Sometimes We Fight And Roll Around And Break Stuff. Christ On A Fucking Stick, Was A Clone, Or Twin,

Sometimes we fight and roll around and break stuff. Christ on a fucking stick, was a clone, or twin, or whatever the fuck, telling him about his sex life with Lucifer fucking Morningstar? That would be about right, Blitz thought with a groan. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder as best he could, he grit his teeth and just focused on speeding the fuck out of there. Whatever this was, whoever was behind it, he wanted out of the kill zone that the densely packed, skyscraper-backed streets of Pentragram City made.

"Yeah, great, rolling around together, always works up a fucking appetite, doesn't it? Stay the fuck down or I'll put a hole in you myself!" He wouldn't--probably--because shooting the target one was supposed to protect was frowned upon--generally--but today was... fuck, today was something else.

To help with the mood, Blitz flipped the radio on. One of the Wrath channels was Car Chases, Standoffs, and Showdowns, so he twisted the dial until that one came on, and perfect action-movie music started blaring out of the van's (admittedly less than quality) speakers. A few more minutes of loud music, tires squealing, abrupt turns, and then the pings against the van stopped altogether. Still, although it seemed like they were out of harm's way, Blitz kept going for a while longer. He'd been told about a safehouse, some place to bring him until the client would pick him up, when he was given the job. It wasn't much farther--assuming it wasn't a trap.

Eventually, they were in the jagged mountains beyond Pentagram City. Blitz eased off the gas, flexed his injured arm to see how bad it--fuck, ow--was, and let out a tight breath.

"Okay. Okay. It's gonna be like another fuckin' hour until we're at the safe-house where your... benefactor, or what the fuck ever, will be. You said something about healing me?" He glanced into the backseat, trying not to look or sound as worried as he felt. "And are you okay back there, you good? There's some Capri-Sin if you're thirsty. "

There’s an audible “squeak!” as Blitz shoves the angel down to the floor of the van, blue eyes round as saucers. What in Heavens name was going on?! Why are people shooting at them? Is this what being kidnapped is? These thoughts are distracted by just how filthy the floor of the van is. Discarded fast food wrappers and drink cups, loose bullets, a bunch of weird little plastic sleeves labeled “Satan Slong XXL”, and these weird round balls with a metal ring on the top. These items bump and jostle against him as the van swerves and jerked.

Hearing the lizard man cry out, Lucid does in fact sit up in alarm. The angel sees the fresh red staining his jacket, a color that Lucid rarely sees with his own eyes. His own blood and his brethren are gold and glowing. “Whoah whoah! You’re hurt! Pull over so I can heal you!”

He pushes himself up on the cushions of the backseat to stand, only for a bullet to whiz through the space between his head and halo. Ducking down again, Lucid glances over at the wounded lizard demon. “Th-they want me DEAD?! Um, uh, pretty much everybody I guess? In Hell at least? Except Lucifer. Sometimes he wants to but then we fight and roll around and sometimes break stuff. But then after we’re good again and go get sweet treats!”

Blitz had already holstered the gun, immediately after taking the shot; he couldn't let himself be tempted to fire again. Because fuck, under all of the rage, under the desperation, he still loved this bastard. To look at Lucifer was to love him, the imp was learning, and he didn't regret it. No, he didn't regret it at all. Lucifer was glorious, resplendent even in his pain, even in his fury.

Besides. Blitz was too tired to keep fighting.

When the bodyguards slammed into him, he almost welcomed it. Blitz made no effort to fight them. He watched as Lucifer stalked towards him, watched the way the flames danced around him; the fire served him, yes, but it loved him too, didn't it? To be loved by destruction... there was a tragedy there. But then, this was Lucifer. There were many tragedies wrapped up in that beauty.

Blitz watched him until Lucifer was close, studying his eyes. Then, finally, he looked at the fire in the king's hand.

Yeah.

This was going to fucking hurt.

But it's worth it, he thought. For all of the imps. For all of the Hellhounds. For the sharks. Even the fucking Goetia. It's worth it. And Lucifer was a beautiful last sight to see.

