Big Trouble In Little Wrath Chapter 1: Number One Girl

A young succubus weaved through the crowds polluting the sidewalks. She wore a long, baggy duster coat that reached her knees, the heavy canvas stained and tattered, patched with mismatched swatches of fabric. She kept her head down as she navigated the unending tide of Sinners and Hellborn, a beige flat cap on her head, eyes hidden under its visor. Suitably wretched-looking, few paid her any mind beyond reflexively avoiding her, if they even noticed her that much. She walked up the sidewalk, coming up on a young doberman busker belting out Swallowtail Jig on a stained, chipped fiddle. The lad of perhaps 12 years noticed her approach and layed on a few syrupy notes of greeting, winking. She shot him a look from under her cap. His tall ears twitched backwards towards the alley behind him as he continued to play. She subtly shifted her stride, pulling into the alley where a trail of breadcrumbs trailed through the middle, surrounded by filth.

A commotion sounded up the street. A pair of garishly dressed Sinners, a burly bug-eyed creature resembling a lemur followed by a steampunk female cyborg dressed only in baggy parachute pants, her chest covered by suspenders, hurried down the sidewalk, shoving pedestrians out of the way.

"Thieving little bitch!" Growled the lemur-demon. "She ducked into that alley!"

"Kick her ass, Roux!"

They stormed by the busker, kicking the violin case out of the way, causing it to disgorge the bills and coins across the sidewalk. They skidded to a stop outside the alley, finding it empty. They grumbled and strode in, carefully, looking about for the offending Hellborn.

"Careful, Roux," said the cyborg, the metal-ringed lens that was her left eye whirring as it scanned. "Heard these brats sometimes got Sinners working with them, jumping folk in alleys."

Roux sniffed the air, picking up the little shit's cheap perfume among the filth. "Picking up anything, Abraxas?"

"Nothing. No one." Abraxas said, eye scanning. "Chem trail ends here. It's like she just vanished…"

They walked a little ways further in, not noticing the glowing, ephemeral breadcrumb trail on the ground. The sound of clinking coins and crinkling bills drawing their attention to the mouth of the alley. The hellhound busker was busy collecting his spilled wares and dumping them in his case.

"Hey!" Roux barked, marching over to him. "Where'd she go, mutt!?"

"Who?" The busker said, not looking up from his collecting.

Roux grabbed him by the scruff, lifting the comparatively tiny pup off the ground. "That fuckin' ringscraper brat who ran in here!"

"What? Today?" The busker deftly set his bow on his fiddle's strings. "I 'unno. Lotta ringscraper brats runnin' around nowadays."

"Bullshit!" Abraxas snarled, sweeping out from behind her burly companion. "Don't think we don't know you little street rats are working together! Running around stealing from honest folk!"

"I dunno about any of that, man, I'm just a musician," said the busker, shrugging. "But if I see any honest folk, I'll tell 'em to keep an eye out."

"Brat!" Abraxas hissed, elbowing the lemur-demon. "Hey, why don't we show this little shit what we do with smartass ringscrapers around here!"

"Hard to play your little fiddle with broken fingers!" Roux sneered.

"Whoa, now! No need for that," The busker said as he raised his violin, bow on the string. "How about instead of tuning me up, I play ya a tune?"

"Wha–"

The fiddle crooned as he slashed the bow across the G string, producing a quick, clean note. Roux's barrel chest cratered somewhat as an invisible force smashed into him. The Sinner grunted and hurtled backwards through the air, into the street, where he was promptly carried off on the front of a speeding truck.

"Whuh…" Abraxas muttered, looking back and forth between the hellhound and the busy street. "How?"

The busker grinned maniacally and played a series of shrieking notes on the E-string. The Sinner flinched as she felt the air rush in front of her in nine sharp whistles. The remains of her suspenders fluttered in the air like confetti, sliced cleanly by some invisible force. She looked down as her pants fell to the ground with a muted 'thud'.

"Guh-huh-huh… boobies…" Her eyes snapped back up to the busker, who smiled pleasantly and waved at her. "Buh-bye."

The Sinner's nerve broke. She hurriedly collected her pants off the ground and took off down the sidewalk. The busker rattled off a crisp 'shave and a haircut, two bits', the Sinner jumped as each note pelted her rump with whiplike cracks as she ran, yelping like a beaten dog. With that done, he packed up his fiddle into its case and made for the alleyway, bowing deeply as though to applause as he approached the breadcrumb. An instant later and he was gone.

Setty puffed on a cigarette as she peeled out of her 'wretched streetrat' costume. Ever since she and her Carriage House Kids joined Acquisitions, they had slowly but surely shifted the 'I live in filth and squalor' look the kids were encouraged to promote into more of a costume and less 'we actually are that filthy'. Their clothes were washed and intentionally dirtied with soot and coffee rather than whatever they accumulated over long weeks of walking the dirty streets. Their scummy, grimy looks and smells were now accomplished with make-up and strategic application of filth to their costumes, as opposed to being au naturale. It sure made the truck rides in the stifling boxtrucks a sight more bearable.

She watched silently as the other kids picked over her haul. Eight wallets, four phones, a tablet, a fancy cigarette case (dibs), and a small fortune in watches, rings, and jewelry. Or, it would be a small fortune of any of them were genuine and not polished crap. The assessors back at the 'Donna would be the judges of that.

She sighed out a cloud of smoke. Another day, another patrol. Picking pockets was hardly exciting or glamorous when one could literally ghost through a person and steal their lunch if they wanted to. She'd actually done that a few days ago, when some bitch in the Cafeteria ate her french fries while she was grabbing a pudding. Reached into her stomach when her back was turned and harmlessly squirreled the secondhand fries away in a baggy, stuffing the vomit-smelling shit into the thief's shoes the next morning.

"Nice haul, Setty!" One of the kids, a scrawny 10-year-old imp named Hanzel said, grinning a gap-toothed grin. "This gotta be, like, three kid's worth! 'Specially these watches and stuff! They look real fancy!"

