Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You know, I checked the scale today, and it said I lost two pounds this week." 

Loona and Jake briefly looked up from their phones, exchanged a look, and shrugged before looking down again. 

The indifference infuriated Moxxie even further. "I'm not fat!" 

Striker took a sip of coffee. 

"Ye know, Mox, scales can't be fully relied on. They measure both fat and muscle without tellin' them apart. Those lost two pounds ye lost might as well be muscle."

"If that's your attempt at making me feel better, you're fired." 

Jake jumped as the door was slammed—or rather, kicked—open, and an enraged Millie came in. 

But not the 'usual' angry. 

She was pissed. 

Striker made the intelligent decision to step out of her way as Millie pressed the nut button and mauled the human-shaped dummy with claws and teeth. 

"What's up with Millie today?"

"Leave her be for now, kiddo. There ain't nothin' more deadly than a pissed-off woman." Striker murmured quickly. "Especially if we're talkin' about Mildred." 

"Millie, honey..." Moxxie hesitated. "Everything okay?" 

Millie responded with an angry hiss but eventually calmed down enough to speak coherently. 

"Yeah... Just... Bumped into an ex!" she growled, tail rattling much like Striker and Jake's—minus the rattling. Striker took another sip of coffee. That explains it. "He just kept going on about how he has money now, a bright future, and a bigger cock!"

Jake laughed, only to get a smack on the back of his head.

"Every time I see his stupid face I can't help it, I just need to...!" With an angry shriek, Millie knocked down the nearest thing: a cabinet full of photos.

"What the fuck is that noise?! I got a client!" 

Jake knelt to pick up some photos spread all over the floor, and Striker quickly snatched them before he could see their contents. 

"Daad!" 

"I told ya, kiddo. None of this until ye're older." Striker told his son sternly. 

"What is that, anyway?" 

Blitzo reacted to Striker's frown with a nervous laugh as he snatched the picture from his grasp.

"Research... for science!" He said. Striker raised an eyebrow. "Just put it back correctly, okay? I alphabetized them." 

With that, Blitzo returned to his office, leaving his employees to pick up the 'research.' All except for Jake, of course, who went back to his phone instead. 

...Until he heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter chopping outside. Looking up, he saw said aircraft hovering right outside the window.

"Dad...?"

The helicopter fired a hook against the wall and tore it down, leaving a big hole in its wake. Striker sighed, murmuring that perhaps they should add a 'use the fucking door' sign one of these days. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, the newfound wind flew all of Blitzo's research out of the office and unto the street below, to his dismay.

A platform extended into the office from the helicopter, and a green demon shark—probably the pilot judging from his attire—stepped out of the aircraft.

"I.M.P? Right this way, please!"

"Blitz. Explanation now." Striker growled as he and the others pulled out their weapons. 

"Not a worry, Strikes. It's just some fancy schmuck from Greed wanting to do business with us."

Reluctantly, Striker climbed onto the platform after his colleagues, warning Jake behind him to be careful. The teen gulped. It's a long fall from here.

Striker was the first to enter the helicopter and sat in the middle next to Millie. "Mind if I sit here? I'm not... fond of travellin' on these." 

"I didn't know you were afraid of heights, Striker." 

"I ain't afraid of heights, Mildred. I'm afraid of these pieces of junk malfunctionin' and crashin' down with me inside. Jake, don't forget to buckle up yer..." Striker didn't finish as he realized his seatbelt was broken. "That's it. I'm gettin' off."

"Oh, no, you don't!" Blitzo pushed Striker back into the seat, closing the door behind him. "That schmuck wanted all of I.M.P., so get your ass down!"

Jake realized that his seatbelt wasn't in good condition either. 

"Hey, is this thing safe?" he asked the pilots. 

"Don't worry. We're professionals!" 

The way they flew the aircraft through buildings on the way to the elevator said otherwise. 

Jake never imagined seeing his father in such a state: Striker was stiff the entire flight and would cringe and look outside whenever the helicopter caught turbulence or creaked in the silence. He didn't even care about Blitzo taking photos of his 'scaredy-Strikes' face, as he dubbed it. 

In the end, Millie resorted to breathing exercises with Striker to help him calm down. 

Jake had never been to Greed before. He'd only seen glimpses of it in photos from his parents' past jobs or old mafia movies. His eyes widened at the endless shades of green and countless factories as the helicopter flew out of the elevator. Down below, he saw dozens of Imps working on rebuilding Loo Loo Land, dumping toxic waste in the waters, or engaging in mafia activities.

They flew by a sign soon after. 

Notamafia Town

No mafia here! We're mafia free!

Jake scoffed. Yeah, right.

Moxxie took a peek out the window and winced. "Ugh. I hate this place."

"Oh, yeah. This is your old stomping ground, isn't it, Mox?" 

"I thought ye were from Wrath," Jake commented.

"I was born in Wrath but grew up just over there." Moxxie pointed out the window to a particular house on the less contaminated edges of town. "Swore, I'd never come back and..." the thespian trailed off when the helicopter headed right in said direction. "Where are we going?"

Jake stared in awe at the big manor as the chopper descended. Striker sighed in relief as the aircraft's engine finally stopped. 

Ironically, Moxxie was close to having a panic attack as Blitzo shoved him out of the helicopter. 

"Wow. It's a nice house, Moxxie. Hey, Dad, did ye and Mom come here before?" 

"Not to this house, but we did off a few people 'round here." Striker coughed a bit. Damn, this is why he never liked Greed. Even Dis was far cleaner than this junkyard. 

"There he is!" Jake stepped closer to his father just as an imp in a suit and black hat walked out of the manor. 

Striker sore he might have been looking at an older, taller, and shadier-looking version of Moxxie. Even his voice sounded like Moxxie's, if only a bit deeper and with an Italian accent. He had no freckles; instead, he had white marks around his eyes. 

"Is my boy!" the Imp spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Get over here and give your daddy a hug!" 

"Daddy?" 

Striker looked at Moxxie, then at the newcomer. Yeah, that explains the resemblance.

"I only let Moxxie call me that... unless you pay me!"

Moxxie coughed uncomfortably. "Guys... This is my father, Crimson. Sir, this is my boss Blitz, my coworker Striker and his son Jake—"

"Son?" Jake hid behind his father as Crimson lay his curious eyes on him. "Aren't you a bit too young to be in this kind of biz?" 

"He's been comin' along with me since he was five." Striker clarified. To his surprise, Crimson laughed. 

"So he started from a young age! That's good. Better to begin training early so they'll get used to it." 

With the littlest bit of apprehension, Millie reached out a hand. "I'm Millie. I'm Moxxie's wife."

"And what a beautiful wife you are." Crimson planted a gentlemanly kiss on her hand. "Mox, why have you been hiding this pretty little thing?"

"Oh, I'm sure he would have introduced us... eventually." 

"Oh, I'm sure." Crimson walked over to Striker and eyed the cowboy from horns to toes. "You must be the pale assassin, right?"

