Chapter Text
In the soft silence of the North Wood, the birds were chirping and the imps were screaming.
Well, one imp at least.
“WHAT THE FUUUUCKKKK!!! WHAT. THE. FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!!!!”
Blitzø checked himself. Two hands, two legs, all the scars he could see accounted for, zero holes in his head.
The last was weird.
He looked around, wildly. Trees. Trees, trees, trees. More tree in the distance. Some general green stuff. Grasses. Smaller trees. The sun shone and gave to everything that particular green light that came from sunrays passing through leaves. Blitzø, a lifelong resident of Hell with its reddish light, distrusted it.
“So” he said, aloud. “Either there IS an afterlife and it is green and also boring as sh*t, or I am on Earth.” He glanced down at his arm. No Asmodean Crystal. He had put it on the table, together with the Letters (capital L), and he had also started the process to pass it down to Moxxie.
(See, he COULD plan and think of everything suck it Mox).
Blitzø looked around one last time, scratching the back of his head, then shrugged.
Standing still wouldn’t help anyhow.
He started walking.
__
Hello Loona,
I wanted you to know you are my perfect, most precious daughter and that I love you so so much. This is not at all because of you, you are wonderful and I am so proud of you Loony-Toony. You have grown so much since we met! I believe you’ll continue to grow and make me even more proud, even if I won’t be here to see it. It will be better for you, at least I won’t waste my money in stupid sh*t - stuff. In a month you’ll start receiving some dividend on the investments I made. You’ll be alright, sweetie, even without your stupid old dad.
I love you,
Blitzo the o is silent
(SPEECH TO TEXT)
Loona turned toward the toilet and puked.
He did that for a long, long time. So long that the acrid smell of vomit almost, almost overpowered the stench of blood and brain.
Blitzø’s blood and brain.
She vomited some more, her whole body convulsing under the strength, her paws trying to get traction on the tiled floor, scrambling, as she hugged the porcelain and strips of saliva fell from her fangs and tears from her eyes.
She crawled out of the bathroom, whimpering as she hadn’t in so many years, since she was a pup in the pound, before curling on herself and whining, high and true. She was shacking, her eyes wide, hugging her own shoulders. She kicked once, twice, automatic shakes she couldn’t stop.
Maybe it was ten minutes, maybe a hour before she scrambled to sit, and pressed herself against the couch (it smelled like Blitzø, like sweat and gunpowder and hot souce and safety and love. She whimpered) and got out her phone.
Her hands were shacking. It fell. She looked at it on the ground, and it was blurred and unblurred at intervals.
She took it up again, and called Millie, her tails between her legs, sobs exploding somewhere in her throat.
__
Tree, rock, tree, tree, smaller tree, rock, tree.
Blitzø was getting frustrated.
He had tried kicking a tree, but the tree Didn’t Care and he had hurt his foot, so he cussed it out for good measure, and went on.
He had not tried kicking a rock. He knew better than that.
He had been walking for hours, and absolutely nothing had changed. He was starting to get a sneaking suspicious these woods were, like.
Big.
The sun was setting. It was getting pleasantly dark. He shrugged and went on. He could still see, after all.
__
Millie,
Thank you for having been a friend. Take care of your husband and a bit of my Loony if you can? It has nothing to do with you, at all! It was… a lot of other stuff. Not I.M.P. neither!
You have been… like a sister to me. You are the best fighter ever. You and Moxx get I.M.P. and the crystal. Take care.
Thank you again.
Blitzo the o is silent
(SPEECH TO TEXT)
Moxxie,
Remember you are a good assassin and a f*cking fantastic sniper. And also sometimes you have good tastes in music. Sometimes. Take care of your wife, and keep I.M.P. afloat. It goes to you two, with the crystal. I already taught you how to use it so it should be fine.
This has nothing to do with you, or I.M.P., just a lot of stuff. You have been a good friend.
Thank you.
Blitzo the o is silent
(SPEECH TO TEXT)
Millie and Moxxie barged into the flat, their yellow eyes huge.
Loona was still curled on the ground, sniffling, whimpering. The flat was the same as always: horses and scratched photos and odd cozyness.
And the smell of blood.
Millie’s eyes widened, and she ran for Loona, holding her close as her yellow eyes locked with Moxxie. He nodded and sprinted for the bathroom, his hooves clicking on the tiles.
They were so loud.
Moxxie entered the bathroom, and stopped.
The smell of vomit and alcohol permeated the place, but his sniper eyes recognized the patterns of blood and brain on the wall. He could see, in his mind, where Blitzø had been sitting, the angle in which the gun would have entered his head.
He closed his eyes, swaying in place and holding the doorframe not to fall down on his face, his own guts threatening to spill.
Moxxie’s gaze fell down on the card of the Cleaning People. Trembling, he extended one hand and picked it up.
“As per contract we got the body of Blitzø Buckzo which at the time of reading would have already been cremated and his ashes strewn in the last known place of the Imp Circus, as per his directive. For more information, please contact 666-345-666 Ask for Bob.”
Moxxie put his free hand in his mouth, and dragged himself to his wife and to Loona. Millie looked at him, still holding the Hellhound, a plea in her gaze.
He shook his head. It felt like it was made of lead. He handed her the card. His hand was trembling, he noticed. He was all trembling.
Millie read the card and tears filled her eyes as her mouth moved in the silent word “no.”
Moxxie fell on the ground on the other side of Loona, holding the hellhound as his wife was doing, feeling Loona’s shakes reverberate into himself.
Pain has a way to unite people.
__
Blitzø went on walking.
There was nothing else he could do.
“Perhaps this is Hell. Another Hell. Superhell. A very empty kind of Hell” He groused, looking at a couple of squirrels running up and down a trunk.
It was night. He had walked for hours and hours and hours. He wasn’t tired, not really. But the monotony was getting to him.
He sighed, and went on walking.
