Chapter 8: Helluva Job

Moxxie opened his eyes; Millie stood over him, the modest barrel of the P90 a cannon's bore from this perspective. He looked past it and into her eyes, they were wide glistening with tears of anguish, but now a dawning confusion. He tried to move and, to his surprise, he could; the tendrils that bound him before had vanished. He shot to his feet and spun around, Noraki Kakyoin was gone. He turned to Millie, who tossed the P90 aside like was red hot. She locked eyes with him, sobs hitching in her throat as a huge relieved smile spread across her face. They rushed together, pulling each other into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry!" Millie sobbed into his neck, her tears hot and wet on his skin. "I couldn't control myself!"

"Shhh. I know," Moxxie said, soothingly, a tear running down his cheek. "It's alright, honey. We're alright."

"Mom! Dad!" Gabriel cried, scooping the both of them off the feet, his embrace a bare notch below crushing. "We made it!"

Millie sniffed and smiled, returning the hug. "I'm proud of you, Gabe."

"But everyone else, the others," said Moxxie, worry creasing his brow. "That guy couldn't have been alone! We'll have to fortify this position until the Blitzo and the rest get back."

"If they get back," Gabriel muttered. "You guys collect weapons and ammo, I'll fortify the doors and set up some defenses."

Moxxie and Millie nodded and set off down the hall, only to be greeted with the 9mm bore of a service pistol. Standing before them was a guard, a harrowed and furious look on his face. The report of the pistol sounded like a howitzer in the narrow hallway. Gabriel grunted and toppled backwards, a smoking hole punched into the left side of his chest, foamy red blood welling up from within.

"Gabe!" Millie cried, setting off for the wounded Junior.

"Freeze! Don't move, bitch!" The guard, his name-tag read 'George', leveled the Glock at the pair. "Both of you! Hands up!"

Moxxie and Millie complied, exchanging worried glances.

"Ha! I admit, you guys caught us with our pants down, but we came through, see? Our outside help sure lived up to their rep! Me and one of 'em iced your feathery friend! The rest of you bastards are probably dead by now!"

Millie moved to draw her pistol, but the guard stepped back and leveled the Glock at her, eyes wild. "Ah! No one move! Today I've had my body hijacked, been trapped in a mirror, and chased by a crow the size of a fucking Kodiak! I am on the fucking edge, and I'm about to snap! Your weapons, drop 'em!"

Moxxie and Millie glanced at each other and tossed their guns to the ground.

"All of 'em! And get your hands up afterwards."

They sighed and shed a small arsenal of knives, shurikens, stilettos and garrottes; the guard laughed bitterly. "Fuckin' things! Kick 'em away and then get on your knees!"

They complied, hands raised and set behind their heads, slowly crouching down to the floor. He chuckled and cocked the hammer. "If I bag three of you things myself, they'll probably make me sergeant. A pay bump anyway!"

Moxxie looked over to Millie, who was looking at him. A warm smile passed between them, a loving understanding and acceptance: no matter what happened, they'd be together forever. They reached out and took each other's hand, closing their eyes

"Awww!" George sneered. "Enjoy your last seconds, love-birds!"

The pistol roared, three shots rang out in quick succession. The forth shot went wide and ricocheted off the ceiling. Moxxie and Millie opened their eyes to see George keeling over backwards, three bloody holes spread out over his torso and upper thigh.

"What the Hell?" Moxxie murmured.

Millie squinted and pointed to a thin, ephemeral strand of pink undulating in the air. "Look!"

Moxxie reached out and grabbed the filament, his keen eyes following it to the human's foot, where a shiny hook was phased into his ankle. "What… Good Vibrations!"

They spun around to see the grievously wounded demon on the floor, his head raised slightly, pained smile on his torn, bloody face. "Heh… I-I told you… I'd protect you…"

They rushed to him and gingerly rolled him over. His body was a bloody tatters, his left arm held on by mere strips of flesh, but he was still very much alive.

"Good Vibrations!" Millie said, looking him over. "Are you okay?"

He shot her an incredulous look before smiling. "You know, I've been better. How's Playlist?"

Moxxie examined the heap that remained of Playlist's body. "We're gonna need a mop and bucket."

A choked cry drew their attention, Gabriel writhed on the ground, clutching his chest. A squashed, black iron bullet wrapped in Good Vibration's pink angler popped out of the wound with a low, wet sucking sound. The bullet was cast aside, clattering on the ground.

"There," Good Vibrations sighed, Moxxie dutifully applying bandages to his many wounds. "The cold iron's out. He should be able to recover from that pretty soon."

"I just hope the others are doing alright…" said Millie, stroking Gabriel's forehead.

