"Blitz, thank you for coming-"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm just here to help you get your daughter. No sex. No talking. Let's get this over with."
Blitzo had entered the palace with fantastic theatrics, shattering a window with his grappling hook and forcing his way into Stolas's bedroom. Stolas, meanwhile, scrambled to find anything that would put them on the right track. For once, his parenting was backfiring, with Octavia having taken almost every precaution to cover her tracks.
The pair sat at the kitchen table. Stella and Anthron had long since left for Pentagram City. He only knew that from the word of his butler. They had been gone for almost the entire day, having far more resources at their disposal than Stolas and Blitzo.
In his hands held the crown, Octavia's old journal, and their old Halloween family photo. Two of those were clues. The other two were there for his own sanity.
"What the fuck is this shit?" Blitzo asked, angrily, "How is this going to help us?"
"Well, it's all I have, Blitzy," Stolas sighed, "Stella and Anthron took everything else."
"Then we're gonna pay them a visit. And don't call me 'Blitzy.'"
"But that's what your contact name is."
"Then delete my fucking contact."
Talking to Blitzo was like talking to a brick wall. No matter how much he tried, he was blocked, the doors to his cage shut in his face without even allowing his fingers to stick through the bars.
"We're not going to pay them a visit," Stolas swallowed, "They've threatened me if I try and get involved. They cannot know about this meeting. Got it? This is going to be our little secret."
Blitzo loudly ate a sandwich as they deliberated, mouth full as he attempted to speak, "That fucking sucks, and it's gonna be hard to keep this thing a secret with the word already out. You'd be better off trying to hide a rainbow dildo in a strip club."
"Oh, Blitzy, your colorful metaphors never fail to excite me."
Stolas smacked himself in the face after that remark. He turned to lock his eyes onto the crowd, having to ground himself in reality to keep himself on track. His head spun around as his stress hormones fought with oxytocin, dopamine receptors overwhelmed as he laid eyes on his former lover.
"Jesus Christ, Stolas, can you take a fucking hint!" Blitzo spat, "We're here to look for your fucking daughter."
"I know, I know," Stolas said, "I should have never signed off on that fucking paper…"
"Then why did you?"
How could Stolas justify what he had done? Even at gunpoint, he had caved and signed, with Stella dangling his reputation in front of his face like a set of shiny keys. He can't be that bad, Stolas had thought, trying to rid himself of the moral burden. What kind of father sold off his own daughter?
"She threatened me," Stolas said, suddenly choking up, "And Octavia. What choice did I have?"
Blitzo scoffed, "Oh, I don't know? Be a fucking man and protect your kid! I'd never sell Loonie like that. Some fucking dad you are."
Stolas recoiled, struck by Blitzo's verbal bullets.
What could a man do when his reason for living was gone? All by his own hand, too! If anybody deserved to be in Hell, it was him! Octavia was alone and afraid somewhere without a hand to guide her. His protection had only put her in more danger.
"I know!" Stolas shouted, voice cracking, "Do you think I wanted to do this? I thought I was protecting her!"
Another tense silence followed as the pair tried to put together the pieces. Stolas's face was warm with fear and anguish, pacing back and forth as Octavia came to the forefront of his mind.
"You said that your bitch wife went to Pentagram City, right?" Blitzo asked.
"Yes," Stolas choked, "Why?"
"Well, they're clearly going there for a reason. Maybe they know something we don't."
"What are you saying?"
"Get a fucking bag, Stolas. You wanna find your daughter? We're going to Pentagram City."
-o
-o
"Hey, Moxxie! I'm really sorry, but I have a favor to ask!"
The blackness left his vision as Moxxie sat up in his bed. He rubbed his eyes and faced the cold air outside of his blankets, listening to Millie's soft breathing by his side. A smile crept across his face as she tugged on his shoulder.
Charlie stood in the doorway to their bedroom, backlit by the soft, orange lighting of the hallway.
Moxxie wore a pair of striped pajama pants and a light shirt. After patting Millie on the head and waiting for her to go back to sleep, he gently stood up and made his way to the door, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he did so.
"Hey," Moxxie said, clearing his throat, "What's up?"
"I'll pay you extra for this," Charlie sighed, "But we're running low on some supplies, plus we'll need some extra stuff for Octavia. You know your way around a gun, and the city is…well, you know."
She nervously grinned as she pulled a small list out of her pocket.
