Any Second Now And This Whole Hallucination Was Going To Go Up In Smoke, Or So Blitz Kept Telling Himself.

Any second now and this whole hallucination was going to go up in smoke, or so Blitz kept telling himself. Any second now, and Angel Dust wasn't going to be standing here with him, chatting him up like Angel didn't have a million better prospects. Blitz wished he hadn't started drinking already this evening, wished that he was fully sober, because he was going to need to be sober to convince anyone at all that this had actually happened.

Including himself.

He watched Angel as the man moved and ordered his drink, taking in the outfit, the poise, the pose, all of it. The spider practically oozed an inviting mix of class and danger, and that was exactly Blitz's cup of tea, even if he didn't want to admit it. He had a type, and right now, that type was just a foot or so away from him, beautiful as could be, a cotton candy killer toying with him. Engaging with Angel Dust was probably a big mistake, but fuck it. What wasn't a mistake in Hell? Angel might have eternity to screw up, but Blitz was only going to live once.

He turned fully to face him as Angel addressed him again, and this time, Blitz's smile was less awkward than his first had been. He was calm now, settling down into the fact that this was happening, and already wondering what he could do with this man to leave Angel Dust feeling half as good as he looked.

"My name's Blitz. The O is silent." He offered his hand, grinning. "And it is a pleasure to meet you. Wish I could say I've seen all of your films, but I've been on more of an anthropomorphized lesbian horse kick recently; and yes, believe it or not, I do watch it for the plots." The imp's grin was broader now, brighter, as he warmed up to the situation and to Angel. "Are you here with someone? Or can you sit with me for a while? I can tell you all about TikTok and all the good gay Earth shit I've heard about recently."

Continued for @doublejango

Angel found his eyes sparkling instantly at what the other was saying to him, a devious smirk crossing his features. He certainly wasn't on the clock right now, nor was he in the studio to be forced into Val's contract. He just wanted a night of fun, on his terms, with someone who he chose. He didn't really know why he had been drawn to the imp, other than the rumors he had heard, which the guy was now confirming.

"What in the ever-lovin' fuck is Tiktok?" Damn, he really had been in Hell too long. He was the one that hung out around the social media juncture of the Pride ring most often, and maybe he had heard Velvette in passing talk about the thing, but he tended to ignore her entirely. Or be stoned out of his mind when he was working at Vee Tower in order to just get through the day.

Either way, he shook his head, leaning against the bar top that he had approached in order to start this conversation. "Trust meh', handsome, ah' can handle mah'self just fine. Ah' know my way around a gun. Or six." Which he had cleverly tucked next to his body, as he always did. He could blow someone up if he damn wanted to, but he wouldn't put Charlie through that again. Not since the turf wars with Cherri.

He flagged down the bartender with one of his arms, leaning over the bar in a seductive enough way that he was used to. Round of his ass pushed out and barely hidden in his short shorts, chest fluff more prominent in the legitimate boob window of his top as he leaned over, kicking one heel up in earnest as he waited for the martini to be brought over. He smiled, taking it with one of his free hands, before looking over coyly at the other demon.

"Damn, yeh' clearly a fan and don't know that ah' sing?" He blinked, finding himself a stool, one leg dramatically crossed over the other as he stirred the martini with one finger. "Ah' came out with a music video not that long ago. Ah' know the producers put out some really dark shit, but it ain't all bad. Maybe yeh' should give it a shot some time. Ah' can recommend some of my lighter films." A sip of his drink.

"So, do ah' get tah' know yeh' name if yeh' know mine?"

Angel's outfit inspo

Blitz might have cooperated. He might have left her room, even though she threw the champagne. He might have waited to fuck with Betty later--because from what he remembered, and what she was demonstrating here, she was genuinely a delight to fuck with--but then she called him a mutt. It wasn't a slur, not for imps, but he heard someone call Loona that once and it had left him seeing red. Now, the heat of that word came back full-force, and Blitz's smile widened, sharpened.

"Mutt, huh? Big words from a fuckin' squatter. I mean," he folded his arms loosely, mentally tallying up how many weapons he had hidden away on himself, and which of them would do the most damage to her, "that's basically what all of you people here are, right? Just hanging out, living rent free in a princess's playhouse?" He gave a derisive snort. "And here I thought you had to be trying to be a better person if you wanted to live here. Does fucking, whatever all this is," he gestured at the blood that was, well, everywhere, "count as doing better? Cause it's a look. Definitely a look. And when I say look, I mean, holy fucking shit, Betty, what the hell is going on?" Although as he asked it, Blitz's posture softened somewhat, as did his voice. He stood a little straighter, frowning, and could feel his momentary aggression slipping away.