"I haven't been called that for a long time, sir." 

"I have heard many good things about you, especially from a certain... colleague of yours in the Deadly Court."

Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie looked at Striker in shock. Jake looked up at him in confusion. 

"Deadly..." Moxxie swallowed hard. "The Deadly Court? As in, Hell's top ten assassins?"

"I'll fucking kill you, Striker! Why did you never tell me?!" Blitzo snapped, to which Striker ran a hand through his hair. 

"T-That's..." Striker cleared his throat awkwardly. "That ain't somethin' I like braggin' about." 

"There's no need for modesty, Striker." Crimson wrapped an arm around the cowboy's shoulder. "You still have quite a name for yourself here, sir. I hope Moxxie has been learning from a top-tier assassin of your category." 

Moxxie winced, which didn't go unnoticed by Striker. 

"With all due respect, sir, Mox here is a talented assassin in his terms." the snake imp said firmly, meeting Crimson's gaze defiantly. 

Again, to his surprise, the mobster laughed and gave him a small punch on the shoulder. 

"I like your attitude!" Crimson gestured towards the open doorway. "Well, I hope you're all hungry. We put together a fabulous dinner for you."

Striker hurriedly took Jake's hand before walking into the house. The living room was just like a typical mobster lair: creepy fireplace, a bar, and hanging trophies—imp horns, hellhound collars, and shark demon teeth—decorating the wall. 

"Dad, what's the Deadly Court?" Jake inquired curiously. 

Striker sighed. "See, pup... It's a group of mercenaries from the seven rings of Hell."

"Not just any mercenaries, boy. They're the top dogs of Hell's top dogs, banes of Overlords and bluebloods. There's only ten, and your daddy is one of them." Crimson explained.

Jake's eyes lit up. "Really? That's cool!"

The party proceeded to sit down. Jake glanced uncomfortably at the two shark demons on both sides of the door. What are they here for? 

Are they making sure no one comes in... or leaves?

"So, Striker, how did you become the first Imp to join the Deadly Court?" 

Striker reluctantly accepted the drink Crimson offered. He certainly needed a drink, especially after noticing Blitzo's 'you owe me an explanation' glare. 

"It was an accident of sorts. My... predecessor tried to get a little too frisky with my wife, and I put a bullet in his skull. I didn't know he was part of the Deadly Court till the others kidnapped me." he explained.

Crimson sat in the opposite chair. "Sounds like them, alright." 

"What are we doing here, sir?" Moxxie inquired warily. 

"Moxxie, I raised you better than that. You know there's no business before dinner. Besides," Crimson exhaled some smoke from his cigar. "We're still waiting on three more." 

Almost on cue, there was a knock on the door. One of the shark goons opened the door.

"Sorry for the delay, Crimson. I had to make a small detour—"

Striker choked on his drink. 

That voice!

No fucking way.

In the door stood an Imp dressed in wealthy Western attire—including a matching black hat—white sideburns, and a mustache. 

"Gustav?!" 

"What the—?! You!" Gustav pointed a harsh finger at Striker. "The fuck are you doing—?!"

The landlord stopped mid-sentence as he lay eyes on Jake... his grandson. 

Jake showed no interest in the older Imp, though. Instead, he was looking at the young Imp next to him: a girl about his age with short black hair and a beak-like face similar to Blitzo's. 

"Grandpa? Are you okay?" she asked Gustav.

Striker smacked his forehead. "I swear, of all the things in Hell..."

"I beg your pardon. You know each other?" Crimson asked. 

"Unfortunately, yes. He's my father-in-law." 

Millie blinked. "Father-in-law?"

"My mom's father," Jake said.

"In name only," Striker muttered.

Jake's voice seemed to snap Gustav out of his daze. He stepped closer to the impling, looking at him like he'd found a holy grail. He was about to touch his head when a barbed tail smacked his hand away.

It was Striker's.

"Get yer filthy hands away from my son, Gustav." 

"How dare you?! Should I remind you that he's my grandson?!" Gustav retorted indignantly.

"How curious. I don't remember ye ever showin' any interest in yer 'grandson.'

"You never let me!" 

"Perhaps if ye hadn't been such a shitty father—!"

"Crimson, would you mind explaining why this lowlife hitman is here?!" 

Blitzo came up in Striker's defense. "Chill out, old man! You don't want to mess up a member of the Deadly Court!" 

Crimson cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, please refrain from killing each other inside my house." the mobster looked at the landlord. "Gustav, Striker is part of the company my son works for." 

"Right, I should have known this uneducated dipshit wouldn't be able to find a respectable occupation." 

Striker rattled his tail. "Define 'respectable,' ye pompous, misogynist piece of horse shit." he hissed.

"Hello." Jake jumped. The girl had sneaked behind the sofa and was looking curiously at him. "I'm Alice. What's your name?" 

"J-Jake..." 

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, so you're my cousin Jake? Grandpa is always talking about you!" 

Jake glanced at Gustav skeptically. He and dad had to be held back by one of Crimson's goons and Blitzo to stop them from going all out on each other. 

The door was kicked open. 

"Woo-ho-hoo!" A tall, lanky shark demon in an expensive-looking suit stepped in. "What is up, party people?!"

"Chaz?!" Moxxie and Millie exchanged incredulous looks. "Wait, what?!"

"You know him?"

"Ugh! You remember that ex I was talking about?"

The shark demon known as Chaz approached Millie and Moxxie from behind to pull them into a one-sided hug, unknowingly shoving Jake and Alice aside.

"Looks like I got two big sex reunions today. How lucky am I?" 

"No way! You two dated him?!" Alice inquired.

"Not at the same time!" Moxxie clarified.

Chaz laughed. "Yeah, no big deal, but I usually bone half the people in any room I'm in—"

"Are you fucking kidding me? There's someone who's fucked both of you?!" Blitzo snapped. "What's next? Will Striker's ex show up too?"

"Jane was the only woman in my life, Blitz." 

"Doubt that," Gustav murmured. He was unprepared for Striker's boot stomping hard on his tail.

"It was a long time ago." 

"But I still remember it like it was yesterday. You, a fledgling mafioso, and me, the dashing and extremely sexy muscle. It was like... like it was written in the stars." 

Blitzo laughed. "Moxxie in the mafia, that's fucking rich..."

Striker made him a gesture to shut up and look at the trophies above the fireplace, silently saying, 'where the fuck do ye think those came from?'

A second knock on the door. Yet another pair of shark goons came in carrying an enormous, heavy-looking back. 

A shiver ran down Jake's spine when he noticed an Imp's tail sticking out from the bag.

A long, pale-colored snake demon with a poncho-like cloak, western hat, and yellow-ringed eyes followed suit.

This time, Striker spat his drink—'conveniently' aiming at Gustav's face. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Deathslinger?!" 

"You know him?!" Moxxie and Blitzo blurted out.

Deathslinger ignored Striker for the time being and walked over to Crimson. Jake swore he was going to throw up as the serpent handed the mob boss a pair of bloodied horns with scalp and all.

