Once again, This volume ended up divided in two. It's been happening to me quite often this season.
Originally, I was going to make one chapter focusing solely on Striker and the second on Jake, both taking place near-simultaneously and connected to one another, but it just didn't work out, so I decided to write it the traditional way.
And yes. From this point on, we'll be exploring Jake's relationship with his mother's side of the family. In fact, the counterpart to the mid-season special might be a completely different story focusing on Jake, but more on that later. First, I gotta finish this one, as I'm quite behind XD.
Enjoy the first chapter! And as always, be sure to leave your reviews!
Helluva Dad
Season 2
Volume 7: Oops
Chapter 1–Bad Day
Striker awoke to the smell of bacon. He tried to go back to sleep, but his hungry stomach protested, urging him to get up. As he went downstairs, he found Jake making breakfast.
"Good mornin', dad!" the impling chirped, serving up some pancakes. "I made breakfast!"
"I can see that, alright." Striker chuckled. "They smell real nice too."
As he went to sit down, Jake pulled back the chair for him. Striker raised a curious eyebrow but said nothing for the time being.
"How's yer shoulder doin', dad?"
"It's fine, pup. Ye got nothin' to worry about."
Jake passed him a cup of coffee. "Black with no cream or sugar, just like you like it."
"Is everythin' okay, Jake?"
"Yeah, why do ya ask? Would ye like a foot massage? Ye've been stressed lately."
This time, Striker shot his son a suspicious look. The only times he's this nice is when he wants something... or when he breaks something. "Alright, Jake. That's the honey; now bring the hatchet."
Caught in the act, Jake sighed. "Dad, promise ye won't get mad at me."
"Go on."
"Ye didn't promise."
"I know. Go on. Tell me."
Jake rubbed the back of his head. "Alice invited me to hang out..."
"Why would I get mad about that?"
"...At La Arango?"
Striker choked on his coffee, almost spitting it out. "W-What?"
"She wanted to show me around the place, especially the horses. Maybe go for a ride. But I figured I'd ask ya first." Jake said warily. "Ye know... since ye and Gustav don't get along..." Jake shrank a little, half-expecting his father to yell at him.
Much to his surprise, he sighed.
Striker ran his fingers through his hair. He'd known this day would come, as hard as he'd tried to delay it.
"Jake..." the cowboy grasped his son's shoulder. "Gustav and I aren't on good terms, but..." he sighed. "He's got no quarrel against ya. If ye want to get to know yer mother's side of the family, I have no right to stop ya."
"I'm not sure about Gustav, Dad, but Alice is my friend. It feels... nice to spend time with someone my age."
Striker ruffled Jake's hair. "I know, pup, " he said, taking another deep breath. "I can't forbid ya from going to La Arango if ye want to see yer cousin if that's what ye want. Ye're a big boy now, after all."
Jake sighed, relieved. "Are ye goin' to work?"
"Blitz said we could all take a break today... so that I could help him track down Barbie."
"Again? I thought she didn't want anything to do with him."
Striker sighed. "She doesn't, but ye know Blitzo. He wants me to help because I spent time with Barb in the camp, so I 'might know where she went next.' I might get home late today, pup, but keep an ear open for yer phone just in case."
Striker wasn't sure how, but Blitzo somehow got a tip that Barbie had been seen in the Greed ring—most likely because of her new job with Mikoumori. After an hour of searching in Ramson City—despite Striker's protests—they found no trace of her.
During their break at a coffee shop, he told his boss, "Maybe you should just call it quits, Blitz. It's evident that Barbie doesn't want your help."
Blitzo, of course, didn't seem to have heard him. "Hey, lady! What did you put in this coffee?! Piss?!"
Striker pinched the bridge between his eyes as Blitzo started another argument that got him kicked out of the coffee shop, with Striker following him.
"Look, lady, it's not my fault that you only know how to make a coffee that tastes like piss!"
"Knock it off, would ya? Don't make a scene!" Striker growled, helping Blitzo to his feet. "The last thing we need is callin' unwanted attention in this town!"
"You mean because of Moxxie's shitty old man? Chill out; he's probably busy spending Chaz's money or something."
The sound of brakes scraping against concrete alerted Striker, and he turned around right before a pack of queefs—and their owner came close to crashing right into them. They hardly managed to stop a few inches away.
The owner was none other than Fizzarolli in the flesh.
"Look where ye're going, ye buffoon!" Striker snapped.
"Oh, wow, look who it is."
Blitzo cursed under his breath. "You again."
"Stalking me now, huh?"