"What is going on? Why are you--look, I'm gonna be in the lobby. Where, you should know, they leave your keys just hanging around. If you want to talk, come find me." He sighed, gave her a sloppy little two-finger salute, and left the room. Somehow, the champagne bottle had managed not to break, so Blitz grabbed it up on his way and used a claw to uncork it as he reached the lobby. He flopped down on the couch and waited for the foam to die down--the poor champagne was half-ruined after that throw--then took a good long, tickly swallow, frowning.

What had happened in Betty's life to end her up here? She screw over one too many people with those awful damn potions?

Not that he cared.

Of course.

Why would he?

He took another long swallow.

Not only did he recognize her and judge both her appearance and style of living, but this BITCH was making himself right at home as if she hadn’t just exclaimed that the room was OCCUPIED?

Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly.

“ Whu — HEY. LEETLE SHIT WITH THE FRESH ASS MOUTH, WHO SAID YOU COULD STAY HERE? IN MY ROOM? THAT I OWN? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN GET MY KEY?! FUCKING — GREAT SERIVE HERE IN THIS RANK ASS HOTEL I SEE, OH, PHENOMENAL SECURITY AND PROTECTION! NO WONDER THIS PLACE WAS FREE. “

And now there’s two sharp tongued miscreants going off.

“ My name. Is BETTY. You stupid, uncultured FUCK.

HEY — HEYHEYHEYHEY, NYET, NYET, STOP PUTTING YOUR ALCOHOL ADDICTED SHIT DOWN. PICK IT UP, MUTT. PICK. IT. UP — you know what? I am nice, I will do it for you since you are my LOVELY guest. “

Grabbing the bucket and champagne, she then nonchalantly chucked it right out the door.

A blank stare and a period of tense silence.

“ …

Get the hell out of my room. “

"Careful? Ha! Moxxie, Careful is like, my middle name," Blitz declared with forced cheer. He started to go, but then abruptly turned back and took Moxxie by both shoulders this time. Blitz leaned down, pressing their foreheads together. "If you want them to listen, speak with authority. Stand like you already have their attention, like you know exactly what is happening--not like you're waiting for them, but like they're already late. Talk like you know they will listen, not like you hope they will. Give orders and don't answer questions. Make it a con, Moxxie. Act it out. You've got what it takes to play the part." He gave a little nudge, possibly pushing Moxxie a little off-balance, and coiled his tail around one of Moxxie's legs for a very brief moment before letting go and stepping back.

"I love you, Mox," he said, expression and voice serious before he quickly put his game-face back on, grinning and standing taller. "Now, let's go play fuckin' firemen!" He pulled two guns. "Whooo! New kink, unfuckinglocked!" It was an act, of course, he was still worried, but Blitz did it well. He took off, heading for the farthest human sleeping spot he could find, trusting that Moxxie would be fine.

Worrying that he wouldn't. But he couldn't think about that possibility right now. If he stopped to think, he might panic. And if he did that, he'd be letting Moxxie down. That, that was something Blitz couldn't do, not today.

-

Blitz knocked on the door of an RV, but when that didn't get an immediate answer, he kicked at it hard enough to cave it in. He could hear a startled yelp and shriek from inside, so he shouted, "Get up, bitches! There's a fucking wildfire coming this way. Don't wait to grab shit, just get your asses to the south side of camp. Look for a guy in a little red demon costume and do whatever he says."

"What the fuck? What fire? What do you--"

Blitz fired a shot past the man's head, intentionally missing, very intentionally getting his complete attention. "I said go."

The humans seemed to take him seriously. They stared for a moment, then burst into motion, pulling on clothing and grabbing random shit--no horse statues in sight, so Blitz wasn't sure what could be worth delaying like that for--and so he moved on to the next RV, and the next, the next. Some people were waking up on their own by then, noticing the smoke and the fire and either panicking or following the stream of other confused, frightened humans he was directing towards Moxxie.

Whenever it felt like things were taking too long, or if a cluster of too many RVs or cabins looked too daunting, Blitz used his weapons, not bothering with kicking. The shots roused far more people than anything else, and all he had to do was shout.

It was surprisingly tiring, running around a fuckin' camp like this, waking everyone and trying to get them to go that way. No, don't wait, no, don't grab anything, just go, go, go. All he could do was hope and pray that things were going well for Moxxie...

Blitz stopped for a moment and wiped sweat off his forehead, watching as a tongue of fire licked along the ground between him and the last cabin. They were closer now to where Moxxie was--or where he hoped Moxxie was, he couldn't see him through the smoke and the falling ashes, through the crowd of people near the trailhead--and he was tempted to just run over there and say screw this last dumbass. Blitz was tired--but fuck it. The job wasn't done yet. Framing it that way helped, and he hurried over to open the one last door...

But the door opened and the human ran out, holding a dog. The bulky man did a double-take at Blitz's bizarre appearance, then grabbed him and hefted him up over his shoulder. Blitz grunted.

