AN: Well, the movie was spoiled. Thanks, IloveM.A.D.B. How was I supposed to know that friggin Wolverine was in Deadpool & Wolverine?! Gah! Screw it, I'm canceling everything!
Disclaimer: Bonesboy15 doesn't own Helluva Boss or Naruto. The following is a written work of fan-fiction. It contains adult language and situations. Reader discretion is advised.
One Knuckleheaded Glutton
Party Starter
Striker glared at the group of four that walked onto the Rough & Tumbleweed Ranch. Three more imps he could handle, especially the loudmouthed tall one, he was probably more bark than bite. On the subject of bark, however, came the one individual that could potentially be a problem.
"That's Loona, she's Blitz' Hellhound." The returning child introduced the problem with a blasé wave.
"She's not just a Hellhound!" The Loudmouth, Blitz, crossed his arms. The Hound looked a little grateful at his words before he continued talking. "She's our secretary!" Then he hugged the Hound and ugh, this wasn't a halfa family in the making was it? Striker would kill them on principle if it was. "And, more importantly, my daughter!"
Hang on there...What? Ho – Well, it's better than him trying to fuck the flea-infested mutt.
"On paper." The bitch shoved the loudmouth away and went back to looking at her phone. She growled as her thumb tapped away at it. "...You fuckers aren't even worthy of knowing my name..."
Ohh, that makes more sense. Eh, not really. Fuck Hellhounds. Striker hated the damn mutts. Always flaunting their fucking acceptable appearances and getting the good gigs for half the price most Imps' would ask for. Not to mention their unwavering loyalty to the goddamn supremacist blue-blooded motherfuckers.
He would slip up and drop his cover the longer he hung around these impertinent dumbasses. He went back to fixing the shoe on the ranch's horse, honest labor always helped him keep a cool head as he went over his to do list before a hit. Getting distracted by a few more body bags was–
A buzz in his pants had him bite down on a particularly vicious curse. He pulled his phone out and looked over the text from his employer.
(Call)
Fuckin – This is why he hated taking jobs from first timers! Striker growled and tapped a few keys on his phone before he put it up to his ear.
"...This line ain't secure for–"
"I don't care, you are being paid handsomely, are you not?"
"Well those are my terms." Striker deadpanned. He let the horseshoe fall into the muck and strolled away from the stable. "What the fuck do you want–?"
"We're in Wrath."
"...He's here early?" Striker turned to glance at the window of his room in the main house, where his Carmilla Carmine rifle was stashed in its case under his bed. He could go do this job tonight and call it a fucking day!
"No, you simpleton! We are all in Wrath! Stick to the plan, but if you see me in his company, do not make a move."
"...You realize you being nearby decreases your chance of being accused of arranging this, don't you?"
"Of course I know that!" The client snapped. "I would rather not be covered with the brain splatter of this CHEATING IMP-FUCKING LIMP-DICKED BASTARD!"
"...I'm sorry, did you say something?" An airy aristocratic asshole asked.
The client shrieked something incoherent and the undercover assassin had to cover the receiver lest he draw any attention to himself. Fucking Here, there was not enough money in the Ring of Greed for Striker to bare listening to this bitch any longer than he needed to.
"Look, if that's all? I need to keep my cover. Stick to text!" He hung up the phone and put the hand to his head. "Keep the cover...keep the cover."
"Cover? For your bike?"
Striker turned and found the little accident-to-be staring at him. He chuckled, because of course! Of course...the universe flipped him off again.
"Yes. Yeah, scamp, for my bike." Striker chuckled and reached out to rub the young Imp on the head. He tightened his grip on the kid's head and tilted his head back so he could look him in the eye. "You ain't been listening to all my conversations, have ya?"
"...No?"
Oh, so convincing. Maybe he could get a better answer with the help of someone more experienced at this sort of thing.
"Do I need to talk to your mother?" Striker's eyes narrowed, daring the child to say no.
"N-No sir! Sorry, sir, Ma and Pa just wanted you to come meet Millie and Maximillian, sent me t' come n' getcha!"
"...Sure, why not." Striker stood up and pocketed his phone.
"Right this way, Princess." Octavia followed along with Itachi as he carried her suitcases while a taller, more lizard-like Imp led them down the hall to the room she'd be staying in.
Wrath was...very different from Pride. A waste full of Imps and other degenerates, Mother claimed, when they were cordially invited to attend a week-long festivity. Father argued it had its own sense of open beauty to it, and further pushed to allow her to make her own opinion on it.
