Chapter 25: Turkey Shoot
The dimly lit room in the underground chambers of the Crimson Crime Family's hideout was filled with a suffocating atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Crimson, the infamous imp crime boss, sat behind his large oak desk, his fingers drumming impatiently on the worn wood. The room was cluttered with old weapons, family heirlooms, and trinkets from his various "business ventures." His goons stood at attention, their eyes darting nervously toward the figure who had just entered.
This mysterious figure—known only as Mr. Raven—was a sight to behold. He was cloaked in deep regal purple, feathers as black as midnight trailing behind him like a shadow given life. His plague doctor mask, with its beak-like nose and round lenses, concealed his face entirely, but the glowing crimson eyes behind the glass betrayed an intensity that sent shivers down even the most hardened criminals' spines.
Crimson leaned back in his chair, a sneer plastered on his face as he took a long drag from his cigar. "So, you're the one causin' all this fuss, huh?" he growled, smoke billowing from his nostrils. "Dozen of my best men outta commission, just for one little Goetia girl? She better be worth the trouble, pal."
Mr. Raven didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood there in eerie silence, the only sound in the room the soft rustle of his cloak. Then, in a blur of movement that defied logic, he vanished from his spot and reappeared behind Crimson, his clawed hand wrapped tightly around the imp's throat. Crimson's cigar fell from his mouth, his eyes widening in shock and fear. The goons around the room scrambled for their weapons, but none dared fire, afraid of hitting their boss.
"Your men," Mr. Raven hissed, his voice a low, menacing whisper that seemed to echo from every corner of the room, "are mere pawns. And pawns are meant to be sacrificed for a greater purpose." He lifted Crimson effortlessly, holding him up as though he weighed nothing. The imp crime boss could only sputter in terror, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.
Through the lenses of his mask, Mr. Raven's eyes burned with a malevolent glow, like twin suns in the depths of a black hole. "I need the girl, Crimson," he continued, his tone as cold and unfeeling as the grave. "You see, the day Octavia was born... Hell itself trembled. An eclipse, unlike anything this realm has ever seen, shrouded everything in darkness. The world stood still, every flame flickering out, every scream silenced. But then—" he leaned in closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly, "—the moment she opened her eyes, the moons' light returned. She brought back the dawn."
Crimson could barely breathe, his pulse hammering in his ears, but he managed to rasp out, "W-what the hell are you talkin' about?"
Mr. Raven released him, allowing Crimson to collapse back into his chair, gasping for air. The dark figure paced slowly around the room, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud. "Octavia Goetia is a being of immense magical potential," he explained, his tone almost reverent. "A force that could rival the powers of Hell itself. In her, I see the potential to reshape this realm... to challenge even the might of Lucifer."
The room fell into a stunned silence. Crimson's goons exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain whether they were witnessing madness or witnessing the dawn of a new reign in Hell. Crimson, however, was not so easily convinced. He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to regain his composure.
"You're outta your damn mind if you think I'm riskin' my neck for some snot-nosed kid," Crimson spat, though his voice was shaky. "But… if what you're sayin' is true..." He trailed off, a greedy glint coming to his eyes. Power was the one thing that always spoke to him.
Mr. Raven turned sharply, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. "She is not just a child," he snapped, his voice rising with a sudden intensity. "She is the key to a new era. With her under my control, I will have power that even the Morning Star would envy."
Crimson's fear began to melt away, replaced with a twisted sense of opportunity. If he played his cards right, aligning himself with this dark sorcerer could mean a rise in his own power. Perhaps even a seat at the table of Hell's true rulers.
"Well then," he said, forcing a grin, "looks like we've got ourselves a deal. I'll lend ya my boys, but if you're screwin' me over, Raven, I swear by all the devils in Hell, I'll put a bullet between those creepy eyes of yours."
Mr. Raven merely tilted his head, the eerie red glow of his eyes intensifying. "Your threats amuse me, Crimson. But rest assured, once I have the girl... you will be richly rewarded." He extended his gloved hand, the long, clawed fingers extending like talons. Crimson hesitated for only a moment before shaking it, sealing their dark pact.
As Mr. Raven turned to leave, his form seemed to dissipate into a cloud of black feathers, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared. Crimson was left to contemplate the weight of the deal he had just struck, his mind racing with visions of power, wealth, and the inevitable betrayal that awaited him in the treacherous underworld of Hell.
"Boys," he barked to his henchmen, snapping them out of their daze, "you heard the man. I want every last one of ya scouring Hell for that bird brat. And don't come back empty-handed, or it's your asses on the line."
The imps scrambled into action, the sounds of loading guns and revving engines filling the hideout as they prepared for the hunt. Crimson leaned back in his chair, a wicked grin spreading across his face. If this Raven character could truly deliver what he promised, then Crimson would be unstoppable. And if not... well, he always had a backup plan.
But for now, the hunt for Octavia Goetia was on. And Hell itself would burn in the wake of their pursuit.
The hunt for Octavia had begun, and Hell was about to witness chaos like never before.
