Copyslut Bitch? Copyslut Bitch? Blitz Didn't Think He Had Ever Actually Been Insulted In A Way He Liked

Copyslut bitch? Copyslut bitch? Blitz didn't think he had ever actually been insulted in a way he liked more. The way the doppelganger said it gave him a bizarre and sudden hit of dopamine, and he wanted to give him a thumbs-up or at least tell him he was a good boy for that one, but it was too late. Everything happened so quickly, that asshole grabbed him and--

Shit, shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!

Broken glass was suddenly exploding all around them, and no matter how furious Blitz was at the audacity of whoever the fuck this was, because how fucking dare someone dress up like him? A protective instinct kicked in. This fucker was probably still an imp, even if he was under some kind of disguise, and with that glass falling--Blitz gripped the other him, rolling with him as they smashed through the mirrors. And, albeit awkwardly, he pulled his jacket up and over the other's guys face.

"Close your fucking eyes!" he snapped, holding him maybe a little too tightly--legs wrapped around hips that felt weirdly familiar, tail snaking in hard around the other's thighs, his other arm focused on holding the jacket over both of their faces. All around them, more mirrors were breaking, the funhouse floor having shaken just a little too much with the force of their attacks. Glass burst and shattered, and Blitz tried to hold this fucking asshole as close as he could, wanting to protect him--and blissfully unaware just how ironic it was to want to protect someone he had just attacked.

"Listen, just, fuck, fucking like, chill, okay?" As if he himself hadn't been the one to start causing the problems in the first place. "I mean, fuck you," he grunted, their faces way too close together, "but let's try not to fucking bleed to death in our sexy fucking suits, huh?" At least the cascades of breaking glass seemed to be ending, but holy shit they had set off a damn domino effect.

There was some yelling coming from outside--great. Fuck. With a groan, Blitz let go of--of-- Blitz Prime? Glowering at him, he bared his teeth and got to his feet. "I'm still going to kick your ass, but let's get the fuck out of here before someone comes in and tries to make us fucking pay for this shit." He offered his hand, frowning hard, hating this, but absolutely not about to let any of this circus fucks get their grubby little claws into his bank account.

Or their bank account--the guy smelled exactly like him, and looked like him, and sounded like him, and--fuck. Whatever. This was fine. Everything was fucking fine.

【𐂃】 What the actual fuck — did he roast himself back?! He knew his mirror image wasn't mimicking him correctly, but his counterattack echoes threw him for loop. Taken aback, confounded, thinking this had to be some kind of prank. It was too unorthodox, it had to have been? It would accommodate with a funhouse's concept.

❝ wait, wha— ? ❞ words were abruptly ceased when the two made head-to-head impact. Prompting his eyes to render shut with gritting fangs as his body went tumbling backwards. Barreling a few summersaults against the ground for a couple of feet before landing with a heavy THUD. Letting out a snarling "COPYSLUT BITCH" as he quickly sat up. Pissed beyond comprehension.

❝ Now you've done it. THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!? Y' wanna put on a shitshow then fuckin' do it! but leave my FACE out of it. I AIN'T GOT TIME FOR SILLY CHARADES. ❞ Hell, he didn't even pay for any of this shit. In fact... he didn't know HOW he got here. One thing is certain -- he wasn't going to take his "doppleganger"s actions lightly. ❝ I don't care how GREAT your magic is. PLAY STUPID GAMES WIN STUPID PRIZES DUMBASS! ❞ springing back to his feet he immediately took the initiative to charge right back. Grabbing hold of their waistline as he ram their back into the mirrors behind them. Sending the two tussling in the midst of raining shattered shards.

Whoever this copycat was -- he was about to find out how FERAL he can be, because nobody held more hate for Blitzø than Blitzø himself. He had to face his inner demons, himself, constantly day by day. If they wanted a fight, they certainly picked the perfect form to peak his bloodlust.

"Not at all. I never open a can of worms unless I wish to see them squirm," Vepar answered, unable to stop smiling. Vox loved them! He loved them, clearly loved them, and so this was all worth it. "And they do indeed. As far as each shark is concerned, they are in an environment they've always known--the temperatures, the salinity, the types of food, even the angle of the light they perceive. It has been... a complicated bit of magic to pull off," he said, well-aware that he probably sounded like an ass for putting it that mildly, immediately blushing, "but well worth while. They are from different oceans, and some..." He nodded towards a massive shadow far off to the side. "Such as that giant, no longer exist on Earth. Still others never have at all, but evolved all the same in other worlds.

