Summary:
Striker makes a comeback and boy, things sure do happen.
"Ugh…."
There were no known Louds who never experienced an intense sugar crash. The family's undisputed love for chocolate helped prove that. Lincoln himself was guilty of this, but no Earth-made sugar even compares to the stuff made in Hell. Especially when they're created by the embodiment of the Sin of Gluttony, Beelzebub. Those sweets really made him go over his limit.
"There, there, sweet pea."
Performing her motherly duties, Millie caressed his forehead while Moxxie came carrying a nice bowl of soup.
Timber was resting on top of Lincoln's chest, nuzzling into him to enjoy an adorable nap which Lincoln didn't mind, he was too tuckered out to even care.
"Here, Lincoln. Special remedy that can even handle the hardest of hangovers." The imps said, giving a teaspoon to the boy.
Lincoln gagged a little. "Ugh, that tastes like it's supposed to get out of me, not go into me."
"Well, there's very little old-fashioned medicinal brews that actually taste good." Millie chuckled. "Just bear with it for now."
Loona was standing near the couch the company's youngest member was recovering on and had a guilt-ridden look. It's been days after their outing in Gluttony and Lincoln still was reeling from the effect it had over him. She shuddered to think what could've happened if Beelzebub hadn't calmed him down. "Blitz, still nothing?"
Blitz was looking out the building's windows with a telescope.
"Nope. No sign of any rooftop fucking just yet. Although, I did spot a few flashers." Blitzo shrugged, unimpressed. "I've seen better."
Loona shouted, making him almost drop the scope. "Blitz!"
"What? It's true. Look, so far, I don't see anyone working for the Gluttony queen, not the day before either. Or the day before, and so on." Blitzo scratched his nonexistent chin. "Weird, sure, but I wouldn't count us out just yet. Those sins have ways of overlooking everything in Hell without any spies or snitches."
"Uhh…..that's a relief…." Lincoln groaned. Everything was still all in a daze, only remembering bits and pieces from when he was overloaded on Beelzebub's sugary sweets. "I didn't do anything….intense, did I?"
The four hellborn demons shared a tentative look.
Moxxie was the brave one to answer first. "Well, if you're worried you may have killed anyone at the party, rest assured, your kill count is still nonexistent. A-And for the record, that is in no way meant in a judgmental way."
Mille rubbed her left arm. "Buuuut, you may have gotten too carried away in havin' fun. It's a Satan-damned miracle you only kissed that Milky gal a kiss on the nose."
Lincoln shot straight up. "Kissed?! I-I-I kissed Milky?! Like, lips and everything?!"
"Easy there, bud." Loona made things more clear. "Only on the nose….though that seemed like it was good enough for her, like damn, I didn't think Succubi could even swoon like that."
Lincoln buried his head into his hands, unable to handle the embarrassed shame.
He didn't know how to explain it.
Those intoxicating beverages and food just lifted off so many huge weights off his shoulder that he's been growing wary of carrying. It was an experience that proved even in Hell, he can have fun times and not treat it as some everlasting punishment which is the consensus on how Earth humans describe Hell as. It got to the point where he didn't want the fun to end, and that nearly made him lose it and also nearly blew his cover.
And of course, he couldn't forget that one of the Seven Sins was in attendance.
Not getting caught by Ozzie was one thing, but now he was really pushing his luck, running into another of Hell's top big wigs.
To dispel the nervous mood in the office air, Blitzo clapped his hands to get some attention.
"Okay, okay, that's enough being sad sacks." Blitzo sat and reclined into his spinning chair. "Look, all in all, I'd say we got off pretty easy. To her, some pup went and got too carried away and that's that. No point makin' a fuss about a problem that's not even there. We got better things to do, after all."
Blitzo was being a bit too nonchalant about it, but his employees admitted that he did make some good points. At least now they know that Lincoln will have to be careful with what he eats in Hell from here on. Additionally, setting aside all the problems, it was a fun night partying and it wouldn't hurt to have another go. For now, the Immediate Murder Professionals might as well stop worrying, kick back, and not worry about anything else.
Loona sure felt like making plans to laze around the office like she always did, and-
"Oh, and by the way Looney, hon, tomorrow's your Hellbies shot appointment. Finally fixed a date! Fine as fuck daddying, am I right?"
"..."
Loona's eyes were saucers and her mouth, a thin line.
On the very next day, I.M.P weren't the only ones that had an important scheduled deadline, and as it happens, it was one pertaining to their associate, Ars Goetia prince, Stolas. Weeks after their last argument, Stella eventually made good on her warning. She brought the matter of their separation to her older brother, Marquis Andrealphus, a fellow high pillar in the Ars Goetia demon royalty.
Or as Stolas likes to call him, the most annoying brother-in-law in all of Hell.
Stella was one thing, but him?
It was no secret how much of an opportunistic two-faced snob he is even for demon royalty, so it came as no surprise to Stolas that he decided to settle this little marital spat in the family. Not out of some brotherly concern for his sister, but mostly to see what he could get out of it if he played his cards right.
Which brings them to the Richest Cup cafe.
An establishment in Pride that caters to, as one would easily guess, demon elites like the Goetias.
As the other patrons went about their own private business, the air was thick with tension between Stolas and Stella.
Sipping her tea, Stella frostily addressed him. "Stolas."
He repeated her action and responded equally stone-faced.
One more sip and Stella used a more crass term. "Cunt."
Stolas was unfazed for he was prepared with his own insults. "Heinous witch."
That was enough to make Stella be the one to lose her cool first. "Fuckis! Imp! Sucker!" The tiny imp carrying the heavy teapot nearly fell off the table.
"Okay, I do believe we've moved past the pleasantries." Groaned Andrealphus, a fellow demon sharing an Avian appearance, specifically an anthropomorphic peacock adorned in various shades of blue and white feathers. Around his form was an ice-blue feathery coat that added more zest to his aesthetic. "In spite of the circumstances, it is a pleasure to see you answer my summons, Stolas."
Stolas narrowed all four eyes, showing he isn't falling for his empty flattery. "I only bothered indulging you, Andrealphus, because the neighbors were beginning to complain about Stella's banshee-like phone calls. Believe me, I have much better things to do." He looked at his phone where it reminded him of a meeting later with a certain Sin of Lust.
Andrealphus cleared his throat. "Ahem! Yes, well, I called you here so we can properly discuss the terms of your divorce. I, for one, believe my darling little sister deserves a bit more….compensation, let's call it." Stolas nearly guffawed in disbelief and Stella's sinister grin grew larger. "After all, you were the one who cheated on the poor thing in the first place, so it's only fair that-"
Stolas was quick to interrupt. "See, that's the thing about infidelity or cheating as you so eloquently put it. Often, it involves a personal betrayal, of feelings being hurt." He gave a pointed look at Stella. "This woman you have the misfortune to call your sister never gave two shits about me, let alone our very much arranged 'marriage'. As far as I'm concerned, this divorce is long overdue and honestly? We'll never have to see each other ever again, I can't really imagine a sweeter arrangement than that for both parties." He put a hand up to deny a refill. "To summarize, fuck off, Stella."
