"What, Not Gonna Say Anything About My Hand Pun? Damn. I Thought It Was Kind Of Clever." Blitz Was Going

"What, not gonna say anything about my hand pun? Damn. I thought it was kind of clever." Blitz was going to keep shit-talking as long as he lived, even when he might be in over his head--and look at this situation. This, this was being in over one's head if anything was. Her prosthetic was apparently some kind of shifty shit, stretching and turning even deadlier, giving her better reach...

He should go. He knew it. He knew he should leave--but her words sparked something in him, a fury so rich and deep that no shade of red would ever compare. This time, when the imp growled, it was a very real sound, an overt threat--or promise. "And you know what? Fuck you. I don't deserve a place in Heaven? Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know. But you know what? You and your angelic bullshit can suck my fucking dick. Imps are born in Hell. We aren't human, we don't get a fucking choice to screw up. We don't get souls, we don't get the chance of ending up here.

"So yeah, you can look down on me all you fucking want, you can sneer, feel superior, but maybe it's in your interest not to piss me off. Or my fucking kind. Because we're what Heaven is afraid of, right? All the shitty losers, Hell's rabble, the Sinners and the Hellborn? You're not afraid of Lucifer. You're afraid of what the fuck would happen if we rise up--" He was actually growling as he spoke now, despite how quickly his words were coming out; the growl was a deep accompaniment, a threatening rumble, low in his chest. "It must be nice, having everything you could ever want, being able to look down on everyone. Do you ever stop to question your self-righteous bullshit?"

Lute's gaze darted to the knives for an instant, her scowl deepening at the bit of angelic steel she could see on them. Looking back up as the imp began to move, she kept a cold glare on him and stepped over as well to be partially in front of the door. "You're a demon." She growled, her wings flaring out wide. "I don't need any help from you- the only reason I've not already torn your throat out is so I can find out how you got up here. Creatures like you have no place at all to be in Heaven, so it'd be in your best interest to not piss me off." Her prosthetic arm shifted a bit more, the already deadly-sharp claws growing in long, jagged spikes.

Maybe it was all of those musicals, or maybe it was just how damned good his heart was, but Moxxie had a way with words that would put any poet to shame. Blitz never felt like he was great with words himself--he could barely spell, although he was always working on it--but sometimes, when Moxxie spoke? Sometimes it made so much sense that the rest of the world seemed to pale in comparison, as if nothing else was half as real as the truths this young imp knew. The things he was saying now--

Fuck.

It was like Moxxie was ripping holes in a blindfold Blitz had been living with all his life and never known was there, because this had to be what seeing light for the first time felt like. Moxxie understood the chaos--the habituation to chaos, the need for it because it was the only thing left that felt stable. He understood how fucked up Blitz was, on a fundamental level--and he was saying family anyway. Moxxie, who had had just as rotten a family as Blitz, who was too smart to choose family that would fuck him up again, was choosing him. Out loud. Actually saying it.

Abruptly, Blitz hugged him. He scooped Moxxie up off his feet, hugging him with a quiet little grunt, then spun him around before he started pacing the length of the office, still holding onto him. Overwhelmed with emotions, he needed a minute to just--fuck. Just get his head on right. And, just as abruptly as he had picked him up, Blitz set him back down on his feet, realizing how fucking rude he was being.

"Sorry for grabbing you. Mox, I'm kinda..." Freaking the fuck out right now. But that didn't feel like a wise thing to lead with. "The shit you just said means--maybe more to me than anything ever has. It... I don't... know how to... I don't know how to process that. How to believe it. But I do. And I will. But is it--can we take a... I think I need a night. Only now that you've..." Christ on a fucking stick, when did his throat get so tight that speaking was difficult? Blitz swallowed hard. "Now that you've said it, it feels like you somehow... I don't know. Took everything that was dark and poked it full of holes, so now the fucking.. the light shines through, or some shit like that, and I don't--" Fuck, he didn't mean to call it shit. Blitz dragged a hand down his face. "What I'm trying to say is, thank you. That helps. More than I can say, 'cause it's more than I can process right now. In a good way.

"I think... I'm gonna be okay tonight." Because somehow, Moxxie had found a way to make it possible for Blitz to breathe again, when part of Blitz hadn't thought he ever would--because he was an idiot, because he hadn't realized how in love he was with Stolas until he lost him. Moxxie did so goddamn much for Blitz...

And somehow, someday, I'll repay him, Blitz promised himself, eyes shining as he look at his friend--

His family.

