Moxxie would wake up at practically the same time he used to before, at 7:00 AM to prepare Millie's favorite breakfast, as well as her black coffee well charged with a splash of cane liquor and whipped cream; Just as he took his time preparing his usual complicated favorite coffee, pouring it into the cracked mug with Millie's face on it, since his wife had the one of his face. Even when a little coffee leaked through the taped and reinforced cracks, Moxxie preferred that cup to the porcelain ones. It made him smile at the almost childish doodle of his smiling wife...

...Even if the doodle on the mug had been made by Blitzø as a company anniversary gift.

After taking a drink, Moxxie placed the mug on the edge of the table, where a half-assembled M249 machine gun lay, already with the large white cloth stretched underneath to avoid oil stains and powder crusts, with all the tools already perfectly aligned. Moxxie placed one of his favorite records on the gramophone before starting work, handling the 'boned' gun carefully, finishing adjusting it and, at his client's request, tricking it to fire a little bit faster.

It had been just over three weeks since he started this 'freelance' job cleaning and repairing any kind of weapon for anyone who required it.

From a harmless neighbor looking to sharpen or repair a knife or pistol for defense that was too old or broken... Moving on to the small-time gang members who lived in the neighborhood, looking to repair the barrels of their shotguns or rifles, clogged with thick layers of old gunpowder, or to fix their daggers and machetes, already more rusty than sharp.

There alone with their guns, with the soft music, with the cup of coffee, even with the constant street noise outside, the upstairs neighbors were fighting throwing crockery at each other's heads between shouts, Moxxie felt calm. He felt in his element, adjusting the bolts and screws on the machine gun, almost as if he was adjusting the strings on his guitar. Moxxie's fingers were almost flying as he adjusted the bolts, moving the trigger to check that it was steady to fire, as if he was moving the pegs on his guitar to check that they were taut to play a chord.

For Moxxie, weapons and music were very similar. Is making a good gun or instrument 'sing well' by adjusting it, tuning it until it 'sounded' right. And that took some time.

That he had been doing since morning, concentrating on this assignment as he had done with the others, piling into the lobby.

...And if he was brutally honest with himself, Moxxie hadn't felt more calm and relaxed in a long time doing a task he'd usually done before on I.M.P. ...And this time there were no biting comments or taunts behind his back, no someone breathing down his neck with a sexual connotation... And by someone that wasn't his wife exactly.

Moxxie hadn't imagined dedicating himself to that in the meantime, while he 'recomposed' himself after his violent departure from I.M.P., which still tasted bitter when he remembered it. And for that very reason, he had blocked his... well, now ex-boss, to avoid another possible confrontation, not to mention wanting to avoid him trying to return to I.M.P... or being made to return; Moxxie hadn't lied that he needed some time away from the old job, especially from Blitzø.

...Though deep down, Moxxie had expected the former circus imp to come and try to drag him back, to confront him... Or as he had wanted it to happen, to try to apologize in his own way. If he was again brutally honest with himself, Moxxie had both feared and hoped, from the moment he had left the building, that Blitzø would come looking for him.

Moxxie was unaware if Blitzø was still in denial, that he still believed the thespian sniper would be back soon, bent on believing that it was Moxxie who was overreacting, the one who had to go apologize... Millie was the one who said it was the latter, for though she was still adamant about ignoring Blitz when he wanted to chat about anything that wasn't strictly about work, she'd seen him grumbling and shaking his head.

"Although I prefer to ignore what Blitz says, it's clear that he's upset that you left. He even said 'Why did you leave me lying in the middle of this shitstorm, Moxxie', before entering our offic... my office." Millie had said with a sigh, the first weekend.

Moxxie knew that his ex-boss (how strange it was to put it that way, if he was honest) was capable of the best as well as the worst, seeing mostly the worst, only seeing bits and pieces of the good in him, which was always very little, but for Moxxie it had been enough to stay there for a long time, after their paths had been linked for the long term when they had escaped from prison.

...Is not that Moxxie had regretted deciding to follow the eccentric imp after managing to get out of the bars that very first night...ñ well maybe a couple of times, when he got too pissed off by Blitzø's stupidities and mistreatment of him, but deep down Moxxie was aware that his life had changed for the better when he followed Blitz, mostly because he met Millie after that.

...As well as including the good times at I.M.P., which were not exactly few.

Moxxie could recall with a nostalgic smile the first paycheck, the first successful hit (saving himself from being killed in the fray by a tail), the first foray into the human world, the first time his M1911 pierced human flesh by entering a target's forehead in a perfect shot, focusing mainly on killing humans, with Moxxie becoming fascinated by the environment and the little things he managed to steal from their targets, mostly for his enjoyment or to give to his beloved wife.

