1-3
"And so the good Lord said unto me, 'Forgive the transgressions of thy neighbor, for I forgive yours'!" Garterbelt called out to his congregation. "Give them your love and they unto you shall be given love in return! For the Good Lord's name we say!"
"Amen!" The congregation yelled back, and the muscular black priest bathing in splendor and awe as he held out his Bible. Sunday Mass in Daten City has become so so so SO much better now with the threat of Ghosts having been extinguished. He has been riding high ever since Corset and that fallen bitch Angel Stocking have been defeated. Soon Heaven will give him his reward, and he will be free and be accepted into Paradise at long last!
Mass soon came to an end, and the towering priest shook the hand of every single attendee present as they came up to shake his hand, donate into the tithe box, and take in a piece of bread and a sip of wine. The afro-priest kept that smile on his face, conversing with each member as they said their goodbyes and would depart from his hallowed house of God.
"Father Garterbelt! Father Garterbelt!" Chimed a pleasant voice as the man turned, smiling down at his assistant, Lil Johnny. The youth's shining white robes contrasted with his jet black hair and bright brown eyes pleasingly, stirring familiar feelings within the priest. He was carrying the tithe box in his slender arms, the generous offerings of change and cash heavy in the slender boy's arms. "That seems to be it for the donations today. Shall I deposit this in your office?"
Yes, the innocent boy was, to use a certain whorish Angel's vernacular, 'a fresh slice'.
Garterbelt smiled ear to ear and patted his head. "Of course Lil Johnny. Take those to my office and wait for me there. I have an important lesson I wish to impart on you, as a… birthday present."
He was 18 years old today, not that one could tell by looking. A late-bloomer, fresh, youthful, and, most importantly, considered a legal adult by the Daten City Police Department.
Choke on that, pigs.
"Oh, wonderful! Thank you Father Garterbelt!" He said, trotting away to the back of the church as Garterbelt sighed.
Things have been calming down. Panty was out and about doing whatever the hell she wanted, and Brief is back with his old man, living the good One-Percenter life. The Demon Sisters, allies that they were, were residing in Oten City, trying to find their own path after they betrayed their Master in Corset, and not in the usual 'lol sike' kind of way Demons tended to screw one another over. No, he very much doubted Scanty and Kneesocks could ever show their faces in Hell again after what they pulled, lest said faces get sewn into tea-cozies.
Pity Brief didn't come by much anymore. He did like being around that boy… quite a bit. The lad demurred from his charms, but if his long life had taught him one thing, it was the value of patience. If only that slut Angel hadn't broken the lad's heart so completely, or strung him along a bit more before doing so, Brief could have found solace in the comforting arms (and belts and chains and snug leather chaps) of good ol' Garterbelt.
Alas.
"Quite the rousing sermon, Father Garterbelt."
The voice that broke him from his ruminations was flat, cool, almost deep. It was such a pleasing voice, the priest could almost ignore how it didn't echo at all in the empty, cavernous church hall. He turned, spine tingling.
Sitting in the corner of the church rows in the shadows where the sun's rays from the windows did not touch, a young man sat wearing a white suit with a black tie, hands interlocked across his legs. His hair was blonde like the sun, his eyes hidden under his bangs.
"Ah, well, I'm glad to impart the wisdom of the Lord to all of his children." Garterbelt said proudly, hands behind his back. He didn't expect someone to stick behind. Did he need advice? Counsel? Hope he doesn't take too long. Johnny was a fine boy but getting older by the second, and he didn't want to keep him waiting for his first ever lesson. "Can I help you, sir?"
"We shall see. You sermonize with vigor, father, although I wonder," the man said, raising his head so Garterbelt could see his face. His eyes were as striking blue as the arctic sea, and every bit as cold and merciless. "If you practice what you preach in the name of the Heavenly Father."
"I paid my due diligence in becoming a Priest, you know. It's not a title one fishes out of a cereal box." Garterbelt replied, somewhat irked. "So, how can I help you?"
"Well, for starters I have some questions." The man rose from his seat and walked along the far aisle, staying within the shadows, not facing Garterbelt, but rather the painted glass windows depicting the Crucifixion and the forlorn Apostles. "For one, could you tell me how you became a priest? I am curious."
Garterbelt said nothing, flinching as the man turned to face him, locking eyes with him. Why was he getting odes of nostalgia, of familiarity, looking into those ringed blue eyes of his?
"I did my missions and service to God." There, the truth. And it was true. He did serve a mission, and he's in the service of God until such a time as he was accepted into Paradise on high!
Any fuckin' day now, Heaven…
"I see, I see… and, tell me, did you accomplish them all? Every last one?"
"Excuse me?"
The man walked up to the pulpit, looking up to the looming Crucifixion, sighing. "Astounding, isn't it? His forgiveness and generosity. He is, truly, my better. I will freely admit to lacking the… resolve it takes to sincerely forgive," He mused to himself. "His life was cut so short, while you… have lived unto perpetuity and throughout the centuries." The blonde man turned his gaze to Garterbelt, who shuddered as he felt his blood run cold. "And yet, time and again, despite the gifts and boons Our Lord has bestowed upon you, gifts he denies his most ardent followers, you have failed. Over. And over. Again. Why is that, do you think?" He asked, tilting his head.
"Okay, who the hell are you?" Garterbelt snarled, flexing his fingers. His gatling gun was still hidden in his afro, Ol' Painless was locked and loaded. "It's clear you know more about me than the average jabroni around here. That means you're either a Demon who figured out how to enter a church, or an…" His eyes snapped open. "An…"
"Yes, Garterbelt." The man folded his hands behind his back, smiling ever so confidently. "I am an Angel, sent from Heaven On High."
