Chapter 32: Hell's Horseland
The morning sun bathed the villa in a warm, golden glow, casting soft shadows across the grand courtyard as everyone gathered around after breakfast. The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon still lingered in the air as they prepared for their next adventure. Striker, with his cowboy hat tipped low and a confident grin on his serpentine face, clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.
"Alright, y'all!" Striker announced, his voice carrying the rough charm of a seasoned ranch hand. "How about we head down to the stables for some good ol' horseback ridin'? Ain't nothin' like a ride to clear the head and get the blood pumpin'."
Stella's eyes sparkled with a rare, genuine excitement, her normally aloof demeanor melting away at the mere mention of horses. "Oh, I absolutely adore horseback riding," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I haven't been in ages, its rare I get to ride Shimmerstar!"
Blitzø's reaction was even more dramatic. His eyes widened, and he let out a loud, enthusiastic whoop, practically bouncing on his heels. "Hell yeah! Horses are the best!" he shouted, his usual manic energy dialed up to eleven. "I've been wanting to ride ever since I got here! Let's do this, Striker!"
Striker gave him a crooked grin. "Figured you'd be up for it, cowboy," he said with a wink.
As the excitement rippled through the group, Loona looked hesitant, her usual tough-girl facade slipping for a moment. "Uh, I've never ridden a horse before," she muttered, crossing her arms defensively.
Octavia, who had been standing quietly beside her mother, turned to Loona with a soft smile. "It's really fun, I promise," Via assured her. "I've got a pony in the stable named Stardust. I could show you the ropes if you want." The tiny little dark feathered chick looking up at her dear friend patting her back.
Loona looked surprised by the offer but nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah… okay, I'll give it a shot," she said, trying to hide her excitement.
Meanwhile, Verosika was lost in thought, her mind drifting back to her own childhood. She remembered a time when the world was much simpler, a time before the fame, the heartbreak, and the chaos. There was a carousel she used to ride endlessly in the Lust Ring's Nowhere Town, a place where the bright lights and vibrant colors felt like a sanctuary from her oppressive home life. As a little girl, she had dreamed of riding away on a gallant horse to a place where she could be free, its painted mane worn down from years of use.
A gentle nudge from Blitzø pulled her out of her reverie. "Hey, you okay, hot stuff?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.
Verosika blinked, then smiled up at him, her eyes warm. "Yeah, just… remembering some good times," she said, giving his hand a squeeze.
Blitzø grinned, his earlier excitement bubbling back up. "Well, let's make some new ones!" he declared, pumping his fist in the air.
The group made their way to the stables, the air filled with laughter and anticipation. The stables were a sprawling setup, with rows of stalls filled with a variety of Hellish breeds. Massive, intimidating warhorses with glowing red eyes and flaming hooves stood next to smaller, more elegant creatures with scales and forked tails.
Striker took on the role of instructor, barking out orders with the authority of a seasoned cowboy. "Alright, y'all city slickers, pick your steeds! But be careful, some of these beasts have a mean bite."
Millie, her eyes twinkling with excitement, immediately dragged Moxxie towards a gentle-looking mare with a gleaming black coat. "C'mon, Mox, let's get you up on this beauty!" she encouraged, her enthusiasm infectious.
Moxxie, looking a bit nervous, tried to put on a brave face. "I-I'm not so sure about this, Millie…" he stammered, but Sally May wasn't about to let him off the hook.
"Aw, don't be such a city boy, Moxxie," Sally May teased, her Southern drawl thick and playful. "Ain't nothin' to it but to do it, ya wanna show off ta Mills right?"
Verosika wandered down the row of stalls, her eyes falling on a striking white stallion with a shimmering mane that reminded her of the carousel horse she used to ride. She reached out, gently stroking the horse's nose. The stallion nickered softly, nuzzling her hand, the name on its stable reading White Line.
"Looks like you found your ride, V," Blitzø said, sidling up beside her with a grin. "You ready to show off those cowgirl skills?"