"What the--put me down!"

"Gotta go, little buddy, there's a fire," the human shouted, and started running towards the others.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Blitz growled, but he stayed put for now, letting the caring human carry him like a sack of potatoes. At least they were heading in the right direction.

I hope Moxxie's alright. If anyone hurt him, I'm going to fucking dissect them.

Moxxie froze when he heard how serious Blitzo was, as if struck by one of those trees already in his imagination, nodding at the plan. “Yes, sir.”

This must be a dire situation of Blitzo was this worked up about it. He wrung his hands together but already he felt something wringing even tighter at his heart.

“But, s– Blitz!” he exclaimed. “What if they–” his memory of those sinners– those children. Those people people who should not have been able to even wield weapons at that age. “What if th–”

No, he had promised he wouldn’t compromise a mission again like that so he turned and looked to the encampment of endangered sinners.

“How will we get them to listen to us? Do you have a plan?”

He had to shake himself of doubts of both evil children and of Blitzo being so vulnerable to attacks and steady himself. He checked that his weapons were on hand and they were. He had a talent for hiding them. “Please be careful– those children attacked me when they knew I was an imp–” he wouldn’t usually admit he was afraid of humans like this but it was an emergency. “And those teens seemed to see I wasn’t ‘really’ a human pretty easily and they weren’t nice. 

Deep breaths, in and out. Steadying, but taking in the heady scent of burning pine trees. Looking upwards and seeing that smoke filled the sky, realizing he should head down as Blitzo commanded.

“Just please be careful…” 

"Heard yeh' are pretty good with a gun, handsome~. What else are yeh' good with, hm?" (I apologize for my son)

Although the question surprised him, considering he was pretty sure that was the Angel Dust, who could flirt with literally anyone and have them melt all over him, Blitz looked over with a grin. Hey, if someone else was going to open the door for having a fun time with innuendo, who was he to say no?

He leaned back in his chair and looked the beauty up and down. "I'm good with my hands," he said. "And I may be shit at actual innuendo, but I'm damn good with my tongue. But yeah, you know, I'm a decent shot. You need somebody--what are the kids with the TikTok addictions saying these days. Unalived? Pew-pewed? And damn, you're way prettier in person. Course," because Blitz did not know when to stop talking, ever, he just rambled on, "I haven't watched any of your new stuff from the last year or two. Your studio puts out some uh, some dark shit, huh? But your older stuff was a lot of fun. You're freaking good at acting.

"Do you sing, too?"

blitz saying he does NOT want to fuck after ozzie’s might be my favorite blitz moment in the whole show because this is a man whose relationship with sex is… kind of a mess.

he uses it as currency a lot, which could, in theory, be fine, except he’s been shown to be terrible at casual and transactional sex? some of his greatest hits feature him self-destructing at bee’s party, fucking chaz as an emotional replacement for heartfelt communication and closeness to m&m (and he looks frankly terrible and disconnected right after), or agreeing to sleep with stolas for access to the grimoire. and we all know blitz and stolas are idiots who become emotionally compromised by each other almost immediately after a single night of sex.

the most successful of these ventures (trying to get the bouncer at ozzie’s to let him in or playing along with striker’s seduction in the harvest moon festival) never actually move past flirting and into sex.

blitz thinks of sex as a ‘safe’ thing in comparison to emotional vulnerability. it’s something he’s good at the way he’s good at shooting guns. because of this, he turns every single non-familial relationship in his life towards sex. he can hug fizz after they make up but right on the heels of that he’s breaking the moment with ‘can we make out right now?’ it takes a drug induced nightmare trip before he can talk to moxxie about how much he appreciates him… wouldn’t it be so much easier to just be a voyeur of m&m’s sex life?

isn’t that closeness if he pretends hard enough, the kind of closeness that comes without all the awfulness being vulnerable with another person could potentially bring?

reaching his breaking point—which he wouldn’t have without the ghosts of relationships’ past (fizz, verosika) coming out of the woodwork to slam him and this being witnessed by stolas (current non-relationship relationship)—is him being unable to hold the defensive shell he carries around himself one iota longer. Dropping it means being able to look someone he cares about in the eye and saying ‘sex is not enough on its own for me. sex, in this way, might actually be damaging for me.’

not necessarily pertinent to the point of this post, but: the someone he tells this to listens. there is a positive outcome for blitz when he does engage in the act of emotional vulnerability that he’s been so successful in avoiding with, well, sex. it’s also very clear that stolas understands him better after he opens up this way.

