Even though it had been years since they had last spoken, the morning run-in and singling out at Lust's most famous nightclub notwithstanding, Blitzo nevertheless fell back into the familiar habit of commenting on his childhood friend's life choices.
"So you think the Ozz man is going to fork over the dough to save your sorry ass? Or is he gonna come charging in here, dicks blazing, like those lame-ass kid stories you used to gush over."
It wasn't because he was trying to be an asshole. Even if he really, REALLY wanted to blame/mock the jester for their current circumstances.
But sadly, Fizz wasn't up for any verbal sparring.
"Shut up Blitzo. I'm not in the mood."
Sadly though, he was.
"Really? I thought since you're the little bitch boy of the King of Lust himself, you'd be a lot happier being tied up. Granted these ropes are probably a bit coarser than what you're used to, but hey, I'm sure given enough time, you'll be begging for them."
Smirking at the glare he received from his fellow Imp, Blitzo felt his own expression sour as Fizz finally decided to play the game of harsh truths.
"Oh yeah, then I'm sure this is just a regular Tuesday night for you? Unless those rumors about a certain Goetia prince kicking you to the curb are true?"
"HE...he didn't kick me to the curb. We're just...taking a break right now."
"Uh huh."
For some reason, this bored-sounding dismissal set him off on a defensive rant.
"I mean, I don't know if it even matters. What we have is a purely transactional arrangement. He gives me something I want, and in return I fuck his brains out. But ever since his feathered-tittied harpy dumped his sorry ass, lately he's started to act all weird."
"I really don't care."
Of course, now that he was in full rant mode, Blitzo acted like he hadn't heard his fellow hostage.
"I mean, before he would just have me over to plow him into the sheets, or give him something to suck on. But now, the privileged asshole is asking me about how my day's going? Do I want to just hang out at his place and talk about stuff? Or even take a trip to the human world and go to the race tracks. I don't even know what's worse. The fact that he's now using me as a lifeline since his wife left him, or the fact that he's pretending that he actually cares about me. Who the fuck is he kidding. Royalty like him doesn't give two shits about Imps like us."
"That...that's not always true."
Rolling his eyes at Fizz's hesitant words of protest, the circus performer turned assassin opened his mouth to criticize Fizz's relationship with his giant bird man.
Only to be beaten to the punch by the asshole who was responsible for their current predicament.
"Pathetic. At least Blitzo is smart enough to treat his blue blood as a steppingstone to get what he wants. But you, you're just a crippled piece of meat that was lucky enough to find a noble treat you like a pet."
Ignoring how Striker's comment managed to reawake the feelings of protectiveness he had once had for his former friend, Blitzo felt his expression morph in a smirk as he decided to do what he always did when he got tied up.
Insult the one responsible for his condition.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, but considering the Imp you've chosen to hitch your wagon too, I really don't think you have any right to mock us for our life choices. I mean, I get the fact that sometimes you have to do stuff you don't want to do when work is getting kinda slow, but choosing to work for Moxxie's sperm donor is kind of sad if you wanna know what I think."
He wasn't sure which was funnier.
The look of horror that was currently being worn by the formerly smug cowboy.
Or the fact that Fizz was willing to get in on tormenting their captor.
"You know, its kinda funny that for all that talk about hating 'blue-bloods', you seem to share lot of their hangups. The entitlement, the narcissism, and the fact that you look down on us Imps. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're close to be a blue-blood your sel..GRKK."
"Finish that sentence purse dog! I fucking dare you."
Cursing the fact that he hadn't thought to conceal a sharper knife, for it mean that he wouldn't have had to helplessly watch his former friend get strangled by a sadistic cowboy, and not in the fun way, Blitzo allowed himself to sigh in relief as Moxxie's gangster daddy decided to announce himself.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOUSE DOING?! GET YOUR GREASY MITTS OFF OF OUR MONEY MAKER!"
Fighting the very real urge to laugh at Striker's murderous expression, for he would have bet his entire collection of figurine horses that the cowboy had recognized how similar Moxxie's cry of anger was to the mob boss that was currently glaring at him, Blitzo was starting to think that things were finally looking up.
"My lawyer just called. Apparently, the big dick bird wasn't alone when the call came in. Which means that until the contract is signed, the little clown gets to remain in one piece. So keep your hands to yourself."
Opening his mouth to point out that Moxxie could do with some of his old man's confidence, Blitzo quickly sported a frown as Crimson turned the full weight of his glare on him.