Verosika smirked. "You bet your fine red ass I am," she shot back.
With everyone paired up with their mounts, Striker led them out to a wide-open paddock. He swung himself effortlessly onto his horse, a massive, fire-breathing beast named Diablo. He looked every bit the part of a Hellish cowboy, tipping his hat as he surveyed the group.
"Alright, listen up! Keep your heels down, grip with your thighs, and for Lucifer's sake, don't fall off!" Striker called out, his voice booming.
Blitzø, Stella, and the others eagerly kicked their horses into action, galloping across the paddock with whoops of joy. Loona, with Octavia's gentle guidance, managed to get her horse moving at a steady trot, her face lighting up with delight as she got the hang of it, riding next to Octaviaon her pony.
Verosika and Blitzø rode side by side, their laughter mixing with the thundering of hooves. For a moment, it was just the two of them, riding away from all their troubles, just like in her childhood dreams.
As they made their way around the paddock, Blitzø leaned over, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Race you to the fence and back?" he challenged.
Verosika's competitive spirit flared up. "You're on, clown boy!" she shouted, spurring her horse into a gallop.
They raced across the field, laughter and taunts filling the air. For the first time in a long while, Verosika felt truly free, as if the chains of her past had finally loosened their grip.
Striker watched them with a satisfied grin, tipping his hat as they thundered past. "Looks like y'all are havin' the time of your lives," he drawled, his yellow eyes glinting. But there was something unreadable in his gaze as he watched the group. Something that hinted at plans yet to unfold.
Moxxie meanwhile was screaming like a banshee as he fell off his horse, but his foot was still attached, the spoked stallion galloping about while dragging the frantic imp boy.
Millie face palming with embarrassment as her father Joe watched with a very disapproving shake of his head, his plump toned arms crossed.
Stolas and Stella riding side by side up a short trail overlooking their villa and romantically reminiscing, this was the place, the place Stella fell for Stolas nearly a decade ago. Stella gently smiled at her bored husband as the sat on their horses next to one another holding their talon-like hands.
The sky above Wrath rung burned in brilliant hues of red and orange, casting a fiery glow across the rugged mountain trail. Stolas and Stella rode side by side on their majestic demon steeds, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoing against the cliffs. Stella was dressed impeccably in a white and pink cowgirl outfit, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and boots that shimmered in the hellish light. Stolas wore a more subdued, yet elegant, riding ensemble, his feathers fluttering in the breeze as he stole glances at his wife.
"This view never gets old," Stella remarked, her voice carrying a rare softness as her eyes scanned the valley below.
"Indeed," Stolas agreed, his talons tightening on the reins. "It feels... nostalgic, doesn't it?"
Stella smirked, tipping her hat slightly. "Nostalgic? You mean the place where I screamed bloody murder and tried to claw your eyes out?"
Stolas chuckled, his deep voice reverberating with amusement. "Yes, that. But also the place where we first truly connected."
--
It was eight years ago, the memory was vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday. Stella, a fiery and headstrong teenager, had ridden ahead of Stolas, determined to outpace and outshine him. She'd always found him insufferably proper, with his calm demeanor and endless politeness.
"Try to keep up, bird boy!" she'd taunted, her voice ringing out across the trail.
But her confidence was shattered when a strange white-and-red snake slithered across the path, spooking her horse. Before she could react, she was thrown violently to the ground. The pain was immediate and excruciating—her right leg twisted at an unnatural angle, broken in several places.
"Stolas!" she'd screamed, more in rage than desperation, though she hadn't expected much from him.
To her surprise, he leapt into action without hesitation. Gathering medicinal plants from the surrounding area, he worked quickly and efficiently, crushing leaves to create salves and mixing herbs into a makeshift painkiller.
"Stay still, Lady Stella," he'd said gently, his voice steady as he crafted a splint from nearby branches.
"Don't tell me what to do, you pompous fool!" she'd snarled, clawing at him as he carefully lifted her into his arms.