Moxxie wasn't going to deny that after what happened, he would hardly return to the human world unless he had an Asmodeus crystal or... Unless he returned to I.M.P.

And when that thought came, Moxxie let it go with an unshakable determination: regaining his confidence and peace of mind had become his priority. Moxxie wanted to show Millie that he meant what he said... that this was what he needed after so much accumulated stress and unpleasantness, as well as the stress and anguish she had gone through trying to cheer him up... almost all because of Blitzø, mistreat.

...And as he had realized these past few weeks, handling weapons was giving him that peace of mind and self-confidence... Things that, honestly, at I.M.P. he had felt very rarely, to be honest.

Even as assignments for other imps and even Sinners of dubious reputation and perfectly capable of reacting violently, Moxxie didn't feel overwhelmed or stressed by the pressure of completing the assignments. He avoided that by asking them to return the next day or failing that, after two to three days, which gave the thespian sniper enough time to repair and trick the affected weapons, testing their quality on the foam dummies in the room... Still meticulous and perfectionist, Moxxie worked fast, seeking precisely to avoid having a backlog of 'waiting patients'.

Today he had to deliver a batch of several shotguns along with the machine gun to the same place, a shooting range that was more like a vacant lot located in the middle of a tire graveyard. Almost all of them were ready, already stored in his special coat where he could accumulate several weapons, some bigger than himself. So he could devote the rest of the morning to cooking a turkey in red hawthorn sauce with potato gnocchi, for when Millie returned...

As he finished tightening the nuts on the M249, Moxxie took long looks at the broken mug as he took sips of sweet brew.

...Moxxie knew Millie was still dealing with grief and anger after her husband's violent resignation, always forcing a smile before leaving for work, always saying she was going to miss him throughout the workday while gutting a human, while ignoring Blitzø... Always texting during the day, saying she was dying to see him after leaving at 5 o'clock, asking him how he was doing with cleaning the weapons...

Moxxie had told her about the errands from neighbors and even gangbangers, with Millie at first being surprised, but then she had smiled, nodding.

"Blitz can deny it all he wants, but no one knows all kinds of weapons so well as to clean and repair them impeccably as you do, honey..." Millie had said as she gently stroked the long cannon of the double-barreled shotgun that Moxxie was cleaning, in a way that was too suggestive... "...In fact, lately I've been catching him looking up tutorials on VoxTube on how to clean guns jammed with gunpowder..."

...Already completely unable to continue with the cleaning and maintenance of the order, Moxxie had quickly removed his surgical gloves smeared with oil and powder crusts before following an insinuating Millie on her way to the bedroom.

Moxxie just smiled at the memory of that, for it was that it made the current situation easier and more bearable, as well as the uncertainty of the future... As well as Millie's own sadness at being separated for several hours from her husband.

...Because for as much as she tried to hide it, Moxxie knew that deep down, even if she supported his desire to be away from Blitzø and I.M.P. to regain his broken confidence and peace of mind, Millie was also hoping that things would return to the way they were...

...And what were things like before, exactly?

At that question that inevitably resurfaced in his mind, Moxxie only sighed, feeling more and more trapped at a crossroads... And to avoid getting lost in it, she just kept on cleaning, modifying, adjusting, testing...

...He looked down and contemplated the weapon now ready.

Blitzø huffed, folding his arms as he slumped on the couch, exhausted after a long day. Beside him, already wearing his old robe after picking him up after work through a portal, Stolas poured him a glass of fine bourbon before rubbing his shoulders in a caress that was meant to cheer him up... And this time the owl didn't intend it to be sexual, moved by how dejected and subdued his Blitzy looked.

And even if it had been something sexual, Blitzø would have felt nothing, too absorbed by everything that had happened in the last while... Too absorbed on his own anger and frustration.

Ever since he had received the attack in retaliation for going to visit M&M and trying to make amends... And for make amends is making Moxxie going back to reason. Because Blitzø was still sure that little damn 'Prima Donna' was just over-reacting, as usual... And that's just the way it was!

After all, the job was supposed to be done the same day! Blitzø knew Moxxie was meticulous in his work but he still totally fucked up, he fucked up big time, affecting his attempt to get close to Barbie, who was avoiding him like the plague...! Blitzø had every right to be angry at Moxxie, to call his attention to the screw up he did!

How was he supposed to know that the whiny bitch was going to get so upset, if Blitz practically treat him like that all the time, with just teasing and jokes about the little musical shit...! He didn't get it It just didn't make sense to him.

...Much less did he understand Millie's anger towards him, acting like he didn't exist in the same office.

When he tried to tell Millie some joke or offhand remark that used to make the southern female imp laugh loudly and respond in an equally jocular manner... Now it was with a look of disdain in his direction before doing something else like finishing her reports or sharpening her knives, always with an angry expression, but also with a beam of sadness reflected in her eyes.

