Vox Stood, His Grin Sharper And More Dangerous Now As He Adjusted His Jacket, Making Sure It Hung Perfectly.

Vox stood, his grin sharper and more dangerous now as he adjusted his jacket, making sure it hung perfectly. "You can want to ask," he said cheerfully, "but it's better that you don't. Until I know that you and your company can be trusted? If you were to end up with any of my secrets, I would have to take care of that." If I tell you the truth, I will kill you. It was as simple and heartless as that. Just because Vox didn't make a habit of killing didn't mean he was reluctant to do so when necessary. He liked this little imp. Beautiful, charming, ferocious, and adaptable, she was everything one could wish for in a contractor--

But she would be meat on the floor the moment she crossed him.

That was the ugly truth about interacting with Overlords. Even the kindest of them--of which Vox was arguably not--could never really be trusted. Her instincts had been right, to slam the door in his face, and now it was too late. Millie was on Vox's radar. IMP was on his list. There was only one way for them to get out of this, and that was through success.

Smile brighter than ever, he zapped himself away, leaving nothing but the acrid tang of burned air behind.

-

Blitz was in ridiculously good spirits when he, Moxxie, and Loona returned through the portal. With a cheerful whoop, he did a completely unnecessary somersault before going to hang his jacket up.

"Fuck, killing is the best. It's good to be good at shit!" He practically hopped over to Millie, scooped her up, and nuzzled her face. "Hey there, Millie-Billie! We missed you! How was shit here? I got you something." Blitz put her down, went back over to his coat, and dug out the paper sack with cheeseburgers in it. "Earth burgers, if you haven't had lunch yet." He tossed the bag her way. "We miss anything?"

There's a smirk rested on her face as he said that. Her being able to flatter someone was easy. It was in her genes. Learned it from her mother. Something her mother did say was 'If you can flatter someone, you'll be certain to win them over.' Her mom was right most of the time. It doesn't always work though. But she definitely didn't want to get on an overlord's bad side. That wouldn't be good, or helpful to I.M.P. Although, Blitz might enjoy it if someone like her were to get on an overlord's bad side. "I know my way around people."

Honestly, it wasn't all that much of a surprise that killing may be boring to him. It made her wonder if he just hadn't found the unique ways of killing someone. Oh well, to each their own. She listens as he began to describe someone that he wanted her to find. The second that he managed to spit out just a bit of the description she couldn't help but grin. Perfect. Her boss and coworkers already had a bone to pick with that jerk. So, it would be nice to have a reason to rough him up a bit. Take him right off that high horse that he was always on. This was definitely going to be a fun job that was certain.

Although she was already thrilled to take on this job, she was curious to know who this overlord was. Killing an overlord? That was something that they'd never done before. "You can't just tell me it's an overlord and not expect me to want to ask who you're referring too."

There it was, she was smirking again at the mention of Strikers name.

"I already have a bet to settle with him. So, count us in."

The immediate flirting caught Blitz off guard. He faltered for a moment, unsure whether or not he'd actually just heard that, but he rallied just as quickly and put a grin on, slipping back into his most comfortable public persona, the shield coming as naturally as it ever had--even if maybe, maybe, it didn't fit quite as well these days.

"Well, guy as handsome as you, I could be persuaded," he practically purred back at the man. "I wanted to talk about something you offered, writing lessons? But I mean, if you have something else in mind that you'd like to hold and a pen just ain't cuttin' it..." Blitz leaned his shoulder against the bird, not quite rubbing against him the way a cat might, but something similar. It was a very brief contact, and then he moved away again, to a more comfortable distance. "Did you mean that? About teaching me to write better? Or were you pointing out how fucking uneducated I am?" He asked it like it was nothing, but deep down, even under his hope, there was an ember of resentment; it was easy for those with privilege and security to look down on those who didn't have enough of either to get the same education they had. If that was what was going on here? Well, Goetia were Goetia, he shouldn't be surprised.

Maybe it would be easier if all the guy had meant was let's get together again under any pretense, I want a quick fuck. It would almost definitely be safer.