"Don't give yerself that much credit, clown. Besides, who was the one who nearly trampled us over with yer pack of mongrels?" Striker pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Besides, I have my own life," Blitzo wrapped an arm around Striker's shoulder, to the cowboy's confusion. "WITHOUT YOU IN IT!"
"Uh-huh, sure," Fizz sneered. "Blitzo."
"The 'O' is silent now, bitch!" And geez, we've been in each other's relative vicinity twice in the last 15 years! That would make me the shittiest stalker in history!"
"Twice is already too much!"
"Just leave it be, Blitz." Striker grabbed Blitzo's shoulder and began pushing him away. "At least ye're actually workin' for yer own shit."
"And not getting everything handed to me like some pampered attention whore!"
Fizzarolli didn't immediately respond to that comment. Striker hoped he'd walk away and leave them be.
"Yeah, well, guess that's what resilience and talent yets ya." the clown chuckled. "Plus, my horns were bigger than yours, weren't they?"
That remark seemed to have struck a nerve. Before Striker realized it or could do something to stop him, Blitzo had lunged at Fizzarolli.
The snake rubbed his temple. "Satan, give me patience!" he murmured, stomping to the two scuffing Imps.
It wasn't long before the fight attracted the attention of the passerby. Soon, a large crowd had gathered around the brawling Imps and the cowboy who was trying to break them up. Much to Striker's relief, none of them seemed to be mobsters, but he better get Blitzo the fuck out of there before they ran out of luck.
Suddenly, something wrapped around the three, and they were lifted into the air right through a window in a nearby building, culminating in a slam against the wall that knocked some horns and jaws off the wall.
Wait a minute. Horns and jaws? Alarmed, Striker was the first to recover from the stun and realized they were surrounded by shark demons, some of which he recognized from the fiasco at Moxxie's childhood home. The mobsters were aiming at them with blessed guns.
"Done."
"How the fuck do you do that?!"
Striker's stomach sank. In front of them, Deathslinger held a lasso—the very same lasso that had pulled them here. Next to the rattlesnake demon stood Crimson.
"What the fuck, Deathslinger?!" Striker snapped.
Fizzarolli paled. "D-Deathslinger? The same from the Deadly Court?"
Deathslinger shrugged. "Sorry, Striker. Crimson here asked me to bring you to him."
"Let me guess: 'nothin' personal, just business.'" Striker hissed, tail rattling.
"Wait a second! Why did you have to drag me into this if shitty dad mafioso over there only wanted Striker?!" Striker shot Blitzo a glare. "No offense, Strikes."
"I aimed only at him, but you two got in the way."
Fizzarolli laughed nervously. "W-Well, if that's the case, perhaps I should take my leave—!" he tried to get up, only to be scared back into the ground by an angelic pistol.
"Not so fast, Fizzarolli." Crimson sneered. "You're quite far from Lust, aren't you?"
"W-who, me? Y-You must be mistaken, sit! I don't know who Fizzarolli is!"
"Your ugly face is plastered all around the seven rings, remember?" Blitzo pointed out sourly.
"Shut up!"
"He's right, ye know."
Deathslinger tipped his hat at Crimson. "Well, Crim, I'll be taking my leave now."
"Expect a bonus in the payment this time!" Crimson laughed, grabbing Fizzarolli by the head. "I know a certain sin who'd give anything to save the worst kept secret in all of Hell."
Striker almost lunged at Deathslinger as the cynical bastard tipped his hat at him to wish him good luck, but the sharks were upon him, Blitzo and Fizzarolli, to tie them up before he could.
The rattlesnake demon almost collided with someone else on the way out: none other than Chaz Thurman, who was carrying a couple of boxes.
"Hey, Crim! I didn't find chocolate cannoli, but they had..." The cannoli boxes slipped off Chaz's arms when he spotted Fizzarolli. "OMG! Is that Fizzarolli?!" he squealed in delight.
"Crim, Crim! Think I could get an autograph?!"
"Keep your perverted hands off the merchandise, Chaz!"
Striker would have smacked his forehead if his arms weren't tied up.
Afterward, Fizzarolli was taken aside for a little ramson video, courtesy of Crimson's on-the-spot scheme. If not for the gag, Striker would have scoffed. Either Crimson was reckless or just plain stupid if he thought blackmailing a Deadly Sin was a good idea. Striker couldn't help rolling his eyes at Chaz as the shark constantly snapped selfies with Fizzarolli while the video was recorded until one of the other sharks pulled him away.
"Just one more, Jawns!" the wannabe mafioso whined.