All of the fight going out of him, Blitz bowed his head. Even when the bodyguards let go of him and moved away, out of range of those flames, he stayed on his knees, his head bowed. In his mind, he could see Moxxie smiling. He could smell Loona's shampoo, hear her singing some song he didn't know but she and her friends loved, just belting it out in the shower. He could feel his claws running through Visage's fur. He could remember the first time he saw Eclipse smile. He could feel Stolas there beside him, imagine Stolas's hand on his shoulder. He could hear Fizz singing, defiance and strength personified. If there was any one imp who could maybe give Lucifer a run for his money when it came to strength of heart, Blitz thought, his own heart aching with love, it was Fizz.

And Lucifer is going to make things better for you all. Somehow. And for all the little fuckers to follow.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Your Majesty. I'm--" Blitz imagined's Stolas's hand tightening on his shoulder. Imagined Vizzy whispering something encouraging.

"I'm ready."

Lucifer eyed the gun when he saw the holister , oh well now this is interesting … where did he get that ? He’d have to talk to his overlords about that .

Ah he sees now what his hierarchy has done .. it was ment to Protect but it backfired it seemed , he would need to rework it— crack.. the shot of the gun startled him out of his thoughts .

And he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his upper left wing .. oh wow .. he had been shot … right through his wing .. the blood pouring down .

He tucked in his wings and landed on the ground hard enough to shake it, inspecting the damaged done to the middle of his wing.. a burning bullet sized hole was seen, “.. hmm.. well well you did it~”

He stalked towards Blitzø eyes bright red Horns glowing , as fire scorched the ground around his feet.

“You managed to what none but my brothers could… “ his voice was everywhere and no where at once .

His guards were rushing in to tackle Blitzø pissed at him for daring to shoot their king .

“I will honor the terms of our agreement , I can’t do everything at once to fix it but ..I can do something that should even the playing field for now..”

He raised his hand a ball of unholy fire building within it, “Now as for you…. “

Until now, Blitz hadn't even known that Stolas could heal the wounds of others. For some reason, that knowledge felt heavy, edged with some kind of pain or grief that Blitz didn't understand. He watched as his former lover got up and hurried to dress, already making plans to get too involved, to put himself into harm's way over this.

Blitz's heart broke.

I love him.

"Stolas," he said, voice gentle. Walking over, he reached up to touch his hand, hoping to stop him from his packing and his preparation. "Stolas, don't. I don't--remember. All of what happened. Some of it, but not all of it. And then I woke up this morning on the floor with him. I definitely did it, I had to have. My weapon was in his heart. So don't. Please. Please don't do this." Blitz sounded a little too calm, considering he was pleading with Stolas, but he was too exhausted to put more energy into it. His body felt strange--the places Stolas had healed felt alive, as if his skin was somehow brighter there, a strangely sharp contrast to everything else.

I love him--and I never deserved him.

"You have a daughter. What will happen to Octavia if you go missing 'cause of me? You--you've already broken demon law for me enough. Not this time, babe, okay? It means--the world. To me." Fuck, there were tears in his eyes now, why were there tears in his eyes when he was smiling and his heart suddenly feeling so full? Blitz blinked and they fell, and for once, they didn't hurt. Usually, tears seemed to burn, to demand, to take something with them as they fell, but not this time. Not tears shed out of gratitude, out of love. Not tears that fell for Stolas's kindness. Blitz didn't really know how to process it, so he didn't try. Instead, he smiled a little more.

"You. Are so fucking beautiful, Stolas. And I love you."

Stolas tried to ignore the soft touches from Blitzø as he slowly began to heal his wounds with magic. They still left scars that would take time to heal but at least the wounds closed and stopped the bleeding. He was almost frantic with the way his talons moved over the imps skin, wanting him to be whole and safe once again.

The prince was still so angry, thinking over the past few months but he would never leave Blitzø to suffer. The imp meant so much to him, perhaps too much. When Blitzø started to preen him, Stolas faltered in his healing, tears springing to his eyes at the gentle touch. Preening was such an intimate act, surly Blitzø didn't know what he was conveying?