"And just as the sharks experience their own physical realities, so does each guest. Even if there are a hundred Sinners in this particular exhibit, they'll only see the party they come in with; every group will have a staff member with them, of course, to ensure safety--for the sharks. No offense intended, of course, but I don't particularly care if one of my sweetlings takes a bite out of a Sinner for misbehavior.

"Each party is always in their own pocket of reality, so this can be an escape from the... rather crowded confines of Hell, at least for a little while... No, my love. Let go of my finger. Thank you." A disappointed little chain catshark swam up and settled onto Vepar's arm instead. He stroked it idly. "And while I am delighted to share this with you, I won't pretend not to want something from you in return, Vox, nor will I wait to spring it on you at the end. I do not... anticipate my own death happening anytime soon. But if it does? I do not want this place to fall into the hands of just anyone. If you are amenable, I would like you to be my heir. It will take some doing, of course, for me to create the necessary magic that will prove self-sustaining and yet malleable by your will, but I will gladly craft such a thing if you will consider accepting it.

"And that is it. That is all I hope to gain from you: assurance that if I am killed, you will do your best to care for this place. The magic and the funding will be provided for, but the creatures within? They require not just care, but caring. Love. An eye to notice if one is ailing. Even if you were only able to stop by for a brief while each night... it would be a comfort to me, to know that there is someone who understands--inherently understands... how beautiful all of these lives are.

"You needn't answer now, of course. There is much more to see. But I do not wish to--leave you wondering when the proverbial trap will be sprung, or the pitch made.

"While you consider... do you shapeshift? Or would you enjoy being shifted? I thought we might swim with them, take on their forms for a while. Conversation will not be possible, but it might be... pleasant? To taste and feel the ocean as they do."

There’s a first time for everything, Vox reflects, apparently even being bowed to by a Goetia. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but otherwise takes it with as much grace as he can muster in the moment. Already this particular bird has leapt to the top of his list for the handful of Goetia he’s dealt with thus far (not that it was hard, as the few he’s met were generally pompous stuffy sticks-in-the-mud who felt that they could demand very niche shows out of his networks).

Such polite behavior is a rare commodity in hell, and Vox will admit that after seventy or so years he’s been guilty of stooping below on more than a few occasions. Sometimes it’s all other sinners respond to. But moments like these pull out the natural businessman in him, and he thinks that he’s going to get along with Vepar just fine. Even if it turns out to be an act– well, he can appreciate someone who understands the power of basic respect.

Vox tilts his head back to the waiting car. “Hey, Jordan. Free food, or do you want to head home for the night?” he calls.

The driver seems to consider this for a moment before stepping out of the car, revealing herself to be a muscle-bound Sinner of mostly humanoid shape, bar the miniature stoplight that takes the place of her head. The bottom light flashes green, resembling a half-lidded eye with its movements.

“Cool. Enjoy yourself, then. No need to wait up on me.”

The pair of them leave Jordan behind in the lobby, with Vox only lingering on the reef for a moment. He doesn’t want to hold Vepar up from whatever he has planned, but he shamelessly casts his gaze around to take everything in. The candles in particular make his processors stutter for a fraction of a second, the barest flicker of his screen. Were this anyone else but a Goetia, Vox would place a substantial bet on the individual in question wanting to either fuck him or kill him. (Or both.)

He supposes both options are still technically on the table, but he’ll give Vepar the benefit of the doubt for the moment.

Though the comment Vepar makes about seeming forward does seem to tick the needle in favor of the former. Vox listens patiently, his gaze bouncing between the tank and his companion.

...Offering a hand to help him down also adds another point to the ‘fuck’ category. Vox is rarely on the receiving end of such gestures, but hey, he can work with it–

The moment he’s underwater, Vox gives a yelp that is rather unbecoming of an Overlord with as much power as he holds.

It’s a fleeting second of mostly shock, not even lasting long enough for a proper fear to set in. None of his sensors are screaming; there is no water rushing into his hollowed-out corpse seeking to corrupt the electronic components within.

There is no freezing lakewater rushing into his lungs, no television tied to his ankle to assure his descent to the depths-

No warning of imminent shutdown.

He is fine.