...Blitzø had thought that, as bubbly and cheerful as Millie was even in the worst of circumstances, this anger would soon pass, that she would respond to him again with the same unhingedly happy attitude as always... But no. Millie remained inexorable in her decision to treat her boss, when it wasn't about work, as less than a sticker on the wall.

Frustrated and angry, Blitzø had asked her out of the blue, right at closing time, how long she would keep up this nonsense, that when she would talk to him just as she had before... The southern female imp had been caught with her lair down, but she recovered quickly to say in a low voice:

"...It's not me you should be talking to, Blitz. If you don't get it, it's not my problem. Same if you don't feel like it to do it."

Blitzø didn't need fucking hints to know who the fuck Millie was referring to, making him even more angry and frustrated... As if he didn't fucking know! And of course he could do it perfectly, no problem at all, Millie was just talking pure bullshit...!

"Ey Moxxie, it's Blitz.

It's been over a week since ur little stunt and I'm already running out of patience. Stop overreacting over a simple criticism from me, when u know this was ur fault ¬¬.

Stop hiding like a sniveling whiny pussy and get the fuck back to work, so u can make up for those lost hours..."

...This was written a week after Moxxie's departure.

Blitzø deleted it at the last second before sending it.

"Ey Moxxie, it's Blitz.

Listen, I know ur still mad at me, as it's been two weeks since u took off... Understand man, I was really stressed out. U don't know how fucked up and stressful it is to run a company, that's why u've only led an assignment once (and u screwed up, mind u ) and... Well, yeah, maybe I went a little overboard uwu.
But understand, that's me, take it or leave it, bitch. And well, yeah, there's the Barbie thing, that week was really bad, please understand, it just happened, it was a joke..."

...This was written in the second week since Moxxie's departure.

Blitzø deleted it again when he finished the last word, putting the phone aside, rubbing his face.

"...Mox, it's me, Blitz.

Please talk to me. It's been almost a month. I need u to come back, I.M.P. doesn't work without u. I need u to take over the bookkeeping again, the cleaning and maintenance of the weapons, the... Fuck, Mox, don't make me keep begging, I need u back! If u so badly need me to apologize so u'll stop crying, then I'm sorry!
Ok, now I said it! Happy now?!

Will u come back when u see this...?"

This was written three days ago. And although Blitzø managed to send it in the middle of the night, while languishing extremely drunk on the couch, after a long day of orders that had to be done one after the other without a break, for lack of a couple of available hands... (the hands of...)

...But he had finally had it erased while vomiting in the crappy bathroom of his apartment, also vomiting up a storm of curses and insults.

Why was it so fucking hard for him to talk to Moxxie?!

Blitzø let out a loud snort of frustration, downing the bourbon in one long gulp and then reaching for the glass with a dismissive gesture, asking for more. Stolas poured him another drink right away, but much less, a tiny fingerful of liquor. The former circus imp growled at him, but the prince stood his ground.

"I really don't think drowning yourself in alcohol will help you much, Blitz."

Blitzø let out another snort, or rather a whinny, looking at his flashing lover with a crooked grin.

"...That's funny coming from you, birdie. Didn't you drink two bottles of absinthe at your wife's tea parties?"

"Yes, but I've cut down on my consumption since she finally left. One glass a day, mostly wine, for health's sake." Stolas replied with a mischievous chuckle, but then quickly became serious. "...And experience has taught me that rather than losing yourself in alcohol, it's better to talk it over with someone willing to listen to you... And I am." he added softly, smiling sympathetically at his lover.. Blitz folded his arms again, obstinate.

"What the fuck do you want me to say?! I'm exhausted, Stolas. These past few weeks have been fucking shitty. A lot of work piling up and only two pairs of hands available, I've been forced to make my poor Loonie work harder than she does... And she ain't happy at all..."

Blitzø grimaced, remembering the grunts his precious daughter gave him every time she warned her to do more than be secretary and prepare the portal.

"...And to add more shit to the roof, Mills still won't talk to me unless it's for work, nothing I used to say before to make her laugh makes her even look at me now! It's like I'm a fucking stranger... And all because her whiny bitch of a husband took offense just because of what I said to him! Now she's pissed off like it's all my fault...!"

Blitzø was getting angrier and angrier, raising his voice to the point where he couldn't take it anymore, throwing the crystal glass on the floor, making it shatter into a thousand pieces... Stolas hardly reacted, already too used to the old angry outbursts of his ex-wife Stella when she threw vases and servants in his direction.

"Blitz..."