Stella bared her teeth. "Up yours!" Shw flipped a bird to the big bird.
Andrealphus face-palmed. "Sister, please! For fuck's sakes, at least try not make this any harder to bullshit our way through!"
"Will that be all? If so, I'm just gonna say it right now, I'm not paying for the table. And yes, I know I'm good for it, I just love fucking with you."
Stella Goetia slowly formed an eager sneer after looking to her left out the window.
BAM!
Shocked screams went out and glass was shattered when Striker, the ruthless cowboy assassin imp who nearly sniped Stolas at the harvest moon festival crashed through a window onto a table.
Throwing away his poncho, Striker spun two Carmine revolvers fit with ammunition made from smelted Heaven weaponry.
He shot off one round aimed for Stolas who wisped out of his chair as a dark wave, the bullet hit the cup Stella held instead.
Mind racing, Stolas glanced at her and noticed her smug satisfied leering, she wasn't fazed at all by the brazen imp shooting at Goetias, or rather, shooting at only one specific royal.
Himself.
Another shot rang and a hole was torn through his fancy hat.
Thinking fast, he morphed into his full demonic form to escape as Striker fired more bullets.
Just as Stolas got out of the cafe turned shooting range, Striker swung a glowing white lasso that rendered back into his usual form, detained and powerless. "Hyagh!" Stolas collapsed onto the cold pavement, strangely losing his strength. "Oh dear…..this is-this is actually quite worrisome…..I mean, not that I particularly mind being tied up, I just prefer Blitz-mff!" The rope tightened around him.
Striker's menacingly chuckled, forcefully pulling him. "Heh, heh, heh! Howdy there, your asshole-ness!" The imp whistled to call for his ever loyal steed, Bombproof, the Hell horse trotted his rider, fiery hoofprints leaving with each gallop. Hoisting Stolas over Bombproof, Striker mounted. "Get along, old boy! Yee-fucking-haw!"
Stella remained in her same position, still sipping from the broken cup.
Andrealphus sent her a cheeky knowing look. "Care to explain, sister dearest?"
HONK!
HONK!
HONK!
HONK!
"M and M! Intern! The fuck is the hold up?!"
Blitzo was not in the mood to have his time wasted, not just any imp can schedule a doctor's appointment in the Sloth Ring and he was not gonna go through a lot of hoops again to make it in time for the one he made.
"Here we come, B!"
Millie and her husband came out and oddly enough, was lugging one of the office chairs that a petrified Loona was clinging onto. Her sad whimpers were akin to a little puppy's, she was even shaking uncontrollably as Millie set it down.
Lincoln, with Timber on his shoulders, tried coaxing Loona to get in the van. "Come on, Loona, getting shots isn't so bad….well Earth ones aren't, at least." He's learned by now that anything originating in Hell was ten times worse than whatever Earth can create.
"Wanna know what'll be bad? Getting Hellbies." Blitzo warned. "Trust me, Looney, this is purely out of fatherly love. Back in my shitty circus days, pretty much all the animals got Hellbies because my equally shitty old man was too cheap to get them their shots and it led to a fucking nightmare of a show. Mills, Mox, if you would."
Loona's fear of getting her shots proved to be a challenge even for the combined efforts of team M&M when they began to pry her off.
KRRICHT!
The terrified Hellhound ripped off a piece of the stuffed chair and she was led into the passenger seat.
She didn't know what was worse, the prospect of the vaccination, or losing her composure in front of Lincoln, thus ruining the punk rock older sister image she's worked hard to maintain.
Truthfully, Lincoln wanted to find a way to soothe Loona's worries.
Getting an idea, Lincoln whispered it in Timber's ears.
The Hell animal poofed away and instantly returned, holding a Thing in her mouth.
It was the very same Thing that Lincoln gave to Loona as a souvenir from Loo Loo Land.
Even to this day, she still kept it.
"Here, Loona." Lincoln held it through the window. "Each of my sisters have something that helps them calm down when things get tough, will this help?"
The Thing.
One of the few gifts to her that was done out of genuine goodwill?
From the kid she regards as her little brother in all but blood?
Something that one could call a sign of their deep personal bond and instills emotions in her that she doesn't regularly have?
Her continued silence made Lincoln think it was the wrong call. "Or you know, maybe you need something better than-" The stuffed Thing plus toy disappeared from the white haired boy's hands and Loona was holding it tight. "Nevermind then."
The van ride was challenging to say the least, each city limit billboard meant they were getting closer to the destination and that made Loona increasingly scared, hanging onto the Thing for dear life. "So, where are we going exactly?" Lincoln asked. "'Cause, I honestly never once have seen a hospital in Imp City before. Plenty of funeral homes, though."
Blitzo snorted. "What, you thought actual fucking healthcare exists in Hell, let alone one in a city full of imps? Nah, we're off to a whole new ring. The Sloth Ring."
Moxie continued the explanation. "Surprising as it may sound, Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth, rules over a ring that specializes in medical practices. Baphomet doctors who are quite well versed in their craft if I do say so myself."
"Another new ring? What's left? Envy, right? What's that place like?"
No answer came for Lincoln when Blitzo's ringtone came up, one that sounded like a bird call which only meant one thing.
"Oh, shit. Seriously, Stolas?" Blitzo tried sounding cordial and not annoyed by the inconvenience. "Hey, Stolas! Kind of busy here, buddy. If this is for another fuck-sess for me or hocus pocus training for your kid and our kid, might hafta put it off."
"Y-Yes, I'm well aware I'm calling at a bad time yet again, Blitzy. Truly."
Lincoln spoke into the phone. "Hi, Stolas!"
"Oh, hello there, dear boy! Wish I could say this was a good natured call, but erm….I believe I've found myself in a bit of a sitch."
Lincoln frowned in mild concern. "Why? What's wrong?"
On his end, Stolas was using his right leg to make the call on account of his arms being bound by the holy rope as Striker rode his steed across the city, carrying his target. "Well, what started as a little meeting at the cafe has made a rather abrupt turn to me, currently tied to the back of a horse at the moment. To be quite honest, it's not really how I saw today going."
Blitzo scoffed. "Pfft, lucky bitch…!" He grumbled.
"Blitz, it sounds like he's been kidnapped!" Lincoln reprimanded, taking this more seriously
"I'm afraid the boy is quite right, so this is more unlucky in my case and it just so happens, I've been taken by that little cowboyfriend of yours."
"Yeah? Which one?" Blitzo curiously inquired.
Moxxie rhetorically rebutted him. "Exactly how many cowboys do you even know?" He asked for more from Stolas. "Your highness, what does he look like? Any distinctive features?"
"Actually, if I recall correctly, you all should recall him. He was at the harvest moon festival not too long ago." Lincoln's eyes widened in stricken realization. "The sexy one?" Moxxie instantly knew as well.
"Harvest moon festival…." Lincoln began, anger rising.
"And sexy…?" Moxxie continued.
Father and son exclaimed in unison. "Striker!"
Blitzo grimaced.
That slippery bastard who knew what buttons to push to make him waver?
"Oh, for fuck's sake! You're super powerful, right? Can't you just get yourself outta this?" Blitzo pointed out to his lover.