"It's done. I figured I'd save you the trouble of taking off his horns this time." 

Crimson accepted the offering stoically. "Nicely done as always, Deathslinger. Expect your payment in your account by tomorrow." Deathslinger tipped his hat. 

"A pleasure doing business with you." His job complete, Deathslinger finally acknowledged Striker's presence. "It's been a while, Striker." 

"Please don't tell me that's your ex."

Deathslinger raised an eyebrow at Blitzo. "Excuse me?" 

"No, Blitz, that's..." Striker rubbed his temple, sighing. "That's Deathslinger, a colleague from the Deadly Court—"

He didn't get to finish as Blitzo shoved him aside to go fawn over the newcomer and bombard him with questions. 

Alice whispered into Jake's ear. "Wanna get out of here?" 

"Please! This already feels like a family reunion of sorts." Jake retorted in a low voice. 

The two implings snuck away from the living room into the corridor. Thankfully the walls were devoid of 'trophies.'

Jake couldn't shake off the feeling that one of the shark goons was keeping an eye on them. Turning around, he realized that one had followed them into the corridor—the red-eyed shark always by Crimson's side. 

Is he making sure they wouldn't break anything? 

"That guy gives me the creeps." 

"That's just Alessio, Mr. Crimson's consigliere. You'll rarely see them apart." Alice whispered quickly. She waved a hand at the shark, smiling. 

Alesio didn't even blink but gave the teen a small nod.

"You know him?" 

"He always accompanies Mr. Crimson when visiting Grandpa in Wrath. Sometimes he takes his kids Pietro and Giulia along too. He's not that bad; he's good at listening." 

"I guess he does give that impression..." Jake looked around. "Have ye ever been here?"

"Not really. Grandpa doesn't like bringing my sister or me to 'business meetings.' He only brought me because I snuck into his car." 

"Ye did?"

"He had promised he'd spend the day with us today, but he forgot 'cause he had to come here." 

"Does he forget often?" 

Alice looked down sourly. "Most of the time." 

Jake frowned in the living room direction and decided to change the topic.

"I didn't know I had a cousin. Dad never talks about Mom's family." 

"You mean my Aunt Jane? What was she like? Is it true she once won a rodeo against Grandpa's wishes? That's all he talks about sometimes." Jake was somewhat taken aback by Alice's growing excitement and invasion of his personal space. She soon realized what she was doing and pulled back, blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry about that. It's just I've always been curious about Aunt Jane. My mom won't talk about her, and Grandpa changes the topic when I ask him."

"From what Dad has told me, Mom didn't get along with Gustav because she didn't fit the mold of what a woman should be like." 

Alice thought for a moment. "Well, I have heard some of the workers in La Arango say that Aunt Jane liked wrestling in the mud and would return home with shredded dresses, and it drove Grandpa mad." 

"I'll fucking kill you!"

Alarmed, Jake and Alice returned to the living room. 

Dad, Moxxie, and Blitz were holding a very pissed-off Millie; Chaz was hiding behind Crimson's chair; and Gustav and Deathslinger were watching the scene unfold, the former with a stunned expression. 

Thankfully, the maid announced that dinner was served. 

Awkward would be an understatement. 

Besides Gustav and Crimson talking about their 'business,' the rest of the table's occupants were quiet. At one end of the table sat I.M.P.; at the other sat Crimson with his guests, Alessio stoically standing by his side like a loyal Hellhound. 

Striker narrowly kept Gustav from sitting next to Jake, instead having him sit beside Alice. 

Finally, Blitzo broke the uncomfortable silence. 

"This is aggressively uncomfortable," he murmured. 

"I suppose you want to know why you're here." 

"Yeah. So what gives? I mean, you know we kill people on Earth, right? We don't normally do contracts for locals, so if you want to do business with us—"

"I don't want to do business with I.M.P.," Crimson clarified, voice devoid of the friendliness from before. "I want to do business with Moxxie." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, kid. I summoned I.M.P. to be sure you'd show up." Crimson picked up his glass of wine. "Because, well... We're bringing Chaz into the family." 

"I thought you didn't accept just anyone into the family, Crimson." Deathslinger took a bite of his salmon. "Besides, you hated his guts." 

"Well, I don't know if I exactly hated him..."

"You called him a friendless horse-fucker and said he lived a sissy lifestyle." Moxxie pointed out. 

Striker didn't miss the darkness briefly flashing in the mobster's eyes.

"Yeah, well, I was wrong. You've been gone a long time, Mox. A man can change, and so has Chaz."

"Yeah! I've grown, matured, and recently came into millions!" 

Striker dropped his fork. 

"Let me get this straight: ye made us come all the way here just because this friend-fucker got a little moolah?" he asked, somewhat annoyed. 

Chaz grinned. "Well, I'm the whole package... If you know what I mean."

"What did he mean?"

"Alice, you shouldn't get involved in grown-up stuff," Gustav said sternly. 

"What does any of this have to do with Moxxie?" 

"There's gonna be a ceremony tomorrow. Moxxie here is going to officially release his holdings in the organization." Crimson shot his son a bitter look. "Then you can go back to ignoring your family to your heart's content."

Millie got to her feet with a deep frown and placed her hands on the table.

"Maybe he wouldn't ignore his family if they didn't force him to rub elbows with a no-good, shark-toothed FUCK FACE!"

"Look, everybody, relax." Crimson calmly raised his voice. "I know tensions have been high tonight." 

"You think?" Gustav growled. 

"Say, why don't you stay here and get some rest? We'll have the ceremony tomorrow, and then you'll be free to leave." Crimson gestured for Alessio to take escort his guests outside. "I have your rooms all prepared. 

"Yes, sir," Moxxie whispered shyly before Millie could protest. 

"Mox?" 

Striker had the feeling something was off. A mobster like Crimson wouldn't offer such hospitality unless he had something to gain. 

And even in the mafia, you don't refer to your father as 'sir.'

As they all left the dining hall, Crimson called Moxxie for a private word.

"Just give me a minute, Millie. I'll be there." 

With that, Alessio quietly closed the door shut.

Jake glanced at Gustav. He was smoking a cigar while shooing the overly-prying Chaz away with his cane.

Mom didn't look anything like him. 

Taking a deep breath, Jake began walking toward his grandfather. Striker grabbed his arm.

"What are ye doin', Jake?

"I just wanna have a word with Mr. Gustav, Dad. There's somethin' I want to ask him."

Striker looked up in Gustav's direction, then back at Jake. Reluctantly, he let go of his son's arm and watched him go. 

"I swear, your kid looks more like you the older he gets." 

Deathslinger had leaned back against the wall right next to him. Striker sighed. 

"Thanks, I suppose. So  you're buddies with Mr. Mafioso?"

"I wouldn't say we're buddies." the snake exhaled a puff of smoke. "Crimson calls me when he needs someone gone, that's all." 