Stolas paused in his ministrations when the imp began to confess everything that had happened before his arrival. Stolas sat back on his legs, trying to steady himself as his eyes widened in shock. "W-Why would you ever do such a thing?" Stolas could hardly believe it, was this a nightmare? Surly, he would wake up soon.

"Blitzø...killing a Goetia-it's punishable by death, I-I don't understand why you would do something so reckless? Did he attack you? If it was self defense, perhaps I can speak to the council-"

Stolas was scared, there was no other word for it. Killing a Goetia could put Blitzø in mortal peril and he refused to allow that to happen. The prince got to his feet and began to pull on the closest outfit he could find. "We should go to the human world. I will hide you there for now, until I can assure your safety. Yes, this could work. It will be fine!"

Stolas hurried around frantically-manically. He had to keep Blitzø safe, no matter the cost. He refused to lose the only person outside of Octavia that he cared about, dare he say love?

Love? How could anyone love a washed up circus imp like you?

"What, you mean like Stolas and Vizzy? And Angel? Fuck you." Blitz waved his hand dismissively at the stranger, although there wasn't really any heat to his voice; he didn't sound upset, or even like he really disagreed with them.

"They might have chosen the wrong guy, cause I--am. The wrong guy. A walking piece of shit and we all know it. But, listen." Abruptly, he plopped down on the empty stool next to this person, scooting over closer to them. "It's not my call. Whether or not they get to love me. I thought, for the longest fucking time, I thought that I had some say in it. So it always felt like I was tricking people, if they gave a shit. It always felt like, like I was doing something, fucking... You know. Wrong.

"But that is why I kept pushing people away. That shit attitude. That somehow, because I didn't believe in myself, no one else could either. You know how fucking long it took me to figure that out? How fucking many people I pushed away and hurt before a light clicked the fuck on? It's--listen. Bud. Take my advice? One drunk fucker to another: don't decide for other people that they're right or wrong to love you. Just try not to be a dick about it."

This was bizarre, the imp thought as he walked in. Whatever he had planned to say, he completely forgot about it as he just looked around at this place. Who lived like this? It was so vibrant and soft... If this Cardan guy thought he was going to order Blitz to abduct her, or kill her, he was going to need to pay extremely well, the hitman decided.

Realizing he hadn't taken in anything that she'd actually said or offered, just that it was something about tea, he nodded vaguely, turning in place as he looked around again. "Yeah, that sounds... nice... what the... how did you get the floor like this? All these plants, all this um, greenery. How are you getting them to grow without any real sunlight?" He wasn't actually interested in the ins and outs of fae gardening, but if this woman had some kind of crazy light powers, or sunlight powers... shit, those were things he needed to know. Fuck Cardan for sending him in here without any real explanation of just what exactly a fae was.

Well, that was an interesting turn of events, the way this man interacted with her. Zephos tilted her head curiously, noting at first, he was somewhat taken aback, then the shift to a semi-polite cascade of introductions and questions. Then he pulled that packet of seeds out, thyme.

She could smell it even in the package he carried. Thyme had a certain scent to her that was familiar, a welcoming gesture once again. He surely meant no harm with that kind of introduction and mispronounced fae speech. Was he here upon his accord or was he here upon the demands of another?

Zephos would chuckle, similar to a babbling brook, finding this Blitz person rather charming, if a little awkward. She would take the extended hand in both of her small gloved ones, "You may call me what you wish, Zeph, Zephos, or another form if you desire, Blitz. You may come in, should I put on a kettle for tea, or another drink be more your preference?"

She would move aside to let him in, the place she resided in rather small, yet comfortable. He would see that it was rather homey, with plants in most windowsills, and the floor akin to a forest meadow. The home also smelled of kitchen spices, like cinnamon and sugar, with the floral smells adding a nice non-overwhelming touch. The lights were dim like candles, but light enough to see. Odd to note since Hell was mostly a cold concrete jungle in comparison.

When Angel retreated from him, Vox went still. He stayed that way, very still, very calm, as the angry words came out--anger, so often the last defense of the powerless and the broken. A creature with all its limbs broken, its body exhausted and battered, might still snarl and hiss and spit when backed into a corner, even if it knew that wouldn't do it any good. Defiance might be the last thread of autonomy one could cling to, the last glimmer of an ember about to go dark, but it was still something, a sign there was life there, that it wasn't all over for them.

