Helluva President
October 31, 1920
It was a dark and stormy night in Saint Petersburg, the one night of the year when the veil between the mortal realm and the Rings of Hell grows thinner.
A causal observer taking a stroll in the cold Russian night might have mistaken the new Winter Palace for a ghastly, titanic skeleton rising toward the coal-black sky, for it was still in construction, much like the rest of the Empire was being rebuilt after the failed Bolshevik Revolution.
Has it really been only three years? Hard to believe, frankly.
...
In the bowls of the palace, in the dim light of a fireplace, the Tyrant who had escaped Death for the last two years faced Him at long last.
For it was a Him in fact; usually a Grim Reaper loses any semblance of his former humanity in the course of grueling centuries upon centuries of his cursed existence, until only a skeletal mask-like terror remains. Some have seen the Reaper as a beautiful young woman, with hair as black as Night, others are rumored to have seen a cloaked beast of some kind, or a man who could take the shape of beasts, like the wolf or the bat...
But this Reaper had only recently taken the mantle; it was still confident, hopeful even, that his humanity would endure.
He had been no ordinary man, after all.
...
"Ha! Do you know who you are talking to, Nicky?" Theodore Roosevelt asked, with some annoyance in his voice, having heard words of deviance from several other, equally stubborn men, including one who was a confidant to the Tzar years ago. And now they were all equally dead.
"I am Death itself."
"I do not fear death..." A voice as grave and cold as the Russian winter replied, "I have G..."
Before the faithful servant could utter the name of his wicked master, a portal opened, with purple shining edges brimming with magic.
"Gah! What in the..." the still inexperienced Reaper gasped, while the Tzar was too stunned to react.
Three short, thin figures walked through the portal, was quickly closed behind them.
...
They were red, spiky creatures with glowing yellow eyes, clawed fingers, hooves for feet and pointy horns and tails. One of them appeared to be a female.
"Sure as FUCK we are SO ready for our first regicide, so I hope you are ready to be REGICIDED!"
The tallest one boomed theatrically, his curved, black-and-white horns longer than the horns of the other two combined, part of his face bleached white as if by dark fire, and a pitch-black mark on his forehead. Anyone would have guessed he was the boss.
"AH YEAH" the female started "This is also our first job outside of the US! Now that Ah think of it, isn't it weird that we have been geographically constrained thus far..."
The other employee was not quite listening, his eyes comically glimmering at the sight of...
"MisterPresidentSirit'sreallyyouIcan'tbelievethisI'msuchagreatfanIamscholarofmilitaryhistoryohcrumbs..."
"God Golly!" Woodrow Wilson, the Reaper's shoulder ghost, exclaimed "Teddy, these are demons from Hell! Usually they are incubi and succubi from Lust, but these must be from a different Ring entirely..."
"Why is that ghost varmint speaking with a Wrath accent?" The female asked, in the most adorable accent ever.
"Listen missy" Woodrow started "I don't know why there are demons with a Southern accent, but sure as hell I'm going to blame the Reconstruction for it!"
"ENOUGH!" An exasperated Tzar of All Russias cried with a voice like thunder, "What is the meaning of this? Must be another Judeo-Bolshevik plot against me and my holy Empire..."
"I don't know about the Jewish shit, your Nickyness," the boss, named Blitz (the O is silent) started "but true to Satan killing people for money is my whole business. You are not going to find a more ruthless cutthroat capitalist this side of Henry Ford!"
The one named Moxxie was concerned for a second, almost like his boss was going to break the fourth wall by naming some other notable figure. Then a realization suddenly dawned on him.
"Sir, this man is the Grim Reaper AND he's Theodore Roosevelt, we are way out of our depths Sir, we should back out and..."
"Not a CHANCE Moxxie, we are NOT chikening out of this because our bespectacled client has payed in advance and I spent all the money on THIS" he said showing his mare-iuana, "so he HAS TO GO!"