Blitzo watched as the large, naked rabbit-demon. He was looking himself over in the reflection of a computer screen, shuffling about the long blonde locks of hair atop his head, letting the curled edges flow over his shoulders. Once pleased with his appearance, Danger reached behind his back and produced a long, flowing cape bearing the colors of the Star Spangled Banner. He affixed the flag-cape to his neck and, in a single flourish of the cape, was completely dressed. He wore a blue one-sided button-up long-tailed coat with a white star across the chest, spiky gold epaulets, and a white cotton ruffle at his collar. His hands were shod in wrist-length red leather gloves with silver stars on the back. On his legs were well-fitted white breeches, his boots were knee-high red leather cavalry boots, polished to a glossy sheen, also with shiny silver stars capping the toes. At his hips were a pair of beautiful ivory-handled pistols, they looked proportional to his large frame, so they were likely heavy-bore, powerful weapons. He reached his hand under his cape and, once again seemingly from nowhere, produced a garish top-hat, done up in the colors of the stars and stripes. He placed the hat atop his head, his ears fitting through two holes in the rim, and turned around, smiling handsomely.

"Looking good, Danger!" Blitzo said, mimicking the flourish with which Danger had produced his clothes. "How'd you do all that?"

"In life I could travel to adjacent dimensions when between two surfaces," said Danger, strolling over to the comparatively tiny imp. "Upon my… damnation, I can now also teleport myself and anything I wish to any point I wish, but only when not directly observed."

Blitzo nodded, uncomprehending. "Aight."

Danger, sensing his confusion, decided to change the subject. "Blitzo, you saved me from that wretched device, I am in your debt. If there is anything I can do for you, name it."

"Hmmm…" Blitzo tapped his chin, snapping his fingers. "Oh! Yeah, hey, do you think you could explain just what the fuck is going on?"

Danger smiled and bowed. "But of course. Many years ago, I was powerful Overlord in Hell. Upon learning of the final location of the Saint's Corpse, I gathered a mighty army of elite demons to lay siege to the Vault and take back what is mine."

"Oh?" Blitzo said through a mouthful of popcorn, a bucket of which was inexplicably in his hands. "And how'd that go?"

"It…" Danger paused, not quite sure if his savior was being snide or stupid. "It… went poorly. I was captured and imprisoned, used by the humans to plunder the multiverse."

"'Kay," said Blitzo, wiping off his mouth. "Is that what this big gizmo does?"

"Presumably." Danger turned to the scientist, who squeaked and cowered. "The details are lost on me, though."

"T-the JC-1, the-the Body," the scientist stammered. "When submerged in liquefied demonic matter the resulting reaction, the energies being transmuted and the damned souls being destroyed, i-it produces tremendous amounts of energy. Using this machine, we've been able to channel this power into the demon–er–i-into L-Lord Danger here, allowing us to bridge not only dimensions, but time and space as well! We've been using it to acquire profitable technology and powerful occult artifacts."

"Huh," Blitzo grunted, up-ending the now-empty popcorn bucket before tossing it over his shoulder. "So that's why no-one ever comes back from this place? They all get ground up and smeared all over some holy guy's body to make a portal. Sounds gross."

"And extremely painful," Danger growled, glaring at the scientist. "Dozens, hundreds of times a day for years."

"Oh, I bet! Getting jolted with soul-juice all the time? Ouch!" Blitzo said, nodding. "Not to mention all those demons were your men, your soldiers. The grunts, sure, who cares? But the officers, the generals, they must have been your friends, or people you respected at least. All of 'em dead just to get some slick CEO a moldy old scroll or cool gadget to pawn. If I were you, I'd be a little pissed."

Danger stood very still, very silent, his muscular frame taut and ready, his aura writhing about him like Hell's own flames.

"But hey," Blitzo said, slapping him on the rump. "(Whoa, firm, wow) Some demons are just more forgiving than I am."

"Blitzo, my friend," Danger said, suddenly, a serene smile on his face. "Would you like to see a magic trick?"

"Yes!" Blitzo squealed happily, clapping his hands and hopping up and down. "Oh yes, yes, yes!"

Danger patted his gloves, showing the front and back of his hands, hiding nothing. With a showman's flourish, he draped his cape across his arm and threw it back, revealing the scientist. "My lovely assistant will be the focus today."

"Huh?"

"Hocus pocus, abracadabra," said Danger, drawing his cape over as to obscure the pudgy little man from view. "Clap three times, please."