Recognizing that he had come at the wrong time, pushed too hard at a time when Angel already felt justifiably cornered, that he was doing all of this wrong, Vox adjusted his tack. He held still, listening until Angel was done speaking, then raised his hands, showing the empty palms, and took a step back. Then another, until his back was against the door. Lowering his hands, Vox gave the tiniest shake of his head.

"I want this to change. I make a point not to spy on the other Vees, Angel. Not unless I believe they're getting into a dangerous situation. Familiarity breeds contempt, and God knows we get enough familiarity in Hell. Maintaining our power structure means, to some degree, that it is necessary to not just look the other way, but not look at all. So, I don't. When they need me, they let me know. And at some point, that was how I began to think of you. One of us. Val's lover, someone I was..." He had to pause for a moment to take a breath and let it out slowly before admitting the next, "immensely jealous of. But one of us all the same. Until I saw your face on the balcony.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't want Val to continue hurting you. I want you to feel like a part of the Vees, because you are. You have been for a long time. At least, in my eyes. But to get there--there's a lot of harm to undo on the way. And I'm not overly adept at... comfort. Being soft. Kind. But I'm willing to try.

"And I'm willing to listen. Do you need to talk? Or to scream? I'll stay here." He patted the door behind himself. "I won't take a step closer to you until you tell me to.

"Or, I can leave right now. And if I do?

"My door is open for you. You can come to me any time, for any reason, and we can talk. This doesn't have to happen now. I apologize if I've made things worse, or made you feel that you're about to be hurt again.

"Either way. Will you let me order you supper and have it delivered to you? It doesn't come with strings attached; you won't owe me anything, I'd just like to... know that you have some form of care tonight." Maybe it wasn't much, but it was something. Angel didn't want a hug, and Vox didn't know how else to even try to comfort him, but he could at least try to make sure the actor was fed, had something to drink, that he had the chance to decompress. To receive something approximating care, even if it wasn't enough.

If he knew what was going on in Vox's head, the next move would probably hurt his feelings. However, it was exactly the fact that he didn't know what was happening in the television demon's mind that led to the action in the first place. As Vox stepped forward, Angel instinctively stepped back. Making sure to maintain the same amount of distance between them, as if this was a tango he had danced many a time.

The door being locked caused the tension to only increase, muscles feeling incredibly stiff. If Vox looked closer into Angel Dust's eyes, he would see the panic settling there. He was locked in. He had felt trapped, and that terrified him. Not that it mattered when it came to this Overlord. Vox had plenty of cameras around the dressing room, and even if Angel had pushed him out, the other could zap his way back in.

Vox was a wild card. He had seen enough, enough to think he knew what to expect, but that didn't mean he did. Vox had so many different personalities for so many different reasons. Too many hats. One thing he hadn't expected, though, was what had come out of the older's mouth next. He was blinking, staring at Vox for a few moments, uncertain of how to speak. Denying it, well, that was surprisingly the last thing on his mind. While he hid it from the outside world, he had always assumed that Vox knew. That him and Valentino had laughed about it over fancy dinners.

That was the part he didn't believe. There was no way that Vox hadn't known. That man's surveillance was constantly on, and he was saying he just...happened to not be looking when Val would raise his hand? His eyes narrowed as he thought about this, taking another step back. "...what do yeh' want." He hated how harsh he sounded, hated how just being in this situation made him so angry, so hard, like his dad had always wanted him to be.

"Ah' know how yeh' Vees work, and ah' ain't as dumb as ah' look. There's some sort of manipulation goin' on here. Ah' ain't gonna fall f' it. So let's just make this easy on us both, because as ah'm sure yeh' can tell, ah've had a pretty fuckin' shit day." He's huffing, voice holding less malice, much more tired. Broken. "Yeh' tell me what yeh' hopin' t' gain from all this, and ah'll give it t' yeh'. Then yeh' can get out of mah' dressin' room, and leave me th' fuck alone."