"Can I walk you home? And then I'll text you when I get home, so you know I like.. made it?" They didn't usually do that kind of thing, but fuck, tonight felt different somehow, with sincerity starting to soften the shadows. Blitz was still reeling, his thoughts going in any direction save a linear one, but he was better now, because somehow, the smaller imp had just reached out and taught him what it felt like to be held by gravity.

Which was, maybe, the same thing as love.

Moxxie’s expression etched in concern. Though his hand squeezed back and he remained receptive to all his friend said. Though usually his eyes had a hard time maintaining direct contact in conversation, at a time like this he was steady, not wanting Blitzo to feel abandoned while he shared such a vulnerable piece of history. It was hard not to go teary-eyed at seeing Blitzo this emotional, this open. It had not been his intent to tear open a wound like this. All he had meant was to show Blitzo that he knew he had a good heart. But here he got a glimpse into more than he perhaps bargained for. But he wasn’t about to push it away. What kind of message would that send?

His fangs grit at the mention of Cash– a man unworthy of the title of father. He had always despised him even from afar. But a sick feeling came over him hearing that Barbie had found Blitzo’s situation funny. All the more reason that Moxxie’s first sour expression of her seemed justified. The vibes were rotten. She had made it sound as if all that had gone wrong between siblings and family were Blitzo’s fault. And Moxxie knew seldom was anything so tangled one person’s fault.

“You’re wanted too, Blitz…” in a little voice, threatened by tears.

He hadn’t known if it was a fact or a feeling, but having it confirmed that they shared in a pain felt like ripping off a bandage. Though oddly uniting. 

“It’s all I meant to say. I know you’re trying. Trying is all anyone can do.”

He reached up, having to stand on the tips of his hooves momentarily, and pressed his forehead to Blitzo’s to further emphasize he was present, there with him.

“Whatever happens with this– the family you have now, we’re here. You’ve got people now. It was chaos back then. When you were young. And when someone grows up in chaos, and chaos is all they know, it becomes what they expect. Sometimes they might even create chaos because that’s what feels more comfortable after a while. I-I know because my upbringing was like that, too. I gravitated towards chaos. I’m not just guessing and soapboxing. But you do have stability. We do. You. Are. Safe. You have family now. Just…don’t…push us away. You don’t have to accept our help all the time, you can decline. But please know we just want to help. And we’re sincere.” he found himself crying. Mostly over the ideas that had been confirmed to him.He didn’t like to think Blitzo had gone through such things. But the tears would pass.

What was she? What the actual sweet ever-loving fuck was she? A Hellhound, maybe a hybrid, a warrior, and an Overlord? Blitz had been shocked by how abruptly the woman shifted into rage, a righteous fury that silenced any arguments from the bouncer, but he couldn't say she was wrong for it. For any of it. Lacerate was usually a decent place, at least as far as clubs in Pride went, but this shouldn't have happened. Given that the semi-conscious Sinner was wrapped around his leg as Blitz stood on the table, he couldn't physically go to her to back her up in her confrontation. Instead, he clenched his fists and glared murder at the bouncer, tail whipping side to side, chin up, furious defiance written in every line of the imp's body.

When the confrontation ended though, Blitz's stance softened. He looked down at his chest and winced--yeah, that was a disgusting wound--and then snorted angrily. "I really liked this fucking shirt. And I'm good," he lied, "but this guy..."

"I will care for him," a smooth male voice cut in from the doorway, someone far calmer than that poor bouncer had been.

Blitz's tail immediately began thrashing again and he bared his teeth, looking at the... the... the fucking beautiful Goetia standing there. Iridescent, almost scaly feathers--probably blue-green, but they looked shiny and black right now in the club's lighting. He wore trousers and a vest that were clearly tailor-made, leaving his muscular, feathered arms bare to the shoulder.

Vepar. The owner.

The white cat Sinner awoke at the voice, blinked, then stared at Vepar, looking at him like he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

"My lady Visage," the Goetia said as he stepped into the room, "I deeply appreciate your aid. This atrocity never should have happened. Thank you for your assistance, as well as for your visit to my establishment. It's always a pleasure, having an Overlord visit. Now, little one." He offered the cat his hand. "Would you like to be healed?"

"Y-yes please...?" Shy but clearly enamored, the Sinner let go of Blitz's leg and scooted over to take the Goetia's hand. When the bird scooped him up into his arms instead, he whimpered quietly in pain before he abruptly began purring; Vepar was holding him just right, so snug and comfortable and comforting, and seemed to be sending some sort of soothing energy into him...