Jake's tail rattled as he stopped in front of Gustav. When the landlord noticed, he quickly threw his cigar away and smiled.

"Jake, it's nice to meet you in person finally!" he laughed, shaking Jake's hand excitedly. Jake said nothing, but the look on his face made his discomfort evident. "My, you certainly are growing up! You look quite mature for a ten-year-old!"

"I'm thirteen, sir." 

"Thirteen? That's odd. It doesn't match up with the date on your birth certificate." 

Striker murmured under his breath. Of course, Gustav would have somehow seen Jake's birth certificate.

Blitzo laughed. "Oh, that! It's a funny story; we spent three years on a deserted island that turned out to be Cancún—"

"There's somethin' I've been wantin' to ask ye, sir."

"Come on, Jake. I'm your grandpa. You don't have to be so formal."

Jake met his grandfather's gaze. "Why didn't you and Mom get along?"

If the atmosphere weren't so tense, Striker would have snickered at how quickly Gustav's expression fell.

Deathslinger raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Gustav pulled on the collar of his shirt, gulping. 

"Well, you see... It's complicated..."

"He couldn't bear the fact that a 'woman' had more balls than him." 

"That's not the reason!"

Striker walked up to Gustav, tail rattling. "Look, I don't care if ye lie to yerself, but don't ye fuckin' dare lie to my son." 

"You're the last person to talk about lies when you never told me I had a grandson or that my daughter fucking died!"

Striker laughed bitterly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but ye're the one who told Jane 'ye're no daughter of mine' the last time you saw her." 

Gustav flinched, his features briefly flashing with regret. 

"He has a point, dickhead." Blitzo added.

"Where the fuck do you get off butting in on someone else's conversation?!" the landlord retorted. 

The argument was interrupted by the trophies in the wall changing to wiggling plastic dildos.

Deathslinger dropped his cigar. "What in the seven rings...?" 

Blitzo laughed. "There's dicks on the wall! Oh, that's fucking hilarious!"

Even the ever-stoic Alessio reacted to the display with an eye roll.

Striker didn't think about it. He ran towards Jake and covered his eyes. Gustav likewise did the same with Alice, much to her annoyance.

"Really, Grandpa?"

"You're not supposed to see this until you're married, young lady!" Gustav glared at Striker. "What do you think you're doing? He's a man, and as such, he must be familiar with cocks!" 

"Did someone say—?" Deathslinger aimed a gun at Chaz's pants, scaring the shark into silence. 

"He ain't a man 'toll he has had sex." 

"Dad, ye gave me the talk already." 

"We haven't covered these toys yet, kiddo."

Chapter Text

Well, this isn't how he imagined his day would turn out. Traveling between rings, meeting Moxxie's mobster old man and ex, and dealing with Gustav...

Striker just wanted to drop unto a bed and fall asleep. 

Crimson wanted his guests to sleep in separate rooms, but Striker somehow managed to talk Alessio into letting Jake share the same room as him when the shark led them to their rooms. Surprisingly, the shark didn't object to the arrangement. 

Whether the compliance came from his status as a member of the Deadly Court, his angelic weapon, or both, Striker wasn't sure.

The bad thing about spending the night somewhere else out of the blue was that he had no clothes, no toothbrush, and no shampoo—man, he must be spending too much time around Moxxie.

It's not like he can ask Alessio or any shark gorillas roaming around for said supplies.

"What a day!" Jake huffed and fell unto the bed, tail rattling. 

"Tell me." Striker scoffed. "I wasn't expectin' to deal with Gustav." 

"Or find out I have a cousin. Did ye know about her?"

"Not about this Alice girl. I guess she was born after yer mother was disowned. She didn't hear from her sisters after that." 

"She never looked back, did she?"

Striker hung his jacket on the headboard. "...No."

Father and son remained silent for a while. 

"Jake?" 

"What is it, Dad?" 

"How are ye feelin', kiddo? After talkin' to Gustav, I mean..."

Jake looked up at the ceiling. 

"I... I don't know. I didn't know what to expect, honestly... Alice didn't give me a good impression of him either." 

Striker twisted his waist around so he could look at his son. 

"Jake, why did ye ask Gustav that? I told ya why he and yer mother weren't on speakin' terms." 

"I know, I know... It's not that I doubted ye, Dad, but..." Jake sighed. "I guess I wanted to hear it from his mouth. But he tried to dodge the question."

"He ain't gonna admit it, pup. Not in front of ye, at the very least." 

"Why not?" 

Striker lay down next to Jake.

"He doesn't want his 'only grandson' to think badly of him, I suppose." 

"It's not like I had an opinion of him, to begin with... Dad, can I ask ye somethin'?"

"What is it?" 

"Are ye really with the Deadly Court? Why didn't ye tell me? Don't take me wrong, Dad, but sometimes I feel like I don't know ye at all."

Striker ran a hand through his hair. Damn it, of all the times for that to have come out. Not only Jake but his friends were also aware of that. Blitzo would ask for an explanation once this dirty business was complete."

"Jake... Listen, I..."

knock knock

Alarmed, Striker grabbed his pistol and gestured for Jake to remain silent. He quietly walked to the door. 

He flung the door open when he was sure the pistol's barrel was aiming at the person's head.

"Whoa, whoa! Chill out, cowboy!"

It was Chaz.

"The fuck do ye want?" Striker narrowed his eyes, tail rattling. "And ye better choose yer words carefully."

Chaz pulled on the collar of his sweater, laughing nervously.

"Nevermind, I thought it was the bathroom–"

Striker slammed the door shut against his face before he could finish.

Geez, Moxxie had a weird taste. 

"What did he want, Dad?"

"Heaven knows what, pup." Striker lied. 

He had an idea of what the 'friend-fucker' wanted, confirmed when loud yells from Blitzo and Chaz were heard from the former's room.

No wonder Millie hates his guts. 

Jake fell asleep about an hour later. Striker didn't. Someone had to keep an eye open in this place, especially with Gustav and Deathslinger lurking around the corner.

He couldn't get his mind off the sex-addicted shark. Why would a hardened mobster like Crimson bring such an individual into the mafia? Is it because of his alleged money?

Striker grabbed his phone, searched for the chat with Loona in Messages, and typed.

He got a reply five minutes later.

He slipped his phone back into his jacket when something tapped his window. Striker tiptoed towards it, pistol in hand. 

"Psst! Strikes!

...Blitzo?

Striker opened the window. His boss was naked except for... Chaz's jacket?

"...I'm not gonna ask."

"Hey, Strikes, you up for some detective work?"

"Detective? What are ye...?"

Blitzo raised his hand and tingled some car keys. Striker looked at the parking lot when one of the car's lights briefly lit up. 

The cowboy glanced back at Jake. The teen was soundly asleep and didn't hear the exchange. 

Pondering for a few minutes, Striker relented. He should keep Blitzo out of trouble. 

You should always get on your host's good side, especially if the host is a mobster. 