"Would I be calling you otherwise?" Stolas retorted. "Unfortunately, he has me bound in blessed rope. Very effective to limit demons such as myself to do anything ourselves. So, if it's not too much trouble, could you perhaps come to my rescue?"
Blitzo felt like slamming his head on the steering wheel. "Christ on a fucking stick, today of all days?! Look, Stolas, I'm sorry, I-I'm literally on my way to take Loona in for her very important, very hard to book, Hellbies S.H.O.T." Him spelling it out didn't quench her fear as she eerily stared at her dad.
"I know what you really mean!" She whispered.
Blitzo winced and got back to the call. "Look, it takes years to book an appointment at this place in Sloth. In my case, five, and she's been doing a lot of field work so you know, she needs it."
Stolas meekly chuckled. "Haha, okay, yes, I do admit that is rather important, even so, I-"
"Would you just shut the hell up already?! You know I've been hearin' you the entire time, right?" Striker demanded, disgruntled. He used his tail to snatch the prince's phone away and deliver his own message to I.M.P. "Don't you worry none 'bout yer lanky bird. He'll be in good hands." He snickered ominously.
Blitzo was about to reply until Lincoln brazenly snatched it away. "Striker! If you know what's good for you, you'll let Stolas go right now-!"
"Hey now, that you, boy? Still alive, huh? Hell, good on ya." Striker condescending applauded. "Here's a little advice. You want to really send the message across? You say it face-to-face, assumin' ya got the stones to come and see me stuff yer silver spoon-fed pal with yer own two eyes. Or just let mommy and daddy do all the work while you stay cozy on the homestead. That'll leave me with two more kills today! Ha!" Striker ended the call.
Stolas' four eyes blinked at once, the severity of the situation finally settling in. "...Oh, shit. Am I truly in danger right now?"
When the line went dead, Lincoln's face contorted into a furious scowl that intensified in glowing red eyes. "That….bastard! That fucking bastard!" His hand clenched his boss's phone until it was crushed in twain, making his imp parents flinch.
Blitzo grumbled, not because of the phone, he would've done the same had the kid not taken it, but because of the dilemma they were now in. "Take it easy, Linc. I'm pissed, too, but it's kinda hard to multitask when we got two equally important shit going on!"
Lincoln's anger didn't subside. "But, he has Stolas! Don't you care?!"
Blitzo flinched at that question. "I-The guy's a prince! I'm sure he can hold out a little….!" Not even Blitzo believed his own words. He pulled the gear lever to make them go faster, entering into the Sloth Ring.
That very second, Lincoln's eyes widened and his eyelids lowered.
Somehow, he was starting to get really tired.
"But we have to….! We have too…." Lincoln slumped slowly into the backseat.
Timber whined and nudged him with her nose.
"We've entered the Sloth Ring." Moxxie noted, looking outside. "It must be making him tired like how the other Rings have affected him."
"Well, that's one problem fixed." Blitzo's drove fast while bumping into other vehicles. "Doesn't make the other shit less complicated!"
"Not if you let us handle this one!" Millie boldly declared.
Moxie grinned, determination building up. "We can do this, sir! Together, we make a lethal combo!" Millie puts on a fedora hat on her husband. "And plus, we've been wanting to settle the score with that horse riding dickhead!"
"Wait….hang on…." Lincoln, still awake and back in control of himself. "I-I want to go to…but wait, Loona…."
He wants to be there for Loona, but he can't ignore this threat to his teacher's life.
Loona realized this.
Stolas may be essentially I.M.P's meal ticket, but he meant a lot to Lincoln. Blitzo, too, even though he'd firmly deny it.
What's more, he was Octavia's father….
"Go." Lincoln turned to Loona, surprised. "Y-You can go, Linc, I'll be fine." She gave the Thing a nice squeeze to keep her calm.
Lincoln smiled gratefully, of which she returned.
Millie rubbed his shoulders, squealing. "Ooo~! Hunting down a slimy son of a bitch with mah boys! I've had dreams about this!"
"Mrowf!"
"Whoops, can't forget about you, Timby!" Millie tickled her.
Sighing in resignation, Blitzo drove the van to a stop in the Sloth hospital's parkway. "Alright, then better hurry. Stolas sounds like he might be in some real shit this time around and knowing Striker's aesthetic, I'm bettin' top soul he's in Wrath." After handing Moxxie the keys, he carries Loona out. "Now, get your asses down there and look for some cowboy crap or whatever."
"Understood, sir!"
The van drove away leaving Blitzo and Loona in front of the hospital. Like most buildings in the Sloth Ring, it was surrounded by floating land masses that trained down beautiful waterfalls to create a calming atmosphere. The pink skies also added to that, this Ring clearly wanted its denizens and visitors to just take a breather and just rest up to recover from whatever was worrying them.
"Come on, Loonie. I promise, this'll be all over lickety split, alright? In and out, as I always say and from here you can learn to handle all the pricks that go in." However, Loona had to be dragged by her legs while she held the Thing in her mouth.
Kicking the door open, Blitzo bemoaned at the other company emergency. "Christ on a stick! Of all days for that bottom owl to get his princely ass kidnapped, not to mention that horse hoggin' fuckface Striker starting shit up again, do these fucks know how long I've waited for this appointment?! Five years! Five fucking years and this had to happen too?! Bullshit! Total bullshit! Fuck me in my little red hole!" At that, he finally took notice of the Envy demon lady sitting with her leashed child, glowering at him. "Hi, the fuck are you lookin' at?"
She rolled her eyes, muttering spitefully. "Filthy imps…"
Blitzo walked up to the reception desk manned by a Baphomet nurse. "Heya there, toots. I'm here for that S.H.O.T for my sweet Loonie Tonnie~." He charmingly laughed, said sweet Loonie Toonie was growling at the reception nurse.
Her lazy three eyes blinked. "The what?"
Eye twitching, Blitzo took the pen to sign his name in. "Ugh, the B.U.L.L-Shit that my daughter has to get every year that you M.O.T.H.E.R-Fuckers only allow us to schedule every five years. How the fuck'd you fuck up that bad anyway, titty haver?"
"Oh, I can't really spell." The nurse replied. Blitzo slid the sign up sheet to her, bringing up another problem of hers. "Also, I can't read either." She shrugged.
Blitzo withdrew all pretenses. "The fucking Hellbies shot you fucking reeeee-ally can't say that word anymore." Lincoln and Millie even made him stop calling Moxxie that, too. "Look, just check under Blitz."
The nurse skimmed through the appointment notepad list. "Ummmmm, I don't really see any Blitz on the list."
Blitzo tapped his finger impatiently. "There's an O, it's just silent for the love of fuck."
The nurse ended up finding his name. "Oh! Right here, yep, yep. Blitzooooooo. Blitzoooooo." She wasn't aware of how much not dropping the O made the imp in question pissed off. Enough to even reach for his flintlock. "Yes, well, we will be waiting for her in just one bit. Please, take a seat, Mr. O."
Surprisingly relenting, Blitzo did so but not happily. "Perf."
As for Loona, she hurriedly hid underneath one of the very small seats, giving the Thing a big squeeze while shivering and whimpering up something fierce.