"Hold on, you are telling me that someone in Hell paid you to do MY job?" A perplexed Teddy Roosevelt said, as he was wrapping his head around this whole mess.
"Yeah, and I should be the one asking you why YOU are doing your job for free!" Blitz replied.
"Boys, could we please focus on our target?" Millie said as she stepped into the role of the voice of reason.
...
The Tyrant, standing fearlessly, the white scar on his face brimming with hate in the dim light, unsheated his silver blade.
"Oh crumbs!" Moxxie couldn't believe his eyes "That's a holy sword, I told you it was a bad idea Sir..."
"Shut your hole already." Blitz said as he grinned in delight and drew his twin blades, wich looked minuscule next to the Reaper's Scythe and Millie's gigantic battle-axe.
"Wait, aren't we supposed to have GUNS!?" Moxxie said in shock, "That would give us a decisive advantage against a sword-wielding huma..."
Everyone flatly ignored this plot hole as they rushed into the fight. It's not like the were only using weapons from Japan's Edo period after all...
"Sir, if we die I swear to Satan..."
...
The room was torn asunder in a struggle of life and death. Three monsters and one man against the Monster, the one empowered by the pit of Evil within his black heart, Evil great enough to challenge Death and Hell.
Theodore's Scythe was shattered, and as Millie's axe was cut in half with one titanic blow a red blur flashed in the darkness for an instant, before Blitz jumped from behind Nicholas, a blade aimed at his neck.
Too late.
Nicholas turned and caught Blitz's throat with his left hand. The imp's sharp claws and tail slashed and tore frantically, but it was no use. Now the Tzar raised the Imperial sword, as he wanted to make sure its holy brilliance was the last thing Blitz saw as he died.
"It is fitting," the Emperor mused, "you are not unlike the monsters that slaughtered my family; hellspawn, a scourge upon my Empire, this Third Rome. But God in His mercy made ME the instrument of His..."
SHUT THE FUCK UP!
The Tzar's right arm was cut off, the sword fell to the floor with a clang. Nicholas roared in pain as teeth like sharpened steel sank into his flesh.
The next instant, he was thrown across the room like a ragdoll and landed with a sickening noise.
A wolf stood in the middle of the room; white and black, standing on its hind legs taller than most humans, its hair a cascade of light grey, and its eyes red as blood.
She stood, regal and terrible like the Moon.
"HA! My plan B-LIKE-BITCH YOU SUCKER!" Blitz screamed as soon as he had breath in him again.
Loona walked over to her prey, that was now trembling in sheer, absolute terror.
"NO ONE MESSES WITH MY DA- I mean Blitz!"
All of a sudden Blitz was crying profusely for some reason. Not that anyone noticed, having their eyes on the hellhound.
Her claws sank into the Tzar's chest, and she raised him in the air leering straight into his eyes before tearing him apart.
An explosion of blood covered everything and everyone, and the flames of the fireplace were like burning blood.
...
"What do you say, Woodrow" the Reaper said as Blitz was hugging his whole team "Do you think the higher-ups will let this slide?"
"Well, they did kill a man who was two years past his appointed time, so I would say it's fine. Besides, the Grim Reaper must be neutral in the affairs between Heaven and Hell."
Teddy smiled, grateful for the advice of an old enemy. Sure, he may be wise now, but he's the same son of a bitch as ever.
"Thank you Mister President Sir- can I call you Sir?" Moxxie asked.
"It's mighty fine, little one." he replied "You are not a bad fighter yourself. Sure I hope many an old friend of mine has good company like you in Hell."
...
An overjoyed Moxxie joined his wife, his boss and his favourite (...) hellhound for the trip back home. To Teddy's surprise, it was Loona the one with the grimoire and the knowledge of the magic spells within. Sure as hell she didn't look like the bookish type...
A Solomonic incantation later, they said their goodbyes and went trough the thin veil between worlds.
Roosevelt sighed as a long parchment, the Reaper's list, materialized in front of him.
"So, let's see... who's next on the list?"