"They're supposed to look fancy," she grumbled, unmoved by the kid's honest admiration. "We'll have to wait until we get back before we know."

"Most kids would be grinning ear-to-ear to come back with a haul like this," muttered the other kid, a 13-year-old shark-lad named Barrel. "I mean, shit, we could all call it a day right now if you were willing to share."

Setty rolled her eyes. Barrel was a remora, a fish-like species of Hellborn native to Greed, of course he'd want a cut for essentially being her loot-counter. "Three-way split, then. Knock yourself out."

"What? Really?" Hanzel exclaimed, beaming, his huge eyes wide. "Oh, thank you, Setty! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"A pleasure to be of service," said Barrel, counting out a swathe of bills and stuffing them in his pocket. "Yo Hanzel, where do you wanna go first? Candy store or arcade?"

Hanzel giggled and clapped. "Candy! Candy! Candy! I'm gonna eat chocolate 'til I puke–oop, hold on. Barkley's comin'."

The breadcrumb nearest to them flared and an instant later the doberman hellhound was standing next to them, a sour look on his face. He wordlessly reached into his pocket and produced a full sack, dumping bills and coins onto the loot-pile. Hanzel and Barrel wasted no time setting upon the money, sorting and stacking the various bits into rolls and stacks. He reached into his many other pockets and tossed an assortment of wallets and phones onto the pile.

"Not bad, not bad…" Barrel said, counting a stack of 10 $oul bills before wrapping and stuffing it into the bag. "Even with a four-way split, we're all getting exceeding quota bonuses!"

"Coulda made more," grumbled Barkley, shooting Setty an acid look. "If someone didn't lead a pair of Sinners right to me! Way to leave me hanging, Setty!"

"You were fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Cleaned their clocks, didja?"

Barkley smirked, polishing his claws on his lapel, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. "I've dropped harder shits. Those Fallers didn't stand a chance against my [CeeLo Green]!"

The air behind him shimmered as an insectoid entity appeared behind him, its green carapace shiny and metallic. It was legless, floating on a smokey tail, in place of hands it had a pair of chrome tuning forks. Setty rolled her eyes at his candor; [CeeLo Green] had basic stats, not particularly strong or durable, but fast when defending its user. The real kicker of the thing was its tuning forks, anything it touched with them became an extension of Barkley's will, or rather, the sounds said object produced did. The cleaner the sound, the greater variety of vectors he could form with it, the more complex the sounds the finer his control, and the louder the sound the more power he could impart. In the hands of a skilled busker like Barkley, that dinky little fiddle could solve a rubix cube, pick a lock, or crush a car like a pop can, all from twenty paces away. He could also project his Stand to anywhere his sounds could reach, allowing him to explore the interior of places, seeing through its eyes, but only while he was playing.

'My scout and back-up muscle,' thought Setty.

"You're so cool, Barkley!" Exclaimed Hanzel before pouting, ruefully eyeing up the pair of tiny ghostly figures as they appeared on his shoulders. "I wish [Black Forest] was as cool as yours…"

"Aw, shaddup Hanzel!" Barkley chuckled, scritching the imp between his goat-horns. "Those breadcrumbs of yours have pulled our asses outta the fire more times'n we can count!"

It was true. The little beings looked unimpressive, certainly, appearing as male and female imp Hummel figurines with ratty burlap rucksacks on their backs. They had almost no combat abilities as they were about as strong and durable as, well, a 6-inch-tall porcelain imp. But they could roam far and wide, mentally commanded by their user with, as far as Setty knew, no limit as to range. Speed-wise, they were nothing special, though over short distances their movements were almost instantaneous, like scuttling insects. No, where the little shits truly shone were their breadcrumbs; each Hummel carried with it a patchy burlap rucksack that would reliably drop a breadcrumb every two meters. With this, Hanzel could freely and instantaneously move anything within a two-meter radius of the crumbs to any point along the trail. Instant backtracking.

Setty smiled at the adorable little imp. 'My getaway driver.'

"Yeah? Well! My [Device] is pretty cool, too!" Barrel scoffed, brimming with envious bravado as a humanoid figure appeared behind him, a mechanical being with thin pipe-like limbs, an ovoid cage-like torso, and a motorcycle helmet for a head. It mirrored his movements as he spoke. "It can do anything!"

"Pssh!" Barkley scoffed, waving off his bluster. "Please! What's your power again, Bucket? You can use stuff?"

Barrel rolled his eyes, turning his pointed snout up at the mocking hellhound. "No… it can use anything! This might be hard for a philistine like you to understand, but my [Device] can make anything it touches fulfill its purpose regardless of circumstances!"

A pause hung in the air.

Hanzel cocked his head to the side. "I don't get it."

"The fuck does that even mean?" Barkley said, incredulous. "Like, you can make things do stuff? Like, congrats, you got an extra set of hands!"

Barrel bristled, jabbing a finger at Barkley, [Device] comically mirroring his exaggerated gesticulations. "No, idiot, I can make things do what they're supposed to do even if they wouldn't otherwise! I touch a door, it opens even if it's locked. I pick up a phone, and I can call from it even if the battery's dead. Gimme a gun, and I can shoot it even if there're no bullets!"

'My lockpicker,' thought Setty.

"Wow!" Hanzel said, his big yellow eyes sparkling. "Really?"

"Well…" Barrel backtracked, clearing his throat. "I haven't tried the gun thing, but it's gotta work! It only makes rational sense!"

"So…" Barkley said, pointing to the frizzy mop of orange hair on Barrel's head. "Your hair's supposed to look like that?"

Barrel blinked, an affronted blush forming on his sharkish snout. "Sh-shut up!"

Barkley smiled wolfishly, eyes glinting in amusement. "So, when you're crankin' it, do you just (blows raspberry) nut right away? Oh, wait, that was before you got your Stand."