"We have a hotel van," Charlie continued, "I'll give you the keys. I just need you to go downtown and get a few things for me. It's early enough in the morning that I think you should be safe, but if it looks bad, turn around and come back."
"I can do that," Moxxie replied.
Charlie exactly wrapped her arms around him, "Thank you so much! Come on, I'll show you the car."
If there was one thing that he liked about his new job, it was his boss's attitude. Charlie's smile radiated a purity that had long since been lost in Hell. He was happy to do the job, even if it meant venturing out into the streets of Pentagram City at four in the morning.
She led him down the hallway and back into the lobby. The bar had long since fallen silent, and the jazz that had once been playing over the radio had been replaced with Bach's Prelude in C, a piece that Moxxie knew well. At one point that piece would lull him to sleep. That night, it preceded his emergence into the darkness.
Charlie then took him outside and handed him a set of keys. The air was cool and moist, with the morning dew coating his feet as he ventured towards the parking lot in the dim light of a streetlamp.
"It should be right over here," Charlie whispered, "It's been awhile since we've used it,"
Ahead of them sat a red van with a large eye painted on the side. The metal, even in the night, caught the light of nearby streetlights and glimmered against the all-consuming backness. He was able to make out a leather interior from his distance, along with finely polished wheels and a stainless exterior. It made the I.M.P. company van look like a corpse with wheels.
"Holy crumbs…" Moxxie said in awe, "Look at this thing…"
"Don't ya like it?" Charlie said, "Now, for our own discretion…"
Charlie lifted a glowing finger and summoned a patch of red paint to cover the Happy Hotel logo on the van's side.
"Don't want to be seen, do we?" Charlie asked before handing Moxxie his gun, a set of keys, and five hundred souls.
"No, we don't," Moxxie replied as he tried not to react to the souls in his hands, "I'll be back in an hour, okay?"
"Alright. Thanks again, Moxxie. You're helping us out a lot." She shook his hand and opened the driver's side door for Moxxie to enter. He waved her away as she retreated back into the safety of the hotel, the engine roaring to life as he inserted the keys.
The van took off into the night. Moxxie had seen a supermarket on his way into the city, just a few blocks downtown past Sixth Street.
There was a certain peace that came with driving at night, even in the midst of Hell's largest metropolis. Most of the bars were shutting down by that point. He watched as the occasional demon stumbled across the sidewalk. The streets were, for the most part, empty, with only Moxxie and the occasional taxi sharing the asphalt.
He breathed a deep breath through his nose. In his old company van, such a breath was a kiss with death. Instead, he was filled with the pleasant aroma of fresh pine needles.
Two neon signs directed him down the grid-structured streets and into the supermarket parking lot. One of the only things Moxxie hated about city life was the traffic, which had been greatly reduced by both the riots and the late hour. He enjoyed being a few minutes' drive from everything. Long, drawn out dirt roads were his kryptonite.
White lights from within the walls of the store shimmered atop puddles in the parking lot. Moxxie found a parking spot near the front of the store, the automatic doors flipping open as he picked up a shopping cart and moved inside.
The inside of the store smelled of freshly chopped meat and slightly-stale produce. He strolled up and down the aisles as he bathed in the purple light cast from the ceiling. Aside from the graphically pornographic ads, the store was almost peaceful.
He passed a baker as he removed a batch of fresh bread from an oven. Moxxie checked the shopping list and ordered four loaves from him.
"You eat like my ex-wife," the baker remarked as he handed Moxxie his food.
Afterwards, Moxxie moved up and down the aisles and knocked each additional item off of the list. Eggs, milk, soap, paper towels, salt, among other things, were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the resources needed to run the hotel.
The aisles were neatly organized, Moxxie taking joy in pinpointing the location of each product. He treated it like a brain game. His brain shot off tiny flares of dopamine as he filled the cart. It was far more orderly than the market in Imp City.
The staff was kind, too, something that felt out of place in the filth of Pentagram City. Moxxie was offered a pastry by another chef towards the back of the store trying to get rid of the previous day's supply. He happily accepted it, the sweet taste of a Boston creme donut giving him the burst of energy that he needed so early in the morning.
That kindness was soon revealed to be transactional, the demon pointing towards a "donations" jar next to the desk. Moxxie, not wanting to cause a scene, placed a couple of souls inside of it and continued along his way, sighing with disappointment as he did so.
Behind him, the automatic doors rang as a handful of other patrons entered the store, likely on the same type of late-night run that Moxxie was. There was a certain camaraderie and liminality to being alone with other patrons in a store at that hour. He felt as if he was teetering on the edge of time, standing somewhere he wasn't supposed to.