Usually these days, he'd send Baron out to do small errands for him. But this was one of his days of full freedom from what one might call work, albeit how leisurely it was, you might not. And thus the Goetia had to go out and about himself. Turning heads left and right, nobility walking amongst the rabble.

That essentially made it Blitz's lucky day. Any other Goetia would never be caught dead in public if they could avoid it. But he enjoyed his time on the streets, these were the people he favored. No pomp, no circumstance...just living 'life' in Hell as best they could. And being as tall as he was, and vibrant as sin itself, he was easy to pick out.

When called out with such a ridiculous name, Eclipse smoothed down his already slick feathers. Being a raven, he wasn't as puffy or fluffy as certain other birds...such as Owls.

"My existence is Important, Blitz, I'm a Goetia....but no, I'm just doing some minor errands since Baron's off today. Though I do have to ask, are these fuckin' minutes or "fuckin" minutes?" He teased playfully.

Blitz heard him out, then nodded. He didn't fully understand where Angel was coming from there, but he didn't need to understand it to respect it. The imp would fight like crazy to make life better for his own people, even if it meant he had to fight the Devil himself, even if he never got to be the one to see it. If Angel resented that progress had been made without him there? While it sounded selfish on the surface, Blitz reminded himself that he really didn't know Angel that well yet. They'd gone to an aquarium and to Hawai'i, but that didn't mean they had fully spilled their souls.

Besides, Blitz was a shitty enough person that he really didn't want to judge the emotional responses, or the trauma, of others. He had done enough of that in his life so far, been enough of an asshole, and after Verosika's party... That shit had traumatized him, but in a way that he was almost grateful for. It wasn't an intervention, because those were done out of love, not hate, but it had a similar effect. Seeing that he was at rock bottom, emotionally and psychologically, Blitz wanted to do better these days. To be better. Safer. Kinder.

He lightly bumped his forehead against Angel's shoulder, then nodded. Blitz was about to say something when his phone chimed. "Sorry, that's my daughter. Hang on." A quick scan of the message and then Blitz stood. He pocketed the phone, then kissed Angel on the forehead, really only possible since the other was still sitting.

"I have to go pick her up. Raincheck on the dance?"

Angel Dust had never met someone who talked more than himself, and he was starting to understand why people got overwhelmed with him. It wasn't that he wanted the imp to go away or anything, but his mind was trying to process it all at once, and admittedly Angel could be a bit slow at that stuff. Everything seemed to be moving on fast-forward - he had just met the guy, the guy started talking about Pride, and now was inviting him to -

He's blinking in shock, tilting his head a little to the side. "....how do yeh' know where ah'm from?" It wasn't like it wasn't obvious, considering his thick accent, but a lot of residents of Hell wouldn't know that unless they had heard one before. It wasn't like Angel broadcasted his actual living life for Hell to hear. That was none of their fucking business, honestly. Though that hadn't even been the most shocking statement, Angel staring at Blitz like he had three heads.

"There's gay bars in th' city?" He knew there were plenty of those around Pentagram, but that wasn't what the imp was implying and he fucking knew it. See how much shit has changed since your time. That meant talking about Brooklyn. He shook his head, biting his lip. Though the idea appealed to him, and he had so many questions, there were things that were limiting him.

"Ah' was miserable there. Don't know if it would be helpful or harmful t' see how much has changed and that....ah' ain't never got no taste of that." Maybe that was a selfish thing to say, but hey, it was Hell. It might hurt his heart even more to know that he had had to spend so much time hiding his identity and sneaking around, and he hadn't gotten to be out and proud. Not until Hell. "Definitely a fan of dancin' though. So if yeh' wanna hit up a bar down here, ah' ain't gonna say no. But Earth? Fuck that shit."

@moxxietude said: "You are loved, Blitz."

Those simple words hit hard, in the best way possible. Blitz turned, not having expected Moxxie to be there, but the moment he saw him? He smiled. Heart softening, body seeming to just relax, tension falling away just because Moxxie was there.

"You too, Mox." Reaching out with his tail, he lovingly brushed the spade over Moxxie's upper arm, smiling, heart in his damn throat. "You, too."

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."

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!”