Hanzel giggled and turned to Setty, whispering conspiratorily. "What's 'nut'?"

Setty smiled warmly at Hanzel, patting him on the head. "Shut up."

"Fuck you!" Barrel snarled, bearing his fangs, hands balling into fists. "I won't be insulted like this!"

"Wassamatter, Bucket?" Barkley sneered, pulling out his violin. "Huwt yer widdle feewings? Gonna do something about it or are ya just gonna cry?"

[Device] squeezed its knobby hands into fists, ready to strike, as [CeeLo Green] loomed over Barkley, his bow on the strings.

"Hey." Came a low, commanding voice. "Shut up."

Both boys froze, turning to Setty. She was just standing there, examining her nails, when a glowing, polishing gauntlet shimmered into existence over her hand and forearm. She looked up from her metal talons and locked them with an icy stare. "Don't make me come over there."

Both immediately backed away, their Stands dissipating like a fart in the wind. Setty pointed at Barkley, who pouted and turned to Barrel, not making eye contact. "I was just memeing. Your Stand is cool. Sorry, Barrel."

"Oh yeah? How cool?" Barrel puffed out his chest and crossed his arms, smiling smugly. His smirk vanished when Setty pointed to him, snapping her fingers and beckoning, his bravado almost audibly deflating. "Yeah. It's fine. Apology accepted."

Setty crossed her arms. "Hug."

"Setty, c'mon–"

Her rose eyes narrowed, aura glowing like platinum fire. The boys groaned and shuffled towards each other, pulling one another into a flaccid, unenthusiastic embrace.

"Now kiss."

The pair looked at one another and grimaced for a moment before puckering up, reluctantly leaning in. Before their lips could touch, Setty cackled and shook her head. "I'm just fuckin' with ya. There. All sorted out now?"

The boys broke apart like repulsing magnets, blushing and petulant. "Yes…"

"Good!" She said, walking around them and setting her arms over their shoulders, pulling them in close. "Because I've got a job for you."

Barrel and Barkley's eyes widened as their shoulders pressed into the soft swell of her generous bosom, instantly blushing scarlet and answering in unison. "Y-you do?"

"Yep!" She said, beckoning Hanzel over with her tail. "You too, munchkin! Get in here!"

"Yaaaaay!" Hanzel cheered, rushing over and wrapping his arms around her slender waist. "Group hugs!"

"What're you planning, Setty?" Barkley said, still blushing. "How can we help?"

"Oh, y'know," she said, pointing up at the towers looming over the alley they were in. "How about a field trip to Little Wrath?"


The four walked the streets, the pedestrians slowly but surely becoming more and more well-dressed, fancier. The cars got nicer, too, newer and more elaborately customized. They were close.

The 'town' was actually a district of Pentagram City that surrounded a series of intersecting and overlapping overpasses that formed a sort of choke point for valuable traffic. A cabal of enterprising Hellborn had seized the opportunity to set up a series of motels, brothels, and restaurants throughout it to skim cash from the traffic overflow. These same enterprising creatures then petitioned various Overlords and gangs to help them enforce a series of toll booths around the area to further control the flow of traffic and squeeze even more money from the captive drivers. They were successful and Little Wrath was born. So called for its high population of imps, the place was hardly a slum. Skyscrapers and highrises poked up from between the overpasses, a small but prosperous city growing up like a fungal colony from the shadows of the tangle of highways held aloft on immense concrete pillars. Even with the Overlords enforcing the toll booths demanding 80% of the profits, the sheer amount of traffic allowed a standard of living here unthinkable to almost anyone in Imp City.

Setty marched onwards, the younger kids trailing behind her like ducklings, looking about, gawping at the wealth on display.

"So fancy…" Hanzel murmured, his big eyes shining.

"I dunno about this, Setty…" said Barrel, a worried crease on his brow. "Should we even be here?"

"Shaddup," growled Setty. "We're close."

No, they shouldn't be here. In fact, Kabby had been very keen to point out that they were to give this district a wide berth. The crusty old imp hadn't bothered to explain why not. Sure, this place was fancy, but who here could stop them?These imps were all fat and happy, soft, and their Faller masters wouldn't give shit-one about a few houses getting cleaned out! And even if they did, what could even they do to stop them? The 'Donna was slowly but surely turning into a force to be reckoned with, an army. Even mediocre Stands like [Device] could tune the average Sinner like a piano. Its unimpressive strength and speed offset by the fact that, barring Seraphim Steel, there was fuck all the Sinners could do to harm the Stand while it defended its user. Not that they could let their guards down, mind. Higher-end Sinners were crafty, vicious, with strange powers and expensive gear, but the growing sentiment among the 'Donna's Stand Users was that even with all that there were few threats they couldn't handle! Besides, if anything too spicy came along, they had an ace in the hole: Red Nightmare.

Red swatted full-on Ganglords like bugs, and could even snarl at the Vees and make them back down! If they had Red Nightmare in their corner, the 'Donna couldn't lose!

Setty frowned. 'We got Red, alright… all of us…'

Red and Syx had been getting close. Hardly buddy-buddy, but she could still see it. Red would trust Syx with coordinating patrols and heists, with security and interventions, while he handled other affairs. And while Syx was essentially running the operation, she was walking the streets, picking pockets and locks like she was just some other kid! A queer, bitter envy swelled up within her. Sure, she didn't know the game like Syx, where and when and from whom to expect trouble et al, and he certainly had a stronger rapport with the Acquisition Kids but… she was there first. With Red. She was the first kid he blessed! She was his Number One Girl! She didn't hold it against Syx, he was the 'Donna's Golden Boy, after all, but he hardly demurred from Red's attention. Quite the opposite, in fact. The boy seemed invigorated by the older man's faith, his trust, his attention. He'd even started walking like the Sinner, upright and swaggering, a development that would have been cute if it didn't feel like he was stepping on her tail with every step.