"If you would like to wait, Mr... Buckzo, isn't it? I will gladly heal you as well."

Blitz blinked, frowned. Goetia could do that? It might be nice, but right now, he wasn't in the mood to trust anyone to do any magic on him. "No fucking thank you. I've got horsey bandages at home that'll do me just fine. But listen, you hurt that cat, I'll come back here and burn your whole fucking place down."

Vepar's eyes were very dark. Shadows within shadows, the deadly depths of an ocean. When he smiled and bowed his head ever so slightly, it did absolutely nothing to warm his expression. "Understood. I would appreciate if you refrain from threatening myself or my employees in the future, Assassin, but this once? I am inclined to forgive.

"Unless there is anything else? I'll be off with this little one."

Like a shell-shocked soldier locked in place, near-catatonic from the daze of that haunted vision ... only the sudden outburst by Blitz finally brought the hellhound back to reality in a jolt of sights and sounds that roared back into her ringing ears. Inwardly she cursed herself, even amidst the appreciative relief of seeing her new partner in crime handle his attacker so cleanly. He was a capable warrior, that much was beyond a doubt. Still ... her hesitation had gotten him injured and nearly cost the feline Sinner his afterlife. One errant swing of a knife was all it would have taken, if the imp had been a fraction slower to react. In an instant, a hot sour twist coiled like an agitated serpent deep in the pit of her gut, words filling her mind like seeping poison. As usual, you can't protect anyone... Standing there with ink-black ichor oozing off the curved edges of her blades, Visage had scarcely parted her muzzle to utter an awkward half-apology when a stranger barged into the doorway. At first too stunned to react, that numbed state of self-directed anger soon went up like a sheet of paper dropped into an open flame--her ire had itself a new scapegoat. Silver eyes narrowed dangerously as their edges took on a glimmer of that same azure hue that marked her signature flames, the grip on her sickle handles tightening with an audible creak of straining leather. "What the fuck is going on...? Y'know, that's a really fucking good question..." Pausing briefly to shove her blades back into their sheaths with enraged flourish, the lupine Overlord began to angrily storm towards the bouncer that had made the dire mistake of interjecting himself on his employer's behalf. He'd soon regret it. In a flash, Visage was inches from the other demon's face, canine muzzle creased into a hateful snarl. "How about you FUCKING tell me?! How does a trio of psychopaths manage to get a submissive alone in a room like this without any kind of safety overrides in place?! In a god-damn BDSM club of all the shit places!" Those eyes had long since shifted from silver to bright blue, pupils shrinking to the size of pin pricks until they almost vanished completely. An almost hollowed resonance echoed across every edge of her enraged words as she suddenly gripped the bouncer by his leather vest, yanking him off balance to pull him in closer. For the moment, anger was winning against any semblance of fear as the brute of a demon glared at the she-wolf who was daring to manhandle him. "Just who the fuck do you think you--" "I RUN this fucking district, you sorry sack of shit!" The swift retort was barked into his face in a fine mist of angry spittle. For a brief moment, the bouncer gaped in furious confusion ... but suddenly a visible sweep of terrified recognition flashed across his face. "Y-You're that new Overlord ... the one with those Grimfang goons...!" In an instant, that snarl twisted into a mocking sneer. "Gee, no shit, Sherlock!" Even as her tone dropped to a low ominous growl, the air of danger in her words was no less profound. "Now ... if your boss is too damned incompetent to run a business in my domain and keep its visitors safe, then he's gonna wish he'd never set up here. Got it...?" The other demon's head bobbed frantically in mute agreement and only then did Visage finally relinquish her grip on him with a hard shove backwards, employing enough force to leave him stumbling. "Good! We're leaving. Clean up this fucking mess, and it better not ever happen again." Only when the panicked bouncer had scrambled from the room did Visage's attention return back to the other two with a tired and apologetic expression. Already her eyes were returning to their normal black and silver. "You two able to walk outta here in one piece?"

"If I tackle you, it'll be because there's a mattress behind us and you asked me to," Blitz said, unable to help making dirty jokes when opportunity presented. His dumb grin softened again though, and he nodded, picking the drink back up. "Look, that night, that whole con, it was all really shitty. We were both shitty and using each other." The amber liquid held the lights of the club beautifully. Blitz sighed, looking down into it, and swirled it around for a moment.