A chill ran up his spine as he approached the refrigerated section of the store, picking up multiple gallons of milk in accordance with the list and watching as the metal of the cart bent beneath its weight.
He could only imagine how much of a nightmare loading up the van would be.
With his shopping finished a few aisles later, Moxxie meandered to a nearby checkout as the noise of conversation rose from the other end of the store. He didn't consider himself an eavesdropper, and yet, he found himself tilting his head as he placed his objects on the conveyor belt.
"I don't know what you're talking about," a voice said, "I haven't seen her."
Moxxie glanced at a poster hanging just past the checkout area. It displayed a picture of Octavia, all dressed-up in her royal clothes, followed by the word "MISSING" spelled in large, red letters. He averted his eyes a few seconds later, hoping that nobody had seen him looking.
The conversation behind him continued, Moxxie wondering if it was related to the poster.
"We're just going to ask you a few questions," a second, deeper voice said, "It's our job to find her. If you are telling the truth, then you are innocent, and have nothing to fear."
"Oh, really? Cause that gun of yours isn't helping!"
Moxxie watched as two more figures entered the store. They were dressed in blue uniforms with a large V embroidered on the chest plates of their armor, emanating a neon glow as they passed from shelf to shelf.
"Where's the princess!" one of the soldiers, as Moxxie was calling them, shouted, "Under the orders of Vox!"
Crumbs.
Moxxie knew what kind of a situation he was about to get into. Both soldiers held white-tipped weapons in their hands, meaning they were angelic bullets. Those things could kill anyone. Imps, Sinners, Nobility, even somebody like Charlie.
"Thanks," Moxxie said, hastily leaving three hundred souls on the counter as he made a mad dash for the door, "Gotta go!"
The first of the bullets was fired just as Moxxie rushed out of one of the back doors. Towards the other entrance, he caught sight of more figures pulling in through the front, some soldiers, others gangsters wanting in on the action.
A fire alarm behind him went off as the noise of the gunshots deafened him. By that point he was sprinting through the parking lot, drifting on the cart and eventually sliding it next to the hotel van. His palms clumsily reached for the keys as he threw open the drunk and tossed groceries haphazardly into the back.
The lights within the store went out. Moxxie was left in near-total darkness as he strained, watching as injured patrons attempted to leave, only to be shot down in the resulting slaughter.
"Shit!" Moxxie muttered to himself repeatedly.
He tossed the shopping cart aside and finally pulled himself into the driver's seat.
Hands dripping with sweat, he slammed the van into reverse just as the shouting reached the parking lot. Moxxie glanced over his shoulder and saw the same armed men from earlier marching towards the van.
One of them pulled out a megaphone and shouted at Moxxie from the front of the store, "Pull over your vehicle. This is an urgent situation, and we need your cooperation."
They spoke like corporate overlords. Moxxie knew what they did to little men like him. He pressed his foot harder into the gas and took a sharp right turn towards the curb, tires screeching like nails on a chalkboard.
"Stop resisting!" the soldiers shouted, "Or we will place you under arrest!"
Moxxie, wanting to keep his head attached to his body, swung the car around just as the soldiers opened fire.
The first bullet went through the passenger side window. Moxxie ducked, keeping his hands on the wheel and swerving left and right.
The second and third bullet hit the back of the van.
He poked his head up after nine more bullets struck somewhere between his head and the car. Once he heard the click of their reloading, Moxxie threw one leg in front of the other and took his chance to escape.
Or, so he thought.
One of the bullets had jammed itself inside of the car's hood. Somehow –the logistics of which were far out of Moxxie's expertise– the steering wheel jammed and sent the car into a tailspin.
Moxxie screamed, watching as the soldiers grew larger and larger, the van barreling towards them without any intention or ability to stop. The bullets came thick and fast as the soldiers reloaded. They shot at him as if it would do anything to bring the vehicle to a halt.
"I can't stop!" Moxxie shouted, "Stop shooting!"
The last thing he saw were the two soldiers raising their hands in the air as the van struck their legs. Moxxie felt a heavy bump followed by a sickening crunch before he was able to pull himself up and attempt to gain control of the vehicle again.
Moxxie swung the wheel a couple extra times and got it back on track. He glanced in his side-view mirror, finding the two red puddles shrinking in the parking lot the faster he drove. Another scream escaped his mouth as the van ran over the curb and swerved right back onto fifth street.