She shook her head, willing away the bitterness. Syx wasn't the enemy. Syx was her friend, her companion, her…

Setty grit her teeth as she felt a blush begin to warm her cheeks. No! None of that. Had to stay focused. She was on the job. This was her chance! After this job, Red would understand. He would see she was ready, capable, and willing. Sure, Kabby would stomp and fume and seethe at her insubordination, but if she came back with the haul she was expecting, the crabby old imp's geckering would be drowned out by thunderous applause. She'd picked her team and picked it well, their powers perfectly suited to the task, and with her at the helm it would go off without a hitch. Red would see she had the stuff to run this stable, just like Syx. Maybe even moreso! Syx was the Golden Boy, stolid and dependable, but he didn't take risks, didn't swing for the bleachers and as such reaped few rewards. After this, Red would see that his Golden Boy could stand to learn a thing or two from his Number One Girl.

Red would understand. He would flash her that wicked, toothy smile and she'd see herself in his big green eyes. He'd playfully tousle her hair as he was so fond of doing. Pat her on the shoulder, maybe? Give her a hug, even! Those big, strong, warm hands, hands that could rend steel like it was paper, would hold her with firm but gentle pressure. His arms around her… his lips on hers…

"Uh, Setty?"

Setty jumped when a finger tapped her shoulder, rudely pulling her from her admittedly confusing flight of fancy. Kissing Red? Ridiculous! Why would she ever even think about such a thing? The thought should have repelled her, disgusted her, as such things often did. No one who wanted to do those things with her could be a good person, after all. And Red was a good person. Why would a good person even think about her like that? They wouldn't. Simple as.

"Hey, Setty?"

Oh right. "W-what?"

She turned to see Barkley, his ears forward, head cocked and expression curious. "We gettin' close? This place gives me the bristles."

She looked around, her stupid intrusive thoughts had actually made her lose track of where they were. They were in a neighborhood, a nice one, with tall, fancy apartments lining the street. They were there.

"We're here," she said, gesturing for them to follow. "C'mon."

"You okay, Setty?" Asked Barrel. "You look, uh, flush."

"Yeah!" Chirped Hanzel, smiling blithely. "You're blushin' super hard!"

She hiked up the collars of her duster coat, scowling. "Shaddup and follow me!"

The four set off down the street, not noticing the trio of Sinners tailing them from a distance.

They walked slowly up the sidewalk as Barkley played a cover of 'Numb' by Linkin Park on his fiddle, Hanzel holding out a baggy hat and smiling to passersby, getting the occasional toss of coins.

"Linkin Park?" Barrel muttered. "Really?"

"Shaddup, Bucket," grunted Barkley, continuing to play. "It's note-heavy and has good flow. Gives me the best control."

"It's lame."

"You're lame."

"Stow it, both of you!" Setty hissed. "Any candidates?"

Barkley continued to play, [CeeLo Green] carried into the apartments on the soundwaves. The Stand moved through the walls, looking around, deftly avoiding occupants while scoping out the wares. Most of the people here were Hellborn, so there was a chance, however slim, that they could see its ghostly form. It peered through doors and into closets, its form fading commensurately with the soundwaves, barely able to interact with its surroundings the further inside the domiciles it went, but still able to see. It passed between apartments on muted notes of music. It peered into a bedroom where a pair of imps consummated their relationship, no doubt secure in their privacy considering how weird things were getting.

"Ooh~" Barkley cooed, smirking as a blush formed in his cheeks. "Tits up…"

"Barkley…" Setty growled, all too familiar with the expression on his face.

"Moving along," he said, [CeeLo Green] lingering for a good moment as it phased through the wall. "Whoa, that thing'll fit?"

"Barkley!"

"Alright, alright! Jeez!"

They continued along, making their way down the fancy neighborhood when Barkley stopped, ears perking up. "Hol' up. We got one!"

They came to a stop outside a rather nice-looking apartment complex, the stone steps leading up to the main entrance were clean, carved granite.

"Which one?" Setty asked, glancing about for anyone who might be watching.

"106," said Barkley, smirking. "Whole place is wired, though. Cameras, electric locks, Hextech, whole nine."

"I can handle that," said Barrel, smirking as he strode forward. "Just one touch and we're in."

"Keep it in your pants, Big Shoots," Setty said, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Barkley, can you cut the power to the security cameras?"

"Just a sec." He leaned on the sharp notes of the song for a few beats, nodding. "Done-zo."

"Good stuff," said Setty, turning to Hanzel, who was biting what looked to be a doubloon. "We good, kid?"

"Huh?" Hanzel turned to her, confused. "Was I supposed to be puttin' down crumbs?"

A pause hung in the air as the other three gawped at the little imp, who stared back, his confused expression shifting into a mischievous smile, [Black Forest] clambering onto his shoulders and waving at them. "Kidding!"

The three sighed and chuckled, Setty shook her head and pat Barrel on the shoulder. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Barrel smirked and swaggered forward, the others in tow. [Device] flared to life and approached the door. The Stand reached out and touched the card reader and the mechanism clunked as the lock unlatched. The four strode into the apartment complex's empty lobby. A far cry from the dingy, dilapidated hog-lots they were used to plundering, this place was decked to the nines. The wallpaper was clean, the patterns still visible with nothing in the way of stains or peeling, the corners lined with carved wooden moldings, even the light fixtures had those fancy little glass dressings that made them look like flowers!

"Phwoo~" Barkley whistled. "Preh-tee swank!"

"Don't even stink at all…" Hanzel marveled, touching the wallpaper. "An' they even gots stuff on the walls."

"Why don't we knock over more places like this?" Barrel mused, reaching up to touch a light fixture.

"Good question." Setty grumbled, slapping his hand away from it. "Barkley, where's the place?"

"Third down the hall on the right," he replied, pointing. "It's got a framed photo of a guitar on the door."