"As for him, wait until we send the clown back to Asmodeus. Then, you can do what you want with him."
And judging by the savage grin that was currently being worn by Striker, he doubted he would be enjoying it.
...
As the embodiment of Lust, Asmodeus was usually a very patient being.
Whether it was in business or in the bedroom, everything felt better after allowing the anticipation for sweet completion to reach a point where everyone was begging for the grand finale.
But now?
With the love of his life being held hostage by a bunch of street thugs who mistook idiocy for ambition. He was ready to burn down the whole fucking ring of Greed if his Fizzy wasn't returned to him within a moment's notice.
Especially since the Kidnapper's shark-faced envoy was clearly getting a kick out of riling him up.
"Ok now, lets see here. For a contract of this nature, I'll need your signature, here, here, here, and here to confirm the exchange of assets."
While he would never label the love of his life as a mere asset, he wasn't about to waste any breath on correcting the smugly smiling Imp.
"Fine fine fine. Lets just get this over with."
Picking up the instrument that would facilitate the return of his lover, Asmodeus was prevented from doing so thanks to the sudden interruption of a previously silent Goeita.
"Sire, this is a magically binding contract. While I do not question your desire to have your 'partner' returned to you, I would caution you to first read it before placing your signature. Although I gladly offer my services to do so on your behalf as I am a quick read."
Grateful though he was for Stolas's support, the Sin of Lust could only sulk as he handed his fellow 'horny bird' the piece of paper that would bring his Froggy back home.
Though the incredulous tone of his impromptu lawyer quickly transformed his sulk into a towering pillar of rage.
"Oh dear. This contract states that you turn over all of your holdings and possessions while giving the kidnappers your expression permission to kill Fizzarolli and use his fractured body as a means of decoration."
"Fucking. WHAAAT!"
His outburst causing the shark-like Imp to laugh nervously, though nowhere near enough in his mind, the enraged Sin allowed his flames to slightly cool off as he watched the gray-colored creature reach into his suitcase.
"Just a little trick to make sure that you're paying attention your Lustfulness."
"And yet if he had signed it, it would have been legally binding."
Sparing a brief nod to show that he agreed with Stolas's observation, Asmodeus soon sported a disgusted look as the Imp pulled out a mountain of paperwork.
"Here's the real contract."
He wasn't sure which was worse.
The fact that he was forced to tolerate this wretched blood sucker's presence for the sake of his lover's safe return.
Or the fact that his one ally in this situation was acting like an excited child.
"Oohoohoohoo. I love words!"
…..
Despite the very real prospect of going home, for there was no way in Hell that Ozzie wouldn't pay to get him back, Fizzarolli felt more miserable than he had been in years.
Perhaps not as bad as losing the limbs he had been born with because he trusted his best friend had a viable plan if he was taking on an Overlord, but it was still more than he could take.
Kidnapped by murderous thugs.
Manhandled in a way that didn't involve a mutual desire to have things being placed in holes.
And of course, having to do all this while in the company of an Imp who just wouldn't shut up!
"Who the fuck does that dip-shit cowboy think he is treating us like that? Once we're out of here, I'm gonna get my team together, maybe even drag the kid from his fancy prep school, and we're gonna have ourselves an old-fashioned Wrathian style stretch 'n' pull."
Shooting Blitzo a glare, Fizz allowed his frustration with his circumstances to boil over.
"Shut the fuck up Blitzo! This is all your fault! You know that?! If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be..."
"What? Tied up and crying for your daddy? You had that going on back in our circus days. Though I suppose that Striker is a little more capable than the rat bastard that was my old man."
He hated himself for this. But Blitzo's mockery pushed him over the edge.
And while he managed to turn his head to ensure that his expression was hidden from his former best friend, he was unable to prevent the tears from falling while he choked out a retort.
"Fuck...fuck you Blitzo."
Trust Blitzo to be able to use one's vulnerabilities for the sole purpose of mocking them.
He didn't have many memories of his parents, the new agreement that would render Hellborn immune to the yearly extermination hadn't existed at that time , but he could still recall that they were far more functional and supportive than Buckzo and Tilla had ever been.
Though he had to admit that Tilla was sincere in her efforts to treat him like she did the rest of her children, at least until she was bed ridden and unable to try and curb her husband's more abusive tendencies.
But even then, he had occasionally cried himself to sleep, with the only one managing to snap him out of his funk being the Imp who he had come to view as a brother.
Before it all went to shit.
"Shit. I...I didn't mean it Fizz. I...I'm..."