The home they'd been invited to stay in was one of Satan's wives' homes, the most domineering of the bunch if she understood correctly, and it was massive as it was beautiful, much like its owner. Governess Lucia greeted them in all of her splendor and Octavia for the life of her wondered: what kind of balls does it take to help run a Ring while totally naked?
She didn't dare voice that question. She was curious, not suicidal. Then shortly after brief greetings and introductions were exchanged, she, Mother and Father were separated when their host asked to speak with her parents alone. In turn, Lucia sent a skittish servant to show Octavia - and afterwards he'd show Itachi to an adjacent servant's quarters - where they'd be staying for the week of festivities.
They'd just rounded a bend with the servant a good half-step ahead of them when some pattering caught Octavia's ear. Before she could ask - was it the foundation's age showing, or a renovation of some sort? - the imp leading them was bowled over by a little red...creature. It was as tall as the Imp, but stocky and with stumpy limbs and a weird rounded head. Almost like a circle. It lifted its head up and blinked.
"Ow?"
Did it just ask if that hurt? Octavia looked at Itachi, who seemed amused if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by. He caught her stare and let out a barely perceptible nod. Alright then, yes. It would appear that this...thing just asked if running over the servant Imp hurt itself.
Ugh, thinking that sentence hurt Octavia's head. It was like dealing with her bodyguard again. Granted, he did teach her a lot about slight-of-hand, shady dealings and assassination. And the noodles he got were okay, she supposed—
"Wow! Are you a birdy?!"
"What?" Octavia shook herself out of the almost fond memories of that week. The little red thing looked up at her with bright yellow eyes and an awed gaping mouth. Was she an Imp? A half-breed?
"Are you a birdy? Can you fly? Do you eat worms like birdies do where Daddy lives? Or do you eat mice like some bigger birdies do? Do you sing? Tweet? Chirp? Ooh, can you greet people with a fun musical number?!"
"...Hello, is typically how I greet people…" Octavia deadpanned at the last of the rapid-fire questions of...This young individual. Itachi let out a very, very quiet hum and she almost cuffed him. His amusement at her awkwardness would not be forgotten.
"Miss Satina! Miss Satina, there you—Oh bother... again, Bernard? Get off your ass and go do your job, you should be at the front door escorting the Goetia prat!" Another Imp clad in a vest and slacks sighed as she came towards them from a room just a bit further down the adjacent hall. She came up and put a hand onto the thing's — Satina? — shoulder. "Miss Satina, you mustn't run away from your lessons."
"Aww, but look at the pretty birdy I found, Miss Bianca!"
Well, er, isn't that...Nice?
"Hm—Oh, shit. Um, hello! Princess!" The Imp, Bianca, quickly forced a too wide smile and put a hand on either of Sarina's shoulders. "I, er, I see you've met Governess Lucia's daughter. Satina, did you introduce yourself to the Princess?"
"Nope!" The young girl chirped before she gasped. Octavia's hands were suddenly pulled from her cardigan and squeeze really tightly. "You're a Princess?! Is your daddy a king?!"
Of all the things for a child to ask about. Father was more of a Drama Queen than a prince, let alone a king of any sort. Itachi let out another soft snort that only she managed to detect. Octavia gave him a look from the corner of her eye that promised a very painful death if he left her to suffer this torment. The stoic little Imp merely turned his head away.
Traitor!
"...No." Octavia forced through her clenched beak. What she wouldn't do to be out of this situation and in a warm bath. The little...girl wilted and the Goetian Princess felt a pang of sympathetic disappointment. It wasn't the child's fault that she was so stressed from her parents' failing marriage. She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them again. "My father is Prince Stolas, and since he is a Prince, that—"
"Makes you a princess! Yeah, Mommy had to explain that to me eight times after I found out that Mr. Satan wasn't my daddy—"
Um, what?
"Wow! It is getting so late!" Bianca clapped a hand over the child's mouth and winced when it was immediately bitten on. She forced a smile through grit teeth. "I should really get Miss Satina here back to her room to let her freshen up before dinner! Come along, Miss Satina! Bernard! Get these two to their rooms!"
"Right, um, y-yes Miss Bianca!" The downed Imp had hopped to his feet at her hiss. He bowed and pointed down a hall, opposite of the one Satina was whisked down. "This way, Princess!"
Though suspicious, they listened and followed the now over-chatty Imp down the hall. Octavia furrowed her brow and leaned over to Itachi.
"Any idea why they got so squirrelly?" She asked softly.
"Likely afraid of retribution taken upon their heads for young Satina's loose lips." He smiled slightly and his eyes glazed over as they often did, whenever he seemed to be lost in memory. "Children are so rambunctious at times."
"...Do you ha-?"
She'd never seen someone come out of a trance as fast as Itachi. His eyes cooled over and hardened once more.