They quietly strode down the hall, finding the guitar-door. Setty noticed the warning sign on the jamb, a little graphic showing a cartoon imp being zapped by a flurry of runes. "It's Hex-guarded. Anyone who touches this door without a pass-pendant gets juiced. Think you can handle this, Barrel?"

They all turned to Barrel, who fidgeted, a far cry from the confident swaggering whelp who walked through the front door. "Uh, s-sure I can! My [Device] can do anything!"

"You can do this, right?" Barkley said, skeptically. "Like, you've handled Hextech before?"

"Sure I have!" Barrel exclaimed before clearing his throat. "L-like on phones and car doors and stuff… B-but it's all the same in principle! It's function is to keep folk out, but also to let the right one in! I can do it, I just gotta… get the purpose right."

Barkley and Setty exchanged glances, with her impatiently nodding at the door. Barkley smirked and shrugged, stepping aside and gesturing at the door. "Have at 'er, Bucket."

Barrel licked his dry lips and approached the hexed door, his [Device] mirroring his anxious posture as they reached for the handle. "I got this… I got this…"

[Device] reached out and tapped the door, the runes and sigils flaring as Barrel grabbed the doorknob, his eyes squeezed shut as he braced for a shock.

Nothing happened.

"Uh…" Barrel turned to the others, grinning despite the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Heh! S-see? I got this!"

"I knew you could do it!" Hanzel cheered, leaning over to Setty, whispering. "No, I didn't."

Barkley rolled his eyes, arms crossed. "You gonna open this bitch or are we gonna stand here all day?"

Barrel scowled at the sarcastic hellhound and [Device] touched the door, causing it to swing open despite the lock still being engaged. "You first, Your Majesty."

They strode through the open door, looking around, listening for any occupants. Hearing nothing, they proceeded.

Barkley cocked his head to the side, pointing at the pristine door jamb and then at the extended lock on the door. "Wait, if the lock was on, how come it didn't smash up the thing when it opened?"

"Because…" Barrel said, as though addressing a simpleton. "The purpose of a door is to open and close, not smash through door jambs." [Device] appeared from behind the door, pushing it closed, the lock passing through the frame like a phantom, the Hextech flaring back to life. "Remember what I said? [Device] makes things fulfill their purpose, regardless of circumstances."

"Okay…" Barkley sighed and rolled his head back on his shoulders. "…Yeah, that's pretty fuckin' cool."

Barrel grinned and nodded. "Thank you."

The apartment was nice, really nice. An open floor plan centered around a high-ceilinged living room with a full-sized kitchen situated underneath a mezzanine, access to which was achieved with a spiral staircase with two hallways leading to various rooms. An immense flatscreen TV took up much of the far wall, bracketed by two equally impressive column speakers with every conceivable make of entertainment systems populating the stand beneath it. The furniture was a matching set of two recliners, a semicircle couch with a glass-top table in the middle, and a chez lounge, all upholstered in pristine white leather. On the spotless walls were huge framed posters of a half-dozen Hell-famous bands and artists and thrice that number of framed platinum records and pictures of a short, portly imp standing with various celebrities.

"Huhn…" Setty grunted, looking up at what had to have been a life-size poster of Verosika Mayday, belting out lyrics into a microphone, her flawless red skin shining with sweat. Judging from her outfit and the composition of the band, the scene was from her 2021 Summer Tour 'Jackson Pollock Blacklight Bed Sheets', widely regarded as one of her wildest outings. "Good taste."

"So…" Barrel said, looking about. "What now?"

Setty sighed and rolled her eyes, pointing to Hanzel, who was searching for change between the couch cushions. "Grab something and bring it to Hanzel."

Hanzel stopped rooting, pointing to himself. "Me?"

"Yes, you. When we bring you stuff, you 'port it back to the muster point, near the trucks. Got it?"

"Oh?" Hanzel thought about this for a moment before smiling. "Oooh yeah! Yeah, I can do that! You're so smart, Setty!"

"So, like," said Barrel, still a little stunned at the fanciness of the place. "What do we grab?"

Setty grinned, lighting a cigarette. "Everything."


Kabby leaned up against the side of the truck, pawing at his hellphone. This day was just dragging along. Nothing terrible had happened, but nothing terribly interesting either. He supposed he should be thankful that nothing outrageous or dangerous was happening, but it also meant that the hours were dragging like rat's ballsack.

The telltale 'blip' of Hanzel's Stand sounded and a shadow cast over him. He looked up from his phone to see a two meter tall by four meter long flat screen TV looming over him.

"Whuh."

The TV, obviously wall-mounted, teetered forward on its rims, threatening to crush the imp. Kabby squawked, hands over his head as he braced for the incoming squashing. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes to see Red standing next to him, examining the gigantic flatscreen he was propping up.

"That's a big TV," he said, looking down at Kabby. "Where'd this come from?"

Kabby realized he was still bracing for a crushing, shooting into a straight-backed, unaffected posture. "Ahem! Dunno! It just kinda… blipped in."

"Blipped in?"

"Yeah, it's how Hanzel's Stand brings kids back–" Kabby stopped abruptly, eyes widening, groaning in exacerbation. "Oh, for the love of…"

Red propped the TV up against the side of the building, glancing back at Kabby. "What is it?"

Kabby thought back to that morning, how a certain smartmouthed someone insisted on picking out her own team for that day. "Oh, you impudent little bitch! I told her once, I told her a thousand times: no more burglaries!"

Further 'blips' sounded, one after the other, then more rapidly, as the sidewalk filled with random pieces of very, veryexpensive-looking items. Kabby yelped and jumped to the side as a huge column speaker appeared next to him, followed shortly by another one, then an expensive-looking knife set in a block, a video game console, a laptop, and on and on.

"What gives?!" Kabby exclaimed, holding up the knife set: Tartarus brand pattern-welded Wrath steel. "Who around here has shit this fancy?!"