Striker wasn't sure what happened next. He felt something prickling on his neck, and everything went black. When he regained consciousness, he realized they were no longer in the office. In fact, they weren't downtown anymore. They'd been transported to a warehouse on the outskirts of Ramson City. Despite his half-drowsy state, Striker fought all the way inside, even delivering a kick on one of the sharks' noses.
The inside of the warehouse was, unsurprisingly, filled with crates and flooded with Crimson's men, but Striker was dragged away from Blitzo and Fizz into another room. It was somewhat similar to Crimson's office back downtown but more spacious. Striker was forcibly seated in the chair across the table, acting as a desk, hand still tied behind his back. At least the gag was taken off.
Crimson sat across the table with that insufferable grin of his. "It's been a while, Striker."
"The fuck do ye want, Crimson?"
"Now, now, there's no need for such hostility. We're just two men talking about business."
Striker scoffed. "Business, ye say? What 'business' could we possibly talk about?"
Crimson gestured to Alessio. The consigliere pulled a folder from his suit jacket and handed it over.
"Clayton Velkan, AKA 'Striker.' Orphaned at twelve years old, sent to Dis and trained to be an assassin for Overlod Bathory's personal guard." Striker's eyes widened. How the fuck did he find that out? "Years later, you returned to Wrath and... eloped with Jane Brisont, the mother of your only son. Hehe, Gustav was pissed off for months. You were the first Imp to join the Deadly Court after killing one of its members. Impressive, your body count is in the hundreds."
"What? Did ye bring me just to read my life story? What's the point of all of this?"
"Straight to the point, huh? You sound like Deathslinger."
"If ye got my biography there, ye probably know that I spent a lot of time around 'im, then," Striker murmured. "Look, what do ya want?"
Crimson's sneer grew wider. "You."
"Excuse me?"
"I want you to work for me, Striker. See, we're kinda in need of a big score right now."
"Why me? What about Deathslinger? His body count is probably bigger than mine."
"True, but unfortunately, Deathslinger only occasionally takes assassination contracts. Not to mention that he's an assassin for hire whose loyalty changes with each new contract. Who's to say he won't kill me if someone hires him to?" Crimson exhaled a puff of smoke. "No. I need someone who's only loyal to me."
Striker chuckled humorlessly. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline yer offer. I already got a job."
"Indeed, you do." Crimson checked another folder. "'Immediate Murder Professionals'. It offers an... intriguing service, but its management leaves much to be desired. Your 'boss,' if you can call him that, often wastes the job payments in... My Little Pony? Pfft! I can't believe I ever thought that moron had potential. From what I see, sometimes he even skips paying his employees' salaries and misses rent. How often did this company near red numbers before you came along, Striker?"
Striker looked away, tail rattling. He wasn't wrong with that, as much as he hated admitting it.
"If you work for me, you will earn five times your annual salary at I.M.P. You'll be granted a living space and access to the organization's assets," Crimson twirled the angelic pistol. "Including our recently-acquired production of angelic weaponry, courtesy of the Thurman family."
"Ye really like the sound of yer voice, don't ya? The answer's still no."
Crimson raised a hand. "You don't have to answer me now, Striker. I'm aware it'd be a life-changing decision. But trust me when I tell you it'd be in your best... interests to consider my offer." His sneer grew wider. "Especially your son's."
Striker's eyes shot open. "What?"
"Alessio, take our guest to join his friends so he may ponder my offer."
Striker realized the meaning behind Crimson's words. Alessio was caught off guard as he tried lunging at Crimson, pupils turning into two thin slits.
"I swear, if ye touch a single hair on my son's head, I'm personally sendin' ya to double Hell!"
The shark dragged Striker out of the office and back into the warehouse toward a cage that Blitzo and Fizz had been thrown into. Striker didn't notice the consigliere's mild sympathy as he was pushed into the cage, which was then lifted into the air.
"Are you alright, Striker?!"
"When I'm outta here, the first thing I'm gonna do is send that son-of-a-bitch sleepin' with the fish." Striker hissed.
"That makes two of us, Strikes." Blitzo frowned at Fizzarolli's futile attempts at wiggling out of the restraints. "Oh, chill out, jester."
"What's yer big deal? Ye're Ozzie's pet; it's not like ye've never been tied up before."
"Sure, but not by a bunch of psychos and a piece of shit!"
"Excuse me?"
"Not you! Blitzo!"
"The 'O' is silent!"
"How is this happening?! I was just supposed to grab some gas station milk and rehearse some juggling!" Fizz whined.