Garterbelt's eyes narrowed. "So… you're–"
"The same as my two sisters." He tilted his head, that soft smile etched onto his face. "The ones you were assigned to watch over. To handle. To… 'wrangle', so to speak."
Garterbelt's eyes rose, and he could see it. The eyes. The hair. There's no mistaking it. The resemblance was uncanny.
"So you're… Panty and Stocking's brother?"
"I am," the Angel replied, turning towards the altar, ever-so-slightly looking over his shoulder. "And I have come here to ascertain their status, and deliver unto you your reward for your mission."
"What! You guys had to have known what was going down here!" Garterbelt said. "I mean, I get notes and notices from Heaven all the time! So why come here yourself?"
This guy was starting to give him vibes. Bad ones. He'd dealt with Angels before, specifically a dumb spoiled whore and sweets-obsessed bitch traitor! This guy, though… This Angel had a confidence about him that felt unnatural. The way he looked around, looked at him, it was with the same placid fascination one might spare a benign insect, or how one might peek in on the lives of paramecium through a microscope.
They were, all of them, beneath him.
"Because I want to hear you justify your failure. Hear it from your lips," The Angel replied. "That I can better render your judgment."
"Judgment? For what?"
"For what became of the two Angels you were given as wards, Garterbelt," the Angel answered.
His voice was soft but Garterbelt could sense it. Feel it. The edges of the Angel's true feelings sizzled at the borders of every word like acid. His tone and pitch hadn't changed one whit, but something in it rasped on his soul like a steel file.
Wrath and fury.
The priest gulped a bit, that pit of uneasiness churning as he felt the weight behind those sapphire eyes. "Well… We were able to stymie the Ghost Crisis in Daten City but there were… complications. Panty got cut up into exactly 666 pieces by Stocking, who went rogue and became a Fallen Angel."
The blonde nodded, giving distressingly flat 'mhm's as he spoke.
The priest continued: "So, me and a few others went to Oten City to confront her and her new ally, a demon named Corset. It was tough, the bastard had more Ghost Factories than expected, but we were able to come out on top."
"Indeed. The Gateway to Hell opened in Daten for mere moments, and in Oten City it was on the verge of being opened once more." The Angel nodded. "Continue."
"Well, we managed to put a kibosh on your sister, Stocking. That bi-I mean, 'girl'." He didn't want to insult the dead, even if Stocking was a royal pain in the ass capital-'B'-Bitch! "She became too obsessed with her desires. Earthly pleasures like sweets and shit. She merged with hundreds of Ghosts to become a giant demon construct. We had to get help to fight off their forces, but only when Panty was reconstituted could we beat her and Corset once and for all!"
"Panty was cut up by Stocking's Angelic weaponry? I see. She was then reassembled and reformed. Interesting. She was then able to go into combat against a Ghost-Angel homunculus?" The Angel mused. "Extraordinary."
"Before all of that, though," Garterbelt said, hoping to better make his case. "We had to bust downevery single Ghost Factory in the city. Hundreds of the fuckers! Literally hundreds! Then, we had our climatic battle, and the situation was resolved. The end."
"It must have been very taxing, Garterbelt, doing this on your own. However did you manage?" The Angel asked, his smile, for the first time, was flagging, now closer to a sardonic sneer.
"I, uh–"
The Angel bade him to stop. He walked over to the front table and tore off a piece of bread, crossing his heart with his hand and taking a bite. He turned back to Garterbelt, silently beckoning him to continue.
"Well, I couldn't do it solo, I had help. Chuck came 'long. Had a human boy help us too and…" Garterbelt remained silent, and the Angel's smile returned.
"A human boy. Interesting. And who else? I imagine slaying Ghosts on your lonesome must have been difficult. Impossible, even," he purred, taking a small step towards Garterbelt with each statement. "A less charitable man might presume you had other vectors by which to accomplish this feat. Indeed, without the use of holy weapons, a less charitable man might assume you utilized… unholy methods."
"So you know about them, do you?" Garterbelt growled, throwing away the pretense. "The Demon Sisters."
"We do now. Hard to ignore them given their contributions to philanthropic endeavors on top of their… demonic residue. Their plaques are on just about every single art donation dujour." The angel added, his face placid, his tone calm, but his disgust suffused every word, bitter like bile as he smiled. "For a man of the church to work alongside them? My, my. Shame. Shame. What a terrible shame."
Garterbelt gritted his teeth.
"What choice did I have!? They wanted revenge for being used like pawns by Corset and we needed the best fighters we could get! Not our fault Heaven didn't send, well, you!"
"Daten and Oten City was to be Panty and Stocking's assignment for redemption. I can clearly see that they manifestly failed." The Angel replied, his voice didn't raise one octave, didn't shift in timbre. Hell, his words didn't even echo. But Garterbelt could feel the bubbling fury, the indignation, the outrage, in every syllable, vibrating in his soul like plucked harpstrings. "If they had a proper moral guardian to shepherd them, to teach them, then maybe my sister would not have continued on her debauched escapades. Had they proper guidance, perhaps my other sister would not be dead and in Hell."
Garterbelt said nothing, sweat beading on his furrowed brow.
"I see we have reached the crux of the issue," he said, the smile on his face serene, his tone as soft as spring rain.
"Alright buddy, you've made your point: you're pissed. So, pardon my language, but…" Garterbelt glared at him. "Heaven's never sent a delivery boy to peckerslap me before, so cut the bullshit: what do you want?"
"If you insist," The Angel replied, holding up a hand, finger extended. "One: the location of my wayward Sister, Panty."