Stolas had taken it all in stride, carrying her all the way back to her family's villa. Despite her protests and venomous insults, he tended to her injuries with unwavering care, even making her a warm soup and herbal tea to ease her pain.
It was later that night, as she lay tucked into her bed, that Stella finally confronted him. "Why?" she'd asked, her voice trembling with confusion and something softer, almost vulnerable. "Why would you do all this for me? All I've ever done is mock you and treat you like dirt."
Stolas had smiled at her then—a gentle, genuine smile that made her heart ache in a way she didn't understand at the time. "Because I am a prince," he'd said simply, "and I cannot abide a lady suffering. Regardless of how we feel about one another, we are to be wed. That means it is my duty to care for you. Say and do whatever you like, Stella, but it won't stop me from caring."
That moment had changed everything. It was the first time Stella had seen him for who he truly was—a kind, selfless soul. It was the moment she fell in love with him and resolved to protect him, no matter what.
--
Now, as they reached a clearing overlooking the valley below, Stella tightened her grip on the reins and glanced at Stolas. His feathers caught the fading light, giving him an almost ethereal glow.
"I never did thank you for that day," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual.
Stolas turned to her, surprised. "Thank me? Stella, you've done more than enough since then to—"
"Let me finish," she interrupted, her tone firm but affectionate. "You didn't have to help me. You could've left me there, and no one would've blamed you. But you didn't. And because of that... because of you... I learned what love really is."
Stolas's expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. Their fingers intertwined as they sat in silence, watching the fiery skies stretch endlessly above the valley.
"This place," Stella said after a moment, "it reminds me of who we were and who we've become. We've come a long way, haven't we?"
Stolas nodded, his eyes glistening. "We have. And I wouldn't change a thing."
As the wind carried the scent of sulfur and wildflowers, the two Goetia sat together, hand in hand, cherishing the moment and the journey that had brought them here. For all the trials and tribulations they'd faced, they knew one thing for certain: their love was stronger than any force in Hell, that same love created Octavia as the two watched their little owlette ride with Loona it made their hearts fill with pride.
--
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the villa grounds, the group returned to the stables, tired but exhilarated. Stella and Blitzø were already planning their next ride, while Loona excitedly recounted her experience to anyone who would listen.
Verosika dismounted, her heart full, a rare sense of peace settling over her. She was surrounded by those she loved, those who made her feel whole, and this memory of riding with them was somethingshe was going to treasure.
But as Striker approached, a sly smile on his lips, she couldn't shake the feeling that their peaceful days were numbered.
"Hope y'all enjoyed that," Striker said, tipping his hat. "But the fun's just gettin' started. I've got a surprise lined up for tonight."
Blitzø, ever the thrill-seeker, perked up. "Oh? What kind of surprise?"
Striker's grin widened, his fangs gleaming. "You'll just have to wait and see, partner."
As they headed back to the villa, Verosika couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. Striker was charming, no doubt, but there was something lurking beneath that charming cowboy facade.
And in Hell, surprises were rarely ever a good thing.
Back at the villa, the atmosphere was quiet but tinged with a sense of underlying tension. Barbie Wire, who had opted out of horseback riding, decided to use the alone time for a different kind of adventure — one that involved snooping through Striker's private quarters.
Stolas had settled himself comfortably in the grand library, surrounded by towering shelves filled with ancient tomes. His crimson eyes gleamed with delight as he delved into an old book on equestrian history, the pages depicting beautifully illustrated demonic horse breeds. The villa's ambiance brought back memories of gentler times, a rare reprieve from the chaos of Hell's political landscape.
Meanwhile, Barbie Wire slipped into Striker's room with all the stealth of a seasoned thief. Her instincts were sharp, and she knew Striker was hiding something. She could feel it in the way his eyes lingered on Blitzø, the way his charming smiles never quite reached his eyes. It was only a matter of time before she found out what he was up to.
As Barbie searched through the room, her movements were quick and efficient. She rifled through drawers, peeked behind curtains, and checked under the bed. But it wasn't until she pried up some of the loose floorboards that she hit the jackpot.