"Around here? No one," said Red, his mouth twisting into a furious snarl as he looked to the skyline, to the skyscrapers of Little Wrath. "Setty…"


The kids had set upon the ritzy apartment with characteristic gusto. Their initial shock at the wealth on display gave way to the savage joy of plunder. Cutlery, plates, records, figurines, DVDs and gaming consoles, all were gathered up and brought to Hanzel and his breadcrumbs. Barrel and Barkley approached a glass case filled with polished gold musical awards of every variety. The boys chuckled, rubbing their hands together, grinning. [Device] effortlessly opened the display and coarsely shoved the shinies into a sack, hauling it back to their transporter, who was sitting on the couch, greedily shoveling hailfire-fruit icecream into his mouth with his bare hands, straight from the tub.

Setty sauntered about the living room, plucking records from the wall and placing them in a sack, stopping when she noticed that one of them – a platinum record of the band Wrathful Wrichard Wrelocations – was covering a wall-mounted vault. She smiled and called over Barrel, who opened the Hex-guarded safe with a touch. Inside were stacks of banknotes, deposit boxes full of gem-encrusted gold and platinum jewelry, and ancient arcane-looking geegaws. Barkley opened a polished wooden box, revealing an impossibly fancy jaw harp sitting on a purple velvet cushion.

Into the sack they went and off to the trucks.

Except for the jaw-harp, that went in Barkley's pocket.

What a haul.

Oh, what a haul!

The distinctive 'chuh-chack' of a shotgun sounded from the far side of the room. "Don't move. Not one of you."

They stopped and turned around to see a short, pudgy imp standing in the mouth of a hallway, in his hands was a pump-action 12-gauge shotgun. His jowly red face was scarlet with outrage, his expression that of disgust and triumph.

"Who are you?" He growled, advancing on them, the shotgun leveled squarely at Setty, who watched him with a cool, annoyed expression as the other kids backed away, their hands up. "You know what? I don't care. I'll tell you who you are: you're dead. All of you. Dead. Do you have any idea who I am?!"

Setty shrugged. "You're gonna have to tell me."

"Little bitch!" The rotund imp spat. "I'll have you know, I'm Kallis Konos, lead producer of Bael Recording Studios!"

"No way!" Barkley exclaimed, a huge reverent smile on his face. "Oh, man! You guys produced some of my favorite bands! I gotta tell ya, I liked the Chum Dumpsters before, but when they signed on with your studio, they–"

He was cut off by a shotgun blast punching a cantaloupe-sized hole into the ceiling, dusting the excited hellhound in plaster dust.

Kallis racked the spent round and pointed the business end of his 12-gauge at the four. "Always nice to meet a fan. You're still dead, by the way. I'm gonna have you little shits skinned alive and made into fucking furniture. Fucking parasites! Trash! How dare you break into real people's homes! It's filth like you that gives our people a bad name! Hell would be better off if you all just kept your worthless heads down and did what you were told! But no, you have to cause trouble, have shit in everyone's watering hole! I'm gonna–"

Hanzel sniffled, his eyes yellow dinnerplates as they welled with tears. "M'notta perrysite…"

"Shut up, you sniveling little cunt!" Kallis bellowed, a vein standing proud at his temple as he pointed the shotgun at the weeping child. "I'll give you something to fucking cry about!"

Hanzel's voice hitched and he began to bawl, tears spilling down his cheeks. Setty, Barrel, and Barkley looked up from their sobbing companion and turned to Kallis, an electric chill filling the air.

"Oh shit, little man," said Setty, coldly, her aura flaring to life like cerise and shimmering platinum fire. "You just fucked up real bad."

"Yeah…" Barrel growled, his pupils growing until his eyes were merciless black pits, his aura burning purple and red. "No one makes Hanzel cry but us!"

"Hey dude, I gotta ask, from one musician to another," said Barkley, his voice eerily calm as the air around him glowed with silver-streaked emerald flames, pulling the jaw harp out of his pocket. "Which hand do you fret with?"

"Wh-what…?" Kallis muttered, feeling the air turn sour, the pricking of static on his skin; his Hellborn eyes squinted, focused, beginning to see the mirage-like energy surrounding these peasants, the kids. "How… how are you doing that?"

The kids said nothing, setting off towards him, strange and horrible shapes materializing around and behind them.

"S-stay back!" Kallis cried, raising the shotgun. "I'm warning you!"

"Oh, you are? That's good of you," said Setty, stepping out to the head of the pack, her feet leaving the ground as something coalesced around her body. "Here, lemme say thanks."

Kallis squeaked and pulled the trigger. The shotgun roared fire and smoke. The air in front of the floating figure was a glittering blur as the double-ought buckshot clattered to the floor like marbles. Kallis' eyes bugged out of their sockets. Floating some three feet off the ground wasn't some succubus whelp, but a glowing, phantasmic figure clad head-to-toe in shining gothic armor, hovering despite not flapping its armored wings. The hellhound stepped forward, behind him was a phantasmal green insectoid monster, its reflective orange eyes as cold and pitiless as the red and silver glare of the young pup in front of it. He strummed the jaw harp and hummed a flawless melody, Kallis' trained ears recognized right away a flanging, multi-tonal rendition of the Chum Dumpster's debut hit 'Buddy, You're So Fucked'. The air in front of him buzzed like angry Greed-hornets, the shotgun in his hands twitching as though being tapped by hundreds of fingers. The weapon fell apart in his hands, the metal and wood disintegrating, cut to literal confetti, falling through his fingers.

Next was the remora boy, the mechanical monstrosity behind him reaching down and picking up one of the steel buckshot pellets, holding it out. "Gee. I wonder what the purpose of this could be?"

Kallis' nerve broke, spinning around on his hooves and scampering down the hallway, towards his panic room, wheezing and panting as his soft, pudgy body attempted to run for the first time in years. He reached the end of the hall, the Hextech door swinging open at his approach. He swung around the barrier, desperately pushing the hydraulically powered door, begging it to close faster.