"Hell if I know. She left this place a while back. Found her own apartment somewhere downtown." Garterbelt replied. "She don't catch shit, but she spreads more than her legs, y'feel me? Follow the uptick in STDs, you'll find her eventually."
"How charming." The Angel said, actually managing a small grimace, raising a second finger. "Two: What of the Sisters?"
"Last I heard they're still in their penthouse mansion these days, trying to get their affairs in order."
"Hmm, Penthouse. Upscale living. Those demons deserve…" He paused, face unmoving but the air about him reeked of thunderstorms, of ozone. He raised a third finger. "Three: the gate key into Hell."
Garterbelt recoiled as the Angel smiled. A real smile. A particularly mirthless smile.
"Where is he?"
"He… is usually at the Rock Manor. He stopped coming by here the moment Panty moved out, so that's my best bet."
The Angel sighed through his nose, nodding. "Penthouse. Downtown. And Rock Manor." He turned around. "I suppose now is the time to decide if you are worthy of entering Paradise." He reached for a small paper cup and scooped a ladle full of wine, pouring it. "What's the saying among sinful youths these days? 'Take a shot'?"
He downed the wine in a single gulp and turned to Garterbelt, smacking his lips. "Buckfast tonic wine. Flat. You cheapskate."
He crushed the paper cup with a sound not unlike breaking glass, the sharp crystal noise reverberating through Garterbelt's soul. The priest looked down at his hand, his body, as crystalline cracks spidered all over him as he shattered.
"Oh."
"MY!"
The priest exploded like a Rupert's drop, pulverized red shards cast into the air, catching the light like blood-red glitter.
"GOOOOOOOD!"
(X)
Chuck was roused from his sleep by the large cracking explosion. He yelped, bashing his head against the table as he pitter-pattered across the empty, dusty attic of the church.
"Chuck Chuck Chuck…"
Standing before him was a blonde haired man in a white suit, at his feet a pile of red, glittery dust. The green skinned dog hid from sight, peeking through the cracks. "Chuck?"
Who was this guy? What happened to Garterbelt?!
Then the dust whirled and flowed in the air, reforming into a humanoid form.
"GOOOOOOD!"
It began to reform.
"MYYYYY!"
Into Garterbelt, flesh and blood once more.
"OHHH!"
"Well, we have our answer," The blonde man said, blue ringed eyes glaring down at the stunned priest. "Despite all you have accomplished, with what you have done in the name of God, you are still denied entry into Heaven."
Garterbelt was looking at his hands, shaking like a leaf, his mouth agog. Chuck even saw this new guy's eyes. They were ringed sapphire blue…
Just like Panty and Stocking!
Wait. An Angel? When Heaven sent anything, anything at all, it usually sent it via a lightning bolt through his brainstem! What was an Angel doing here?!
"B-But how? Why!?" Garterbelt roared. "Why do you curse me so!? I did everything you asked of me! I looked after and played straight-man for those… those Bitch Angels! I slayed enough Ghosts to get a Ghost Nuremburg Trial! So why! The everloving! FUCK!" He rose back up, glaring down at the smiling man. "DOES HEAVEN DENY ME MY PARADISE AFTER THOUSANDS OF YEARS! WHY?!"
"Because even with all the good you've done, even with the immortal body we have bestowed upon you for you to act in our service, you're still a depraved degenerate. You had such potential to change for the better, yet you squandered it." The man looked up at the priest, smiling, casting his gaze at the ceiling. Chuck felt greasy, unclean, as though the Angel were looking at him right through the floorboards, even as he talked down to Garterbelt. "All to fulfill your own prurient interests. You think you could get away indulging in your sins of the flesh? True, engaging in such acts with another man is a… vice. Just another facet of Lust. Forgivable. But gleefully soiling the innocence of youth?" He clucked his tongue. "As you were planning to do with that young Johnathan, who looks upon you with trust and seeks your guidance? As mortals say, that is a 'double whammy', Garterbelt. And the Heavens wonder why Hell is overpopulated…"
"So!? I wait till they're eighteen at least!"
The Angel fixed him with a flat stare.
"Seventeen?"
"You groom your young, pretty wards and pluck their innocence for your own gratification." The Angel smiled as Garterbelt shook. "After such manipulation, does their age really matter beyond legal minutiae?"
"W-What the hell am I supposed to do! I have needs ya know! I follow the good book! I may not be celibate, but I always ask forgiveness!" He cried out, trying to defend himself. "Repeatedly."
"How often a soul can be forgiven for the same sin, I cannot say. However, frequent lapses into sodomy are the least of your crimes, Garterbelt." The man smirked, and tilted his head. "You allowed Stocking to Fall, and in turn my sister was wounded in the process. You did nothing to curtail the influences of this fetid realm, did nothing to teach or guide or even persuade them to anything approaching a righteous path."
"They wouldn't listen to me! Making them go out to fight Ghosts was like pulling teeth!"
"Immaterial," the Angel replied. "But you were assigned to guide them, as a proper priest would. You have an immortal body to withstand any abuse they may have thrown your way. You were uniquely equipped to handle their foibles, and yet you failed. As you said, Garterbelt, you did not become a Priest overnight. Nor did Stocking fall overnight. Her sins and desires grew and festered under your watch, to the point she surrendered herself to them and Fell." He shook his head and sighed wistfully. "What a waste. What a waste." He raised his head. "As for how you will be judged, Garterbelt. I would feel compelled to send you to Hell, but honestly, that might just be a reward for one such as you. As for what you will get? Well…"
"I will get my ticket into Heaven! I will have my rest!" Garterbelt roared, pulling a rotary cannon from his afro and stripping his robes to reveal his lingerie, garterbelt, and stockings, leveling the vulcan at the Angel. "Even if I have to drag ya to St. Peter's gate with a piece to your head!"