Her eyes widened as she pulled out a Carmine-crafted angelic steel sniper rifle, its polished surface gleaming ominously under the dim light. This wasn't just any weapon. It was a masterpiece — enchanted with a magical lock-on scope, automatic reload mechanisms, and enhanced grip for accuracy. The kind of weapon one used to take down someone powerful, someone important. Someone like an overlord or even a demon prince.
Next to the rifle was a bag filled with blessed knives, their edges glowing faintly with holy energy. Barbie's heart skipped a beat as the realization dawned on her. Only a master assassin would have weapons like these. Striker's charming cowboy act was clearly a façade. He wasn't just a hired gun — he was planning something big, something deadly.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the shadow that loomed behind her until it was too late. Striker moved with the silent grace of a predator, his expression a cold mask of lethal intent. In one swift motion, he threw a blessed lasso around her, the glowing rope tightening around her body with a force that knocked the wind out of her.
"Well, well, well," Striker drawled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Looks like someone's been pokin' their nose where it don't belong."
Barbie struggled against the restraints, but the holy enchantment sapped her strength, leaving her weak and unable to use her demonic strength. "What the hell are you planning, Striker?" she spat, fury burning in her eyes.
Striker leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over her ear. "Now, that'd be tellin', wouldn't it?" he whispered with a cruel smile. "But don't you worry, darlin'. You'll find out soon enough. Tonight, actually."
With that, he hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, carrying her to a hidden room deep within the villa's lower levels. He wasn't ready to kill her just yet — not when he had plans to put on a show for his guests. Striker locked Barbie in a reinforced cell, the door enchanted to prevent any escape attempts and just for good measure he i jetted her with enough tranquilizer to take down a demonic war elephant. "You sit tight now, sugar," he mocked, tipping his hat. "I've got a performance to get to." his acoustic in his hand.
Barbie's head swirling as her pupils dilated, the young imp woman about to go on a bad trip.
--
Meanwhile, up in the courtyard, the rest of the group was blissfully unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Stella was practically glowing, her cheeks flushed with joy as she chatted animatedly with Millie's parents Lin and Joe in her over their shared sense of joy at an excellent day. She had always loved the countryside — the fresh air, the open fields, the horses. It reminded her of a simpler time, a time when she and Stolas were still discovering each other, before everything had gotten so complicated.
Stella's gaze softened as she watched Octavia laugh with Loona, who was still buzzing with excitement from her first horseback ride. It was moments like these that made all the drama and chaos worth enduring. For once, everything felt perfect.
Blitzø and Verosika were lounging by the fire pit, a bottle of Beezlejuice shared between them. Despite the carefree setting, Verosika couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Her instincts were rarely wrong, especially when it came to men like Striker. She had seen his type before — charming on the surface, but always hiding a dagger behind their back. Still, she pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting to ruin what had been a surprisingly fun day.
Striker emerged from the villa, guitar slung over his shoulder, the very picture of a Hellish country rock star. "Alright, folks!" he called out, drawing everyone's attention. "How 'bout a little music before dinner? I've got a new song I've been workin' on, and I think y'all are gonna love it."
The group cheered, clapping and whistling as Striker took center stage. Blitzø was especially enthusiastic, bouncing on his heels like an overexcited kid. "Hell yeah! Play us a tune, cowboy!" he shouted, raising his drink in a toast.
As Striker began to play, the atmosphere shifted. His fingers danced over the strings with a skill that was almost supernatural, the haunting melody weaving a spell over the crowd. Even Verosika found herself drawn in, her suspicions momentarily forgotten as the music washed over her.
("Sweet Wrathian Nights")
[Verse 1]
I was born where the stars touch the land,
In a place where the wind shakes your hand.
Fields of gold stretchin' far and wide,
With a heart full of dreams and a fire inside.
Life ain't perfect, but it's simple and free,
The kind of life where a soul can just be.
Out here, we love and we fight and we pray,
Under sweet southern nights, where the troubles fade away.