The night air for such an overpolluted place like Greed was surprisingly fresh. The crickets fueled the tranquil atmosphere after hours of factory chimes, the sound of firing guns, and chimneys of endless smoke blackening the sky. And yet, the hair still had traces of Greed's diurnal stenches.

"Alright, Strikes, you check the front seats, and I'll look at the trunk." 

"Why are we doin' this again? Ye know we'll be sent to sleep with the fish if we get caught snoopin' 'round, right?" 

"Come on, Strikes. Nobody who's that bad in bed can score two hotties that easily." Blitzo retorted. "He's gotta be hiding something." 

Striker rolled his eyes. But nevertheless followed the instructions. 

The interior was in quite a bad shape. Stained seats, dirty blankets, a pillow, fast food bags, and used condoms. Striker rattled his tail in disgust.

Such a dirty state for the car of someone who 'came into millions.'

His suspicions were confirmed as he examined the glovebox, and dozens of papers dropped into the floor: an eviction notice and many bills. 

Blitzo was right.

Striker looked toward the car's trunk but saw no signs of Blitzo.

"Blitz?" the snake imp slipped his pistol out and moved to the back of the car. 

Oddly, the trunk was still open.

And Blitzo was inside, unmoving.

"Blitz?!"

Something shoved Striker hard from behind, pushing him right over Blitzo. 

The lid slammed shut, leaving them in total darkness.

"Sorry, babe! You aren't the only junk in my trunk!"

Chaz!

"Why, ye bastard! Wait till I'm out of here! I'm gonna shove that 'big dick' of yers into yer throat!" Striker kicked against the trunk lid, yelling obscenities at the shark.

His gun had slipped out of his grasp from the surprise, and his phone was back in the room.

Striker cursed under his breath.

Well, shit.

The following day, Jake found himself alone. Dad was nowhere to be found. He tried calling him, but dad had left his phone in his jacket. There weren't any notes either.

That's odd. It's not like Dad to vanish like that. 

Slipping his father's phone into his pocket for the time being, Jake left the room and walked downstairs in search of Striker. Instead, he found none other than Deathslinger and Gustav in the living room.

The impling hid behind the doorway.

"So you cannot help me with this request?"

"I'm afraid not. The code of the Deadly Court forbids it." 

"I simply don't understand why your 'club' bothers with 'codes of conduct.'"

"That's what sets us apart from the average hitmen, Mr. Brisont." Deathslinger sipped his drink. "Instead of recurring to such... underhanded methods, you should just try to make peace with Striker." 

Gustav stamped his cane. 

"Over my dead body will I grovel to that lowlife snake... No offense." 

"Yer pride will be yer doom one day, Mr. Brisont. Especially in this 'business.'" 

The wooden floor creaked under Deathslinger's boots as he walked away. Gustav took one more gulp from his glass before following suit. 

Dad wasn't lying when he called Gustav a 'prick.'

"Hi, Jake!" 

Jake was startled as Alice spoke right next to him. Damn it, when did she get here?!

"Hey, Alice..." he laughed awkwardly. "What are ye doin' here?"

"Eavesdropping on Grandpa. He hates it, but it's funny to see him angry." 

"Ye're not worried that he might hurt ya?"

Alice scoffed. "Nah. Grandpa yells a lot, but he doesn't discipline us like that. How about you? Why were you spying on him?"

"I think they were talkin' about my dad; of course, I wanted to hear what Gustav had to say. Speaking of my dad, did ye see him around?" 

"Nope. Can I go with you? This place is dead, and Mr. Alessio is not around." 

The teenagers left the house. Just like Alice said, there were no shark goons anywhere. How strange. 

In the meantime, Jake engaged in a pleasant conversation with his cousin. She lived in Imp City with her father and older sister. Her parents had divorced after her mother—his aunt Trina— had an affair. Alice barely saw her nowadays, but their grandfather stayed in touch with them.

On the other hand, Jake of his adventures on Earth with I.M.P, his life with his father in Wrath, and even shared some stories of his mother with her. 

"So you have your own horse?

"Her name's Mortifera. Since she was abused in her previous home, she doesn't trust people. She lets dad touch her sometimes, but she only lets me ride her." 

"That's cool! I mean, being able to ride whenever you feel like it." Alice sighed. "Grandpa gifted me a horse for my birthday, but I only get to ride him in summer when Daddy lets us spend the vacation in La Arango." 

"Arango? The limits of those lands are close to the area near our cabin. My parents would meet in a nearby spot as kids." 

"Your parents sound like Romeo and Juliet."

"Except they didn't die at the end..." Jake looked down. "Well, at least my dad didn't."

Alice hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about that... Think...?" She smiled a bit. "Think you could introduce me to Bombproof and Mortifera sometime?"

"Sure." Jake smiled.

"Hey, Jakey!" Millie called out from the parking lot, and Jake and Alice ran toward her.

"Good mornin', Mils! Look, this is my cousin Alice."

"Nice to meet you, miss!"

Millie smiled amicably.

"You can call me Millie, sweetie. Any friend of Jakey is a friend of mine!" she chirped, rubbing Alice's hair. 

"Hey, Millie, have ye seen my dad? He wasn't in our room this mornin', and he left his phone."

"He's missing too? I was looking for Blitz." 

Alice began looking around. "Hey, did you hear that?"

...

Thump!

The trio realized that one of the cars was moving, and voices were coming from the trunk. 

As they moved closer, Jake found a blessed pistol underneath the trunk.

"Hey, Strikes, since we're gonna be stuck in here for a while, we might as well get...comfortable—OOOW!"

"Get yer balls away from me!" 

"Dad?"

"Jake, is that ye?!"

Millie used a crowbar—where she'd gotten it, Jake didn't know—to tear the trunk open and found Blitzo and Striker cramped inside.

"Oh, Mills! You found us!" Blitz cried out in a drunken-like state.

"Is Blitz alright?"

"LOOK OUT!" Striker yelled.

Jake and Millie reacted, the former pushing Alice aside and shooting at the hammerhead goon's skull with the pistol, the latter shoving the other into the trunk and slamming the lid shut into his neck, decapitating him. 

Blitzo and Striker stared at the bloodied head in shock.

Alice covered her mouth; her eyes widened in utter horror. 

"Are ye okay?" Jake asked her.

"Oh...My...God..."

"Just in time, guys!"

"What is going on, guys?" Millie asked as she helped Blitzo and Striker out of the trunk. 

A phone rang in Jake's pocket.

"Dad, yer phone's ringing... Loona?"

Striker quickly grabbed the phone and answered it. "Loona—!"

"Looniee!" Blitzo yelled into the phone. "Nice of you to call!"

"Did Blitz get 'recreational' again?"

"No time to explain, Loona. Did ye find anythin'?"

"You could write a book with everything I found about this Chaz guy." 

Blitzo seemed to remember something. "Oh, yeah! That seductive dickhole is trying to marry Moxxie, and he's not even rich!" 

"Moxxie?!" 