Smiling fondly, Blitzo did his best to sate her fears. "Oh, don't worry, Loonie." He booped her nose. "Like I said, it'll just be one little prick. You won't even feel it."
The Envy woman gagged in disgust. "Ew, don't put it like that. It sounds vulgar."
"Excuse me?"
"Pervert!"
Blitzo sighed. "Fucking Karens….."
Stolas knew since he first hatched that being among demon royalty meant there'd be those who adored him and those that wanted harm to come to him. He's just never had to experience actually being successfully taken in broad daylight before. Striker was clearly more resourceful than most since he had Holy-based items among his arsenal like the rope that kept the prince's powers neutralized.
Still, Stolas wasn't keen on giving this rapscallion the satisfaction of playing the distressed captive.
"I hope you realize the gravity of your actions, good sir." Stolas said after his pointless attempts to break free. "There are dire consequences for such audacity."
Striker chortled. "Didn't stop your wife from puttin' a hit out on yer sorry ass. Now, hush up! Could never stand noisy luggage."
The prince frowned in confusion when they passed by a mariachi imp band following them. "Yet, you give a pass on musical accompaniment."
Striker grimaced. "Aw, hell. Not those dicks again."
For whatever reason, this band appeared wherever he went when on the job.
Not even ignoring them is enough to make them go away and tuning them out didn't work, not when they're admittedly very attention grabbing.
Focusing on his current objective, Striker guided Bombproof to jump off a cliff and onto a moving train. The Hell Horse performed another daring jump into a mountain entryway for it and its rider and their captive.
Stolas saw a personally made elevator shaft, making him realize that his kidnapper had his own method of traversing to another Ring.
Using his tail to pull down the chained lever, Striker and all fellow elevator occupants descended down with the mariachi band not that far behind.
Exiting out of an empty watering well, they were now in Wrath and caught another train ride.
Striker was making a lot of good time, but those singers were really working his last nerve.
He directed Bombproof to a broken train track leading into the inside of a mountain that he made into his personal hideout/shrine to himself. Swinging across the other tracks via rope, Striker landed Bombproof across the railings, skidding to a halt.
"Ah, home sweet-"
"He's Strikeeerrrrr, mhm, oh, yeah! He's Strik-eeerrrrrr! He's-"
Shaking in fury, Striker roared at the band, having it up to here. "Oh, will you shut the fuck up already?! Don't you see I'm tryin' ta do my fucking job?! Always comin' in here, singin' yer fucking songs about me for the millionth! Fuckin'! Time! For once, just leave me the fuck alone, you fucking freaks!"
"….."
Meekly, the band strolled on away.
"...Exactly how does one manage to get their own theme song?" Stolas genuinely asked, making Striker deadpan at him.
Move.
For the love of Satan, move faster, clock!
Blitzo knew things tended to move slowly in Sloth, but this was just ridiculous.
To make it all worse, it was just him, a still terrified Loona and lady with her kid. God, awkward atmospheres were a real son of a bitch. "Soooooo, nice weather we're having, huh?" He casually remarked at the lady.
Her kid giggled, pointing up at Blitzo. "Look, mommy! They let fire toads in here!"
Blitzo immediately glowered.
Oblivious child or not, that was the last thing imps wanted to be called.
"I'm sorry, the fuck did you just call me?" Blitzo glared daggers at the little demon.
His mother admonished him, but not for the reasons one would assume. "Honey, remember what I always say, it's not polite to call them that to their face. Wait until we're in the car."
Now, Blitzo turned his fury to his mother. "Hey, if you're having a problem with me, then just say so, ya sea-cunt."
Gasping, the mother covered her child's ears. "There is a child present, you crude filthy Wrathian!"
Blitzo rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, I've said worse shit around my employees' son. And FYI, I'm not even from Wrath, bitch. Matter of fact, I'm here with my own kid and I for one, don't think she'll tolerate you calling her old man….those kind of things."
The mother wasn't going to stomach being around Blitzo. "Is there any way we can reschedule for a time when less of the unemployed rabble are out."
Blitzo snorted. "Give me a break, titties. I bet the hardest work you've ever done is convincing your husband that he really is your little shit's daddy."
The kid sniffled at the very notion, making his mom take an even harsher stand against Blitzo. "Oh, yeah, and what pray tell is it that you do that's so important?"
Smirking, opens his business coat to get his lucky flintlock out. "Oh, you know, I just kill people for a living. How does a two for one special sound, whore?" He intended to shoot at the ceiling as a warning shot but all he got were light clicks and no holes through the roof. "The fuck?!" In his coat pocket was a sticky note.
"Blitz, I emptied out your flintlock today just in case you decided to use it to either threaten or actually shoot someone you're angry at. We talked about this, impulsive gunplay will get us banned just like last time….and the time after that. Sorry. Signed, Lincoln."
Blitzo's jaw dropped. "Satan's prostate! Seriously, kid?!"
The nurse came back to call for the imp and his hellhound daughter. "Excuse me, Mister O? The doc will see you now.
Blitzo picked up a whimpering Loona and walked but not before giving a raspberry at the woman.
Keep it in control.
Don't let the devil out.
Lincoln repeated this mantra in his mind, taking deep breaths, rubbing Timber's head, anything to keep his emotions in check. Going berserk may give him an extra boost in power but at the cost of his sanity. What Stolas needs isn't that, he needs his loyal protege to not lose himself if he wishes to be rescued.
"That's it, honey. In with the good air, out with the batshit crazy hair." Millie smoothed, hands holding his free one.
"Crumbs!" Following Moxxie's despondent exclamation, he made a beeline for the gas station they were closest to.
"Why are we stopping?" Lincoln's fist clenched tightly.
"Low on gas." Moxxie slammed the steering wheel. "I told Blitz to save up, but he just had to blow the last pay on more horse-themed knick-knacks. This shouldn't take long, I'll go fill her up and in the meantime, we should ask around, see if anybody's seen Striker around here."
Lincoln put on the disguise mask to take on his Imp appearance.
Next to the van, a motorcycle gang of biker imps parked and the leader took one look at Moxxie, particularly his hat and that set him off. "Hey, queer boy!" Moxxie stopped just as he was about to get the gas.
"Uh….you mean me?"
"You stealin' mah hat?!"
"Say again?"
Moxxie's used to people antagonizing him but this was the first time it was over something as insignificant as that.
"Same hat, ya pansy!" The muscle bound Incubus pointed at his strikingly similar hat.
Moxxie sheepishly smiled. "Oh, I see. Er, sorry, my wife just put his hand on me because we're in the middle of some personal matters and I-"
"Same hat!"
The Incubus's gang circled around Moxxie to prevent him from running.
Moxxie was unfazed.
This didn't even count as a minor annoyance.
"Okay, so we're really doing this, huh?" Moxxie said, sighing, resigned to their tomfoolery.
"Moxxie?" Lincoln was prepared to intervene but Moxxie shook his head.
"It's fine, Lincoln. Papa's got this." Moxxie fixed his collar casually at the same time a biker lunged at him. Moxxie side-stepped then flipped over and unloaded two rounds at the guy mind-air. Moving like a snake, he slithered up the second biker's back, pulled him by the mustache and stabbed his back repeatedly. He jumped onto the lead biker's face, making him stumble back into the gas canister where Moxxie bashed his head against, bloodying up his formerly bruise-free face.