"No."
Well, alright then.
"...Two fifty-nine...Two-sixty...Two sixty-one..." Naruto curled his head, shoulders and elbows towards his knees from where he lay on the solid rock floor. "...Two sixty-two...Two sixty-three...Two sixty-four..."
He'd been in this solitary cell for all of eighteen hours, five of which he'd slept through, only an hour after his arrival. When he was grabbed and escorted out of Elysium by a squad of armored demons, he initially thought it was a trap by some other would-be assassin. The phrase, "By Lucifer's Will," had him hold off on retaliatory action. Not out of respect for the Short King Wannabe, no it was more for the actual soldiers that likely had orders to get him. His one issue was that they had him drop the obsidian chain he'd carried for the past few days; he kind of felt naked without it.
The door creaked open and he stopped his crunches midway through number Two-seventy, body tense and ready to fight, his claws lowered from where they were behind his head to brace against the ground. His eyes peered into the shadow caused by the sudden light. An imp poked their head in and blinked sulfuric eyes.
"Aha, here you are!" He beamed. The door pushed open the rest of the way, as it did it let out a loud shrill groan that had him fold his ears back and snarl. The Imp cleared his throat and stepped aside. "Presenting, his maleficence, his revolting, the Daemonic Prince of Pr—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knows who I am. Shoo, shoo! Go on, get out of here, kid, you're bothering me." An apple-tipped cane pushed the Imp out of the way...and about five hundred feet down a row, if that faint grunt and impact was anything to go by. Ah, if it isn't the Douchifer himself. The King of Hell beamed. "Naru-Lzebub! How's solitary treating you, kid?"
Were they really doing this? Really? ...Alright then.
"Well, more ramen would be nice. Maybe a shirt and new pants. Oh, and if I could get an actual bed–?" The floor was not comfortable and his freshly healed wounds were not growing fur back fast enough.
"Mm, yeah, can't help with any of that. Sorry. Listen, if you couldn't already tell there's been a small hiccup in your venture into Elysium." Lucifer pinched fingers together as he walked in and examined the cell.
"...No, really?" Naruto snorted and went back to his crunches. He was only thirty short of being done. "I figured that out when you had me escorted to a cell in solitary confinement. What do you want, Lucifer?"
"I want you to pay attention." So much for those crunches. Naruto sat up, rested his elbows on his knees, and gave the King a flat stare while pointedly turning his ears in his direction. The King smiled, it wasn't friendly or amused. "Good boy. Now, our arrangement was for you to survive for thirty days in The Pit, and you've got...Five left?"
"Sounds right."
"Good, because I need to renegotiate."
He growled and his tail lashed. It was bad enough he had to go so long without Loona and their Boops already, he didn't think he could manage anything longer without snapping. If not for the somewhat steady stream of Ramen and running into a familiar face – side note: it was weird to see Zabuza again, but neat to briefly reminisce about old times in the era of Shinobi. Don't misunderstand, he still beat the old Mist Nin into the ground (at The Oni's request because somehow that would help with a plan to obtain freedom? Naruto hadn't really paid attention) mostly because he still had some pent up irritation caused by the asshole's destruction of his Ramen, so the 'acting' was a bit of the method variety – he might have lost his mind already. And then where would he be? Not returning to Loona or getting Boops, that's for fucking sure.
"Hold on, sport, I'm not extending your time. I said that I need to renegotiate. You can use any, if not all, of the abilities available to your Reserved Form from this moment on."
"...What's the catch?" Naruto frowned.
"Look, you're a-a-a mercenary, right?"
"Bodyguard." He growled. Mercenaries in the eyes of Hellborn held loyalty only to money. He was a proud Glutton, not a Greed native, and his coveted things were simple: Loved Ones, Food, and Being Awesome.
"Tomato, potato." Lucifer waved his hand. Naruto growled again, but cut it short when The King continued. "Now, being that you are freelance-"
"I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"Well, I've discovered some potentially problematic political discourse."
"I-hold on. Are you saying you want me as your bodyguard?"
Lucifer laughed. Hard. Loud. For a solid five minutes. That's actually kind of impressive.
"Oh no, God no." Lucifer wiped a tear from his eye and blinked. "Wait, were you serious?"
"You're going to laugh again — There it is." Naruto threw a hand up and dragged it down his face as Morningstar fell to his back, laughing. The Foxfiend rubbed his face and waited another five minutes for him to calm down. "So, if not for you — which is the only reason I can imagine you to want to even consider hiring me — who am I being hired to be a bodyguard for?"