--
Moxxie, just fifteen years old, stood trembling yet resolute. His father's cold, mocking laughter echoed through the dimly lit underground base. The walls were adorned with gaudy velvet curtains and portraits of Crimson's most ruthless exploits. The air was thick with the scent of blood and cigar smoke, an oppressive reminder of the life Moxxie had fled from.
"You think you can just waltz back in here and take me down, boy?" Crimson sneered, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sickening pride. "You ain't got the balls! You're still that weak, sniveling runt I raised, barely worth the spit on my boot."
But Moxxie was no longer the terrified child who cowered in the shadows. He had faced horrors, faced death, and found something far stronger than fear — the love and strength of his new family. He glanced to his side, where Millie stood, her eyes blazing with fierce loyalty, her trusty axe held at the ready.
"Guess what, Pops?" Moxxie said, his voice steady as he leveled his tommy gun at the old man. "I'm done being scared of you."
The room erupted into chaos as Moxxie and Millie unleashed a barrage of bullets and steel, tearing through Crimson's goons with a ferocity that stunned even the hardened criminals. The fight was long and brutal; the sounds of gunfire, the clash of weapons, and the screams of fallen foes filled the air like a macabre symphony.
--
When the dust settled, it was just Moxxie and Crimson left standing, surrounded by the carnage of their battle. They faced each other in the center of the room, blood dripping from countless cuts and bruises. Millie stood off to the side, her axe ready, but she respected Moxxie's silent wish — this was his fight to finish.
Crimson tossed his bloodied brass knuckles aside, cracking his neck with a wicked grin. "So, you want to play the hero, huh? Tryin' to be something you're not, just like that pathetic theater kid you used to be."
Moxxie clenched his fists, his knuckles white, but he didn't back down. "You can mock me all you want, but it won't change a damn thing. I'm not your puppet anymore, and I sure as hell don't need your approval."
The bare-knuckle boxing match that followed was nothing short of brutal. Every punch, every kick, was laced with years of pent-up rage and pain. Crimson's taunts never ceased, his voice dripping with venom as he tried to break his son's spirit.
"You think you're better than me? You think those misfits you call a family actually care about you?" Crimson spat, delivering a hard uppercut that sent Moxxie staggering back.
But Moxxie found his strength in the memories of Blitzø's tough love, Verosika's surprisingly gentle care, Barbie's chaotic yet comforting presence, and Loona's begrudging sisterly protection. And most of all, he found it in Millie, his rock, his partner, the one who always had his back.
--
With a roar of defiance, Moxxie landed a series of rapid punches, knocking Crimson off balance. Blood dripped from both their faces, but Moxxie's determination only grew stronger.
"You never broke me," Moxxie shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "I have a real family now. A better dad in Blitzø, a new mom in Verosika, a kooky aunt in Barbie, an annoying little sister in Loona, and most of all, a soulmate in Millie and our sweet Bellina! I don't need your validation, Crimson!"
Crimson's eyes widened, shock momentarily breaking through his hardened exterior. But before he could recover, Millie stepped forward and, with a fierce battle cry, kicked Crimson square in the face, shattering several teeth and sending him sprawling onto the ground.
Moxxie stood over his fallen father, panting heavily. The old man lay there, defeated and broken. Moxxie could end him, right here, right now, but he shook his head, lowering his fist. "You're not worth it."
Millie took his hand, her eyes shining with pride. "Let's get out of this hellhole, babe."
As they turned to leave, the ground beneath them trembled violently. Crimson's laugh, broken and crazed, filled the air once more. "You think you're done? You think you're free? Hell itself won't let you escape so easily!"
--
Without warning, a swirling vortex of darkness opened beneath them, sucking in everything around like a hellish black hole. Moxxie and Millie screamed as they were pulled into the abyss, holding onto each other for dear life.
The last thing Moxxie saw was his father's twisted grin, his voice echoing through the darkness. "You'll never escape my shadow, boy. Never."
They were swallowed whole, plunging into an endless void. Time lost all meaning as they fell, the darkness pressing in on all sides, suffocating and cold.
But then, just as suddenly, they were spat out into an unfamiliar place, landing hard on a stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of brimstone, the sound of distant wailing echoing through what seemed to be an ancient underground fortress.
Moxxie groaned, pushing himself up with a grimace. "Millie, are you okay?"
Millie coughed, nodding as she steadied herself. "Yeah, but where the hell are we?"
Before they could get their bearings, a figure stepped out of the shadows, their eyes glowing an ominous purple. It was Mr.Raven, the enigmatic Goetian sorcerer, now very impatient but far from powerless.
"Welcome to my domain," Mr.Ravem hissed, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "You two are just in time for the grand finale."
The next chapter of their nightmare had just begun, with Moxxie and Millie finding themselves trapped in a labyrinth of dark magic, ancient curses, and twisted enemies. But as always, they would face it together — with love, bullets, and the unwavering bond that no darkness could ever shatter.
Though Mr.Raven was more than willing to try, his eyes glowing as several small cloaked fingers appeared rushing towards Moxxie and Millie.
To be continued…….