Notamafia Town, Greed, 1922
Striker walked into the large room, past the two shark demon guards at the entrance.
The place was bathed in dim, ghastly green light, which mostly entered from the large windows on the right side of the room. The walls were garishly decorated with trophies that looked like imp horns and gaping shark mouths with their scores of razor-sharp teeth. At the end of the room was a large green fireplace. In the middle stood the long table, green and black.
"Come, Striker, have a seat; we have... unexpected company today..." the figure at the head of the table, a male imp dressed in a black and red business suit, said, as he motioned to his top assassin to come over.
The call Striker had received from his boss was oddly urgent, in the middle of a job no less. Whatever had come up, it clearly took precedence over anything else.
Crimson, one of the crime lords of Greed, had a guest. And he was perhaps the last imp in Hell Striker had expected to see...
Vermin.
...
Striker took his seat to the right of Crimson, in front of Moxxie who only glanced at him.
The sheer hatred in the air was so thick one could cut the tension with a knife.
"I'll get straight to the point, Striker..." Crimson started, "...we need to know who provided you with a weapon crafted with Angelic Steel for one of your past jobs, well before I hired you."
Striker looked... somewhat intrigued. "Angelic Steel, huh? I bet every royal in Hell has a secret stash of that good stuff..." he said, his contempt for royalty dripping from every word, "...family heirlooms from the War in Heaven..."
"Perhaps," Moxxie started, "but you are the only demon we know who had the audacity of actually using one of those weapons. And for the record, the steel has been often reused in the last several millennia, so that rifle wasn't nearly as ancient as the War in Heaven."
Moxxie himself couldn't believe his eyes when he saw it. A Carmine rifle, crafted so expertly it looked like it had been manufactured in Heaven. Of course, no one was ever going to learn from Carmine who gave her the Angelic Steel. Someone else needed to be persuaded...
"And why exactly would I give away that information? It's not like a professional hitman like myself can betray the trust of a former employer just like that..."
"Because..." Crimson said, grinning, "...we are going to be paid handsomely for it..." and he gestured at the stack of money on the table, a small taste of the full payment.
"...by our beloved Princess of Hell no less."
'So, this is more about the opportunity of getting some influence in the royal court than it is about the money...' Striker thought. Yes, that would do...
"A Princesss..." he said, his voice sounding like that of a rattlesnake for a moment, "...what a coincidence. My former employer who trusted me with that rifle is also a Princess... One that your boss..." he spatted, turning to Moxxie, "...knows very well. Or at least, he knows her bed..."
"So it was Stella!" Moxxie exclaimed.
"Crimson looked surprised. "Since when do you know Princesses, Moxxie?"
"I've never met Princess Stella..." in fact, Moxxie knew little of her beside her being hot- in her sinister way of course- "...but I know her husband. The same Prince that a certain master assassin has failed to kill. Twice."
"Once," Striker corrected him, "the second time the Princess called it off. Had she not done that, you and your lovely husband would have found Stolas dead..."
If Moxxie had been more like Charlie, he would have immediatly thought that, perhaps, Stella had a change of heart at the last minute. But he wasn't Charlie.
"Striker! It's my daughter-in-law you are talking about..." Crimson said in a sickening display, acting like he didn't hate Millie's guts.
"Of course, boss..." he said, vaguely apologizing.
Then he turned to Moxxie. "Good luck convincing Stella to hand over her Angelic Steel..."
"Luckily, someone else will take care of that." Moxxie retorted, "They will get their hands on that steel. And once they do..."
"...they'll show Heaven a fight they won't forget!"
...
Crimson was stunned. His son wanted to play the hero now?
"Oh Moxxie, Moxxie..." Crimson started, "...you always surprised me with your misguided... idealism. Just like your m-"
Moxxie was so fast Striker had no time to react! He slammed his hands on the table and looked his father dead in his cold, yellow eyes...
"If I hear you mention my mother again, you'll see- first-hand- just how good I have gotten at my job."
A flicker of Crimson's hand, and Striker would have attacked. And the bodyguards would have entered the room. But nothing like that happened.
Crimson looked utterly, coldly, completely unfazed.
Moxxie turned away and started walking out of the room.
"Expect the rest of the payment shortly. I would it was a pleasure doing business with you, but I'm not in the habit of lying as much as the two of you."
"This is your home, Moxx, you will always be welcome here..." Crimson said, every single word sounding exactly like the threat it was.
"...Always!"
Moxxie didn't look back.