"That's the beautiful thing, I'm not hiring you. This is part of the negotiation." Lucifer sighed. He wiped another tear from his eye. "God, that was great. Anyway, you get your fancy shmansy powers back and you bodyguard for a certain individual—"
"At Half-price."
"...I don't think you understand." Lucifer put his hands together. "You are going to protect this individual-"
"At half-price." Naruto smirked when Lucifer roared in his face. He let his chin rest on his arms. "Thanks, I needed that."
"I will obliterate–!"
"Not here you won't. Bee would sniff out your involvement."
"Smarmy little–" Lucifer's nostrils flared. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"Naruto. We've met."
"...I could order you. I'm trying to be nice."
"Lucifer, you want to negotiate? We can negotiate. You want to order me to do it?" Naruto leaned forward and smiled with all of his teeth. "Fucking order me to do it."
Lucifer's smile cracked in his mouth.
By rule of Sin, Naruto was Bee's. As King of Hell, he can punish Naruto for 'escaping' Hell, but he can't explicitly order Naruto to do anything without Bee's approval. Not to mention, Lucifer had this little 'thing' about giving orders – Something, something he was banished from Heaven for disobeying rules he didn't agree with – and usually left that to Lilith, or strongly insinuated what he wanted. Then there was an arrangement they made a decade ago, to avoid what would be an awkward relationship that a lot of Lucifer's staunchest supporters were – weirdly – pushing for.
...It was Naruto and Charlie, people. They were pushing for him and Charlie to get married. At twelve. ...Yeah, Naruto thought it was weird, too.
"Fine." The King of Hell spat through grit teeth. "Name your terms."
"Who am I protecting and why?"
"...Terms."
"Details."
"TERMS."
"Details or Charlie gets the bill." Naruto smirked. "And she'd pay it, too."
"You–! Ohh, you!" Lucifer pursed his lips and then exhaled sharply. "Fine. Fine! Prince Stolas–"
"Fucking christ, did his bitch wife put a hit on him during the Harvest Moon Festival or something?"
"..."
"That's exactly what happened, isn't it?"
"No!"
"Is your gut reaction to lie blatantly, or am I special?"
"Fuck you, brat."
"We both know neither of us swing that way." Naruto sat back on his palms as his tail wriggled. "Alright. I'll do it. Free of charge, too–"
"You sn–Ooh," Lucifer growled and reached for him with a snarl on his face. His hat and eyes burst into flames as six white wings sprouted from his back. "What the fuck is this shit, a change of heart?!"
"Fuck no." The Foxfiend's eyes gleamed. "I have terms."
"...I'm listening."
So, he told Lucifer his terms.
The Short King Wannabe accepted.
They shook on it. Ethereal chains powered by Hell itself wound around their hands. Demonic deals often got more dramatic the more powerful the dealers were. Sinners could absorb the excess energy, hence why Overlords were so powerful with their gathered contracts. For Hellborn, their bodies couldn't absorb the energy, so the realm around them took the damage in their stead.
...The building promptly lost power...
And a good portion of it around them collapsed.
As did some of the cliff it was set on.
"This was going to happen regardless of what the deal was, wasn't it?"
"Shut up, Brat."
AN: Alright, I have had, wait for it, it's gonna surprise you ...a shit day! Tune in tomorrow when we'll have a grand o—Steve for the love of FUCK, what in the Hell do you want?!
What do you mean that the signal is back?!
I—!
In the vast loneliness of his sanctuary, Sasuke prepared his bi-monthly meal. Upside about being a Fallen Angel? He could sustain himself on the energies of the cosmos. Downside about being fallen? He needed to eat at least one thing twice a month. Going without tended to put him in a torpor-like state. Today, he got a fruit fresh from Earth that he'd yet to try. Michael had suggested it before he left, apparently it had a kick to it that many angels enjoyed and that many across the planet were fascinated by it. Especially those who read fiction online.
"I fail to see what's so interesting about a lemon." He mused, observing the yellow citrus balanced in his hands. He shrugged and set it on the counter to slice it. The first cut resulted in a squirt of juice going flying. Even with his ungodly speed and reaction time, the slow-motion squirt going towards his face was just alarming enough for him to not process the idea of moving.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
Needless to say, Sasuke didn't like lemons.
AN2: We back? Yes? Good!
Remember kids, it's just fucking Fan-Fiction
...Alright, Steve, you have thirty seconds: How the shit does that keep happening?! What do you mean 'What?' You know 'what'! That!...Are the mics still on? ...I know it's text interface, dipshit, but there's also a—Hit that fucking kill switch so I can chew you out! ..I don't care if you want witnesses, you want to keep eating Saltine crackers don't you?! That's what I th—