"Oh, relax. I'm sure your big royal chicken ain't gonna let anything happen to his peepy lil' fuckdoll."
"Oh, playing that card, huh?"
Striker didn't bother hearing their argument. Whatever issues they have, it's their issue. He's got his own problems to worry about right now. He knew about mafiosos enough to tell when they implied a threat behind their words. From their past experience, Striker knew Crimson would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, even if it meant putting a child in jeopardy. The bastard would send his men after Jake if he hadn't already.
Striker's tail rattled. Damn it, if only the bastards hadn't taken his phone away.
He had to find a way to contact Jake and warn him...
"Point is, royal demons don't give a shit about guys like us. They're all the fuckin' same."
"That's not-...always true... But I guess you're right. They can't all be the same if some have taste, and some wanna fuck you."
...And these two were not helping!
"Can we talk about something other than my sex life?! Satan's taint, is fucking that Lust guy make this what you're all about now?!"
"You brought it up, asshole!"
"CAN YE SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY?! Ye bicker like a couple of teen skanks!" Striker shouted at his wits' end. "In case ye forgot, we're bein' held captive by mafiosos! Instead of arguing, ye could help me figure out how to get the fuck out of here before they no longer need us!"
Fizz sighed in relief. "Well, at least someone has common sense!"
"Oh, shut up. I don't like Imps who willingly become purse dogs for blue-bloods."
"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side, Striker!"
The cowboy rolled his eyes. "Ye only fuck the Prince, Blitz, so ye don't really count as a purse dog."
"Neither of you filth-bags knows what you're talking about." Fizz snapped before looking at Striker. "'Sides, if I recall correctly, your mother was once Ozzie's 'purse dog' too, wasn't she? What makes her different—?"
Fizz realized he'd make a big mistake when, somehow, Striker got to his feet and pressed his boot against his throat, pinning him to the cage floor. His pupils were two thin slits, and the rings around them were thick. Blitzo warily moved away.
"DON'T. YE. DARE... CLOWN." Striker growled darkly. "I don't care if ye're Asmodeus's bitch. If ye dare breathe a word about my mother, I'll save these mafiosos the trouble and kill ya myself."
Fizz swallowed hard at the seriousness in Striker's voice. For a moment, he thought the cowboy would kill him right there, but Striker lifted his boot and went to sit on the corner, back turned on Blitzo and Fizz.
"Psst! Hey, Fizzaroli!"
The captives looked around. It was Chaz. The shark had somehow managed to pile up a big pile of boxes and crates without anyone noticing and was now peeking into the cage from Fizz's side.
"Christ on a stick, what the fuck do you want?"
Ignoring Blitzo, Chaz hurriedly spoke to the jester. "Hey, Fizz–I can call you Fizz, right?"
"Huh, well..."
"Cool! Hey, think you could give me an autograph?"
"You do realize my hands are tied, don't you?"
Striker raised his eyebrows.
"Look, Chaz," he said before either of his companions could say anything stupid. "How about ye lend Fizzarolli here a hand and untie him? That way, he can give ya the autograph. Right, Fizz?"
Fizz caught on. "Yes, exactly! If you untie me, I'll even autograph your underwear if you want!"
Much to Striker's relief, the shark squealed in delight. Man, he's really not the brightest bulb in the house.
Chaz began looking for something in his pocket: a pocket knife. "Alright, this should do!"
"Chaz, what the fuck are you doing?!"
Crimson's voice startled Chaz, who lost his balance, causing the box pile to collapse. The shark fell alongside his little tower with a loud, girly yell. The mob boss rubbed his temple, asking Mammon for patience before ordering his underboss to take Chaz away.
Striker smacked his head against one of the bars. So close.
Jake could say he wasn't impressed, but he'd be lying. He'd seen La Arango from afar a few times, but it was nothing compared to seeing it from within. The main building was surrounded by many acres of land, some used for grazing cattle and others for crops and plantations.
They had a bit of trouble at the entrance, where two watchmen pointed guns at him and asked what his business was. Mortifera almost chomped their hands off until Jake told them who he was. Their attitudes changed instantly, and they let him in.
Alice said she'd meet him in the fountain in the central courtyard. He and Mortifera were met by an older Imp with a freckled face, cowboy hat, and Western attire.
"Ye must be Jake!" the old Imp, most likely a farmhand, tipped his hat. "I'm Modesto, La Arango's foreman."
"Nice to meet ya, sir."
Modesto smiled. "There's no need for formalities, son. Ye may call me Modesto."
"Right." Jake dismounted and took a look around. "Where's Alice?"