Lincoln blinked. "Whoa…."
Guess Moxxie's training at boot camp also paid off well for him.
Lincoln went to Millie who was conversing with the same imp mariachi band that followed Striker. "Howdy, boys! I don't suppose you've seen a slippery motherfucker goin' by Striker, have ya?"
The band immediately recited their earlier song but Millie halted them.
"No! No singin'! Ain't got time for that!"
"Damnation!" A band member kicked the dusty ground. "We never get to finish our songs!" He was consoled by his bandmates.
"You say ya lookin' fer Striker?" Two feet were planted on the ground, they belonged to another old West-looking imp, around his belt were holsters carrying guns. "Ain't that somethin'? I actually met up with him just last night."
"Oh! Well, we were actually hopin' fer someone who's seen him….recently…." Millie trailed off as she saw other imps circle around them.
"Y'see, Striker actually offered a mighty generous donation of a major score he's apparently in the middle of securing and if anybody came lookin' around, we'd….happily send a message to 'em." Hands were close to the guns. "And I-"
Lincoln interrupted by whistling. "Timber! C'mere, girl!"
POOF!
The fluffy little Hell beast teleported and chomped onto the leader's head.
"Gah! What the shit?! Get it off!"
Timber teleported again just as they all promptly opened fire and gunned down their own leader by mistake. On the ground, Timber chucked out multiple flaming orbs that struck straight into multiple chests, burning all the way through.
The last chump got desperate and got the bright idea to use Lincoln as a hostage, just a simple choke hold and knife pointed at the kid's neck and he'll be the one in control. What he never expected to see was when he lunged at Lincoln, knife at the ready, his wrist was caught by Lincoln and the white haired boy twisted it around until an audible crunch was heard once he pushed the forearm downward.
The imp's hollering was silenced when a face scorching fireball from Timber struck his visage.
Lincoln craned his neck and spoke to the band next. "Sorry about that, what were you saying about Striker?"
The band shared a look before a guitarist stepped up. "You'll wanna check the bad man's lands, he lives out there in the old train tunnel, near the mine shafts. Perfect for outlaw aesthetic, ya can't miss it.
As he talked, Moxxie wrapped a strangling gasoline tube around a straggler that was part of the posse that accosted his family.
He dashed his credit card into the gas station and waited patiently.
"Thank you, kindly." Millie nodded. "Mox, Linc, Timber, let's roll!"
All four returned to the van and went off, squeezing the remaining imp thug right off, the chain reaction resulted in the gas station exploding.
The lead band member made an exciting announcement. "Yee-haw! Fellers, Ah just thought of a new song!"
"But, Striker said he hated us singin' 'bout 'im."
"Weren't talking' 'bout him…."
The way that family of four plus a pet took care of those goons deserved a catchy song.
It was a strenuous time being Striker's captive. Blitzo and company have yet to come to his timely rescue and frankly, Stolas preferred that at least somebody would come already, if only to save him from sharing the same breathing space as Striker. To save any potential rescuer more time, the damsel prince decided to indulge in a little casual dialogue with the imp who's currently sharpening a Holy tipped knife.
"So, judging by how calm she seemed, I take it my wife is the one who paid you to do this, hmm?" Stolas knew she loathed his very being, but to put out a hit on him? And to think, she says he's the one who makes bad decisions. "Wouldn't a simple holy bullet to the cranium have sufficed? Or was she simply too cheap to lend you those?"
"I was paid to give you the real royal treatment which suits me just fine, I always was more partial to the slow agonizing way. Your wife must really hate your sorry ass." Striker laughed mockingly.
Despite his state, Stolas snorted. "You don't know the half of it. Also, just to make sure, you're also the same would-be-assassin that my protege warned me about, yes? Hm."
Striker raised a brow. "The hell's hm supposed to mean?"
The bound prince shrugged his upside down shoulders. "Oh, nothing, it's just looking around, I can't help but feel he oversold how dire a threat you were. I mean, the train tracks?" He bobbed his head at the broken tracks he was tied to. "Really? Were all the other cliches already taken?"
Striker narrowed dagger glaring eyes. "It's a classic, mind you."
"And I suppose the rather inaccurate statue of yourself is also a classic or am I just seeing things?"
Striker did not take kindly to the, ahem, towering rock figure that bore his likeness.
Hissing, it was clear that Stolas making him lose his cool was working.
"Are you seriously judgin' me right now?" Striker flung his hat onto the statue."
Stolas's four eyes rolled. "Perish the thought, I'm just genuinely impressed over how much you want to suck your own dick this badly. Then again, you did perform a personal ode to yourself at the harvest moon festival, so I suppose it shouldn't be that surprising."
Stolas grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Look, big bird, not every Ring in this literal hellhole is some fancy ass city, with some fancy ass mansion that only fancy ass royal pains get all to themselves." The cowboy advanced menacingly to Stolas, ready to vent out a lot of personal grievances towards a higher ranked demon. "Some of us actually have hard lives to live, and some of us have everything we care about taken away by privileged fuckers like you!"
"All you spoon-fed royals ever do is try to walk over us, well I for one, ain't gonna take it!" Striker glared all four eyes directly at Sriker, but the imp hadn't turned to stone or some other ill fate the prince had intended. Smirking, Striker knelt down, grabbing Stolas by the throat, how he loved making the demon royal struggle. "Don't bother tryin' that eye trick on me. Those special ropes your wife lent me ain't lettin' ya do anythin'. Got somethin' ta say about that, your highness?!" Striker dug his shoe deeper into the wound, inciting more pained screams out of the owl demon.
Stolas was in excruciating pain, but still had enough in him to get more condescending words out. "Well, for all your bluster, you seem to be forgetting that in the end, you're working under the orders from a royal right….now!" Stolas kicked his right leg up, striking Striker in the face.
Beyond being just angry, Striker grabbed the leg and stomped right onto the last place any man would want hit.
Except, Stolas was unbothered.
"Heh, is that all?" Stolas remarked. "Blitz handles me much rougher in bed." Snarling, Striker stabbed him again, this time through the shin. "Oh, was that supposed to hurt? Because, Blitzy's knife is bigger and hits sooo much deeper!"
Grinding his teeth, Striker released the leg. "So now you're bein' a smartass, huh?!" Stolas painfully squawked when he pulled his head up by the back. "Not wise. 'Cause once I split your neck open and let you choke on your own piss-taste blueblood, you won't be worth any more than the tombstone you'll be buried under!" He slid the knife under the prince's beak.
Stolas still had more saucy remarks. "Blitzy says far dirtier pillow talk to me with much sharper objects at my throat!"
"The fuck is wrong with-?! Ah, just shut your beak!" Striker slammed him down and stomped away.
With his back turned, Stolas was free to pant and wheeze from the pain Striker had instilled.
If help was coming, they'd better be soon and whatever Blitzo was doing, it had to be leagues better than what Stolas was going through.