[Chorus]
Oh, sweet Wrathian nights, hold me close, hold me tight,
Where the world feels alright in the glow of the pale moonlight.
Let the breeze whisper low, let the river gently flow,
Under sweet Wrathian nights, where the heart finds a home.
Striker adding an instrumental interlude with soft harmonica evoking a warm, nostalgic mood.
[Verse 2]
I've seen hellstorms, I've felt the boiling rain,
But the sun always rises to wash away the pain.
I keep on smilin', though the road gets rough,
'Cause down here we're made of grit and tough love.
There's a firefly dance in the twilight's embrace,
And peace in the rhythm of this sacred space.
So come on in, lay your burdens down,
Feel the warmth of the earth and the roots of this town.
[Chorus]
Oh, sweet Wrathian nights, hold me close, hold me tight,
Where the world feels alright in the glow of the pale moonlight.
Let the breeze whisper low, let the river gently flow,
Under sweet Wrathian nights, where the heart finds a home.
[Bridge]
Sometimes the shadows might call your name,
But under these skies, they don't mean a thing.
You're safe here, darlin', don't be afraid,
Sweet Wrathian nights will keep you sane.
Guitar strumming slows, building into a heartfelt final chorus.
[Chorus – Soft and Lulling]
Oh, sweet Wrathian nights, hold me close, hold me tight,
Where the ring feels alright in the glow of the pale moonlight.
Let the breeze whisper low, let the river gently flow,
Under sweet Wrathian nights, where the heart finds a home.
[Outro]
So rest easy now, let the darkness fade,
Sweet southern nights will keep you safe.
The song fades out with a soft hum and gentle guitar notes, leaving an air of deceptive warmth and charm.
Striker's voice was soothing and dripping with charm, his delivery calculated to disarm I.M.P. completely. His every note meant to wrap them in a false sense of security, lulling them into thinking he's just a humble, well-meaning country boy. But behind the sweet melody lies his true intentions—hidden in plain sight under that honeyed drawl.
But while everyone was entranced by Striker's performance, Loona couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. She noticed Barbie's absence, and a flicker of worry crossed her face. "Mom?" she whispered, leaning closer to Verosika. "Have you seen Aunt Barbie?"
Verosika blinked, her joy momentarily replaced by confusion. "No, darling, I thought she was with you all…" Her voice trailed off as a sense of unease settled over her.
Striker finished his song with a flourish, the final note hanging in the air like a promise. He tipped his hat to the cheering crowd, but his eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "Hope y'all enjoyed that," he drawled. "Now, let's head inside for a feast y'all won't forget."
As everyone made their way into the villa, the shadows seemed to grow darker, the air thicker with an unspoken tension. Verosika's instincts flared up once more, a cold shiver running down her spine. She caught Blitzø's arm, her voice low and urgent. "Something's not right," she whispered. "We need to find Barbie."
Blitzø's eyes narrowed, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "You're right," he muttered, his gaze scanning the crowd. "Let's split up. You check the rooms upstairs, and I'll handle downstairs."
As the guests were herded towards the dining hall, the real game was about to begin. Striker had a plan, and tonight was the night he'd set it into motion.
But little did he know, his enemies were closer to uncovering the truth than he thought. And Hell hath no fury like a family on the brink of chaos.
The night had fallen over the villa, the once vibrant courtyard now cast in long, sinister shadows as the group gathered inside for dinner. Striker's smile was all charm and teeth as he played the role of gracious host, pouring wine and serving dishes with a flourish. His eyes gleamed with barely concealed malice, knowing that tonight would mark the end of a carefully plotted scheme, he wanted to ham it up, show off for a bit, but it was all over now.
The table was filled either laughter and conversation as Stella, Stolas, Millie, Moxxie, Millie's family and the rest of I.M.P dug into Wrathian feat set before them, Gozu burgers, Hell boar back ribs, 6 Hellarm chilli, Helltato Salad, Soulslaw, and plenty of aile.