"You will get absolutely nothing." The man sipped his wine as Garterbelt pulled the trigger.
Garterbelt squeezed the trigger, choking smoke filling the air. Fire and smoke and dust filled the air as thousands of high-caliber bullets shredded the pulpit and altar. Brass casings tinkled as they fell like heavy rain on a tin roof. Chuck clasped his little black paws over his ears as the roar of the rotary cannon shook the building to its foundations.
The ammo drum ran dry, Ol' Painless' barrels spun as the nozzles glowed red. Garterbelt grit his teeth, letting off the trigger, standing in a pile of spent, smoking brass.. Maybe that would let Heaven know he meant business! Curtains of gunsmoke and dust whirled about, slowly clearing, revealing a figure.
Chuck and Garterbelt's jaws dropped. The Angel stood, quite unharmed, his white suit pristine, not a mote of dust or smear of gunpowder upon it, the paper cup in one hand. In the other, or rather, balanced in a ball on the tip of his finger, were thousands of high calibre bullets, crushed together like putty.
"Forever," the man said, his tone soft, cold, and eternal as the void of space.
Garterbelt blinked as the figure seemed to be in two places at once. One, holding the ball of bullets a ways away, the other standing right before him, hand outstretched. The ball of bullets thudded to the ground as the other figure vanished.
"Repent."
His hand set upon Gaterbelt's chest, as though in a friendly pat. The priest was gone an instant later, the church hall was gutted by a gale force wind as the front of the church exploded outwards, launching pulpits and pews and much of the floorboards far out into the cityscape.
Chuck covered his eyes, seeing the man-sized trench dug the floor, crudely tracing Garterbelt's trajectory. He gulped and gazed down through the crack in the floor.
The man's hand was glowing blue and white, arcing with power. He sighed in satisfaction and put his hands in his pockets, casually.
"I imagine he'll land outside of Daten City at some point. Perhaps in the desert?" He mused. "Well, in either case, he's run just about dry of Heaven's largess. He'd better smarten up, and soon."
The Angel turned to leave before stopping, sidling over to the sacrament wine bowl, filled with fortified ripple, and scooped up a full cup and knocking it back.
"That's actually not bad…"
"Father Garterbelt? Father Garterbelt?" Called out Lil Johnny.
The blonde man turned, still smiling that same smile. The green dog felt his guts clench with fear. Get out of here kid! Make a like a tree and fuck off!
"W-Who are you? What happened here? Why are their shell casings on the ground? What happened to the… the…" Johnny said, looking nervous as the smiling man approached, hand outstretched…
And patted the boy on the head.
"I apologize for the racket. I had some news to deliver and Father Garterbelt had to leave in a hurry. He has… pressing business in Oten City," the man said, smiling serenely.
"The whole front of the church is gone…" Lil Johnny muttered, shocked.
"He was in a very big hurry," said the Angel, pulling out a checkbook. "His business there will take time, I'm afraid. Here's a check to put into the church bank account. It should cover the costs of repairs and continued upkeep of the churchgrounds. In the meantime, Lil Johnny, Father Garterbelt has placed his trust in you to guide the faithful of Daten City in his absence."
"Really?! B-but he was going to give me a private Bible study session! How can I be ready?!"
"I can assure you, my child," the man purred. "You've learned all you possibly can from Father Garterbelt on the subject of righteousness. Should you have any questions, might I suggest reading the Good Book and prayer." He reached to the side, giving him a Bible. "Read from it, learn from it. It will let you hear God's words in your heart." He set a hand on the boy's shoulder, looking rather content and satisfied. "Do so with faith and you'll be a Priest, too, one day. As Father Garterbelt has shown us, anyone can spread the Word of God."
"Anyone?" He asked, eyes wide in awe.
"Indeed. Now, return to your parents, my boy." The man patted him on the shoulder. "I shall contact some contractors to fix this place up."
"Who are you, exactly, Mister?"
"Why, I am the landlord. This may be a House of God but, well, bills are bills and taxes must be paid. You know how it is." The blonde chuckled a bit as he guided the child out the door.
Chuck scrambled from the slit in the wall and towards the window out looking to the rest of the parking lot outside the Church. The boy waved happily at the man as he ran over to his bicycle. The Angel waved back as the boy rolled down the winding path. Chuck watched him as he stood on the curb. A luxurious white stretch limo rolled up the street, slithering up the curvy road like a serpent, its long body actually bending with each swerve.
The white limo rolled to a stop and from the driver's seat came a rather gruff looking man with fiery red hair, looking nothing like the svelte blond but possessed those same blue ringed eyes. His suit was messy and untucked, tie loose and haphazard. The scraggly redhead opened the door for the Angel.
"Chuck Chuck Chuck FUCK!" The green dog gibbered. This wasn't good. Blondie over there clearly had it out for Garterbelt. Even a long-suffering creature like Chuck knew that throwing someone hundreds of kilometers over the horizon was no affectionate gesture. Worse yet, his tone of voice indicated a similar level of venom towards the Demon Sisters and even Brief.
And Chuck actually liked them!
Sure, he wasn't the biggest fan of Fastener, but he grew to tolerate that pervy little molerat over the past year and change. And the Demon Sisters didn't try to kill him every other minute as the Anarchy Sisters did. Kneesocks actually fed him a few times!
