislodged the grappling hook from the railing; he put it back into Bombproof's saddlebags, hopped onto her back and rode off.

Monroe sighed as he shut the windows, locked them and closed the curtains. Salvatore stood up and walked over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders.

"Ti senti bene, bella?", he asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright. I feel like the two of us needed to have this talk, to get our feelings sorted out. I doubt I'll ever see him again, but I hope he'll be okay", said Monroe.

He then turned around and buried his face into Salvatore's chest, "I sorry but I don't feel like having sex anymore tonight, can we just go to sleep?", he said.

Salvatore nodded in agreement as he lifted Monroe into his arms and carried him over to the bed, "I figured you wouldn't be after all that, it's okay. We can go to sleep now and have our fun in bed another day", he said.

He laid Monroe in bed before climbing in next to him, turning off the lights. He cuddled close to him, allowing Monroe to seek comfort and warmth from his embrace. As Monroe started falling asleep, one thought lingered in his mind.

Please Striker...please don't get yourself killed, he thought.

[The End]