At long last, Blitzo and Loona were seeing the doctor, another Baphomet demon and like the nurse, equally scatterbrained and very old, misreading the visitor names even while wearing glasses. "Welcome, Mr. Bingo, and this vibrant young Hellhound must be Tuna."
"Loona, yeah, and can you make this fast like a quickie only less fucky, please?" Blitzo checked his phone and so far, there were no phone calls or texts. "She's not a fan of shots and we sorta have another thing going on, so chop-chop, doc. Seriously, for all our sakes."
"Oh, come now, I can assure you, it won't be that bad. I see Hellhounds come and go everyday and not one has had any issues….save for this burly one who came with some Succubi and Incubi friends, but I'm certain that was only one instance." The container full of vaccines held normal-sized ones, only for the vaccination that he pulled out was far bigger than even the container.
Loona's fur stood on-end and growled savagely as if daring the doctor to even try.
"Aw, Christ on a stick!" Blitzo rubbed her back. "Now, now, Loona, hon! Here, give this Thingy another squeeze, that's been doing wonders for ya!"
"Oh, the toy? I'm afraid she'll have to let it go, this requires a hound's sole focus." The doctor snapped his fingers, signaling a nurse to pull the Thing plushie away.
….And that was the last straw.
Blitzo reacted quickly and pushed the doctor away when Loona lunged at him, unleashing the feral wolf within.
"See? That right there? That's what I meant, dipshit!" Blitzo took the syringe to at least handle this himself. "Now, Loona, let's just calm-oh, shit!" He ducked after she leapt with her mouth baring her sharp teeth. "God dammit, Stolas better be rescued already!"
As all this transpires,the Goetia siblings, Andrealphus and Stella, retreat to the former's personal abode. A majestic palace made entirely out of ice, almost like Hell's very own winter wonderland, making for quite the cold day in Hell, indeed. The siblings were at the dining hall, sharing a spot of tea. Andrealphus summoned two ice cubes and mixed it into his beverage as he recalled earlier events. "So, earlier. That assassin. Was that you, Stelly~?" He smirked knowingly.
"Guiltyyyyy~! It was very much me~!" Stella practically sang like a giddy housewife.
Andrealphus gave a hearty laugh. "Ah, ever the silly little troublemaking minx, aren't we?" Stella playfully stuck her tongue out. "Although, should your husband actually die, it won't exactly turn out well for you."
Stella scoffed. "He'll be dead! Why wouldn't it?"
"Because, dear sister, you and him have already produced a Goetia air." Andrealphus frankly didn't know why he had to explain this. It should be obvious even to Stella, revenge-blinded as she was. "When Stolas passes on, his duties, all he possesses, the legions under his command, will be inherited by little Via." Stella barely paid attention, she just sipped her tea. Andrealphus frowned and continued. "So to put it bluntly, if your attack imp kills him, you will be….." He motions her to finish.
"...Laugh? That's what I'm doing right now, big brother!"
Andrealphus's face went blank and he face-palmed. "No, you stupid cow! You'd get nothing after all's said and done! Ugh, it is truly fortunate you're considered physically appealing."
Stella glowered. "Well, what do you propose we do! I can hardly imagine him leaving me anything willingly, the bastard hates me just about as much as I loathe his very existence!"
That got Andrealphus deep in thought. "Hmm, I suppose admittedly, this kind of situation is extremely unique. I can't recall any time a Goetia has acted like this."
Stella snorted, mixing her tea. "Oh, don't even get me started. If it's not divorce talk, it's whatever shit he's been doing when I'm not around that doesn't involve his imp plaything."
"...Pardon?"
"He thinks I'm clueless, but I asked the servants. Apparently, Stolas has been conducting these routines every now and then. Speaking of, can you believe they wouldn't tell me because that imp-fucker's authority supercedes mine? Ugh!"
Andrealphus nodded slowly, hands intertwined. "Mhm, I see, I see and you didn't think to pry further, is that right?"
"Didn't really see the point." Stella waved off. "Octavia's apparently involved, so it's probably some asinine 'family time' he used to try and convince me to partake in. What's worse is that even she won't share. I swear, the demon youth of today have no concept of respect, a damn shame."
Andrealphus had to rub his temples.
Octavia not sharing makes it even more curious but of course.
A secret between Goetia father and daughter while intentionally leaving out the mother?
The peacock Marquis was already intent in aiding his sister in continuing to bring more blight upon Stolas, and this may just open new possibilities.
"This is just my personal take, but with Stolas alive, we still have many options, opportunities for more productive little schemes. We are eternal Goetias after all, so time is in fact a luxury for us, my dear." He stroked her chin affectionately. "So, I say we bide ours and wait for the chance to gain the upperhand.
Stella whined like a petulant child. "Oooooh, but I want him dead so badly!"
"And he will be, in time, my fiery vixen." Andrealphus placated. "But remember what father always taught us, patience first. Now, call off your mangy stray, assuming he's yet to kill our fallen prince."
Thankfully, Stolas was in fact still breathing.
But, not in the best condition.
Striker wasted no time in continuing to rough the prince up to the point that Stolas could barely muster up more wisecracking retorts.
"Ughh!" The severely weakened prince skidded across the ground after Striker had thrown him.
The cowboy assassin strutted around the royal's injured form, savoring the sight of an elite demon on the brink of death. A death at his hands no less, this was what it was all about, the money was good, but it was being able to put an uppercrust demon through so much torment that truly made Striker happy. If it weren't for his limited time, he'd have prolonged the sweet suffering just a bit longer.
"Well, this has been fun and all, but like all good things, it has to come to an end…" Striker fiddled with a knife, smirking at Stolas's bloodied reflection. "Damn shame about your kid, though. It can be pretty rough, gettin' by without a pa. What was her name, again? Octavia?"
Now that prevented Stolas from blacking out. "Keep my daughter's name out of your damn mouth…! Don't you dare even breathe a word about her!"
Striker knelt face-to-face at him. "Oh-ho! Finally struck a nerve, princey?" His venom-laced words were accompanied by a snake rattle. "Nothin' more precious than a father's love for his little girl, huh?"
Stolas glowered hatefully, his voice low and hoarse. "Hear me know, if you go anywhere near her, destroying you will seem like a mercy…!"
"Can ya promise the same thing about that little human errand boy of yers? Lincoln? See, I got a little score to settle with the runt, so I'm afraid I might not be able to keep any promises relatin' to him." Striker showed him the scarring on the hand Lincoln stabbed.
Oh, how Stolas wanted to pierce talons through this utter bastard. "If harm comes to either of them, you'll know true Hell….!"
"Big talk." Striker plunged his blade through him once more, this time more slowly not wanting to miss anything vital. "But that's all it is….any last words, Goetia?"
Stolas found it hard to even breathe.
This growing fear he was feeling, a horrified realization that his life was slipping away.
It made him want to cling on any hope there was for him.
"Blitz…..will…."
Blitzo.
He wished he could've had more time, to show him that in his heart, he truly cared.
Octavia.
Stolas hated himself for not keeping his promise to her at the very end.
Lincoln.
The Goetia prince lamented that he won't be able to see his student grow and regretted not doing more to help the boy.