"I've been trying to find some decent gun expert these days... and I've only gotten fucking clowns and posers who don't know to difference a gun from a fucking kettle! I need my fucking gun expert back! I need him to help me with my balances that keep getting out of whack! I need more available hands to help me with the hits...!" Blitzø didn't seem to realize what he was shouting, his eyes tightly shut. "I need fucking Moxxie and the fucking idiot decides to take off...! And as much as I tried to tell him to come back, no words would fucking come out...!"

"Blitz!" exclaimed Stolas, muting the moans of the male imp, seeing him with his eyes reddened from holding back the tears of rage... The owl sighed: He had followed this whole drama closely ever since his lover had come to his bed, whining non-stop.. "...If you can't say it in words, then do it face to face. Go over there and talk to dear little Moxxie. You really need to do it, both of you."

Blitzø's face contracted, lowering his gaze, his expression broken.

" ...He doesn't want to see me, Stolas."

"And have you ever wondered, Blitzy, why that is?" Stolas insisted, squeezing his shoulder. Blitzø's claws were trembling. "...Come on, you know it deep down."

"What the fuck do you want me to say Stolas?!" Blitzø repeated in despair, "that I shouldn't have yelled at him, that I shouldn't have treated him like a good-for-nothing, that I was a piece of shit for treating at him in that way, threatening to throw him out anyway and treating him like a piece of crap, like Millie and even Loona have thrown in my face all this week and in the weeks before...?!"

" ...Yes, yes and no." Stolas whispered, making his lover look at him. "Yes, you shouldn't have yelled at Moxxie. Yes, you shouldn't have treated him like that, knowing full well the complicated past and... Well, the horrible father Moxxie has. But no, you're not a piece of shit, Blitz: You made a mistake... Just like Moxxie made a mistake on that mission."

"Well, Millie seems to take it as if I really fucked up instead of it being a simple mistake! As if what I did was unforgivable, that there's nothing I can do to make up for it!" Blitzø exclaimed angrily, agitating his arms in frustration. "And she keeps reminding me of it with her shitty treatment, so it's as if it was more than a mistake that I had...!"

And then he fell silent, thinking, paling, almost staring into the void...

...Well what exactly had Blitzø done in that week before Moxxie left I.M.P. in dramatic fashion...?

Ah yes, reminding Moxxie of his mistake as if it had been a screw-up that was impossible to fix or that there was nothing he could do to remedy in any way. As well as not stopping to remind him of it with shitty treatment, far worse than the usual insults, as if rather than making a mistake, Moxxie had...

...Oh. So that must have been how Moxxie felt all that week.

Blitzø covered his face, sighing. He really hated it when people threw at him back shit he'd done in their faces, but here he couldn't silence it like he always used to, with sex, alcohol or even with his horsie toys... He couldn't deny it. He just couldn't, he couldn't. Not this time.

"...Oh, shit."

Blitzø slid his claws tightly across his face, sighing, letting himself sink into the expensive, elegant sofa. Although he didn't want to accept it but rather avoid it like everything else in his life... Deep down Blitzø knew he couldn't do it.

...Not when it came to Moxxie.

Even if Blitz denied it as many times as he wanted, even if Blitz said he'd rather exfoliate his testicles with a rusty cheese grater than admit it, much less in public, that he'd rather play back his lover's dirtiest 'calls' and use them as an alarm clock and ringtone than admit it precisely in front of him... In reality, Moxxie was nothing less nothing less than his best friend...

...His only friend, in fact.

After so many failed and destroyed to the point of irreparable relationships in the past, some of which Blitz still had to deal with to this day, the little sniper had become a fixed point of his existence from the moment they had met and escaped from prison, then starting that crazy idea and so exploited in Hell as it is the contract killings.

From the moment the little white-haired imp had decided to follow him as he adapted to this new Circle, first sleeping on Blitzø's couch and then getting a new apartment... Then to meeting Millie and living together, being disgustingly adorable and loving around everyone and then getting married, Blitzø being the reverend and best man at the same time... Even all the adventures they'd had together on so many errands, both in Hell and on Earth, often saving each other from dying by a hair's breadth...

It was fucking chaos, yes, but a shared chaos. A fucking chaos they had had together, created together: I.M.P.

A partnership. A friendship.

A fucking chaotic, toxic, complicated friendship, yes, but a friendship nonetheless... That's what they were supposed to be after so long together, right?

Moxxie had undoubtedly been his best employee. Not only did he have an abysmal and encyclopedic knowledge of weapons, how they worked and always keeping them at the ready, but he was also almost an artist at using them. Blitzø was damn good at using guns, (like everything else he did, of course...), but fuck, Blitzø'd seen Moxxie hit targets almost without looking and at almost 1500 yards away, to grabbing twin pistols on the fly with his back turned to start blowing secret agents' skulls off in a matter of seconds... But Blitzø also knew that he could count on Moxxie, as much as he could count on Millie, for anything... Because despite the bad times, they had always stuck together...