Suddenly, the doors, windows, and all entry points to the manor were sealed shut by thick bullet-proof curtains. 

"Guess we ain't welcome no more," Striker murmured.

"...Actually, Blitz is half wrong." 

"What?"

"This fucker, Chazwick Thurman, is the sole heir to the fortune of Percival Thurman." 

"I've heard of him. He's one of Greed's most prominent drug lords and Hell's main traffickers of blessed weaponry." Alice explained.

"How does a kid know about that shit?" Blitzo asked. 

"Eavesdropping on Grandpa." 

"Anyhow, Percival Thurman kicked the bucket about a month ago and left everything to his son Chazwick. Let me send you a screenshot of the old man's will." 

Striker received a photo of an official-looking document. 

To my lazy, sissy, spoiled son Chazwick Thurman, who never learned the value of a soul, I leave my entire $40 million fortune on condition that he zips up his pants and marries.

"I see. He must tie the knot to claim that money." Striker murmured.

Blitzo picked up the Post-it stuck on Striker's shoulder.

Chaz's Muster Plan

1-. Tell Crim I found Moxxie

2-. Win Moxxie's forgiveness

3-. Marry Moxxie to get into the Family

4-. Claim my inheritance. Profit $$$

5-. Live happily ever after with Moxxie. Have kids.

"And he's after Moxxie's ass!" Blitzo deduced. 

"Remember the deal, Striker. I want to hear all of the details when you come back!"

"I'll even describe ye the place in detail if ye wish. Thanks, Loona." With that, Striker ended the call just as Jake returned. 

"Guys, everythin's locked down!"

"How are we gonna get in?"

Again, Blitzo remembered something as he searched Chaz's jacket for something: car keys.

Striker snatched them away. 

"Oh, no, ye're not drivin' in that state. Get yer ass in the backseat!"

Blitzo obeyed and joined Alice and Jake in the back seats with an angry pout while Millie and Striker occupied the front seats. 

Striker started the car and turned on the radio.

"Would you mind changing the song? " Blitzo asked.

Striker rolled his eyes and switched the station to Wrath's #1 "F*ck you up" hits. (Admittedly, though, the last thing he wanted was to hear the Loo Loo Land song either).

"Happy now?"

"That's much better!" 

"Alright, then all of ye buckle up." Striker licked his lips, tail rattling in anticipation. "We're doin' a Shrek." 

One of the Deadly Court's main rules is not to form any connections—of any kind—with your clients.

Deathslinger has always been the type to follow the rules and codes to the letter. 

And yet, he could never decline Crimson's invitations to share a drink.

Or, in this case, his son's wedding. 

He had the feeling Crimson was up to something when he invited him to have dinner after his latest 'errand,' especially after learning his strange son had turned up with his wife and the rest of the company Striker worked for.

But Deathslinger never asks unnecessary questions. After all, that's not what he's paid for.

And so, Deathslinger watched as Crimson dragged his son—mouth tapped and forcefully put in a wedding dress—to the altar where the priest and Chaz awaited. 

"I should've done that with Jane…." 

Deathslinger glanced to the seat to his left. Gustav was sourly staring at the scene, arms crossed.

"Wow." 

"What?"

"Striker is right. You are a shitty misogynist." 

Gustav's eyebrows furrowed. "Now you're on his side too?!" 

"I'm on no one's side, Brisont." Deathslinger it up a cigarette. "I merely said that Striker has quite an accurate impression of you." 

"Damn it, I can imagine what the bastard has been telling my grandson about me." 

"The truth?" 

Chaz whined loudly. "You told me all the chairs would be filled!"

Deathslinger knew what was coming when Crimson slipped a remote from his suit. He stood up from his seat just as dildos shot up from the chairs. 

"What the–?!" Gustav jumped off his seat when one of the dildos shoved up his rear. "What the fuck, Crimson?!" 

"Don't be such a sissy, Gustav."

"You could have warned me, for goodness sake! Could your gorillas at least make sure Alice isn't around?" 

Deathslinger rolled his eyes. 

The ceremony continued. 

"Do you, Chazwick Thurman, take Moxxie Knotlastname to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

Chaz sneered. "Oh, yeah." 

"And do you, Moxxie… whatever, take Chazwick Thurman to be your lawfully wedded…" the priest paused as Moxxie wiggled and tried to escape from his father's grasp to no avail. "Uuh…"

Crimson managed to pull Moxxie back into line and forcefully nodded his head. "Look at that! He's just so fucking happy to be here!" 

Deathslinger scoffed. If Crimson wanted more compliance on his son's part, he could have just asked him (Deathslinger) to hypnotize him.

"By the power invested in me by the seven rings, I now pronounce you man and… husband, I guess. You may kiss the groom." 

Moxxie wiggled desperately, eyes looking pleadingly at Chaz as he leaned in with a Cheshire cat-like grin.

The 'tender' moment was interrupted when a car suddenly crashed against the wall leading to the front yard. It was Chaz's.

The rear door opened. 

"I object!" Blitzo said before collapsing unto the floor. 

Striker led Alice and Jake out of the car and gestured for them to stay close to him. 

"Mildred, we're gettin' that helicopter ready to leave. Can ye handle those bastards by yerself?" 

"Piece of cake." Millie jumped out of the car, landing a few meters away from the altar. "You want my husband? You're gonna have to fucking kill me." she hissed, eyes glowing in anger.

Crimson snapped his fingers and pointed at Millie. All members of the Family—at least those present—stood between her and the altar, ready to fight. 

Deathslinger had heard of this Mildred girl from Striker now and then. But it was nothing compared to actually seeing her in action. 

She was butchering all of Crimson's men like a rabid, savage beast with her bare claws and teeth. 

She and Sanguine would get along wonderfully. 

"What the fuck?! She's a dame!"

One of the sharks ended up hanging from the altar by another's entrails. 

Deathslinger swore Crimson was about to piss in his pants… though Gustav looked like he'd already done that, judging by how he hid behind Alessio. 

Damn, is it possible to get a reaction out of that shark?

"She's a broad! Kill her!" Crimson was barely able done talking when one of his gorillas landed right on top of him. 

Deathslinger snickered. 

"Don't you just stand there! Do something!" Gustav shouted from behind Alessio. 

"Sorry, but this doesn't concern me. It's between Crimson and his daughter-in-law."

Mildred continued with her dance of death.

Deathslinger watched. 

She doesn't just use a knife or her teeth. She's resourceful and adapts to her surroundings, turning anything within her reach into a weapon... even the dildos and her boss's horns.

Merciless.

Bloodthirsty.

She enjoys killing. Must be from Wrath, like Striker.

Mildred eventually used Chaz's battered car as a weapon. She drove around the garden, leaving fire and shark blood trails in her wake.

"DEATHSLINGER!"

"What?"

"As of this moment, I'm hiring you! Kill her!"

Well, that changes things. 

Deathslinger removed his cloak and hat and gave them to Alessio, who unsurprisingly didn't protest. 