The stuttering was enough to break Fizzarolli out of his depressive funk and kindle the anger that had been festering for years.
"What?! Sorry?! Sure Blitzo. All is forgiven. I forgive you for agreeing to try and steal something from a fucking Overlord! I forgive you for leaving me high and dry after said Overlord robbed me of my arms and legs! I forgive you for the 8 months I spent sucking and fucking every degenerate who wanted to experience what it was like having sex with a homeless cripple! And I forgive you for not having the decency to die in the fire that you caused!"
That last one was a bit of a low blow considering he only had the word of his adoptive sister to describe just how much blame could be leveled at Blitzo for the death of their parents. But considering he had been told this story while he was recovering from his own fire-related mishap, courtesy of Mammon's decision to go with a cheaper and more volatile fireworks display for his 1 year anniversary of being a mascot, Fizz had been willing to accept anything that painted Blizto in a bad light.
But while he had been expecting his fellow Imp to reply to his accusations with dismissive apologies, or even outright denial, the white-faced Jester was caught off guard by how broken Blitzo seemed.
"I... you're right Fizz. I should have been better. A better friend, a better partner, and a better...a better son. All the shit we've done together, all the misery I led us in to, its...its my fault. I should have left you at home instead of taking you to rob that multi-limbed fucker. Even if my da..I mean Buckzo said that we needed the money to cover the monthly expenses, I shouldn't have gotten you involved. And after I did, I should have taken you to a hospital instead of thinking that Buckzo would help us out. And...and days after the beating I got for failing to bring home enough loot, I should have just shot that fucker between the eyes instead of setting his precious booze collection on fire. After you left, my...mom and sis were all I had left. But after that...I had no one."
Having spent many years thinking that their disastrous heist was Blitzo's idea in the first place, as well as the cowardice in seeing the results of his failure, Fizz allowed his voice to adopt a noticeably more depressed tone as he asked a question he had once asked himself countless times.
"Why...why didn't you come see me. I mean, yeah I get you weren't exactly in the right headspace right after you...I mean after the circus was over. But I was soon a public icon. I had a fixed address, a phone number. I would have...I would have liked to see you."
The answer he received was something that he should have expected.
"I tried! But every time it was either an automated message or some stuck-up prissy assed secretary that either told me you were busy or that I should schedule an appointment! After a year of being told you were too busy being Mammon's new bitch boy, I figured you didn't want to see me so I just gave up."
While he was shocked by this confession, Fizz couldn't help but feel just a little annoyed.
Not with Blitzo but with the two Sins he was closely associated with and were mostly likely responsible, perhaps indirectly, for this lack of communication.
Mammon because in the early days of their association the obese clown had refused to let his new 'brand baby' out of his sight unless one was powerful or had the money to make it worth his while. And Ozzie because he was the type of lover who would gleefully hate someone that was already on his shit list.
"I...I don't know what to say Blitzo."
Despite their situation, it was a relief to have the air cleared between them.
Even if Blitzo still had a tendency to ruin a good moment with his usual commentary.
'Welllll, you can think about that while I'm busting us out of here. Lucky for us, mafia types aren't the type to search every crevice of an Imp's body. Which is their loss since I've been putting in the effort to turn my remaining flab into abb."
There were many things he could say to that.
But since he had no idea how much time they had before their captors came back to check on them, he could only go with the most obvious.
"You had a knife on you this whole time?!"
….
While he knew that the Wizarding Britain was far from being a bastion of social equality, something that would only change with a lot of bodies and media manipulation, Harry still occasionally found himself surprised just how blatant his so-called professors could be in continuing this trend.
Though even this wasn't enough to make him interested in the latest piece of information delivered by his monotone sounding history professor.
"So in conclusion, the 1689 rebellion instigated led Bloodnose the Thrifty was swiftly brought an end thanks to Minister Greenwood's decision to increase the yearly budget of the Magical Department of Law Enforcement."
A typical tactic used by societies that wanted to ensure only a privileged few remained in power. But he doubted Binns would ever make that connection since the ghost seemed determined to bore everyone to death with his endless lectures about how Wizarding Britain steadily established itself as the British Isle's dominant magic using race.
Honestly he would have preferred suffering through Andrealphus's lessons than listening to this shit.
If only because the peacock taught stuff that was, if not interesting than at least useful in everyday life, if one could ignore his narcissistic preening. And the constant reminders that he should be grateful that his position was enough to warrant the attention of a Marquis of Hell.