And Brief was the only one to…
"Chuck Chuck!" The patchwork dog ran down the stairs, scrabbling through the ruined Church before scampering out the side door and into the woods. He had to get to Fastener and the Sisters fast! These Angels weren't playing around.
(X)
"Sooooo…" Yawned a female voice as the Blonde haired man sat in the back of the limo. He saw her resting in her pajamas, clinging to her form with cute white and blue polka dots, her long straight pink hair curtaining her face. Her blue ringed eyes were drowsy, lidded, dark rings beneath them, as though she'd been awake for years. The girl smacked her lips. "Why'd you even have me out there with Onesie? Since when do you need a sniper, Boxer?"
Boxer smiled serenely. "We had no way of knowing if Panty or even the Sisters were there with him. Besides, didn't it feel good to get outside for once, Pajama?"
"I'd rather be watching cartoons…" Pajama yawned, her head lolling to the side. "Anyway, how'd it go?"
"It went well. Garterbelt was given his proper sentence. He won't be returning to Daten City any time soon. Not while we are here conducting our business," Boxer said, leaning back, hands clasped upon his lap. "You saw the whole thing through that scope of yours."
"So," The driver sat down, grinning with shark teeth through the rearview mirror. "Where to now? Bra's still makin' arrangements to buy out Spread Leg Towers."
"Very good, Beater. And what of Lingerie?" The blonde Angel asked. "Any luck with her trying to infiltrate the Rock Foundation?"
"Mwaaaah…" Yawned Pajama, rubbing her bagged eyes. "Not really…"
"Yeah, trying to in Rock Manor's tough. Security beefed up in recent days, apparently. Her best shot is to work at the Foundation and work her way up. Fast she can at least," Beater said, putting the limo in gear. "Wanna like, just stop pussyfooting around and just barge on in? The Hells Monkey is in there, and if that old fart thinks an army'll stop us, he's got another thing coming!"
"Rock Manor and the Foundation HQ isn't going anywhere Beater. Arthur Rock and his unholy sire won't dare to leave the city. They are too entrenched," Boxer replied, serenely. "Our main objective for the moment is to bring our wayward Sister back into the fold."
"Bleagh, Panty… hate her." Pajama uttered. "So loud."
"Panty got exiled from Heaven from being as obstinate as can be, Stocking included." The driver said. "You sure you can bring her back to our side, Boxer?"
"She's our Sister, one of the Divine Garments, Beater." The blonde man reached over to a side cooler, opening it and bringing forth a simple water bottle. "We are family after all. And, I know for certain Panty will join us."
"Heh, you always had a way with people, Boxer. That's why we're the best!" Beater chuckled.
"So, where is she, then?" Pajama turned over on the couch, burying her head in the pillow. "Iwanna nap…"
"Downtown, that's all I could glean. Worry not, she'll make herself known. Panty has never been the type to lay low." The Angel from Heaven, Divine Garment Boxer, smiled. "Once she is back in the fold, we will destroy those infernal trespassers… and then the Hells Monkey will be our possession at long last." He said, proud as can be.
And the white limousine, 'Eden', slithered down the road and got to the main highway. The next stop: Daten City proper.
(X)
Loona groaned, face down on her desk. She wanted to die. Not just from the absolutely heinous hangover. No, she'd stepped outside of her comfort zone, put herself out there and… got out-of-control hammered and did… something. Said… stuff. To… someone?
The saving grace of getting back-out drunk had to be the fact that she couldn't remember much, if anything, of the prior night. She remembered coming to, surrounded by Vortex and his enviably robust girlfriend looming over her. There was someone else there, too. A Sinner.
A Sinner?
What was a Sinner doing at a Hound Party?
Whatever. The little weirdo's name was Rock. Apparently he was pretty cool for a Faller. He seemed pretty cool, for an anxious, uptight dork, anyway. Fuzzy memories surfaced, half-forgotten pangs of sadness and despair, ruddy hotblooded surges of lust. Loona had dreaded that she'd actually taken the gibbering red-haired Faller to bed, but Nebula gently but firmly assured her she hadn't. Looking back on it, she believed her. Thinking back on Rock and his messy orange hair, his soft, tremulous voice, his pretty emerald eyes shuttered behind that ridiculous curly mop, the… ambiguous number of heads that he had. Seriously, was it three or one? She distinctly remembered both. Was he like a turtle or something?
She wanted to throw up.
"Hurp…"
No, wait. She was going to throw up.
Loona gurgled and ran for the office bathroom, her meager breakfast rising up on a surge of weak coffee and bile. She grimaced, musing that the breakfast burrito didn't look much better now than it did when she ate it. She brushed her hair over her shoulder.
A gentle hand patting her back, another tenderly holding her hair up.
That's right… that Sinner had actually held her hair back. Tried to comfort her. A muddy haze of his affirmations and good-natured advice bubbled to the surface of her recollection. He'd sat there and listened to her babble about, knowing how she got 30-40 beers in, her robust list of gripes and insecurities. She couldn't recall what, exactly, she had said in her stupor, but was absolutely sure that if word ever got out she would probably leap from the office window.
'If I never see that dork again, it'll be too soon!' She thought, wiping her mouth and getting to her feet. 'Him and his stupid red hair and his cute freckles… stupid, dorky, adorable smile…'
Loona shook her head, banishing away the slowly collating image in her mind, none-too-crazy about the strange warm feeling blossoming in her chest. So what if he was kinda cute for a Sinner? That wasn't saying much! Most of those freaks were gross animal people or absurdly proportioned mix-n-match monsters! If anything, Rock looked…
Loona stopped mid-stride, her eyes wide with shock. The image in her mind slowly coalesced, clarifying into a stark, familiar visage. Familiar to her, anyway, given her line of work. She pulled back her hair, sniffing it. She hadn't had time to shower this morning, hoping she could get by on deodorant until the day's end, as such, the scents of that night were still on her. Beer, cigarettes, tacos, Yula's perfume and… something. Something strange, alien, and utterly distinct in all of Hell.
