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Blitzo was not in a good place ever since the whole affair at Ozzie's. He had fallen into the rabbit hole of despair. Even as he cleaned the office, that couldn't clean the pain in his heart. Nothing would ever clean away the stains of the past from him.

It didn't help that he kept reminders of his pain on him. Pictures of his employees at his desk and the little sloppily made figurines he made of them. He couldn't help but gently stroke them and get rid of any specs of dust that still clung to their figures.

Moxxie and Millie, M and M, those lovebirds had… moved on without him. He didn't even know which sin ring they had even moved onto. He was glad that they were probably happy without him deep down, but they abandoned him. No real warnings, no goodbyes, nothing. They got up and left.

All without a word to their friend.

Loona had also moved on next. She was old enough and sought a way out to start a new life for herself. She just had to get away from it all and be her own woman. That hurt worse than anything, even if Blitzo knew she'd be okay. She is a strong hellhound. A strong woman.

She was stronger without him to weigh her down. He knew that. But even knowing the truth didn't stop him from hurting.

And finally Stolas… he was right about him. That blue blooded Goetia only wanted him for a cheap lay. That dopamine rush of fucking a naughty, dirty imp when he was a royal fuck. A royal pampered bird that's very tracks in the dirt should've been kissed by Blitzo's poor Imp lips. And once his true loved ones left, Blitzo couldn't take it anymore.

At the very least, they were on business terms. That was it.

There was no reason to smile, laugh, joke, or really anything now save for one thing. Bloodlust and money. That's what Imps did best. Better than any other demon around.

That's what he would do. He would live up to the reputation he set himself. After all this time of failed love, failed self reflection, failed relationships of any kind, Blitzo was giving into what he really was.

He was a demon. And what did demons like Blitzo do best? Murder and money. The real M and M's of life.

Blitzo had to shake his head as he finished the touch ups on cleaning his office. Even the thought of two Ms together hurt his heart. And the only thing that his heart was good for was pumping his black blood through his fiery veins. Blood that fueled his body to kill for money.

He adjusted his demonic black suit with his red shirt underneath. There was a lack of color in his outfit save for the crimson streaks along his shirt and pants. The only streak of gold was on his color. He even went as far as replacing the tip of his tail with a blade and broke his horns.

A gruesome symbol for an Imp.

Despite all the pain, despite all the setbacks, and despite all the cards being stacked against him, he wasn't dead just yet. No, he had more work to do.

Sure, he still had IMP and would still carry out his usual hits on the human world. But why stay there? Obviously Heaven wasn't an option, but Hell sure was. All you needed was some blessed weaponry and anyone… Almost anyone is fair game.

Exceptions obviously being the very seven deadly sins themselves. As angry and depressed as Blitzo was, he was absolutely not suicidal in the slightest. Even if he didn't care about almost anything anymore.

"Done," Blitzo muttered as he set up his weapon rack. Halberds, knives, guns, explosives, and even a leash. All set up for his own private and lonesome agency. Since they were gone, Blitzo had been splurging on some essentials for his work.

Actual essentials and not horse figurines. Considering how he planned to nearly drown himself in his work, he figured this was the best option. It would be the best way to take his mind off his situation and drown his sorrows outside of ungodly amounts of liquor and booze.

Next up was the banner. He quickly pulled that out from a canister he kept near his desk and unrolled that. It was nothing glamorous. Just a simple black banner with white letters and red markings to help with his advertising.

It simply spelled out IMP, the acronym that meant Immediate Murder Professional. No longer professionals.

A one man assassination team.

A proud huff left his mouth as he got one last thing, pulling out a large object from the side of the wall. His new custom made ultimate weapon. It was ironically in the shape of a cross and was taller than him. A Carmilla Carmine weapon that could be used for close and long range. A nice mix for a Jack of all trades like Blitzo himself.

He softly stroked the side and nodded. Old Blitzo would've laughed his ass off at having such a weapon and talking about how amazing it was. But now?

Only internal satisfaction, but nowhere near enough to make him put any effort into smiling again. It took dozens of muscles to put on a fake smile. But it only took a few to hold up a gun or swing a knife.

It was only natural.

He looked outside his office and saw several Sinners lined up outside through his one way screen. A once empty hallway now filled up with demons looking to have someone dead. The beautiful thing about Blitzo's career is that as long as two people were alive, someone was going to want the other dead. And that was perfect for business.

"Alright," Blitzo sighed before his eyes hardened and he gripped the knob of the door, "let's go."

And his doors swung open, "Line up, assholes. First fifteen get an extra kill free of charge."

As he watched the chaos of organized assassination, another pain of hurt shot through him. He could imagine his old crew scrambling to get papers, Moxxie's whiny voice and OCD, Millie's gung ho attitude for ultra-violance, and Loona… especially Loona. She would just be sitting there and on her phone, looking whatever it is up she wanted too.

He hoped they were happy because he sure as hell wouldn't be. Not without them.

But hey, he's a merc. Profits before happiness.