"Your little rodeo clown told you he ain't comin'!" No longer patient, Striker rose the knife, held it with both hands and prepared for the final plunge that will cement him as the imp that took
a Goetia's life. "Nobody is comin-"
RING-RING
RING-RING
Ruined.
The entire ominous threatening atmosphere Striker worked hard to make was completely ruined by his very own phone ringing.
SIghing a resigned breath, he answered.
"Yello?"
Interestingly, it was his employer, the target's wife.
"Change of plans, darling, turns out I need the prick alive."
"..." Striker struggled to find the words at first. "Wha-I-I was kinda in the middle of killin' him, hell, I was this close just now."
"Well, stop it. We need him alive to get some affairs in order." Striker muffled Stolas's beak with his tail when the prince tried crying out at Stella. "Rest assured, I will pay you more than initially promised if you spare him and bring him to us."
Goetias.
Those Satan damned Goetias.
Always so wishy-washy.
Resigned and very begrudgingly, Striker complied. "Ugh, yes, ma'am."
"Glorious!"
Arching his back, Striker then threw his phone into a boulder, smashing it. Standing up, he looked down upon Stolas. "Well, good news for you, feathers. Your royal cunt says she don't want you dead…at least for now." Grinning, he grabbed his face and inched the knife close. "Buuut, she didn't say ya had to be in good condition." Stolas felt burning pain when he pressed the holy knife against his eyes. "Bet those pretty reds would make for pretty trophies and we can't have you seein' me again, now can we?"
Killing a Geotia would have been a blast for Striker, but he supposed maiming was the next best thing.
Before he could have his fun, the honking of La Cucaracha blared out.
A few rocks fell down from the ceiling and bam!
In came the I.M.P company van straight through the roof.
One would expect it to land on the tracks and ride it into the air….but the laws of physics intervened and it just crashed through the tracks instead. Well, riding down a rocky hill was still pretty cool.
The van turned on its side, tripping over a pike and rolling down until it flipped down back into place, the side door was already opened and Moxxie aimed a sniper rifle at Striker. The cowboy reacted fast and jolted out of the way to evade the oncoming shots.
Lincoln hoists up onto the van's roof and leaps far, wielding twin knives.
Striker was tackled to the ground, and he held onto Lincoln's wrists, the boy's knives dangerously close to his face.
"Lincoln!" Stolas gasped out in surprise.
The white haired boy looked to his teacher, observed his injured form, sparking more rage at Striker.
"You son of a-"
"Ah, put a sock in it, squirt!"
The imp backhanded Lincoln off of him.
Gritting his teeth, Lincoln tossed the opera mask off, deactivating his imp disguise.
He wanted to fight without hiding his true face.
Before Moxxie could shoot again, Striker flung the knife into the chamber, jamming the rifle, leading Moxxie to misfire a shot that ricocheted off various objects like Striker's statue until hitting a boombox.
Striker's lair became filled with the western-styled song that fit the mood, it even got Striker tapping his feet.
Nearby, Millie was stealthily slipping past rocks.
Moxxie couldn't unjam the rifle, which suited Striker who spun dual holy tipped revolvers in his hands.
Lincoln lunged at the same time Millie made her move. Striker bent backwards to dodge both bladed swings from Lincoln's knives and Millie's broadsword. "Lincoln, together, now!" Mother and son swung their blades against the cowboy once more. Striker's slithering moves made him an impossible target to hit. At the very least, Lincoln and Millie struck the revolvers to make Striker misfire several shots.
In all the chaos, Striker elbowed Millie enough to make her fall and caught her broadsword with his tail.
Lincoln saw the broadsword slashing his way.
He jumped back twice then barrel rolled when Striker fired at him and flung his knives that Striker deflected and nearly got shot by a round from Lincoln's own gun. The kid never stopped pulling the trigger as he ran at him. He had plenty of mags ready to reload at a rapid pace. He jumped off some wooden crates, landing behind Striker. Turning, Striker swung the sword and he jumped in mid air, and slapped a sticky-note on a holly gun.
One that had a magic sigil drawn on it.
It made the gun glow, forcing Striker to throw it in the air where it exploded into a blinding light.
"Grgh!" Shielding his eyes, Striker charged at Millie on the ground right next to Stolas.
She flipped over before the sword struck, using her tail to grab one of Lincoln's discarded knives and handed it back to her boy.
Millie re-armed herself with a katana and leapt downward and both imps' blades collided.
Lincoln Moxxie shot at Striker's stolen broadsword to force him back.
Father, mother, and soon attacked at once.
Lincoln and Millie attacked from separate sides, the knife and katana blocking bullets while shots fired by Lincoln and Moxxie kept getting deflected. Whistling, Lincoln called for Timber, who kept teleport spamming to shoot fireballs that Striker barely evaded. His jacket was set ablaze, and he had to get rid of it. Lincoln, Moxxie, and Millie flipped into the air together, firing and thrusting together when Striker returned fire, blade thrusts were blocked and bullets were deflected all around.
Millie's Katana got knocked from her grasp, leading her to take evasive action and when Striker was about to dive the sword at her, Lincoln and Moxxie fired in tandem, powerful enough to break apart a large piece of the sword's blade.
The boombox got hit again and switched to another station.
Now, the song playing was a bubblegum pop variation of the previous one that made Striker pause in disbelief.
Him being momentarily distracted gave Timber the chance to show off another hidden trick.
She started running fast until her yellow fur streaks were glowing and she launched at Striker's chest, sending effective volts at him.
Shirt smoking, Striker fell and Lincoln tried pinning him down.
They wrestled until both stopped as the music kept playing.
"...God, that is so unfitting." Lincoln cringed. "Aw, what the hell?" He stabbed his knife down that Striker's gun blocked.
"Nice try, boy!" A solid kick to Lincoln's side threw him aside. "But last time, you barely held your own!"
"Maybe!" Lincoln took on a single hand stance. "But last time was way before I signed up for boot camp, asshole!"
Lincoln's leg struck Striker's arm harshly to force the gun to drop.
Back on his feet, he then went for a jumping kick next that knocked him paces back.
One thing he's noted during training sessions and at boot camp were his legs, as if out of all his muscles that he's honed, his legs have gotten considerably adept.
Fruitlessly trying to get up proved to make the pain even worse.
Lincoln gave tired strained gasps, and turned his head to see Striker kick away Millie's axe and then launch his rope to a high track. He jumped off the axe's pole to spin over the train track and then tied up a pillar and hurled it at M&M, knocking them across one another.
'Get up, Loud…..get up, damn you!' He mentally screamed at himself.
"Lincoln…." Turning to the bound Stolas, the prince coughed out a personal plea. "If I can make him focus on me, your imp friends can take you away from here….."
"N-N-No….can't leave you…." Tears filled his eyes.
Stolas also began waterworks. "And I can't watch my student suffer any longer, Please….just save yourself…..get away…."
He can't do that.
Lincoln can't do that.
All this pain, all this turmoil, and once again Striker was to blame.
Lincoln's body trembled as he forced his body to listen to mental commands, it refusing was enraging.
This whole situation was enraging!
Rage.
Fury.
'Let it all out….so I can end this….!'
His gasping breaths slowed down, the trembling ceased, and his eyes gained their red glow.