"No, that's…" She shook her head, brow creasing in concern. "Maybe he was just fresh? Yeah! Really fresh! Like, 'literally fell in through their window' fresh? Yeah…"
But Loona knew better. She knew the difference between someone shaking off their mortal scent after passing through the veil and the real thing. The image in her mind cleared. Leaning over her, looking down on her as she sobbed in his lap, his pretty green eyes occasionally visible through his thick bangs, sitting next to her, smiling. The image was of a skinny, pale, nerdy, adorable…
"Human," she whispered. "Rock's a-a Human? In Hell? What's a Human doing in Hell? What's a Human doing in Vortex's guestroom?!"
Just then, her phone buzzed: it was Vortex. It read: 'Hey loona. We need to talk ASAP'
"Oh, shit…"
(X)
Blitzo shuffled into the office, scowling. To say last night was a disaster would be like calling the Titanic a sailing mishap. His precious Loonie out with her literal and figurative poon-hound friends. Moxxie and Millie being their sickening-sweetheart selves. And the less said about the whole 'Stolas' thing, the better.
Fuckin' Stolas.
He shoved open the door with a bang, surprised to see Loona already sitting behind the desk. He hadn't been expecting her to be at work at all after she'd failed to come home the other night. Not only was she at work, she was there before him! Since when did she get to work early? He looked over at the clock on the wall, it read '12AM'.
"Oh. Guess I slept in." He turned to her, forgetting his frustration for a moment upon seeing her wretched state. "Loonie? Jeez! Are you okay?"
Loona looked horrible. Her fur, usually meticulously styled, was mussed, tangled, and unkempt. Her usually bright red eyes were deeply bagged and somehow even more red. All in all, his baby girl looked how he felt.
"Do I look okay?" She grumbled.
Blitzo wanted to rush over and pester her for details, but between his own emotional hangover and Loona's very, very standard hangover, he let it pass. He'd save his fawning for later, when she would be less likely to literally bite his head off.
"Well, got pick-me-ups in the desk. Help yourself."
"Right… bleagh…"
Wait… if it was noon, then where the Hell were M&M?
On cue, a glowing blue portal opened up and out hopped the happy couple. Moxxie was polishing his pistols, looking supremely impressed with himself. Millie had an immense double-headed battle-axe slung over her shoulder and a bloody burlap sack dragging behind her.
"One and done!" Millie cheered. "We're onna roll, Mox!"
"Loona, you said you'd clean this up!" Moxxie groused, kicking at the tree-top taking up much of the officer, left there from yesterday's mission. "Do you want squirrels? This is how you get squirrels."
"Choke on your wife's dick, fatty," Loona gurgled, face-down on the desk, flipping him the bird. "I'm sick."
"Well–" Moxxie began to say.
"Sick of your shit."
"Blitz!" Millie cheered. "You're here!"
"You guys went on a mission without me?!" Blitzo cried, throwing his hands up.
"You were fast asleep when I woke up…" Loona grumbled. "Didn't wanna wake ya. Opened up." She murmured, grabbing a bottle of pills from her desk and swallowing one down. That should help sober her up a little.
"You weren't here and weren't answering your phone, sir," Moxxie grumbled, trying to shove the tree top back through the portal. "We had a backlog, figured we'd thin it out."
"At least something's thinning out around here," muttered Loona, grabbing the grimoire, opening a portal under the tree-top.
Moxxie yelped as he almost fell through the portal, Millie scooping him up at the last second.
"Hey!" Moxxie said, pointing at the closing portal. "Was that our fucking living room?!"
"Was it?" Loona said, rolling her head on the desk to look at the incensed imp, a snide smile on her face. "I was aiming for your bedroom."
Moxxie growled as Millie set him down, walking over to Blitzo. "Don't worry, Blitz! We still have our 1PM in Paris."
"Ah~" Moxxie swooned. "Such culture!"
"Oh, right, the frog-hunt," said Blitzo, mollified. "That'll be a nice palette-cleanser after…"
"Do you want to talk about last night, sir?" Moxxie asked, somewhat concerned. Blitzo perked up, before glaring off to the side.
God, FUCK last night…
"That can't have been–"
"ShutthefuckupMoxxie–Well, we'd better prepare for Paris!" Blitzo declared with an eager, sharp grin. The sooner they can move on from that shitfest the better. "M&M, brush up on your 'Fran-say' and melt up the garlic butter, we's cookin' frog legs!"
Moxxie nodded, heading for the armory. "Ça roule, ma poule."
"I love it when ya talk fancy, Mox~" Millie giggled, following him.
"Heh!" Blitzo turned to the tall, gaunt, blue incubus in a crisp suit standing next to him, jabbing a thumb at Moxxie. "Theater kid. Figures he'd know Fre–GAAAAAHSHITNUGGETS!" Blitzo leapt back from the figure, pistol drawn. "WHERE'DYOUCOMEFROM?!"
Loona's eyes went over to the towering incubus, who stood just outside the door with his hands clasped behind his back.
Blitzo was on the money. No swears or euphemisms in that last sentence. Where did he come from? She shook her head, damn hangover. Messing with her senses as she chugged from a water bottle that was half empty.
"I've been standing outside for several minutes, I heard talking so I walked on inside," the incubus replied, dryly. "You would be Blitzo I presume?"