Well–he is fine, apart from the abrupt understanding of something he had been warned about many times before and never truly understood until now.

This was what they meant when they said Goetia were more powerful than sinners. Here his companion holds the power to drown Vox, to render him stuck and unable to regenerate for as long as he wished. Nevermind the consequences that would follow: for Vox, being submerged was second only to angelic weaponry itself. No hope of escaping on his own, no awareness, not even a subconscious mind to immerse himself in in the interim; just pure nonexistence.

Instead... Vepar uses it to show him sharks.

...Huh. He hasn’t been humbled like this in quite some time; at least not in a way that he’s willing to admit to himself.

“...Holy shit,” Vox mumbles. His eyes are enormous, filling up most of the screen, and it takes him a moment to remember himself, to find his foothold as an Overlord again. “Apologies for my language.”

“...Heloise.” Lovely. Fuck, he fucking loves hammerheads and their goofy-ass heads. A small smile fights for screen real estate with his eyes, winning out the battle for a space at the bottom. “No harm, you have my word.”

He follows Vepar’s movements, his hand held out and still, claws relaxed. He won’t reach for any that come by, but allow them to come to him if they choose– and some of them do, such as the black-tipped reef that seems as fascinated by Vox as he is by it. Oh, he loves it. He fucking loves it.

He’s unaware of his smile pushing bigger, sincere in a way that had become rather rare for him.

“This is… kind of amazing? I mean. Not kind of, just amazing. Full stop.” Vox laughs, his fans kicking up speed a notch. “Shit, I’m usually better with words than this.”

When the black-tipped reef noses against him, his haptic sensors register the roughness of the skin. Vox can’t help but marvel. After all, this is the first time he’s ever actually touched one–well, one from topside, anyway.

Not many chances to touch sharks in fucking Ohio.

“...You know, I can’t believe you think this wouldn’t appeal to more sinners. All the magic and beauty aside, most of them would jump at the opportunity to see things from their old lives, or even to see things they never got the chance to in life. This place could be packed tomorrow with the right advertising, if you wanted.”

Maybe he doesn’t. Vox would understand that; he already feels a deep-seated satisfaction in his bones, having not only this experience but in private with the man who’d made the whole thing possible. No other racous patrons around to disrupt the view, cracking crude jokes, tapping on the glass and doing whatever the hell else the worst of sinners down here could do in a place like this. He’d freely admit to the part of him that wants to sink his claws into the building foundations and never let it go. No one else would –could– appreciate it like he would.

But he also likes a crowd. And moreso, Vox loves being the intermediary, the educator, the entertainer. The person to introduce others to the next big thing, to show them something new, to point them to the experience that would put a light in their eyes and a smile on their face. Not the artist, necessarily, but the curator.

And oh, would Vox happily do that for this. Easily, willingly, paid for in the entertainment value he’d get and maybe garnering some goodwill with Vepar if he’s lucky. The whole of Pride Ring would seethe with jealousy if they knew just how quickly the Duke of Loss had been able to gain Vox’s approval–no, his enthusiasm, even.

“All these species from different parts of the world… How do they all live together? Do they all experience different temperatures and salinity? Are there any ecosystem conflicts you have to account for?”

“...I have so many questions. I hope you don’t regret opening up that can of worms.”

Although from some people, being patted on the head might feel offensive, or make Blitz grumbled, he closed his eyes and pressed his head up against Deadpool's hand when he did it. This guy, something about him just always, always set the imp at ease. He cherished him and trusted him, and maybe he was an idiot for that, but it felt good to trust someone. It felt good to be touched, so easily and gently, and he knew that if he ever could? He would do anything it took to help this guy.

"Honestly? I've been better," Blitz admitted, rubbing his cheek on Wade's arm as they headed into the building. "I kind of fucked everything up with my--fuck, I can't even say boyfriend. My situationship? And have been trying to deal with what a shitty asshole I am, and like, do better and shit. It's been... hard. Really hard. Having that... you know, last sense of denial ripped away, where you can't even pretend to believe in yourself anymore? It sucks." Once they were inside, he poked around, looking for any plates clean enough to set the bagels out on--there were a few different kinds of fillings, so Blitz cut all of them in half, so they could both try all of them.

"What about you? What's got you so introspective? And believe me, I am gonna do my best to stay outta your prime universe from here on out. Daredevil might not kill people, but mother-fucker he takes you goddamn close, doesn't he?"