Millie drove the car towards the altar at full speed.

Deathslinger got into a position to jump, tongue flickering. 

3

2

1

Time to play.

Chapter Text

The car came to a sudden, unexpected stop. The inertia force threw Millie forward, smashing her head against the steering wheel. Hard.

Oww... That fucking hurt. 

Smoke was coming out of the car's engine from all the impacts. Glowing, ringed yellow eyes were looking straight at her from the smog.

Striker...?

The smoke began to clear. No, that's not Striker.

It's Deathslinger. 

The snake stood in front of the car, claws digging into the metal hood like bread.

No fucking way! Did he...?

Deathslinger met her gaze—his pupils were two thin slits, but the dark green rings were thick. They looked like Striker's eyes when he got pissed. It sent shivers down Millie's spine.

Behind him, Deathslinger's tail lifted something from the ground. 

"Do you want him?" he grabbed Moxxie by the hair, making him growl in pain. The corners of his mouth curved into a sneer. "Come get him, little lady." 

Motherfucker! 

Millie leaped out of the car through the window, but Deathslinger jumped out of her reach, Moxxie in tow. 

She saw red as she went all out on the bastard. But unlike Crimson's goons, Deathslinger didn't try to attack her. He dodged her strikes and kept his tail and every part of his body out of her reach. He'd make Moxxie cry out from behind the gag, infuriating her even more.

Soon, they were caught in a dance-like cycle from which there was seemingly no way out.

Millie grew increasingly frustrated—and exhausted. Deathslinger kept a taunting but calm expression. 

The fight—if it could be called that—seemed to prolong for an eternity. 

Then, at last, Millie pulled out her knife and, with a feral roar, stabbed. The blade dripped with black blood when she pulled back the knife. 

HA! Take that, bitch—!

But Deathslinger's expression showed no pain, and his sneer had grown wider. Millie looked down at his waist, and there wasn't a single trace of blood in him.

Her eyes came across Moxxie. 

The bloodied knife fell to the ground. 

Millie's eyes were so wide they could have popped out of her skull. 

Moxxie's side was bleeding, staining the white wedding dress with black blood. His face was crunched up in pain. 

Millie froze, face pale. 

Moxxie... She'd stabbed Moxxie. 

"M-Mox—!"

SNAP!

CRACK!

Millie fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Looking down, she saw her bone sticking out from her right leg.

The bastard broke it. 

Deathslinger's tail rattled. "I must say I'm impressed, little lady," he said, throwing Moxxie aside. "You got spunk." 

"You savage!" Chaz knelt by Moxxie's side, trying his best to stop the bleeding despite the thespian's attempts at crawling toward his wife. "You didn't have to kill my hubby!" 

Deathslinger rolled his eyes. "He'll be fine. I made sure the stab was non-fatal."

Did Chaz say 'hubby'? As in...

Did that mean... she'd been too late?

No. No, no, no!

The shock turned into anger and, from there, escalated into unspeakable rage.

Somehow, Millie sprung to her only good foot and lunged at Deathslinger again. But this time, it didn't take him more than ten seconds to break her left arm with another whip of his thick tail, rendering it as useless as her right leg. Millie screamed and fell to the ground again, tears of pain cascading down her face. 

Moxxie was wiggling desperately, begging Deathslinger to stop behind the gag. 

"Moxxie, don't move! You're bleeding!" Chaz cried out, pressing his shirt against the stab wound.

Millie grit her teeth as she tried to get up. "Get your fucking hands off him y-you..." she growled, but the agonizing pain made her collapse. 

As sweet unconsciousness began sweeping in, Millie reached out her right arm for Moxxie. 

Then blackness.

Millie had always been the strongest of the two. There's never been anyone—demon, human, or otherwise—that she couldn't handle. It's one of the things he loved about her.

So naturally, Moxxie believed himself hallucinating when Millie collapsed to the ground with two broken limbs. 

Defeated. His Millie lost.

Deathslinger wasn't done. He slipped a pistol out of its sheath and aimed at her chest.

Moxxie screamed Millie's name, pleading with her not to give up. He begged Deathslinger to spare his wife. Heck, if necessary, he was willing to become his father's puppet and slave again if that could save Millie's life. 

But Crimson wasn't even looking at him. He was watching his 'lackey' with a broad, satisfied sneer.

Click!

Moxxie closed his teary eyes shut. 

PAM!

A gun fired, but it wasn't Deathslinger's. The snake was clutching his bleeding hand, hissing in pain. 

A tall, pale imp landed a perfect kick in Deathslinger's chest, sending him flying against Chaz's wrecked car. 

Moxxie felt a flicker of hope as Striker landed in front of Millie, tail wrapping around her protectively.

"That's no way to treat a lady, Deathslinger." he hissed, tail rattling.

Deathslinger's own tail rattled as he got to his feet. "It's nothing personal, Striker," he grunted. "I just got hired for a job, that's all."

Striker narrowed his eyes. "Well, I'm just protectin' a good friend of mine, that's all."

"Guess there's no other way out of this, then." 

The serpentine demons charged at each other. Striker soon proved to be equally matched with Deathslinger. Unlike Millie, he wasn't blinded by rage, making it easier to predict his opponent's moves and look for openings to attack. Granted, Deathslinger did land some hits on him, but he was more than able to retaliate. 

He was truly a member of the Deadly Court.

Crimson ran out of patience. "For goodness's sake! If you want something done, do it yourself!" 

Moxxie's stomach sank as his father walked towards Millie, gun in hand. 

Striker noticed. The distraction was enough for Deathslinger to coil his tail around him. Striker squirmed as the coils began tightening, forcing the air out of his lungs. 

Crimson aimed the pistol at Millie's skull.

Millie!

No!

The desperation turned into anger. Moxxie's pupils became two slits. Crimson would not take another important woman in his life.

Not again.

Moxxie's thin arms, fueled by adrenaline and protective instinct, somehow tore off the ropes subduing him. His arms freed, Moxxie tore the tape from his mouth. The stab wound in his waist still bled, but the adrenaline was stronger than the pain. 

"Moxxie-!" Chaz was struck in the snout by his 'husband's' closed fist. 

Moxxie quickly grabbed one of Alessio's guns and ran towards Crimson— the shark did not attempt to stop him, but the corners of his lips twitched upward into the tiniest smile.

Crimson was about to pull the trigger when, suddenly, the barrel of a gun struck him hard in the temple and sent him to the ground. The mobster reached for his weapon, but a hooved foot stepped on his hand. Crimson hissed in pain as the bones crunched.

Once he looked up to see whose horns he'd be hanging on his wall later, he couldn't believe his eyes. 

It was Moxxie—his weak, gay, feeble runt of a son. But something was different. There was darkness in his eyes as he glared at his father, barrel pointing right between Crimson's eyes.

"If you touch her, I'll fucking kill you." Moxxie hissed. 

It was no empty threat. The look in Moxxie's eyes made Crimson realize he would put that bullet in his skull. 