Highway hypnosis took him from the supermarket to the front parking space of the hotel room. He didn't want to imagine Charlie's reaction to the van's newest Swiss-cheese paint job. Then again, with his lap covered in glass from the windshield, he imagined that Charlie was among the least of his concerns.
Small pieces of glass scratched up his legs as the force of the stopping van forced the shards across his skin.
The next thing he knew, Charlie was bolting out the front door with speed Moxxie hadn't imagined possible. He waved her off for a moment as he scrambled out of the vehicle and sat down on the curb to catch his breath.
"Moxxie!" she shouted, "Oh my gosh! What happened to you!"
Moxxie placed his hand on his lips and pointed to the hotel doors, "Long story. Some dudes hit up the supermarket. They're looking for Octavia."
Charlie's eyes widened with concern, both at Moxxie's warning, and the very noticeable blood stains on the sides of the van.
She hesitantly pointed, "Okay, okay. Do I want to ask about this?" "Lost control of the car," Moxxie replied nonchalantly, "They hit the hood."
A cool breeze sent a chill up Moxxie's spine as the streetlights shined down on him, exposing him to any hostile figures lurking in the shadows. What had once been a source of comfort had become his worst enemy. No longer would he feel safe in the light.
Moxxie backed away from the lamp as Charlie inspected him for wounds.
"I'll get Angel and Vaggie to help me hide the van," Charlie remarked, "You get back inside and clean yourself up. You're bleeding."
Sure enough, Moxxie's right forearm had been hit with glass from the passenger-side window shattering. He nodded and thanked her before opening the back door and throwing himself inside.
His breath shook as he felt phantom pains of invisible glass running across his clothes. Somebody else could unload those groceries after they were safe. As he walked, he glanced out of the windows, watching to ensure that those terrible soldiers weren't following him.
Something hit him in the chest as he turned a dark corner past the lobby.
"AHH!" Moxxie screamed.
Reflexively, he threw his hands out and shoved at the body ahead of him, almost knocking them to the ground. Moxxie backed away from his mysterious attacker and prepared to run away.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" a voice responded.
The voice, faintly feminine and ripe with rage, prompted Moxxie to slowly turn his head like a child caught up past their bedtime.
Octavia clutched her shoulder in a ball on the ground. Moxxie's sharp fear turned to the dull pains of regret, scampering across the soft carpet to pull the wounded princess back to her feet.
Look at what he had done! There he was, fighting tooth and nail to get that woman to talk to him, and he had just punched her in the face.
Tears welled from the woman's eyes as she reached for her nose. He extended his hand and waited for her to reach for it, anticipating the angry swatting of her fingers in his direction.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Octavia groaned, "Right in the nose!"
To his surprise, Octavia accepted his hand and pulled herself up with his body weight. He spouted apologies like water from a faucet.
"I'm sorry!" Moxxie stammered over and over again, "Please…I didn't mean to!"
She glared at him with a stare that could kill. Moxxie knew that her father could turn demons to stone, and had seen him do so on multiple occasions. He moved his arms and legs to verify that he had not, in fact, been turned into stone.
Instead, he shriveled up like a leaf in the sun.
Closing his eyes was the only defense Moxxie had. His heart was still pounding, his legs shaking as he cursed himself for being so stupid. His mistakes bordered on comical.
He felt the pressure of a warm huff from Octavia's bleeding nose.
"What happened to you?" Octavia asked, noticing Moxxie's bleeding arm and the glass covering his clothes.
Moxxie blinked for a moment. Realizing that an angry fist was not coming for him, he choked out a response.
"Octavia," Moxxie stammered, hesitantly guiding her back to her bedroom, "You have to get back in your room. They're looking for you."
Her mouth widened at that. Moxxie, for the first time in a long time, saw a flash of fear break Octavia's gloomy complexion. It only furthered his worry. The windows, once pleasant glances at the outside world, exposed them to the grime roaming the streets. No longer would sunlight illuminate the inside of the hotel.
"What?" Octavia asked.
The carpet softly crunched beneath their feet and gave way to tile while the pair moved further back.
"Charlie sent me to the store," Moxxie breathed, "These guys came in. They had these uniforms on, and they were asking about you. I think…I think they had angelic weapons. They shot the van…I think I hit some of them."
"Looking for me?"
"I mean, when the bride of an overlord's son goes missing, people are going to look for her."
They arrived at the suite. Moxxie closed the door and waited for Octavia to sit down on the bed, the air conditioner turning on as it detected their entrance.