Deadpool was having war flash backs when the Imp talked about Daredevil. He had also tried to kill that man for a bounty a few times and those few times he had gotten his ass beaten granted those were in his old days and he was more experince fighter now but, still. He shivered at the thought.

"I would love to hang out bud but, I told you stay out of my prime universe. It's shit show. It's why I left. Don't....fight anyone from there. Most them are assholes and KIND of strong. Let's eat these lunch and let me fix you up. I got some medkits at the apartment just encase." He patted the top of Blitz's head softly.

"Still thanks for coming to hang out. I am....Ok? I think. I been thinking alot of stuff lately. Been....getting treated better but, I don't know I am still struggling alot. How are you doing? And be real with me. I am not gonna judge." He spoke out as he walked Blitz into his building.

Do you ship Pesto and Moo Deng?

Blitz snorted in cheerful amusement. "Aren't they like, babies or something? Seems a little early to ship anyone. And listen, after Antarctica I'm not sure we should trust Pesto. His parents probably engineered him to keep growing so he can just eat people in a single fuckin' bite, mark my words. Penguins are something else. That precious little hippo deserves so much better.

"That being said..." He twirled a pencil over his fingers. Pencils were great. No wonder they made antibionics out of them. "If those two fall in love, more power to 'em. Forbidden love ain't all bad.

That gentle little boop damn near knocked the imp over, he was that unsteady on his feet. He'd been beaten to near unconsciousness earlier, fucked hard enough and long enough that he had begged him to stop--without using their safe-word, but he had been damn close-- and his back caned harder still. Even before the fight, Blitz had been exhausted--he had actually curled up and cried on someone, much to his fucking shame, as he came up out of subspace. Thankfully, she didn't know that, but he was on his last legs, the fight--and the wound--having taken a lot out of him.

Her being kind? That was almost too much to handle. Blitz met her eyes, searching them, trying to understand--why? She could get some pleasure from him, be served by him, and never have to look his way again, so why was she bothering? But when he finally let himself look down at his chest--and his ruined shirt, fuck, he had loved that fucking shirt--he felt sick. Thankfully, the blade had hit his sternum, but it had opened a significant laceration in his chest. Muscle and skin gaped open, and while it didn't fully hurt yet, it was a cold sensation, deeply cold.

"Yeah," he said, and pressed a hand against the damaged flesh, trying to hold it shut, "that actually might be a good idea... thank you." Looking up again, he met her eyes once more.

They were beautiful.

Really, really beautiful.

Whatever she was, whoever she was, she was stunning.

"My name's Blitz," he said, his voice soft, smile softer still. Tired, hurting, he still looked like he meant it when he smiled at her, like he couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. For all of this shit. I'm gonna owe you more than head by the time this is all over, babe."

Though she did her best for it not to register upon her face, Visage couldn't contain the faint crease of her brow at the Goetia's rather condescending choice of words. This wasn't an unfamiliar tone to her--the thinly-veiled message of 'you're doing well ... for a hellhound' seemed to color a great many of the meetings she had had thus far with many of her 'peers'. Considering where the Ars Goetia stood upon the proverbial totem pole, she honestly should have seen it coming. Her mixed heritage did little to dull the sting of their judgment, however, when the other half didn't rank much higher. At the end of the day, she was just some hellborn mutt 'putting on airs' and swinging above her weight class, in the eyes of those who thought so little of her. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she pointedly replied, "Oh, I'll be there. Don't you worry." Try as she might, she couldn't keep that venomous edge from her voice. In the end it didn't much matter, as the avian was quick to take his leave not long after, whisking away the injured sinner to who knew where. Somewhere safe was all that Visage hoped. A faint sigh escaped her as she watched Vepar go. Blitz's voice snapped her back to reality, though, giving him a thin lopsided smile. "Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. Hellborn Overlords aren't usually, like ... a thing. Buuuut that's a long and not-all-that-interesting story that can wait for another time. You, though..." Slipping in to swiftly close the space between the imp and herself, the she-wolf leaned down and paused to playfully boop him upon his face where a nose would normally be. "...look like shit. You don't owe me squat 'til we get you taken care of." Standing back to her full height her expression softened visibly. "You wanna 'pay me back', then start by comin' with me back to my place. I got plenty of first aid supplies and we can get that cleaned up in a jiffy."