...And now it looked like it would never be that way again.

And all because he'd been a piece of shit. Because he was, even if Stolas told him he wasn't.

Because yes, he had been.

Blitzø stood in the silence of the elegant living room, covering his face with his hands, with his lover wrapping his arm around his shoulders, still ululating softly, letting him know that he was there, that he wasn't leaving his side.

Moxxie could barely move a muscle. He moved practically none, stiff as a stake, like a blood-soaked sword sunk in the tall grass, like his own tail when Millie told him it was time to punish his ass with a new dildo she bought. His breathing was tiny, as he squeezed off the six rounds of bullets he'd added to a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun he'd had to give a good going-over, shattering the fragile angel-shaped target in a matter of seconds...

Striking dumb the group of thuggish imps who were summoned by him to that shooting range for the weapons giveaway with a free demonstration.

It had been Moxxie's idea to summon them there. Not only to avoid that, after some altercation that might happen, his apartment wouldn't be affected... After all, he was dealing with thugs, even if Moxxie could defeat them with relative ease; but also was an opportunity to give them a demonstration that the repaired and rigged weapons were working well.

...And since Moxxie was at the shooting range, he could practice a little before returning home.

Earlier that day, as he was preparing a shotgun for delivery, its owner, a large, overweight imp, had looked at him with disdain and distrust.

"...And you say this is ready? Because I still see the same piece of crappy iron full of rust... Will it be able to shoot something before it falls apart completely so I don't have to pay you for such a crappy job?"

Moxxie glared at him. One thing he hated was to have the quality of his work questioned in such a rude and obnoxious way, just as that obese imp just did... He sighed, taking a deep breath to calm himself and faced the fat imp with the sneering expression.

"...I can assure you that it is restored to the best of its ability. If you want, I can prove it to you with a test on that moving target in the background... All six rounds, in three seconds." Moxxie assured him without hesitation. The obese imp arched his eyebrows.

"...Oh well, I've got nothing else to do. It'll be fun to watch that thing explode in your little claws after the first shot, like a cartoon. And just for more laughs, I'll pay you what I said: my little safe with my wife's jewelry... because I knew you wouldn't be able to fix a shit."

Moxxie said nothing, just nodded and walked towards the moving target in the background, shaped like an Exterminator. It was one of the most difficult targets within that obstacle course, certainly made for experts shooters mostly. For the bullet holes in the wood and metal figure had hardly any holes in it... Which were in the middle of its crotch.

The conversation between the two attracted attention among some onlookers, many of them clearly delinquents and hooligans. Some chuckled at the sight of the scrawny little imp in the ridiculous red bow tie holding a huge shotgun, much too big for him... And others decided to bet a little.

"I'll bet 5 souls that he hits anything other than the bull's eye."

"I'll bet 10 that he drops it before the first shot."

Moxxie barely listened to them. He was too focused on aiming, on calculating the wind speed to find the perfect moment to start unloading the cartridge... All the while thinking about preparing a nice lasagna dish with a vegetable and meat filling for his Millie; He was thinking about what vegetables he was going to use to make it soft and juicy when he emptied the cartridge... in less than three seconds, almost completely shattering the hard acetate head. Shutting the fat imp's mouth, as well as some of the hooligans present.

Only a few veteran shooters who frequented the field smiled with understanding. The little snowy-haired imp already had a certain good reputation.

Moxxie barely turned around and smiled at the obese imp, who could barely settle his jaw after simply gawking, standing there with a dumb look on his face and not knowing where to put himself.

"...I guess those jewels are still in business, right? Anyway you gave me your address to pick it up if you didn't bring them with you today."

Less than an hour later, Moxxie had put away the day's earnings, which included some jewelry, a couple of credit cards and several bundles of crumpled but still useful soul bills; not to mention a few new gun orders... Now Moxxie was looking attentively at a red brochure that stood out on the rickety bulletin board of the camp, which had interested him quite a bit.

Among the ads for trading, buying and selling second-hand weapons, the typical angelic weapon scams, lists of lost items that were never going to be recovered, was a quest to form a throwing team for knives, axes, chainsaws and practically any sharp object... Moxxie was just excited.

"It will be something Millie will be very happy about. She's been exhausted from work," he said to himself, smiling sadly. "...And well, the situation at the office is still complicated..."

Moxxie couldn't stop his mind from wandering to Blitzø. Thinking about what he might be doing since that night he went to stalk them. Until then, the only sign of life he'd received from his ex-boss was Millie's brief comments, though she often preferred to skip that... As well as a deleted message from an unknown number... Which Moxxie knew was Blitz's. Something told him so...