"There's an annual party devoted to people who hate me," he said, voice cracking ever so slightly. Fuck, he wasn't going to fucking cry. That shitty place had fucked him up, but he wasn't going to goddamn cry. Blitz took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and met Chaz's eyes again. "But you? Weren't there. You coulda gone. But you didn't. And that means a lot to me. I think... the way you're acting... it's uh. Look, I'm no good at... but this whole thing, your vibes, feels like... maybe people haven't given you enough second chances. Or something. Christ, um..."

Blitz took another swallow of the drink. It really did go down smooth, even if it burned. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at the pretty shark again. "Maybe we both fucked our first impressions of each other. But maybe we can like, do better, you know?"

That was when Blitz's date drifted up. Demetri was a beautiful succubus, his expression perpetually sweet, who often liked to flirt with Chaz even if he never really tried to pick him up. He seemed to take in the situation between the two of them with a glance, and he leaned against Blitz. "Hey, Chaz." Demetri's smile was warm.

"You guys know each other?"

"I'm here a lot," Demetri admitted, blushing.

"Of course you are." Demetri had danced with Stolas at that damn party. Of course he knew this shark too. He... fuck. He was nice. Really nice. Blitz offered him the glass, and Demetri took a sip while Blitz looked back at Chaz. "Let's try again sometime, huh? Besides, I uh.. I might... have kind of... fuckin... stolen something from you. That you probably want back? You remember a long leather jacket? I mean if you don't want it, fuck, that thing's snuggly as shit. But if you do...?"

Even if Chaz was in a space he'd grown comfortable in, seeing Blitz again and seeing the smirk on his face slowly but surely made the shame from that night well up back to the surface, not just for selling and pushing himself out to any one who'd allow him into their bed, but for what he ended up doing, rushing out of the manor upon seeing his keys were missing and drugging Blitz to try to keep him quiet, locking him in his trunk and allowing Crimson to try to kill not only him but Millie too. Mobster or not Chaz tried his best to treat his bedmates well, he never forced it on them or tried to genuinely hurt them, at the time he had reasoned it was nessecary for his hail mary plan to work, but in the time since, part of him wished he'd push his utter desperation for someone's warmth in the same bed aside to try to make a compromise with them all, Where'd it even get him? He still ended up sleeping in cold bed more often then not, on the run and crying himself to sleep at how fucked up he made everything and some part of him thinking... maybe he deserved to end up on Crimson's wall of trophies. His mother would certainly be ashamed to see what her son had become, and he didn't even have the jacket she gave him to clutch to hold off that thought...

You could tell he was lost in his head, the glass was already clean but he still cleaned it vigoursly with his claw, more him trying to work out his nerves then him trying to do his job. Maybe, Just maybe if he did this JUST right he could at least give Blitz a decent conversation, a decent night that wasn't him using the Imp who'd done fucking nothing him and he still drugged him. If this went right he wouldn't be forgiven, but he hardly believed he deserved that, but at least he'd actually help someone instead of dragging them down like he'd done all his li-

The way his entire body froze when Blitz caught his hand was the most noticable thing in the world, head just thinking "This is it, He's just gonna pull me over the counter and gut me before I can even do anything" However he felt weak in the knees when he felt Blitz squeeze his hand, the shark doing it back, even clinging a bit when Blitz pulled away but he stopped himself, hoping Blitz didn't notice, standing there like a deer in headlights when Blitz said his name, just hoping the scarf around his head muffled his slight whimper of fear.

Of course he saw through his disguise, it was rushed together and he wasn't the most 'blend into the crowd' kinda demon to begin with, eyes widening at what Blitz said, letting him slide the card over to him before sighing, grabbing the hanging end of his scarf, untying it from around his face and pulling off his shades, setting them both on the counter as he leaned it on it, breating out to calm down, his heart was pounding right now.

"Fuck you just saw right through this huh" He swings the scarf around for reference before he sighed again "Your too smart for me that's for sure, though Im surprised your... giving me this, after everything I did." The shark says dropping the scarf and picking up the card, reading the number over before looking back at him, surprised how soft a gaze he found from Blitz "Um but I... appreciate it, it's really sweet and a lot for a guy like me. I..."