Millie came to and her vision saw her axe thrown by Striker.
"No!" Moxxie shouted.
Thankfully, Millie wasn't decapitated, but the axe stuck against his neck left her out of the fight.
"Oh, little vermin~." Eyes widened, Moxxie saw Striker advancing. Spotting a gun, Moxxie made a run to get it, until Striker threw a tail wrapped boulder down at him, incapacitating Moxxie as well.
Timber teleported on top of Striker's head and proceeded to chomp down on it. "AUGH, little fucking furball!" Striker pistol-whipped Timber in the face and the poor beast fell down.
Now all Striker needed to do was mail Blitzo three body bags, stuff the furball, and he can deliver Stolas to his wife.
Roughed up, but alive.
Another win for Wrath's best assassin.
But abruptly, the boombox turned off.
RMMMMMMBL
"The hell?"
It started faint, but soon, the entire lair started shaking like some kind of Hell-shake, but those were just some urban myth.
"Striker….!"
Before Striker's eyes, Lincoln had risen back up and he was radiating a chilling aura of killing intent.
Shadows covered his eyes until he looked up. A blood went down the right eye and it plus the left one were black and red.
CRRK
CRCH
The boy's body spasmed out, cracking out various injured spots.
Lincoln got on all fours and his shadow morphed into the Jackalope form. His entire form began to glow orange.
Striker has a lot of experience and if that experience has taught him anything, it's that when one has a chance to put down a viable threat, they better take it.
He picked up a gun and aimed at where Lincoln was standing.
Only to find that Lincoln was up close, eye-to-eye.
"Wha-?!"
The next thing Striker knew, he felt a sudden kick to the face that threw him into a row of crates.
Lincoln's body glowed orange again and moved as a fast streak, appearing over Striker.
Striker rolled away and shot once but Lincoln blinked to his right side in no time. The boy raised a hand that was set ablaze in black colored flames. A torrent emerged from Lincoln's palm and Striker ducked under, leaving various of his personal items to be consumed and burnt to ashes.
The cowboy dashed away, looking back to see Lincoln once again blinked away and now his legs were covered in the black flames. He delivered a drop kick right in Striker's back, and then, Lincln grabbed his tail to flail him around like a ragdoll, before spinning three times to throw him across near the ledge.
Striker groaned, coughing out blood and saw the lava pit below. "HRNGH!" Lincoln appeared in a flash once more, hands gripping Striker's neck from behind tightly.
"No more! Do you hear me, Striker?! It's over for you!" Lincoln's demonic filled scream made the lair shake some more.
The lava pit even started bubbling.
All he had to do was drop Striker in and this'll be over.
"Ugh….."
Pausing, Lincoln followed the groaning noises.
Moxxie.
Millie.
Stolas.
"Everyone….I…." If they were still coherent, they wouldn't want this for him and what was more important?
Striker, or them?
Sensing his hesitation, Striker had one more knife up his sleeve and stabbed backwards.
Lincoln's forearm came up and the holy knife stabbed right through.
"GRAGH!"
Backing away and letting his hated enemy go, Lincoln held his arm.
It didn't just hurt, it felt as if he got stabbed straight in the heart instead.
Rather than blood, it looked as if the boy was bleeding out orange colored sparks from the stab wound.
His soul had taken on a demonic essence and was just contaminated by a weapon of holy origin.
Elements that never mix always lead to a freaking disaster.
Standing on his two feet, Striker glared at the boy as the orange sparks kept bleeding out, much as he wanted to, he couldn't attack without getting struck. But of course, there were still the other imps. Moxxie crawled to the gun right there until Striker turned him over and grasped his neck.
In his idealized world, Striker's the one who does the choking out around here.
"Oh, I do fondly remember how easy it is to choke the life out of you, little one!"
Moxxie thought fast, then remembered a tip from Blitzo.
Best way to get a prick to back off? Make them hella uncomfortable.
"Ohhhhhhh….harder." Moxxie grinned in content, it also helps that this was somewhat enjoyable.
"What the unholy shit?!"
Striker retracted himself in disgust, letting Moxxie kick-trip him up and stole his own rope for equal measure. Moxxie threw the rope around Striker's throat to give the cowboy a taste of his own medicine. "You cowboy piece of shit!" He threw the taller imp over by his statue.
Striker would've shot back in return, if it weren't for Millie dislodging the axe and throwing it onto the statue's pedestal.
Gazing up, Striker gasped as his own monument to himself came falling down upon him.
Panting and holding his arm, Moxxie waited until the dust settled.
"Aw, fucking crumbs…." To his disappointment, only his scarf was left behind.
The bastard once again got away.
"ARGH! GAH!"
Both imps turned their focus on someone of greater value. "Lincoln!"
Millie ran to him as he was on both knees, clutching the stabbed forearm. "It hurts….it hurts so much….!" Lincoln's eyes kept shifting from normal to demonic.
"Oh…." Moxxie looked and remembered why they came here.
"Your highness!" Moxxie went and observed, seeing that the prince was not faring any better. "Millie, get them both in the van! We gotta head back to Sloth! Now!"
It was a hard fought battle.
Touch and go for a bit, and the enemy was very stubborn when pushed.
But victory was achieved and Blitzo was glad it was finally over. "We are going to work on your temperament for next time, missy." He said to a collar wearing Loona. She got the Thing back and got a lollipop for being a brave trooper.
"I wanna die…."
"Maybe later." Blitzo stretched his back then noticed the crowd of reporters in front of the hospital. "Now, what's all this about?" He heard the familiar sound of the company van arriving, battered but not trashed. "Oh, good, You guys managed to-UGH!" He was trampled by the stampede of reporters and hospital staff that ran out of the hospital the moment the van came.
Demons dressed like plague doctors opened the door where they proceeded to collect Stolas.
Millie made sure to hug Lincoln covered by a blanket extremely close, the boy held the spot where he was stabbed, a faint orange glowing spark nearly flashed. She wasn't sure Sloth hospitals were equipped to handle a unique case like Lincoln, that and the risk of them discovering his humanity.
Eyes spinning, Blitzo once again had to endure a stampede back into the hospital.
Looking up, he spotted one glance of familiar feathers on a gurney.
"Sir, I got you." Moxxie helped him up.
"Moxxie, it's been a long day so I ask you, what the fuck was all that about?!" Blitzo demanded.
Millie answered from the van. "Stolas got hurt real bad, B. And I mean, really bad."
"...Stolas got what….?" Blitzo thought for sure he misheard her. "Wha-That's-How-?" He stood there stunned. Stolas, an Ars Goetia prince, a demon possessing more power than most, leagues above imps like him and he actually suffered injuries? "...He can get hurt….?"
Moxxie got more despondent. "And he's not the only one."
"GHH….Ghhh!"
Despite the collar, Loona picked up on whose voice that was.
"Lincoln?!"
I.M.P regrouped at the van where Lincoln refused to let go of his arm as Timber whimpered at his plight.. "Blitz…..it burns….! Somebody…..make it stop….!" The boy softly sobbed.
Blitzo's disbelief frown morphed into a horrified aghast look.
I.M.P won the day.
But it wasn't without costs.