Octavia and Loona having luci brand apple cider, Loona pouting about how it wasn't fair Moxxie and Millie got alcohol.
Blitzø and Verosika however shared a knowing look, their senses tinged with suspicion. But before either could act it was too late. Within minutes the drugged food and drink took hold. Stella's eyes fluttered, her jovial laugher becoming a sleepy mumble as she slumped over in her chair. Octavia's fork clattered to the floor, stolas's once sharp gaze becoming hazy and unfocused. One by one, they all began to collapse, Millie clutching Moxxie's hand as her head hit the table hard, Loona barely having the energy to call her mom and dad before she too passed out cold.
But Blitzø and Verosika had noticed the strange, bitter aftertaste in their drinks just in time. Years of being on guard from being slipped things had homed their instincts to a razor's edge. They discreetly spit out their food avoiding the fate of their dear friends and family. As the rest of the table succumbed to unconsciousness, the two exchanged a quick urgent look. They knew they had to move fast.
Blitzø slipped away under the cover of chaos, making his way through the winding halls of the villa. His heart pounded in his chest as he searched for his sister, fear gnawing at him. Barbie Wire had always been tough, but he knew Striker's cruelty had no limits. As he reached the wine cellar, a faint noise caught his ear — a soft groan, muffled but unmistakably familiar.
"Barbie?" he called out, his voice a low whisper as he descended the stairs.
There, in a hidden cell behind a stack of dusty wine barrels, Blitzø found her. Barbie was slumped against the wall, her wrists bound with enchanted chains, her eyes glassy from the effects of a horse tranquilizer. But even in her woozy state, she managed a weak grin when she saw him.
"Hey, twin," she slurred, her voice thick but defiant. "Took ya long enough."
Blitzø's relief was palpable as he knelt to check her over, his fingers trembling as he tried to undo the restraints. "What did that bastard do to you?" he muttered, anger boiling in his veins.
"He… tried to knock me out… but I've been on worse," Barbie said with a raspy laugh. "The idiot doesn't know I've got a drug tolerance that could take down a rhino."
Blitzø snorted in dark amusement, but their reunion was cut short by the unmistakable sound of a cocking gun.
Meanwhile, Verosika was stalking through the villa's corridors like a panther on the prowl, her senses heightened as she searched for any sign of Striker. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts — the missing Barbie, the drugged food, and the uneasy feeling that Striker's plan went deeper than just a mere dinner party.
She rounded a corner and found herself face-to-face with the cowboy himself. Striker stood in the dimly lit hallway, his signature angelic steel six-shooter drawn and aimed right at her chest. The wicked smile on his face sent a chill down her spine.
"Well, look who decided to join the party," Striker drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "I was hopin' we'd get to finish what we started a year and a half ago."
Verosika's eyes widened as the memories came flooding back — the benefit concert, the sound of a gunshot echoing through the venue, the blinding pain as she crumpled to the ground. Striker had shot her in cold blood, left her for dead. She had spent a year recovering in a hospital, lost a year with Blitzø and Loona, all because of him. Her family had become assassins, not out of choice, but out of a need to survive and avenge what was done to her.
"You," Verosika hissed, venom dripping from her voice. "It was you who shot me."
Striker gave a lazy shrug, his grin widening. "Guilty as charged, sweetheart. Y'know, you were tougher to kill than I expected. But hey, can't say I'm not impressed you're still kickin'."
Verosika's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as rage coursed through her. "You ruined my life," she snarled, her eyes blazing with fury. "You cost me my family, my career, everything!"
"Aw, don't be so dramatic," Striker chuckled, spinning the revolver on his finger like a showman. "Tonight's your chance to finally die right. And this time, there won't be any comebacks."
With a burst of speed, Verosika lunged at Striker, using her demonic strength to tackle him into the wall. The gun went off, a bullet narrowly missing her as they grappled. Striker was strong, but Verosika fought with the fury of someone who had everything to lose. She wasn't going to let him take away her family again.