[Device] balanced the buckshot on its finger, flexing its power. The iron ball streaked forward at 400 meters per second toward the closing steel vault. It swerved at the last moment, jinking to the left, slipping through the narrowing gap, bending around the door and slamming into the imp's shoulder. Kallis yelped in pain and reeled back, tumbling to the floor. The fat imp moaned and whimpered, clutching his gushing shoulder, black oily imp blood oozing from the wound. He looked up to see the armored figure pass through the heavily warded door as though it weren't there, looming over him.

"Wait! No!" he cried out, reaching into his pocket and throwing her a pair of car keys, which she caught. "Take it! Please, don't hurt me!"

She looked down at the bloody keys; recognizing the symbology of a Lamborghini. He could not see her smile so much as he felt it. She put two fingers to her forehead and shot him a sarcastic salute, phasing back through the sealed door. When he was sure they were gone, Kallis snarled unspeakably foul obscenities under his breath and got to his feet, reaching for the emergency phone on the wall. Dim, muted, musical buzzing could be heard and the phone crumpled, imploding as though suddenly in the deepest trenches of the Oceans of Envy. He squawked and scuttled backwards, pressing himself into the far corner, opting to not press his luck any further.


Setty exhaled as she pulled back from the door. Her [Titanium] could make short work of most materials, but Wrath Steel was always more onerous to push through, like walking through mud. An interesting detail regarding her Stand, she could phase anything, limbs, clothing, items, you name it, all without limit. But the second she 'submerged' herself, pushed her entire body through something, she couldn't breathe. It took her some time to figure out she simply could breathe whatever substance she was moving through, and the unpleasant suffocating sensation could be avoided by treating the experience like diving. Controlled breathing followed by a held breath, and she could stay inside any substance for as much as 2 minutes… provided she didn't move around much.

Eh, hardly a drawback for something as busted as intangibility.

She looked down the hall to see Barkley and Barrel moving through a flawless 'Donna dap, laughing and cheering.

"That was fuckin' badass, Bucket!" Barkley crowed, grinning as he turned to Setty. "Setty! You saw that thing turn, right?"

"Yeah," she said. "And it hit him, too. Guess you can shoot around corners, Barrel."

"What?! Oooh!" Barkley exclaimed, hands to his head before pointing at Barrel with both fingers. "You can aimbot?! Bucket! You're a fuckin' badass! Your Stand is busted!"

"I-it did? It is?" Barrel muttered, astonished. "I just, I dunno, told the bullet to be a bullet."

"And what's the purpose of a bullet?" Barkley cackled, shooting finger-guns. "Fuckin' fuckers the fuck up! Stone-cold badass!"

"Yeah, well…" Barrel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You shredding his shotgun into gun-mea with a jaw-harpl was pretty damn cool, too, y'know?"

"Whaaat?" Barkley scoffed, waving him off. "Psh! Basic. This harp here sounds so clean, I could jerk off a fruitfly from across the city! Fuck, man, imagine if we got you a gun or some shit! What could you do with that!?"

"Shoot stuff, I dunno…"

Setty was upon them in an instant, slapping Barkley across the back of his head. "Why didn't you see there was a person in here?! That's half the fuckin' point of scoping out a place, dumbass!"

"Owww!" Barkley hissed, glaring at her. "I didn't see him, okay? He must have a soundproofed room around here somewhere, being a music producer and all! I can't see where sound don't carry, Setty!"

Setty sighed, shaking her head. This could have gone worse, but it could have gone better, too. She looked out at the hellhound and remora, smiling and clapping them both on the shoulders. "Whatever. You idiots did great. Red would be proud!"

"Heh…" Barkley rolled his eyes before arching an eyebrow. "What, really? You think so?"

"Uh, Setty…" Barrel muttered, suddenly looking very concerned. "Red, like, he knows we're here, right? Doing this? He said we could, yeah?"

Setty paused, clearing her throat. "Uhh…"

The boys exchanged mortified glances, turning back to her. "Setty…"

"This job might be a bit of a, uh…" She paused, shrugging. "Proof of concept?"

"Setty!" Barrel cried, eyes wide. "Are we even supposed to be in this part of town?"

"Oh shit," groaned Barkley. "Are we gonna get in trouble? Is Red gonna be mad? Oh, what the fuck, Setty!"

She rolled her eyes, waving them off. "Give your balls a tug, boys! No, we're not supposed to be here, but when Red sees this haul, sees how much money we've made, he'll be cool with it. Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll take the heat. You pups were just following orders, okay?"

"M'not a pup…" Barkley sulked.

A wet sniffle drew their attention to the couch. Hanzel was sitting, hugging his knees, tears in his eyes.

"Hey, Hanzel," Barrel said, gently, making his way over to the imp. "What's wrong buddy? It's okay, we took care of the bad guy, you're safe."

"I know… that was cool, but…" Hanzel looked up at them, his expression downcast. "Are we bad? Are we perrysites like that guy said?"

"What?" Barkley scoffed, his voice low and soothing as he sat down next to the crestfallen imp. "That guy was just talkin' shit. No, we're the good guys, Hanzel, and you're one of us, yeah?"

Barrel nodded, patting him on the shoulder. "We're not parasites, Hanzel. We work for a living."

"But we steal all the time, and hurt people." Hanzel gestured at the apartment. "This guy has so much stuff, he musta worked really hard to get it. An' we just come in here an' take it away an' rough him up. I don't wanna be a bad guy…"

The boys looked at each other, a pause hanging in the air, before turning to Setty, silently begging her to weigh in. Setty sighed and walked out in front of Hanzel, kneeling down and setting her hand over his. "I'm sorry, buddy, but that's just the way it is. We don't get to choose how we make it, just that we make it. I'd like to be a singer, y'know? Like Verosika Mayday. That's my dream. Maybe I will one day, who knows? But until then, we need to eat, we need to make money, we need to do everything we can to just keep going. You're a sweet kid, Hanzel, a good kid, and you can keep on being good and sweet, but you also gotta do what you gotta do to survive. We all do. I wish things were better, that we weren't all… like this. But we are, and we can't change that, not right now. That Kallis guy, I bet he worked real hard to get here, but I can also guarantee that he hurt a lot of people real bad to do it. We do what we do to live, he did what he did to get all this. Does that make us better than him? I dunno. Probably not. But taking his stuff and selling it gets us money, gets us food and shelter, lets us live. Him losing all this stuff? He'll just buy more. Understand?"