The princess pulled the silk comforter over her shoulders and placed her hands on her shoulders. That same, wide-eyed expression of shock returned to her face, draining what little color remained.
"Are you okay?" Octavia asked after a moment.
"I should be asking you the same thing!" Moxxie said, "I'm sorry about your nose…and…you know, the whole 'hunted by overlords' thing…"
"Whatever. I'm okay, it's just a bit bloody. I would have probably done the same thing."
She brushed a stream of blood from her face and cleaned her arm off with a set of tissues at the side of the bed. By that point, he knew he was overstaying his welcome, although a part of him wasn't ready to leave. The hallway led back to the lobby. For all Moxxie knew, the soldiers had already killed Charlie and were on their way to storm the hotel. The hidden nature of the room provided security.
Eventually, he forced himself up.
"I'm going to get going, okay?" Moxxie said, listening to Octavia's shaky breaths, "Are you gonna be alright in here tonight?"
She nodded hesitantly.
"Yeah, I'll be okay," Octavia murmured, "You still have your gun, right?"
"It's in my room. Why?" Moxxie asked.
"Just…making sure."
He waved goodbye to the princess and opened the door.
By the time he reached the lobby, he found Charlie, Angel Dust, and Vagatha all hurriedly carrying groceries inside from the ruined van. A garage door at the side of the building had been opened up, as Moxxie was able to see through a window, and the van was carefully backed inside of it, withdrawing it from outside view.
The coast was surely clear by then. Moxxie opened the front door and joined Charlie outside.
"Is everything alright out here?" Moxxie asked quietly, as if even the faintest whisper would give him away.
"Well, we got the van tucked away," Charlie huffed, closing the garage door as Moxxie ventured further into the parking lot, "All of the groceries are inside. You should be, too. I don't want you getting hurt again."
Chalire, putting a mom-arm out in front of him, rushed Moxxie back inside as she locked the door behind her.
"What do we do now?" Moxxie asked, watching as Charlie nervously turned off the lights in the lobby.
"We lay low," she replied, "They have no reason to suspect she's here, and we're not going to give them one. I'm going to see if I can get you some better weapons from Carmine. I'm also extending your patrol hours, and increasing your pay."
"What time do I start?"
"Go get some sleep. How about ten?"
"I can do that. Thank you."
"You're the one that risked your life to get us supplies. I should be thanking you."
"Yeah, but you're the Princess of Hell."
She shrugged, "I get that a lot."
Moxxie nodded and shuffled back to his bedroom.
A dim lamp cast an orange glow across the room. Millie sat up, her eyes heavy from sleep and her hair a mess. A faint smile crossed her face once she laid eyes on Moxxie.
"Mox!" she exclaimed, voice raspy from sleep, "Where were you?" She gasped as she noticed the blood and glass on his clothes, "You're bleeding!"
"There was an attack," Moxxie said, "They're looking for Octavia."
She brought him in close and hugged him so tight that, for a moment, he wondered if she was going to suffocate him.
"Oh my god, Moxxie!" she said, "Are you okay?"
"Just a few scrapes," Moxxie said, hiding the rest of his grueling encounter. He could tell her the rest in the morning, "I've had worse."
"I don't like this, Mox."
"Look, I've got to get some sleep, okay? Charlie wants me back at my post in the morning."
"Alright. But I'm worried, Mox. This isn't good."
"I know," he said, taking a pause before speaking again, "I love you, Millie."
"Love you, too, Mox."
She gently pecked him on the cheek as he rolled over on his own side of the bed. Moxxie smiled before taking off his dirtied suit and pulling the covers up over his aching body, making sure his bleeding had come to an end before resting atop the sheets.
Darkness ensued, Moxxie tightly closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to take him away.
Millie softly shuffled by his side. His heart slammed against his chest with each breath he took, unable to shake the ringing in his ears and the adrenaline that had filled his veins as he faced the soldiers. His legs twitched with each attempt to get comfortable. Moxxie was quickly overcome with a strong restlessness.
Maybe I made a mistake, he thought, I should have never come here.
He wrapped his arms around Millie as he tried to sleep. She buried her head in his chest, Moxxie finding comfort in her warmth and familiarity, her soft breath brushing against his exposed skin like an autumn breeze.
Their entire excursion was supposed to get them away from Blitzo. There, as he held Millie close like she was his last lifeline, he couldn't help but wonder if he had accidentally gotten them into something that was far, far worse.