...And as if it was a sick joke from fate or some cosmic entity that was bored and just wanted to watch drama, a portal all too familiar to the thespian sniper opened at one end of the field, startling some of the few shooters still there practicing, making them raise their weapons at his direction.

Moxxie could barely move a muscle. He was practically not moving a muscle at the sight of none other than his former boss appearing from the other side of the portal. Moxxie's first thought would have been to think that he had simply made a mistake and landed there...

...But the former circus imp was staring right at him. Right at him. With a conflicted expression and his arms crossed. Walking towards where he was.

And as if on an implied signal, the other shooters turned away, focusing on their own business.

Moxxie didn't know where to put himself. He had for a moment the absurd idea that Blitz had made a mistake and would go back the way he came, or if Moxxie stood still or averted his gaze in another direction, Blitzø wouldn't notice him... But he couldn't. Deep down he always knew that this would happen at some point.

With a tight lump in his throat and in his stomach, the sniper stood there, rigid, almost cowering on his hooves... Waiting for the crash to happen sooner or later.

Blitzø planted himself in front of him, smiling a crooked, mocking smile, the ones he always had.

"...Hey, Mox. What's up?"

"...Oh, nothing. I just... Just..."

Moxxie didn't know what to say either. A lot of times he had imagined a similar scene, where Moxxie would finally confront Blitz, where he would throw in his face all the shit Blitz had been doing for years... And now that he had him in front of him, Moxxie felt deflated. As if he had to justify his violent outburst and resignation... He sighed, stowing his weapons in his guitar case.

"...Just making a few deliveries."

"Yeah, looks like you got some good green shit there, and a couple of admirers... Well, Millie better watch out then, she's gonna have some stiff competition to keep your ass for her." Blitzø replied with his usual sexual crudeness, but Moxxie was unaffected this time... Not when he knew that underneath all his bravado there was something he was hiding, even if Blitz was avoiding his gaze while lighting a cigarette.

"...I guess. And since you're around, where's Millie? And Loona?"

"Finishing an assignment in Tibet or some shit like that, what do I know? There's been so many hits I can't remember the details." Blitzø replied, taking a long puff. "...And for me? I was just taking a break from the hits, there have been many, many these past weeks... Uff, sometimes I could use an extra pair of hands, you know?"

Moxxie just stared at him. He might have been surprised by his ex-boss' blatant brazenness with that too direct hint, if he didn't know him well enough... Or what Blitz had let him know in all his scathing hermeticism, to know that, just as Moxxie thought, they were hiding something underneath all those insults... So instead of becoming enraged at being so rudely alluded to, Moxxie drew himself upright in all his lowly stature, and replied serenely:

"...Well, I see that, even though you say there's been a lot of killing to do these past few weeks, you still make time to rest, breathe a little, relax the mind... You do well, Blitz. I'm happy for you."

...It was as if the little sniper had jabbed him hard. Blitzø threw the still half-consumed cigarette into the parched grass, glaring at him with a rage so intense as to kill him, like a basilisk. His eyes were almost sparkling, his claws were trembling... But Moxxie didn't back down, staring back at him...

...For he also saw sorrow and sadness in those eyes lit up with anger and frustration

"Do you think so, you little shit?! Of course you can see it with the fucking bags on my sexy face from being exhausted! Of course you can see it, with your darling wife treating me like shit and ignoring me which fucking sticker on the wall, because I know so damn well that she tells you everything that happens in the office right?! I'm sure it's funny to see me like this, right?! After you left, everything at I.M.P. it went to fucking shit, we can't keep up with cleaning and organizing weapons, the budget never works out, the coffee tastes like fucking dirty water because I have no fucking idea what mixture you got out of your ass to make it taste so fucking good, and...! And...!"

"...Blitz, you know I always buy the coffee at the corner store. I passed the brand on to you a while back," Moxxie replied softly, inwardly moved by the pitiful way Blitz was breaking down more and more, letting out what was well buried under a hard crust of bad attitude...

He decided to get his former boss out of the predicament he had gotten himself into, smiling sadly.

"...You're not here to breathe a little, are you? So... what do you really want, Blitz?"

...Blitzø again looked at him as if Moxxie had jabbed him again, this time in a very sensitive spot. Gritting his teeth, the former circus imp glared at him, as if he wanted to unload a storm of insults even worse than the ones he had once hurled at him in the office, but...