"Im sorry, for all the shit I pulled, that's doesn't change it I know, that's why I gave you that drink on the house, it's actually really expensive usually so I wanted to treat you. It's... the least I could do right?" The shark relented, voice cracking at the end and him wiping out his eyes and breathing in. Looking at the card

"Sorry I'm allergic to a scent Big O uses in here but... are you sure you want to give me this? I sure as hell fucked first impressions with you, that's why I thought you'd maim my ass if you saw me, not... be nice to me. I still won't be surprised if you tackle me right now actually" The shark admitted, he didn't really believe that Blitz wouldn't hurt him right now, he deserved it right? Everyone else who was around that day wanted to kill him after all.

cant believe this is the note we’re starting pride month with

Blitz choked back the cry of pain. Between the cracked sternum and ribs from Lucifer's first oh-so-gentle blow, the burning of the blade he had grabbed, and then being struck and dropped by angelic wings? It hurt. Everything hurt. But he wasn't giving up. That wasn't the goal here. The goal was to die, if that was what it took, to get this fucker to listen to him, to hear that there was more going on than he was letting himself believe.

He had hit the ground hard after Lucifer's launch. Blitz got to his feet quickly, shaking the ashes of his leather coat off his hand and arm. The Devil's sword was too heavy for an imp to hold--some fucked up, infernal magic, probably--and his arm felt half-numb after it. Which, he concluded after a glance down at his burned flesh, was probably a good thing. The burns were bad, from his hand up to his elbow. Well, Blitz thought, burns on top of burns, who gives a shit? His fury at Lucifer's words burned hotter than the blade could have anyway.

"Are you fucking serious? You really think you've done enough? That it's enough to just be a ruler and leave it at that? You think it's really an honor for the highest position imps can attain to be one of service--to you? I know about the family that serves you. Yeah, great, real great, fucker. You're a real hero to the people, letting us live to serve you." Blitz's shirt was ruined too, so he pulled it off and tossed it aside, bare-chested now. That, of course, revealed the firearm he had been concealing under everything, that he told himself he wouldn't use unless he had to; putting that holster on under his clothing had been a deliberate choice, a last resort he was giving himself.

Now, as layers were burned away, seemed like the right time.

Blitz drew the gun.

"Fuck you, Your Majesty. You're beautiful. You're--a fucking angel. And part of me wants to love you. But fuck you. Why won't you listen to me? Or see? That it's not enough. You're not doing enough." He aimed at him, aim always adjusting as Lucifer moved. "You think it's enough that you set up a hierarchy? You think you, with all of your power, are doing enough, as our king? Imps and Hellhounds are forced into sex slavery to eat. To lives of service. Hard labor. With no hope of climbing any fucking ladder, unless they fuck their way to the top," he said, voice breaking on the raw words. "That's our fault, huh? That we were made powerless in a place full of power? Our fault that we're here to serve, that our entire lives are lived in the dark, no way up?

"If you're not going to fucking listen to me, to take this shit seriously, then guess what." Abruptly, the rage inside the assassin went quiet. Everything inside him went quiet, turning to perfect calm.

"Then it's too late."

And the uprising will come. And you'll learn what happens when you hold power and refuse to use it. Blitz loved him, he didn't want to know that this was coming, but the inevitable was what it was: inevitable. Maybe he had been foolish to come here and try at all.

The assassin took the shot. In his heart, he was sure of it. This time, the hit would land. The bullet would tear through one of Lucifer's wings--

The holy bullet, jacketed in angelic steel, designed for exactly this.

Designed to hurt Lucifer Morningstar.

A spark, for a flame more dangerous than any the Devil ignited.

Lucifer stood before him watching the imp take the hit and still roll to his feet ,impressive very impressive , he could take a hit .

He was really starting to like him .. he would have to be careful not to kill him out right at least not too soon.

“That’s all I have done is try .. the rest is up to you, I made the hierarchy with the intent to protect you and the other hellborns ..” he told him gently even as he blocked his attacks ;

He looked mildly surprised when Blitzø grabbed for his sword , the flames reacting and burning hotter to protect their barer.

He saw the other’s fients and felt the family tingle of an Angelic blade being close to his skin; heh Smart move, there was hope yet after all it seemed for this man.

Stepping back he dropped his sword knowing it would be come a sudden heavy dead weight the moment he let go , He let the blade tear through his clothes as he unfurled unfurled his wings and took to the air knocking the Imp off of him with his lower pair of wings he floated above him, the bright red glow of the sky and hellish sun giving him a haloed look as he stared down at the fallen Imp.

“Well well you got me.. I think..” he checked , “oh so close Got my clothing though .. that is very impressive .. now it’s my turn..”

He wouldn’t need his sword for this his fists would do just fine .

“Im proud of you Blitzø ..not many have gotten that close to me in a long time ..not many care for their own kind as much as you do”

He would reward him, as soon as he won this fight he would reward the imp with his life .