Striker managed to throw her off, but she was relentless, kicking the gun out of his hand and sending it skidding across the floor. They exchanged blows, a brutal dance of fists and fury. Striker's cocky demeanor slipped, replaced by frustration as he realized Verosika wasn't the easy target she used to be.
"Still think you're hot shit, cowboy?" Verosika taunted, dodging another swing. "I've survived worse than you."
But as they fought, neither noticed the shadow slipping past them — Octavia, barely conscious but driven by a sense of dread, trying to escape the villa. Striker's true target had always been the young demoness. With Stolas and Stella drugged and helpless, Octavia was defenseless.
As Blitzø and Barbie made their way back up, they stumbled upon the tail end of Verosika's brawl. Blitzø didn't hesitate, pulling out his twin pistols and firing a shot that grazed Striker's arm, forcing him to retreat.
"Verosika! Get to Octavia!" Blitzø shouted, his eyes wild with urgency. "I'll handle this bastard!"
Verosika didn't need to be told twice. She sprinted down the hallway, her heart in her throat, praying she wasn't too late.
Tonight, the villa would become a battlefield, and Striker's twisted game was far from over. But he had underestimated the resilience of his enemies, and this night might just be his last.
--
The tension in the air was thick as Verosika dashed down the corridor, her mind racing. She had to reach Loona and Octavia. Her daughter and her friend were vulnerable, and Striker's wild gang of bounty hunters were waiting outside, just as cruel and relentless as their leader. This wasn't just a fight for survival—it was a fight for family.
As Verosika skidded around the corner, she caught sight of the Wild Bunch, a rowdy crew of cowboy-themed imps lurking outside the villa's gates, their dusty hats and worn boots betraying their years of merciless work. They were ready to hunt down Octavia and Loona, to finish what Striker had started.
But Verosika was having none of it. With a powerful growl, she bared her fangs and barreled into the group, her fists flying in a blur of precision. The Wild Bunch scattered, trying to regroup and corner her, but they were no match for the ferocity of a mother protecting her child. She took them down one by one—powerful kicks, well-placed jabs, and wild blasts of demonic energy sent them reeling, knocking them back like ragdolls.
"Stay the hell away from my daughter!" Verosika snarled as she whirled around, her eyes flashing with dangerous intent. The Wild Bunch knew better than to underestimate her. She was no longer the pop idol they'd seen in the tabloids. She was a warrior, and she'd fight for Octavia's life with everything she had.
Meanwhile, inside the villa, Blitzø and Striker were in the middle of a deadly dance. The air was thick with tension as they circled each other, guns drawn and knives flashing. Blitzø's movements were a blur—his agility and acrobatics giving him the upper hand, but Striker was a calculated adversary, his every move deliberate.
"Not bad, Blitzø," Striker mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. "But I can see why you always fall behind. Too slow to keep up with me."
Blitzø smirked, leaping backward just as Striker's six-shooter fired, the bullet grazing his side. "Come on, Striker. You should know by now, I don't play fair."
The two clashed, pistols firing, knives slashing, their bodies twisting and turning in a chaotic ballet of violence. Blitzø used his speed to his advantage, ducking and weaving, but Striker's strength and precision made him a formidable foe. It was a contest of wills, both trying to outsmart and outmaneuver the other.
But as their battle reached its peak, Striker reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek black bomb, tossing it casually toward the dining room where the rest of the group lay unconscious.
"No!" Blitzø shouted, eyes widening as he dove toward the explosive device. The bomb hit the floor with a clink, its timer already ticking down.
Striker, ever the showman, tipped his hat with a grin. "This party's over, partner. Don't wait up." He spun on his heel, leaping out the window with the grace of a seasoned outlaw, landing effortlessly on his horse, White Lightning, waiting for him in the courtyard.