"Miss Alice should be joining you shortly. She's just waiting for the children..." Modesto trailed off as he saw Mortifera. "Sweet Satan, is that a NightMare?"
"Her name's Mortifera. Be careful. She's distrustful of people, and her previous owners maltreated her."
The mare stepped back, hissing as Modesto reached out a hand for her. To Jake's astonishment, rather than backing off, Modesto left his hand outstretched, never meeting Mortifera's eyes as she sniffed it with a wary nicker.
"She certainly's got character. NightMares are infamously untameable and hostile. Only a few people have managed to tame one, let alone break it!" Modesto eyed Jake curiously. "Why, kiddo. Ye certainly are Miss Jane's son."
Jake's eyes lit up. "Ye knew my mom?"
Modesto chuckled. "How could I not? She was quite the rambunctious girl back in the day, always engagin' in activities meant for 'men,' and it drove Gustav up the wall. But I can certainly tell ya that she had more balls than all of the farmhands in this ranch combined, myself included. Ye see, the boss had a prized albino Hellhorse that he intended to gift to his son when he had one, but it never happened. Instead, it was Miss Jane who tamed it and claimed it as her own..." Modesto sighed sadly. "I wonder what became of it."
He must be talking about Snowfire. Jake briefly glanced in the direction of the far woods.
"There you are, Modesto! Did you call the vet for–? Jake, what a pleasant surprise!"
Jake couldn't help but flinch as Gustav exited the main building. He instinctively stepped back when the older Imp reached out. Jake felt guilty from the brief flash of hurt in the older Imp's eyes. His grandfather seemed genuinely happy to see him.
"Greetings, sir." Jake greeted cordially. Gustav's face briefly fell as his own grandson called him 'sir.'
"What brings you here, son? You could have told me you were coming, and I would have invited you to lunch."
"Alice invited me to ride with her, sir."
"She did?" Gustav sighed. "Damn it, I would have liked to join you, but there's business I must tend to personally."
"Don't worry about it. Maybe another time." Jake blurted out awkwardly.
Thankfully, Gustav was distracted by Mortifera. "Sweet Satan, this is your horse?" He tried to touch the mare's head, but Mortifera snapped her teeth at him. "Whoa, she's got quite the personality! How in the seven rings did you tame a NightMare?"
Jake patted his horse's neck. "She was mistreated in her previous home, so I had to show her I wasn't going to hurt her. From there, I got to know her, and soon we became friends."
Gustav laughed. "My, you certainly have a hand with horses, son!"
"Well, yeah. Dad taught me."
Jake half-expected Gustav to scowl at the mention of his father, but surprisingly, he merely sighed in dismay.
"Striker and I might not see... eye to eye, but I must admit... he knows his hellhorses..." he murmured before quickly changing the topic. "How about I show you around while Alice comes out? She's helping Alessio's children dress up."
For once, Jake's curiosity got the better of him. If anything, he could pry a story or two about Mom from Gustav. And so, the teen followed his grandfather around the hacienda, with Mortifera following on her own. La Arango turned out to be bigger than Jake initially anticipated. He was particularly interested in the lienzo charro—a vast, circular arena where some horsemen—probably the hacienda's workers—practiced roping, barrel racing, coleadas, and other activities involved in Wrath's famous charreadas.
Jake watched with interest as one of the riders pulled a bull tail's mid-gallop, bringing the animal down,
The tour ended at La Arango's stables. Mortifera stopped at the stable's doors and refused to step inside. It didn't take Jake long to seewhy: a few muzzles, probably for aggressive hellhorses, hung on the wall. She must have bad memories of those. Jake patted her neck, letting her graze outside as he followed Gustav inside. A few horses poked their heads out of their stalls.
Unlike the stables at Rough N' Tumbleweed, these occupied an entire building rather than a barn. The stall doors were of the sliding type with upper grillwork, and Jake noticed plaques with names on each door. Two hellhorses had been taken out of their stalls and were just being saddled up by farmhands: a dapple blue deviltail warmblood and a fat, goat-like calico pony.
At last, Alice showed up. She jumped toward her cousin, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Jake, you came!"
"Hi, Alice!"
"Alice, why didn't you tell me you'd invited Jake?" Gustav inquired, arms crossed.
Alice rolled her eyes. "I did, Grandpa, but you were talking over the phone and didn't hear me."
Jake noticed two little figures were following Alice: a blue-green shark pup and a much younger pink dolphin. Both of them wore pants and Western hats.