"...Are you fucking slow, Mox?! Don't you know that?! Of course you know that, if you're standing there with almost a shit-eating grin, seeing that I feel like shit inside and out since you left...! Well, that's what you did, you walked out after all the shit I've told you...! That I made you!" exclaimed Blitzø in a strangled voice, as if struggling between letting it all out and continuing to deny it because of his stupid pride and his traumas, many of them still unresolved. "...Because I know, I fucking know I've dumped a lot of shit on you, just because I could, because it was easy and fun to piss you off, because maybe I'm fucking jealous of you, because I'm angry that you don't want me to be a part of your life and I just wanted to get even somehow...! And how did it end, by making you walk away from me like I do with everything else in my fucking life, like Fizz, Verosika, Stolas... Barbie!

Each and every one of the names of those who had been a constant in Blitzø's life and he had blurted out in a painful string, looking at his former employee with nothing but pure regret, regret and tears in his eyes, no longer giving a shit that others heard and saw him like this...

Just looking at the almost unfathomable face of Moxxie, who had her eyes shining from the tears that were slowly being let out...

"...And as if it was a fucking collection, now there's you and Mills too, all because of memacting like an asshole, all for making a mistake become almost a fucking unforgivable sin, like Millie and Loona have thrown in my face, making me feel just like I did to you...! So that's why I'm here, acting like a whiny bitch, as I've always called you, to... To...!" Blitzø exhaled deeply, swallowing hard. "...To get you to let yourself go just like I did. And throw what a piece of shit I am in my face... because that's what I was when I lost my gunsmith, my best employee... And... well, my... my Fri... Frien..."

In the midst of his near stuttering, Blitzø fell silent as he felt Moxxie's much smaller but oh-so-talented claws grasping his. At another time, Blitzø would have said if he was finally getting closer to his sexual fantasy with one of his employees... But now he was in a lump in his throat. And so was Moxxie.

"...Thank you, Blitz. You don't know how much I've wanted to hear you say that. And no, you're not a piece of shit... You made a mistake, just like I did. And you coming to fix the fuck-up, as you would possibly say, is good enough for me." Moxxie was smiling broadly, much to his chagrin. "...And if I'm honest, I've missed you quite a bit, even if it's your bad jokes."

"...My jokes aren't bad, I've seen you laugh at them, you damn liar!" exclaimed Blitzø almost laughing through the tears still falling from his eyes. "As if you could make good jokes anyway!"

"It's true. Musical comedy is not my forte." Moxxie admitted simply, sighing. Blitzø sighed as well, also relieved and exhausted.

"...Fuck, this was intense. And it had nothing to do with sex. I need to get all this sugar out of my system." Blitzø sat up and pulled out his phone, holding Moxxie's arm. "Come on Mox, we've got a shit-ton errands to run. We have to go kill a fat chef who poisoned his rival, and I need help moving that big fat ass so it looks like he choked on some sandwich or something. I'll figure it out..." He added starting to walk towards the exit of the range...

...But Moxxie turned away.

"No, Blitz."

Blitzø just stared at him, eyes wide as saucers, as if Moxxie had suddenly grown three heads... or had told a good joke. Had he said that...?

"What?! But... But... But I fucking apologized to you! And you accepted it!" Blitzø exclaimed, horrified. "In movies, on TV and in those stories made up on the Internet by people with wacky imaginations they'd always say that when apologies are accepted, everything goes back to normal, back to the way it was before...!"

"...Is that so, Blitz?" asked Moxxie with a frown, "Should everything really go back to the way it was before? Well, I still have some traumas and problems to deal with... Just like you do. And that environment at I.M.P. is not going to help me to solve them... And you know that."

"You want me to apologize again?!" Blitzø insisted, desperate. "Fine, I'll fucking do it, I'll make you second in command on all assignments from now on, I'll make you vice-president if you come back...!"

But Moxxie shook his head, grimacing, tightening his grip on his ex-boss.

"...No, Blitz. Don't do things just out of pure impulse and desperation. I accept your apology, but I'm not going back... I really like this new job, I feel calm and more confident, I can devote more time to the house... I feel at peace and I want to continue as long as I can... Please respect my decision."

...Blitzø felt deflated, desolate and with his shoulders slumped. This was not how he had expected this to end, but with him and Moxxie walking into the office, with Millie squealing with delight at being all together again and talking to Blitzø with the same bubbly attitude as always, with Loona rolling her eyes, saying that at last 'Fat Ass' was back to take away the overwork she had been doing... With Moxxie snarling in her direction and yelling that he wasn't fat, then passing everyone laughing, cutting to the end credits, as if it was some crazy cartoon from Internet...

Couldn't it end like that? Why couldn't it end like that?

...But just seeing the unwavering, unyielding, yet serene determination in the eyes of Moxxie, the only friend he'd had in a long time, Blitzø knew he couldn't force the little sniper to come with him, no matter how hard he tried. Because all the damage, verbal and emotional, that Blitzø had done to Moxxie from years ago was still there.