"The 'o' is silent, but yes," growled Blitzo, not lowering his pistol. "Who're you supposed to be, Grins?"
The incubus polished his talons on his lapel, unbothered by the weapon leveled at him, silver hooks pulling his mouth into a permanent rictus grin. His red ringed eyes made Loona grit her teeth on edge as she remained head-first on the desk looking his way. "Salutations, my good… imp. My name is Corset. Normally, I am loathe to associate with your ilk, but I find myself in need of your services."
"Pshh what? Did some human not pull your tail and call you baby?" He asked.
That is weird. Not every day Loona can recall a Hellborn coming by the office wanting a Hit.
Corset glared, the hooks pulling the corners of his mouth creaking like rusty springs as he attempted to frown. "Not quite. You see, your organization has something of a reputation, one that has even reached my ears, and given your small number of employees, why I must find it commendable. I–"
"Gonna have to stop you right there, Gimpy," Blitzo interrupted, holstering his pistol and looking at his watch. "We're already full-up on our schedule. Got places to be, people to kill, contracts to uphold, money to make. You know how it is."
"Money you say?" The blue skinned demon oiled, smirking as he simply reached into his pocket and throwing a handful of bills into the air. Blitzo let out an audible gasp and darted forward, his hands a blur as he snatched every last bill out of the air before they hit the ground. With equal speed, he shuffled them into a neat stack, flicking through the bills with his thumb: all 100 $oul bills. He grinned down at them, then frowned and looked up to Corset, the incubus raised a thin eyebrow in amusement as he had that smirk on his expression..
"Alright then, you have my attention," muttered Blitzo, pocketing the stack. "What's the take, Skeletor?"
"I need you to find someone for me," said Corset, strolling about the office, inspecting the decor as Millie and Moxxie, hearing the commotion from the armory, poked their heads into the main lobby, instantly noticing the towering blue skinned demon. "Your skills hunting Humans will aid you greatly, indeed they are why I am here. Bear in mind, this individual is not Human, though he will appear and act as one." He mused, looking into his hand and inspecting his talons.
"Sinner, huh?" Blitzo rubbed his chin, unsure. "Dunno, chief, 'looks human' ain't the same thing as 'is human'. We specialize in–"
"Other bounty hunters cannot be trusted with this one, you see," Corset interrupted. "His disguise is exceedingly convincing. The temptation to take him for themselves and scam rich Sinners is too great. You lot, on the other hand, I feel I can trust to execute your mission to my parameters. I have heard many a praise of IMP and their efficiency. Am I mistaken?"
Blitzo puffed out his chest, smirking at the compliment. "Not at all! So, what's the skinny?"
"This individual has something very important to me. An… artifact, of sorts. I need it back, and intact." Corset checked for dust on molding on the wall, rubbing it between his fingers before turning back to Blitzo. "Money is no object, consider the money I gave unto you a consultation fee. A mere fraction of what I can provide you should you complete this task."
Blitzo grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Well now, you're speaking my language! Okay!" He clapped, looking up to the taller smiling demon as he leaned against the wall. "What's this disguised dipshit look like?"
Corset chuckled airily, walking up to Blitzo, hand over the imp's head. "Short, about 5'6. Slender in build. His skin is pale beige, with a light dusting of freckles upon his cheeks. Hair is orange-red, curly, and unkempt like a mop, with heavy bangs obscuring his eyes, which are emerald green. Last I saw him he was wearing headphones and a grimy green jumpsuit, but he may have changed since then. Is this sufficient?"
"Sounds… detailed." Moxxie mused aloud.
"Must have spurned him or somethin'," Millie mused.
Loona was deadly silent, eyes wide as she sat back up, looking at Corset.
Blitzo was scribbling on a note-pad, rendering a crude stick-figure with labels reading: short, wimp, jinjr, dum hare, stoopid cloths(?), trans(?) and hedfones. "Gotcha. A demon that human-looking will be a cinch to track down! Alright, so, what's your style? Sniper rifle? Knife? Decapitation? Poison? Torture? We've got a deal going on dismemberment! And a super discount on hanging, since it's super cheap by the way," he whispered to himself before his eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh! I can give ya half off if we dismember him horse style!" He pulled out a sketch book with a human being pulled apart by several different horses with ropes, limbs going in multiple directions with a little cartoon Blitzo riding one of them with glee and rainbows. "I've always wanted to try this. Rest assured my man this fucker will be good as dead by sundown!"
"What? Dead?! No!" Corset exclaimed, alarmed, before reining himself in. "No no no no. No dismemberment. No killing. This individual must be delivered to me alive, unspoiled, and intact. This is imperative!" He hissed, eyes wide and desperate before he calmed down.
"Oooh tsss…" Blitzo hissed, slicing the air with his hand. "Sorry, Grins, that's a dealbreaker. See, we're the Immediate Murder Professionals, not the Immediate Catch-And-Release Professionals. Instead of I.M.P. we would be I.C.A.R.P and that would only open the door for us to be called ICRAP soooooooo…" he clicked his tongue. "Sorry, I'm gonna have to pass on this job."
Corset glared at him, red eyes narrowing as he pulled out a checkbook. "I reiterate: money is no object."
Blitzo sighed and shook his head. "And our reputation is priceless. BEsides, last time we took a job that didn't involve killing? Set a lot of things on fire. Sorry, Smiles, no go. Once bitten, twice shy, that sort of shit." The incubus breathed hard through his nose.
"You're making a grave mistake, imp," spat Corset, folding his hands behind his back. "I will make you rich and powerful beyond the dreams of avarice! Completing this mission will set you up as a pillar in the foundation of a new order! A minor God in the New Creation!"