"Jake, these are Pietro and Giulia." Oh, right, Alice mentioned before. They were the children of Alessio, Crimson's consigliere. He wondered if their father was around.
Pietro waved a hand. "Nice to meet you!"
The little pink dolphin, Giulia, shyly poked her head from behind her older brother. Jake tipped his hat. "Well, howdy, little lady!"
Giulia made gestures with her hands.
"She said, 'Nice to meet you,'" Pietro explained. "She hasn't learned how to talk yet, so she learned how to use sign language. But she can hear perfectly well."
Jake sighed in relief.
They went toward the horses. Pietro and Giulia ran to hug the pony. Alice patted the deviltail's neck. The horse lowered its head and nuzzled her arm.
"Hi, boy! I missed you too." Alice giggled. "Jake, this is Whiptail."
Jake saw the horse's long, imp-like tail, unlike Bombproof's and Mortifera's flaming tails. "I can see why ya picked that name." He glanced at the pony. "And that must be Cinnamon Boots."
"He's the coolest pony ever!" Pietro said happily as Giulia fed the goat pony a carrot.
"And he's very patient with kids, no matter how much they squeal or bounce on his back. You could say he teaches them all to ride." Gustav patted Cinnamon Boots's head, earning a content purr. "He'd carry Alice and Laurel when they were little. Pietro and Giulia here ride him when they come with Alessio."
"Isn't he Mr. Crimson's consi–?"
"Jake, I need to talk with you." Gustav hastily ushered Jake out of the children's earshot. "Son, there's something you should know. For their safety, Pietro and Giulia are unaware of their father's involvement in the mafia. I'd thank you if you kept it that way. "
Jake glanced at the two children as they patted Cinnamon Boots. Indeed, they didn't seem to know of their father's job. That was nice of Mr. Alessio, even if he worked for Moxxie's father.
"Okay, no problem."
"And while you're on it, please watch them. Alessio will never let me hear the end of it if something happens to his children while he's not here."
"Sure, sir."
Finally, they were all ready to go. While leading the horses out of the stable, Gustav gave Alice one last quick reminder to avoid certain areas and keep Pietro and Giulia safe overall. Before leaving, Jake let Gustav tentatively place a hand on his shoulder, which seemed to lighten the older Imp's mood considerably. Once he left, Jake helped the children climb unto Cinnamon Boots: Pietro at the front and Giulia at the back, with the former handling the reins.
They rode away from the hacienda at a slow pace, much to Mortifera's distaste. She shook her head and snorted occasionally whenever they passed a good stretch of field where she could gallop.
"Just a little longer, girl. Pietro and Giulia can't keep up with a gallop, and we can't leave them alone," Jake whispered in her ear.
After about an hour of riding around the countryside, they took a break. Alice found them a nice spot under a tree where they could have lunch. While eating, Whiptail tried to sniff Mortifera, but she seemed more comfortable with Cinnamon Boots. She'd probably been around ponies in her previous home.
Pietro cringed a bit when the eyes on the mare's flank followed him whenever he passed by her. "Can she see anything through those eyes?"
"Yeah. There's no way to sneak around them, so they're difficult to capture. NightMares are quite famous because of that." Jake explained. "Ye and Giulia are quite far from Greed. Do ya come here often?"
'Daddy brings us along sometimes when he and Mr. Crimson visit Mr. Brisont for business,' Giulia said through signs, which Pietro translated.
"What kind of business?"
Pietro shrugged. "Papa says it's grown-up stuff."
Giulia walked over to Cinnamon Boots with a carrot. Mortifera and Whiptail leaned their heads down, trying to take a bite of the treat, prompting the pony to hiss a warning at them. Pietro quickly got up and ran over to them.
"So, they don't know their father is a mafioso."
Alice shook her head. "Alessio doesn't want them to be at risk because of his job. He's told them he's Mr. Crimson's bodyguard."
"It kinda fits, considerin' he's always right next to Crimson. What kind of business does Crimson have with Gustav?"
"I'm not sure. Grandpa never talks about it. But I think it involves some lands in the north he owns."
Mortifera suddenly lifted her head and sniffed the air. She stamped her front hooves, ears flattening against her head. Pietro stepped back, pulling Giulia away from the mare as she became agitated.
"What's wrong, girl?" Before Jake could react, Mortifera reared up, releasing the reins from the tree branch they were tied to, and galloped off, nearly knocking Cinnamon Boots over. "Mortifera!" he called out to her, but she didn't listen.
"Let's go after her!"