Blitzø cursed under his breath. He wasn't fast enough. He scrambled to the bomb, frantically trying to figure out how to disarm it without blowing them all to hell. He grabbed the wires, his mind racing, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Blitzø, get away from there!" Verosika's voice rang out from behind him, but he was too focused. Sweat dripped down his face as he twisted a wire, praying he had the right one. A loud beep echoed in the room, and then—silence. The bomb was deactivated. Blitzø exhaled in relief, but there was no time to celebrate.
Barbie Wire, still woozy from the tranquilizers but fueled by sheer determination, stumbled out from the shadows. Her vision swam as she grabbed the white mare that Verosika had been riding earlier, its mane flowing like silk in the moonlight. She could hear Blitzø yelling at her to stay put, but her mind was already made up. She wasn't going to let Striker get away this time.
"Blitzø, I'm going after him," Barbie muttered, her voice hoarse. She threw herself into the saddle with a reckless determination, feeling her body tremble as the drugs took their toll. But her heart burned with fury, and she would not let Striker escape.
The world around her was a blur, the landscape stretching out in dizzying waves, but she rode with instinct, the hooves of the horse pounding the ground beneath her. As she closed the distance, she saw Striker's figure in the distance, riding with speed toward the edge of the villa's grounds, the smug bastard thinking he had won.
Barbie's pulse quickened. She urged the horse faster, ignoring the dizziness that clouded her vision. The adrenaline rushed through her veins, clearing away the fog as she focused on one thing: Striker.
With a wild, desperate cry, Barbie leaped from the mare, launching herself at Striker with the force of a hurricane. The impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, Striker's horse whinnying in alarm as they landed in a heap. Striker's eyes went wide with shock as Barbie, her body shaking and her pupils dilated from the tranquilizer's effects, pulled on her knuckle dusters with a fierce, determined grin.
"You think you can take everything from us, huh? Not today, cowboy," Barbie spat, her voice sharp despite the dizziness that still swirled around her. She stood tall, barely able to focus, but her anger gave her strength.
Striker cursed, getting to his feet with surprising speed. He swung a fist toward Barbie, but she dodged it effortlessly, her movements fueled by pure rage and instinct.
"You're tougher than you look doll, I gave ya enough tranquilizer to kill a horse and you're still standing," Striker remarked, surprised at how much fight she had left. "Guess I underestimated you, sweetheart."
Barbie snarled, her knuckle dusters glinting in the moonlight as she aimed a punch at Striker's gut. The blow connected with a sickening thud, and Striker staggered back, winded.
Barbie wasn't done. She was relentless, her fists pounding into him, her body trembling but unstoppable. She was more than a pretty face. She was a force of nature, a queen in her own right. She and Verosika had been through hell, and nothing—no one—was going to tear their family apart again.
Striker staggered, barely managing to block another strike from Barbie before he pulled out a hidden blade, slashing at her in a last-ditch effort to escape. But Barbie was faster, ducking under his swing and tackling him once more.
"You're done, Striker," she hissed. "This is where your little game ends." Barbie starting to rapidly pummeling his face.
As Striker struggled beneath her, his eyes burned with hatred, but deep down, he knew it was over. He had underestimated the two queens of I.M.P. and now, it was time to face the consequences.
Barbie stood over him, panting, her knuckles bloodied but victorious. She cast a glance back toward Blitzø, who had made his way outside just in time to see Striker's defeat.
"You okay, twin?" Blitzø asked, his voice filled with concern.
Barbie, barely able to stand, managed a smirk. "I'm more than okay. Just needed to knock a hot cowboy off his high horse."
With Striker captured, the Wild Bunch scattered in fear, and the villa was no longer a place of danger. Barbie, Verosika, and Blitzø had saved the day once again, proving that nothing—not even the most twisted plans—could break their bond.
As they looked down at Striker, bound and defeated, Barbie couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, I guess we'll have to call that one a family affair, huh?" she said, her voice growing steady again.
Blitzø grinned. "Yeah, and I'd say we did pretty damn good for a bunch of misfits."
Blitzø and Barbie together, still an unstoppable duo of chaos and the night was theirs, no crazy cowboy assassins could break their bond better than the demons then he had tried.
To be continued…..