Blitzo stared vacantly, eyes blinking out of sequence. Moxxie and Millie looked back at each other and then at the incubus. Corset scoffed.
"I can plainly see I'm wasting my time. Very well. If you won't join me in my ascension, someone else will." Corset sighed in disgust, shaking his head, before pointing to Loona. "You there. Dog. Wanna earn a milkbone, Lassie?"
Loona gawped at the tall demon, her eyes wide, harrowed, white fur paling somehow. Oh god, here comes another…
She squeaked, greening before scrambling for the bathroom. She closed the door, groaning and retching so they could hear her from the other side..
"What's wrong with her?" Corset said, bemused. "Eat someone who didn't agree with her?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," grumbled Moxxie.
"My precious Loonie just, uh, ate a bad breakfast burrito," said Blitzo, chuckling. "She'll be spewing from both ends all day! Not hungover at all!"
Corset's hooked lips curled in disgust. "I'm not sure what I expected, coming here to treat with you animals. I take my leave of you. Good day."
With that, Corset stormed out of the office, grumbling. Loona felt ill again and went to the sink to wash her face. The cold water helped.
"Snobby kinky powerbottom Smurf-skinned…" Blitzo grumbled, turning to his associates. "Alright, as soon as Loonie stops punishing the toilet, we're gone! You two ready?"
"Millie…" Moxxie said, concerned. "Didn't that guy seem… familiar?"
"Yeah, Mox. Like I've seen him before. But where?"
"I've seen that smile before, but…" Moxxie snapped his fingers as the recollection came to him. "Ozzie's! Remember, Millie? In the foyer, there were a bunch of pictures of Asmodeus on the wall. That demon, Corset, was in a lot of them!"
"Yeah!" She exclaimed, pointing at her husband, giggling. "You pointed at him and said 'I've heard of forcing a smile, but that's ridiculous!' Hee-hee-hee!"
"Riveting," Blitzo uttered, unamused as he snappishly, clapping his hands and getting his attention. "Anyway! We gotta job to do and Frenchies to kill! Loonie! You feeling alright, sweetheart?"
"Fine!" Loona staggered out of the bathroom, typing on her phone. "Gimme a sec."
(X)
Loona staggered out of the bathroom, setting her phone down and opened the book, reading the arcane text. An instant later a portal shimmered open and the imps departed.
"Hope you feel better, honey!" Blitzo called out. "Okay gang! I had a reaaaal shitty night and I'm gonna blow off some steam and kill some cheatin' hookers, Art defacers, some cop pigs and protestors as I.M.P. is not political we just kill whoever we are hired to kill! So in that case!" He whipped out his flintlock pistol as a portal opened up, revealing the skyline of Paris. Blitzo cackled and leapt in. "Allons-Eyeeeeee!"
"It's 'Eeee'!" Moxxie said as he followed after, carrying a sniper rifle and some rope. "It's Allons-i!"
"Don't forget that political big wig too! That client lady wanted him to get the gut buster treatment!" Millie chimed before looking back to Loona. "See ya soon Loona!"
"Yeah girl! Hope you feel better! See ya later love youuuu!" Blitzo called out before the black haired imp girl went on through and Loona closed the portal.
"Me too…" she muttered, looking at her phone, on it a text read: 'when?'
'5pm, IMP,' He replied, a long thoughtful pause passed before he wrote, more (…) signs appearing on the text screen: 'I know how this is gonna sound, but can we take a look at that freaky book? It's important.'
"Fucking understatement." Loona scoffed, typing. 'yeah sure. i think i know whats going on.'
'You do?'
'its about rock right?'
'Not over text. They could be watching.'
A chill raced up her spine. "Fuck." She said aloud. 'k see u soon'
'Be safe, Loona. Thank you so much.'
She blushed at this. 'kthnxbai'
With that, she set her phone down on the table, rubbing her temples. "Fuck my life."
She went to her phone again, and remembering what Moxxie said, how he looked like someone they saw in Lust she went to Moxxie's Sinstigr-
Blocked.
Rolling her eyes, she went to Millie's page instead and saw their feed of pics. And on one of the selfies was them posting before the great demon Rooster that was Asmodeus, posing for a painting and surrounded by various demons in suits.
There he was. In all his red eyed blue skinned lip-hooked glory to the side, Corset as he smiled and glared to the audience, right by Asmodeus' side with his hands behind his back.
She gulped, and went to pop back more pick-me-up pills. This day just couldn't get any worse…
So yeah, next chapter. Wr1teAn0n is a machine lemme tell ya. Granted I wrote up the first half but he really polished it well, not to mention added a ton onto Boxer. So he may go for the first half of the next chapter and I'll go for the second half or some such.
We got a group hunting for the Demon Sisters and Brief now! Garterbelt is out of the picture, and Panty is next on Boxer's list... Who is this group of Angels and what are their goals. Stay tuned for that one.
And we get a glimpse into IMP with Blitzo and co getting a visit from Corset.
Also for those reading, Episode 8 released just today (6/24/23) and showcased Vortex' girlfriend Queen Bee-zelbub. We had no idea he was hooked THAT high up, and Nebula was more or less carte blanche we could work with. So... just go with 'Girlfriend was created before Queen Bee was concieved" and what not.
Alongside the Hound Party too. In here, Loona needed support and an ear to listen. In canon, Blitzo needed one and affirmation which, Loona gave and even called him Dad. She knows when someone is in need of support so good on Vivzie for that.
Makes Seeing Stars ALOT worse in retrospect after the fact.
See you all in the next one!