Jake helped Pietro and Giulia climb onto Cinnamon Boots and hopped onto Whiptail with Alice as quickly as possible. Still, by the time they set out after her, Mortifera had already disappeared behind the hills. It didn't help that, with Pietro and Giulia tagging along, they couldn't gallop after the NightMare. Jake whistled now and then, but his horse didn't respond.
"Does she usually behave like this?" Alice asked after his twelfth whistle.
"No. I don't know what happened."
"She was sniffing the air before she ran off. She must have caught a scent. Maybe a prey?" Pietro pointed out.
Jake whistled again. This time, there was a response. Mortifera reappeared from the dirt path up ahead.
Jake jumped off Whiptail and ran towards her. "There ye are, girl!"
Mortifera looked anxious. She pounded on the ground with her hooves, twirled, and tossed her head sideways, snorting and whinnying.
"What's wrong?"
"I think she wants us to follow her," Alice suggested.
"How do you know?" Pietro inquired.
"Horses might not be able to talk, but they know how to express themselves." That said, Jake climbed onto the saddle and patted Mortifera's neck. "Show us, girl."
Mortifera reared up and galloped off, not bothering to wait for Alice and the kids this time. She took Jake further into the depopulated countryside until they reached a canyon. Jake saw many horse transporters parked near a wide corral with tall iron fences surrounded by rundown cabins.
But what caught Jake's attention were the many hellhorses running inside, shrieking and hissing at the demons wielding blessed whips and ropes. The men—composed of Imps, mongoose, and Gila monster demons—were separating the herd into groups and locking them into smaller corrals.
"Jake!" he heard Alice calling out.
She and the children had finally caught up, though Cinnamon Boots looked exhausted. He must have pushed himself to the limit to keep up with Whiptail without dropping Pietro and Giulia.
Jake quickly motioned them toward a small cliff overlooking the ranch—the four dismounted. Jake and Alice quietly crawled closer to the edge to take a glimpse into the clearly illegal operation. Pietro and Giulia, having no idea of the gravity of the situation, approached the edge of the cliff curiously. Jake had to motion them to get down before they were spotted.
"Is that a rodeo?" Pietro inquired.
"They're wranglers: People who work with livestock, especially horses," Alice explained as she saw the puzzled looks on the siblings' faces.
"These guys would fit into the poacher category far better, from the looks of it. They're capturin' wild NightMares to sell 'em illegally on the black market."
Giulia pulled onto Jake's sleeve and gestured. 'Why?' Jake didn't need a translation to understand what she was asking.
"NightMares are the fastest hellhorse breed in the seven rings, so they're very popular in the horseracin' industry. Those who can't be sold for that purpose end up in rodeos, slaughterhouses, or glue factories."
Mortifera was pawing at the ground with her right hoof, letting out angry hisses. Jake's eyes widened in realization. This must be what happened to her: captured by poachers, separated from her herd, and sold to Lester's Pony Paradise, where she was mistreated. She knew that was the most likely fate awaiting these horses. And she didn't want that.
Neither did Jake. They had to do something.
The group moved away from the cliff and toward nearby trees to hide the horses. Jake grabbed Giulia's shoulders.
"Giulia, listen carefully. Ye and Pietro have a very important job: watch over the horses."
Giulia signed with a frown, which Pietro translated. 'Come on, Jake, I might be six, but I'm not stupid.' Wow, she's smarter than he initially gave her credit for.
"Why can't we help you? I can chop their hands off!" Pietro protested.
"They're most likely armed, Pietro. They won't hesitate to hurt ya if ye get in the way," Jake explained sternly. Is this how Dad felt when he had Jake stay behind back then? "Look, yer father won't be happy if anythin' happened to ya and Giulia, would he?"
Pietro looked down. "I guess."
"I'm going with you."
"Out of the question, Alice. Ye've never used a gun, have ya?"
"I know how to use one. Grandpa showed me."
"Maybe, but there's a big difference between knowin' how to use a gun and bein' willin' actually to use it!"
Alice frowned. "You think I don't have the guts to use a pistol just because I didn't grow up in Wrath like you did?"
"T-That's not what I mean–!"
Mortifera stamped her hooves and snorted impatiently, reminding them they didn't have much time left before the horses were loaded into the trucks. Alice was the first to hurry down the slope, with Jake following suit—cursing under his breath—while Pietro and Giulia stayed behind with the horses.
As they hid behind one of the cabins, Jake pulled out his pistol—a regular, unblessed one. He stared at it for a while.
"Hey, Jakey. I retrieved your mam's weapon."
He said nothing as Millie returned the blessed pistol to him.