Crimson felt a shiver down his spine for the first time in his life. 

Moxxie lowered the gun, turned, and walked toward his unconscious wife. 

Crimson sneered. "I knew you didn't have the balls–"

PAM!

Everyone's attention turned to Crimson when he shrieked in pain, clutching his right arm as blood scurried through his fingers.

Moxxie had shot his arm.

The distraction gave Striker time to free an arm from Deathslinger's coils; then, he grabbed one of the discarded dildos and dug the thin, metallic pole right into his opponent's tail. Roaring in pain, Deathslinger was forced to loosen his hold on Striker and set him free.

Moxxie lowered the smoking gun and didn't dignify his father with another word. He merely threw the pistol away, picked up Millie's unconscious body, and hurriedly left the area, followed by Striker—who picked Blitzo up on the way out.  

"Haha! Your old man looks like he pissed in his pants, Mox! I'm so proud of you!" Blitzo kept babbling things like that as the gang boarded the helicopter. 

Adding insult to injury, Jake had painted over the banner so that it read, 'We're Married BITCH'.

Millie...?  Can you hear me?

As Millie's consciousness returned, she felt sore, especially in her arm and leg. Her head was aching, too; the pain became more intense as she cracked her eyelids open and was overwhelmed by blinding brightness. 

Moxxie! Jake! Everyone, she's waking up!

Once her eyesight became used to the lighting, Millie weakly looked around. Her vision was still blurry, but she could make out a hospital room. 

She recognized the teen next to her. "Alice...?"

The door slammed open. 

"MILLIE!" a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her. "Thank satan, you're okay. I was worried!" 

"Worried? You were crying like Jakey when he was five!"

"Blitz!"

"Now really ain't the time for yer bad jokes, Blitz." 

Striker, Blitzo, and Jake had followed after Moxxie. Striker's waist was wrapped up in bandages, and there were some bruises across his body and face, but other than that didn't look that injured.

"M-Moxxie...?" 

"Shh. It's okay, Millie. Everything's okay."

"Can't... breath..." 

"Sorry, sorry!" Moxxie pulled back. His eyes were teary, but he was smiling like a madman. "I'm just so happy to see you awake!" 

Millie realized she couldn't move her arm or leg. They were cast. "What happened...?"

Moxxie and Striker went tense. The latter cleared his throat.

"Ye... Ye fought against Deathslinger. He broke yer arm and leg."

"And he would have killed you if Clayton here hadn't intervened." Blitzo patted Striker's shoulder, only for the cowboy to wince. 

"Dad, are you okay?" 

Striker ruffled Jake's hair. "It's alright, pup. Just a broken rib or two and some bruises, nothin' I handle." 

Memories flooded back into Millie's mind. She remembered Deathslinger stopping the car with his bare hands. Attacking him when he taunted her with Moxxie, then everything went red. She thought she'd stabbed him, but...

Millie looked at Moxxie's waist. Her stomach sank as she realized it was also wrapped up in bandages. 

The full realization of what she'd done brought tears to her eyes. 

"Millie? Are you alright–?" 

Moxxie was cut off as his wife wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Moxxie! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...!" Millie was sobbing uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to hurt you...! I thought I'd...!"

Moxxie returned the hug. "It's alright, Millie. What matters is that we're all okay."

"You should have seen him, Mildred. Mox went fierce when Deathslinger was about to finish ya off, and he got free from his bindins' and shot at his father's arm." 

Blitzo laughed. "I swear, I think he pissed his pants from the fright!" He pulled both Striker and Jake into a hug. "Well, I'm glad everything ended up okay. Good to know we all have daddy issues, Mox." Jake cleared his throat, annoyed, while Striker frowned. "...I mean, everyone except Jakey." 

"But ye know, Mox, next time it'd be nice if ye told us that yer pops is a complete psycho." 

"Like you told us you were a member of the Deadly Court?" Blitzo pointed out, arms crossed.

"Blitz, now's not the time for that." 

"You kind of owe us an explanation, Strikes."

"Seriously, Mildred? Ye too?"

The doctor came in shortly after to do a check-up on Millie. When he asked how she broke an arm and a leg, the gang made up a poorly thought-of story about Millie slipping off the stairs with a soap bar and landing right on top of Striker. 

"Well, ma'am, you're lucky to have had something to cushion your fall—no offense, Mr. Velkan." the doctor looked down at her clipboard. "But you should be more careful in the foreseeable future, especially in your current state." 

The group exchanged looks. 

"What do you mean with... current state?"

Today didn't exactly go as expected. 

For starters, his best men were either dead or in ICU at the hospital. Then there's the fact that they were all beaten by a fucking broad. As if that wasn't humiliating enough, he had been fucking shot by none other than the ungrateful, treacherous vermin he has the bad luck to call son. 

As always, Alessio said nothing as he served Crimson and Gustav a scotch. Deathslinger had declined a beverage, but he did ask the consigliere for a bottle of alcohol so he could treat his tail.

"Mind if I take a few gulps?" Deathslinger rolled his eyes and handed the whisky bottle to Chaz. The shark was a teary-eyed mess as he started downing the whole bottle until Deathslinger snatched it back. "Hey, I wasn't done!"

"Hold yourself together, will you? You're acting like a spoiled brat whose candy was taken away."

"My hubby was taken away, in case you didn't notice! We didn't even get to go on our honeymoon!"

"So what? You claimed your money. That's what you wanted, right?"

Chaz's only response was snatching a bottle of absynthe from Alessio, the consigliere having guessed he'd ask for one anyway. 

Crimson rubbed his temple, muttering under his breath. The only good thing about all this humiliation conga is that he now has access to Percival Thurman's fortune and business in the angelic weaponry industry—the whole point of the fucking wedding—even if he has to put up with his good-for-nothing son. 

"Hey, Gustav, where's your granddaughter?"

"She left with Jake and I.M.P." Gustav took a big gulp from his drink. "That girl's going to be the death of me! At least I know she's safe with her cousin." 

Crimson scoffed. "You barely knew your grandson for a day." 

"Even so, I can tell he's a good boy... Even if he has Striker's DNA." 

Once his tail was bandaged up, Deathslinger got to his feet. 

"I'll be taking my leave, sirs. Crimson, there's no need to pay me this time, given that I failed to complete the job." 

Crimson merely waved his hand as the serpent walked out the door, tail rattling behind him. 

Chaz passed out from drinking the entire bottle of absynthe shortly after. Alessio was tasked with carrying him to his room.

"Why not just kill him off? You have all you wanted from him already." 

"Trust me; there's nothing more I'd like than to hang that horse-fucker's jaws in my wall. Sadly," Crimson exhaled some smoke from his cigar. "I need him alive to keep the angelic weaponry business running. The company clause states that only a member of the Thurman family can control it." 

"Now that's what I'd call bad luck." Gustav glanced at Crimson's family portrait, where a knife was nailed between Moxxie's eyes. "You know, old friend, I have a... proposition that you might find interesting."