Sighing at last with resignation, Blitzø could only say:

"...But what would happen now?"

Moxxie bit his lip, lowering his gaze to the ground.

"...Well, you said you were taking a break from killing, right? We can go grab a beer at a bar near the range and just talk... It's been a long time since we've talked..."

...A slow smile formed on Blitzø's face.

"...Are you buying me a drink? Moxxie, may I remind you that you're married, you little rascal. After this, all that's left is for you to invite me to your apartment for a 'coffee'... And I'm not going to refuse ~" Blitzø replied with a flirtatious tone. The sniper just smiled, shaking his head. "...But seriously, thank you, Mox. I'm seriously sorry for fucking up in many things with you. And if I'm ever act as an asshole to you again..."

"...I'll know you're back to your old self." Moxxie concluded in a good and friendly way, leading his ex-boss and still friend out of the shooting range.

...

...

...Things certainly got better in the long run, even if it didn't seem so at first glance in the face of the seemingly permanent fragmentation within I.M.P. after Moxxie's 'retirement'. But it soon became clear that, in the end, it turned out to be a good thing for everyone.

Moxxie continued his 'independent' trade as a street gunsmith, offering his skills and extensive knowledge of weapons to anyone who asked, whether it was a harmless neighbor to a dangerous hooligans, even a couple of biker gangs, all pleased with his speed and efficiency. His main source of interaction with his clients were the shooting ranges and parks to deliver their guns and charge them what was agreed upon, also doing some exhibition shooting to show them that their restored guns were working well, as well as not losing their reflexes...

...As well as watching and cheering on his beloved Millie when she had a training session or a knife and axe throwing competition between various surrounding neighborhoods, watching her from the stands as Moxxie went about his business, shouting and cheering enthusiastically the moment Millie would violently throw her heavy battle axe with the lightness of a feather, with her surprising the others by the sheer strength she had... with her always looking at her husband clapping her hands and exclaiming praise in her direction, warming her heart even more than was possible, filled with pure love for that little imp.

While Millie had finally accepted that this would possibly be life from now on, she didn't deny that even deep down it still hurt to be separated from her beloved Moxxie for eight hours a day... but also, deep down, she felt calmer and freed from her husband's 'shadow' during the workday, being able to devote herself to her own efforts and accomplishments...

...And she wasn't going to deny it, she couldn't wait to get her claws on her beloved husband the moment it was closing time at I.M.P., bidding Blitzø farewell with the same warmth as before, having already forgiven him as well.

The situation at I.M.P. itself also improved.

With Stolas giving his absolute and public support to his lover and now boyfriend, Blitzø was able to incorporate some help in the company, mostly because of an Octavia who was looking to improve her magical and fighting skills while deciding what to do later in life... Something that certainly helped improve Loona's bad mood a lot, furious that seeing that Moxxie didn't want to return to I.M.P., she would still have to work more besides being a (lazy) receptionist who plays with her phone all day long.

With Stolas' help, Blitzø was able to manage his finances and budget a little better. He still spent on nonsense from time to time, but not as much as before. He was still the one who took care of the weapons with Millie's help... but he knew deep down that none of them could handle that issue better than Moxxie.

...Although Moxxie was no longer part of the assassination team, he was still part of I.M.P. in a way... And not only by being invited alongside with the others to the human world from time to time, mostly to Stolas's beach houses in private islands.

When he didn't have assignments pending, Moxxie would sometimes visit the office during the middle of the day, mostly to visit with Millie and give her a little gift or food before he left for the shooting range. He also stayed to talk to Blitzø like old friends, who had toned down the insults a bit at the sniper's expense, but was still the same foul-mouthed, eccentric imp he had always been...

...From time to time Blitzø couldn't help but drop hints that he wanted to rehire Moxxie, saying that despite the improvement, I.M.P. wasn't the same without him...

And whenever it happened, Moxxie would shake his head and say with a soft voice and a small smile:

"...Maybe someday, Blitz."

END

...

And we made it to the end. Thank you for the overwhelming reception this little bastard earned. It makes me feel like I'm doing well to step out of my comfort zone from time to time.

Now yes, to the point. This was as much an indictment of Blitzø's lousy treatment of Moxxie as a boss in the series, something that is virtually never of consequence, as it was an attempt at humanization. Also consider it a vent to that fucking sentence that I couldn't turn a blind eye to... Which in the end is just the tip of the iceberg.

No one deserves that kind of treatment from a boss like that. It wears you down, it bores you, it frustrates you... And although money rules in a job, years stuck in call centers that undermined my mental health to the lowest point (hospitalization and 'attempts'), made me aware that peace of mind will always be more important, in the long run.

See you in other stories,

ShadeReilly (Bogota, 2023)