The day had been long, the business darker than usual, and Crimson had almost forgotten that he had an appointment with a new Overlord. How she managed to leave the Pride ring, he didn't know, but rumors of that--and her inability to handle herself with any sort of dignity--had been circling. There were plenty of people who wanted her dead, and he was inclined to agree. Sinners didn't belong in any of the other rings. She belonged in Pride, where she damn well belonged. This evening was intended to be a good time to knock her off and ensure she respawned in the hands of someone who could, and would, extract every damn thing she knew from her, and find out how she had wiggled her way out of the rules. Crimson had the blessing of the other Families in this; no one had a problem with eradicating some little lost lamb from Pride. No one wanted that kind of filth here. No one wanted to be reminded of the ugly truths that came along with it.

But as he walked into the drawing room, tired and sore and ready to just get a drink and relax in a hot bath, he was brutally reminded of her presence as she went feral on one of his guys. Crimson might have said something, might had intervened, but he knew the one she was beating on. Harrell had a bad habit of not keeping his hands to himself, and while no one was ever safe in this town, while everyone was fair game for murder, that didn't mean they should act like animals towards the ladies. So, rather than try to break anything up, he leaned in the doorway, jacket held over a shoulder, his other hand holding a cigar, and just smoked and watched as she beat his employee to death.

"Boss!" the other shark said, realizing he was there. "We didn't do nothing!"

"Mmhmm. Sure. And I'm the Queen of Gluttony." Crimson flicked his hand at the man, sending him out of the room, and nodded towards Betty. "Don't stop on my account. Finish him off, then we'll sit and talk." He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and then settled comfortably to sit and watch and see how this woman killed someone, fascinated. Now that he was seeing her, Crimson's mind was--changing, to say the least. Sure, it was still obscene for a Sinner to be down here, but this Sinner...

This Sinner just might be something special after all.

Being invited over to NOTAMAFIA TOWN could only mean one thing — BUSINESS INQUIRIES.

Betty boredly took a glance out the window of the busted helicopter, raising a brow at the UNGODLY SCENERY BELOW. It seemed primarily ran by MAFIA-ESQUED IMPS AND SHARKS — definitely to be expected. Just as the OVERUSE OF DRUGS, ALCOHOL, AND KILLING was expected as well.

This place reminded her of HOME — SAVAGE, RUTHLESS, DANGEROUS, AND DOWNRIGHT UNLAWFUL. Here, you could get away with JUST ABOUT ANYTHING WITH NO REPERCUSSIONS — unless you directly FUCKED WITH THE MAFIA HOUSE. Betty could respect this, as someone who grew up in a CUT THROAT, RAG TAG FAMILY HERSELF — GOD HELP WHOEVER TARGETED A MEMBER OF THE SHAVALI KOMPANYA.

What she didn’t like was the PRYING EYES STALKING HER AS SOON AS SHE STEPPED OUT INTO THE SMOKEY AIR. The SHARP GRINS were not of a friendly manner — but CONNIVING AND DEVIOUS. THE WARLORD’S CLAWS CRACKED AND FLEXED, PUMPING BLACK BLOOD FASTER IN HER BODY TO PREPARE HER MAGIC ATTACKS. If anything goes wrong and the meeting is a bust, at least she’d have her way BLUDGEONING A FEW CREEPS ON THE WAY OUT TO BLOW OFF PENT UP STEAM.

—

It didn’t last until that long.

Just being in the living room of the imp’s mansion gave her the most UNSETTLED feeling in her gut. Two sharks kept eyeing her up, getting closer and closer until one of them DARED to put his hand on her TENSE shoulder.

“ Heya, toots…can’t help but notice those CLAWS of yours ~ . “

“ If you do not get your RANCID FUCKING PAW off of me, THESE CLAWS ARE GOING SOMEPLACE WHERE THE SUN DOES NOT SHINE. “

The shark merely shook his head in disbelief, this time TOWERING ABOVE HER WITH A DARKENED GLINT IN HIS EYES.

“ The fuck didja’ say to me, WALKING CORPSE? You wanna DIE A SECOND TIME? “

Typical. She was a new Overlord, her name wasn’t SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE YET. These poor saps have no idea what’s coming.

Puffing on her cigar heavily, Betty turned to leave — until she felt the shark’s hand deliver a prompt SLAP to her ass. WITH KNUCKLES GRIT AND HER TEMPER BOILING, Betty spun around and JAMMED HER CIGAR STRAIGHT INTO HIS EYEBALL FULL FORCE, DIGGING HER CLAWS INTO THE BACK OF HIS SKULL AND SLAMMING IT DOWN ONTO THE GLASS TABLE BELOW. THE GLASS SHATTERED WITH BRUTE FORCE, THE CIGAR PENETRATING THROUGH THE BACK OF HIS HEAD LIKE A STAKE AS IT COLLIDED WITH THE BLOODIED FLOOR.

The warlord failed to notice Crimson walking in, too busy PUMMELING THE DEAD SHARK’S FACE INTO THE GROUND IN RAPID FIRE SUCCESSION, TEETH AND BRAIN MATTER FLYING.

@doublejango