The pistol that almost killed his father.
That night, he put the gun away into his old toy chest.
Jake shook his head. Now's not the time for that.
Thankfully, the wranglers were so occupied with the NightMares that they didn't notice the two teens sneaking around their camp and slowly approaching the fence's gate.
"Hey, boys!" Jake and Alice froze as a gila monster called out to the other demons, but he merely walked past the barrels they hid behind. "New orders. The boss wants us to go capture a kid."
"A kid? Why?"
"We don't get paid to ask questions. Are ya done with the sortin'?"
"There are 15 mares, eight colts, nine fillies, and three foals, plus the stallion. Eight of the mares are in foal, Bill."
"Leave the foalin' mares and load the rest into the trucks. It'll be easier to domesticate and break the foals from a young age."
Jake and Alice glanced at each other worriedly. The foals shrieked and whinnied in distress as their mothers were forced into one of the trucks, lassoed, and tied up to keep them from following.
They had to hurry.
"What's the plan?" Alice asked.
"...Improvise?"
"You don't have a plan?!"
Jake laughed awkwardly. "Let's say I'd rather think of one according to the situation." Jake took a peek at the corral. The gate was just a few meters away. It was closed shut by a chain and padlock. "I got an idea, but I need a distraction."
Alice peeked briefly. After thinking for a few seconds, she picked up a small stone. "Remind me to apologize to Mortifera later."
"Why?"
Alice threw the stone at one of the NightMares, landing a perfect hit on its flank. The horse lost it and reared angrily as it burst out of its corral. The rest of the herd followed its example and stampeded inside the fence, attacking anyone who didn't get out in time. The angelic whips did little to calm them down this time. It only seemed to make them angrier.
Jake used the distraction to bolt towards the fence and shoot the padlock, releasing the chain. Quickly, he opened the gate and jumped out of the way just as the NightMares burst out of the corral and into freedom.
"Damn brat! Get him!"
The impling instinctively fired at the wranglers who tried to grab him as he looked for cover. He barely managed to hide behind some barrels when the remaining men fired in retaliation.
One managed to aim at Jakw, but a pair of jaws closed around his head and threw him around like a rag doll.
"Get that NightMare!"
Jake's stomach sank. "Mortifera!"
She must have heard the commotion and came down to save him. The mare began massacring the poachers within her reach, keeping them away from her owner.
A white, glowing lasso wrapped around her neck, pulling her back. The culprit was a mongoose demon riding a big horse, the rope wrapped around the saddle's horn.
"Looks like we got ourselves a fighter, boys!"
Mortifera charged with an angry shriek-like neigh, but another lasso—aimed at her back hoof—brought her down.
And then another at her front leg.
"Mortifera, no!" Before Jake could shoot at the riders, another Imp grabbed him from behind, disarming and immobilizing him.
He could only watch as Mortifera was subdued and rendered immobile with the blessed ropes; even then, she kept trashing on the ground, fruitlessly trying to get up.
"Leave her alone, ye bastards!"
"I'd watch my tongue if I were you, kiddo. You wouldn't want your friends to get hurt, do you?"
"Let go of me!"
"Leave my sister alone!"
Alarmed, Jake turned around. Whiptail and Cinnamon Boots were held by the reins by a pair of poachers, while another couple of Imps held Pietro and Giulia by their wrists. The siblings fruitlessly tried to pull away, though the former went as far as biting the Imp's hand, prompting the other two poachers to grab him. Likewise, Alice was caught from behind by a Gila monster demon.
"You brats have no idea who you've messed up with," spat Bill, the gila monster from before. "Don't you know to whom the horses belong?"
"They don't belong to anyone! You have no right–!"
SMACK!
Alice was abruptly silenced by a hard smack on her face.
"Children should be seen and not be heard." another wrangler sneered.
"Mess with someone yer own size, ya brute!" Jake snapped, tail rattling.
"Like ya?"
Bill walked over to Mortifera and checked her around from a distance. The hellmare shrieked and tried to get up but came to an abrupt halt when Bill stomped a rugged boot against her neck.
"Would ya look at that, boys?" Bill sneered, eyeing Mortifera's saddle. "This one's already been broken in, even if she still has one hell of a temper. This one might go directly to the boss."
"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jake shouted, desperately trying to get free from his captor.
"Bill, think we could dispatch these brats already?"
Bill eyed Jake, then pulled out his phone.
"...Well, well, well. Speaking of coincidences. Remember the impling the boss wanted us to capture?" the Gila monster turned his phone, revealing a photo of Jake. "Looks like he came to us."