Hanzel sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I want my mommy…"

Setty felt a lump form in her throat, looking up at the boys. Barkley grimaced and turned away, Barrel lowered his head, shaking it. Hanzel was a foundling, a tot dropped on the doorstep and abandoned, like her, he probably didn't even remember his mother's face. On impulse, she reached out and drew him into a tight embrace, feeling him tense up for a moment before reaching out and clinging to her, sobbing. She rubbed the back of his head and neck, soothing and squeezing him in her arms. Barkley leaned in and wrapped his arms around them, followed by Barrel.

"You're gonna be alright, bud," whispered Barkley, his voice low and choked.

"Yeah," said Barrel, softly. "You got us. All of us. We're your family, okay?"

"Belladonna's kids stick together…" Setty intoned.

"We're all we got," was the unanimous reply, uttered with all the gravity of an earnest 'amen'.


It took a few more buckets of ice cream to get Hanzel back into working order, the other kids also indulging in the cold, sweet treats, among other things. Kallis' liquor cabinet was opened and emptied with equal gusto, Barrel and Barkley carefully packing away the extensive and expensive booze into boxes, marking them so they'd know which ones to squirrel away and return to the Bunks for Light's Out. That would go over well with the other kids, and no mistake. Once their transport had calmed down and returned to his usual effervescent self, they packed up the remaining valuables and sent them off. The job was almost done.

"Hold on…" Barkley said, smirking. "Just one more thing."

The set down the hall Kallis had emerged from, finding a large robustly built door. Barkley summoned [CeeLo Green] and prodded it, smiling. "Insulated. This must be his soundroom."

"Bet he's got some pretty swank gear in there," said Barrel, grinning. "Shall we?"

Barkley grinned and nodded, the door opening as easily as 'open sesame'. The room, sure enough, was festoon with guitars both electric, acoustic, bass, and hybrid. A mixing table sat opposite a recording booth, inside of which was a shining, polished set of drums. Hanzel was called in and before long the room was cleared out.

Now they were done.

Setty watched as the boys filed out of the room, slung over Barkley's shoulders was a nice acoustic guitar and a pair of portable amps. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh, this?" The doberman-hellhound said, smirking as he unslung it, looking at it reverently. "This… is a Martin Junior Series DJR 10-E acoustic-electric guitar. Best all-rounder out there! Figured I'd swipe a l'il somethin' for myself. Serenade the pretty girls and boys back home after Light's Out."

He looked at her with an expectant, hopeful expression. Setty sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, alright. It's yours."

Barkley cackled and pumped his fist. "You're the best, Setty! Y'know, I always figured you for a snoot, you and all your Carriage House Girls, but you really got the stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah," said Barrel, grinning. "Syx'd never pull a stunt like this, much less let us keep the nice stuff!"

Setty smirked, studying her nails. "Yeah, well, maybe you filthy street cleaners could learn a thing or two from us snoots."

"I'll say!" Barkley said, strumming on his new guitar as he pranced around her, singing in his admittedly smooth, robust voice. "She's brave / she's bold / truly beautiful to behold / when the bullets fly / it's the chumps that die / what's the name of this wonderful lady~?"

"Setty!" Barrel crowed.

"What's her name?"

"Setty!" Hanzel cheered, clapping.

"One more time!"

The three boys clustered together, hands on their hearts, crooning in harmony like an acapella crew. "Setty~"

She chuckled, shaking her head despite the blush in her cheeks. "You fuckin' dorks. Okay, c'mon, let's go. Hanzel?"

"Yes'm!"

An instant later and they were… back out on the sidewalk?

"Hey…" Setty muttered, looking around: they were still in Little Wrath! In fact, they were standing only just outside the apartment building. "Hanzel, what gives? We're supposed to be back at the muster-point!"

"I know, I just…" The little imp heaved a sigh, wiping his sweaty brow. "After movin' all that stuff, my [Black Forest] is pooped! Me too, phew!"

The three older kids groaned, Barrel shook his head. "And you're just mentioning this now?"

Hanzel smiled apologetically. "Sorry, there was just so much cool stuff, I didn't wanna be a drag."

"Welp, can't be helped," said Setty, picking the imp boy up and setting him on her shoulders. "We'll walk until you're feeling up to blipping us back, 'kay?"

The four set off when a low, clotted chuckle sounded from behind them. A rumbling, familiarly accented voice said: "Well, well, well. Fancee meetin' yoo lot out 'ere. Dis ain't Red's terry-torry, now izzit, Pall?"

Setty stopped dead in her tracks, a cold chill racing up her spine. The kids turned around to see a huge, immensely muscled green-skinned Sinner in a pinstriped suit, his golden tusk glinting as he grinned at them, his red eyes gleaming.

"No, Stompah, I don't think it is," said a slender, equally sharply dressed smilodon-demon, his tone airy, his eyes widening as he recognized her. "Oh! Would you look at that! A familiar face! What was her name again? Sarah? Cicila?"

"Setty," said the powerfully-built Sinner at the head of the trio, his appearance that of a crocodilian mixed with a wolf, his rich black hair smoothed back in a tall greasy pompadour. His piercing red eyes bored a hole into her heart, his words dripping with malice. "Long time no see. How're the kids?"

Setty felt a sheen of sweat break out on her forehead; she knew these Sinners. "Steppenwulf."