Stella, despite slowing warming up to him in recent years to the point where he was pretty sure he had almost seen her smile when he was talking about his friendship with Via, had always emphasized the importance of Hells' class system and that one should know their place. But her brother took great delight in explaining why he should be fortunate to be a recognized client of the Goetia family.
Luckily, Via was far more chill than her mother and uncle.
And was quite happy to help him avoid copying his classmates, except for Granger, in spending an hour and a half using their desks as a pillow.
Though he did have to make it appear that he was doing school work instead of the magical equivalent of being on his cell phone.
"So you think your gonna be able to come back early this week? Or is your headmaster still trying to get you to act your age and spend time with other immature preteens?"
Fighting the urge to snort at Via's accurate description of Dumbledore's meddling, Harry waited for the message to disappear before writing back his reply.
"Sadly I don't think its in the cards. I might have been able to get away with it a few days ago, but the Bat is kind of blaming me for what happened of some of his snakes. Not my fault centuries of inbreeding have left some of my classmates unable to tolerate certain spices. Though, I kinda wish I had laced their dinner instead of their breakfast. At least that way any 'mess' they made would have happened in their common room instead of class."
"...What spices did you use."
"Oh, a little habanero, some jalapeno, a sprinkling of Grandma Lin's meat dust, and some laxatives I managed to get from the ginger twins."
"Seems a little excessive isn't it? I mean, why go to all that effort?"
"Because Malfoy was being a bigger prick than usual."
"No, I mean why did you spend time collecting the ingredients when a spell would have been quicker?"
"Cause the only spells I know that could do that are viewed as dark magic. And since I've been told countless times not to reveal the full extent of my knowledge, either by your dad, my parents, and even the big L himself, I had to get creative."
"Well you certainly managed that. A shame you couldn't get 'creative' when it came to getting an alibi."
"Yeah well...anways what's new with you?"
"Very slick deflection lol. But same old same old. College is going well, especially since word got out that Heaven is agreeing to grant immunity to the Hellborn. Mom's doing what she can to reinvent herself, and Uncle Al is strutting around like he normally does. And my dad, well...he's been acting odd since he came home today."
While delighted at the news that his family would be safe, even if he suspected that God's army might try to sneak in one or two murders under the radar, Harry couldn't help but frown at Via's latest comment.
Though it quickly vanished as she provided details that reminded him that the day before Halloween was a full moon.
And despite his dad's and Loona's best interests to stop Blitzo from talking about what happened during that particular day, he knew full well why Stolas might be acting weirder than usual.
Which was saying something if he was being completely honest.
Still, as long as those two were happy, it wasn't his business.
...
Despite the fact that he was still alive, and that his outfit was stained with blood that was not his own, Striker was pissed.
Not only had he once again failed at a job that he prided himself at being good at, caused by the same Imp who had thwarted previous attempts to stick it to Hell's ruling class, but he had been employed, no matter how briefly, by the Imp that had sired the same pathetic weakling that cemented his hatred for his own kind.
Oh sure, Crimson's accomplishments were more impressive than the white-haired waste of seed he had fathered. One didn't become a mob boss without earning a reputation as a cold blooded killer after all.
But the fact remained that he had willingly joined the posse of an Imp who was connected by blood to one of the few non noble Hellborn who had made it near the top of his shit list.
His pride could not accept this.
And if he had more time he would have stuck around long enough to watch Crimson and his remaining goons get killed by the good ol' western classic of getting run over by a train. But since the unintended release of Asmodeus's little play thing had rendered any agreement to seek payback null and void, he had to get out of Greed before he had the fat spider gunning for his ass as well.
Because while Mammon would never pay a single dollar to reclaim one of his prime money makers, he would also never let someone get away with harming his things to the point where they could no longer make money.
Which meant he had to lay low until he could get even.
Maybe if he was lucky, that rich white feathered bitch would call him to take out her sorry excuse for an ex-husband. He doubted it since her purse springs were probably now controlled by the family member she was shacking up with.
But an Imp could dream.
...
ANNNND I believe that this is a good stopping point
Hopefully the emotional scenes with Blitzo and Fizzarolli make up for the lack of action scenes lol
I confess that the tentative reconciliation was difficult to write just because, I had come up with the backstory of their falling out BEFORE that particular episode. ABut overall I am pleased with how it turned out.
Next chapter will be more Hogwarts, but think the next few chapters will be dealing with another epsiode before returning to the Chamber story, at least as the primary focus.
Anways, hope you all enjoyed this. Pls review, no flames.
Til next time.