Blitzo did and Danger swept the cape back; the scientist still stood where had been before, only now he was missing his skin. Raw red flesh shone in the florescent lights, his lidless eyes rolled about out as his toothy, lipless maw split open, unleashing a shrill pealing scream. The living corpses danced about, shrieking as raw nerves were exposed to air, the wet slaps of his agonized steps beat a frenetic tempo.

"Tadaaa~" Danger said, his voice suffused with cold, hateful satisfaction.

"Woo! Encore!" Blitzo cheer, clapping his hands. "Oh, that is hardcore! So cool!"
Danger smiled and bowed deeply as the scientist continued to scream. Annoyed, Danger raised his cape once more. "Oh, quiet you. No-one likes a showboat."

The cape was thrown back, the scientist was gone, the room was quiet once more.

"That was awesome!" Blitzo cackled. "Where'd you send him?"

"The Dead Sea," Danger growled, straightening out his tunic. "Now tell me, my friend, what brings an Imp to the Vault?"

"Same as you," Blitzo said, blithely. "Gotta grab the corpse for some rich asshole."

"You…" Danger's voice went low, his eyes glowed. "You seek the Saint's Corpse?"

Blitzo smiled, his teeth not yet regrown. "Yep!"

Danger flicked his cape, producing a steel gurney. He removed the cape and set it on the table. In a flash, the cape was pilled away and upon the gurney sat a glass and steel capsule some six feet long, inside it was a small, desiccated corpse. The air around it curdled, became heavy, sour. Blitzo found it hard to look at for more than a few seconds, his eyes itched in a way that told him they might melt and run out his sockets like hot wax if he pushed his luck.

"Neat."

"It is yours," Danger said, folding his cape in half over his forearm. "I have no use for it."

"You sure, Danger?"

"It was my folly," he said, his eyes growing distant and sorrowful. "I received the Saint's blessing prior to my death, and yet I still lacked the righteousness to prevail." He reached out to touch the capsule, only for his hand to fade, becoming translucent and ephemeral. "The blessing soured, retracted, and now I cannot so much as be in its proximity lest my essence wane. My torment, the death of my people, all for naught. I was content to succumb to despair, but you saved me, Blitzo, and for that you have my eternal gratitude."

"Aww you!" Blitzo waved him off, blushing. "Well, if you ever need anyone dead, you just give me a call. Here, my card."

"I hardly need help with that. My enemies are as mayflies, extremely short-lived." Danger took the card and examined it, making it vanish with a flick of his wrist. "But… I'll give you a call. Good day, Blitzo."

Blitzo smiled and waved. "See you in Hell!"

Danger and unfurled the cape, slipping under it as it settled on the ground, vanishing completely.

"That dude had one sexy voice… and an enormous di–" Blitzo looked over at the security monitors, seeing the tattered but still-living remains of his fellow master assassins. "Oh shit, right! On my way, brothers!"

St. Anger grit his teeth as he willed himself to stand. His body was alight with pain, every beat of his heart sent new waves of agony surging through him. It was only his exceptional constitution and the sheer overwhelming might of his demonic essence that allowed him to expel the Hamon from his system. That, and he had managed to hastily create a metal framework around himself, conducting much of the Hamon away from his body and into the ground. The Crusaders had vanished, to where he did not know, nor did he particularly care so long as they were gone.

"Willin'," he croaked. "Status report."

"I feel like I just got pummeled by [Star Platinum]," Willin' groaned, stirring on the ground. "And thrown into a hurricane of razorblades and fire. How are you?"

"Aoxomoxoa?"

"I got squished," came a thick, clotted voice. "That's just about all there is to say on the matter."

"St. Anger?" Willin' said, shakily getting to his feet, looking exactly how he felt. "Is Thriller dead?"

St. Anger didn't answer.

"Shit…"

He slowly made his way over to Aoxomoxoa, whose shattered body lay in the nadir of a crater. Several of his eyes looked up at his boss. He stirred, channeling his demonic essence into himself, his bones popping back into place as his flesh knit together.

St. Anger helped him up, Willin' limped over and looked up at his commander. "So, what now?"

"We retrieve the corpse, complete the mission," said St. Anger. "Nothing's changed."

"We're pretty chewed up, but they can't have anything worse in there," Willin' said, turning to Aoxomoxoa. "You still got some juice left in you?"

"That mutt squeezed a lot of it out, but yes." He raised his tentacles, the tips exuding a viscous, silvery liquid. "I should have enough to get the job done."

St. Anger took a deep breath and set his hands on their shoulders. "What lies beyond that door is not merely another fight, but our destinies. When we return with the Corpse, we will take our rightful places as Overlords of Hell. Individually, we're powerful, but together we're a force like unto Satan himself. Are you with me?"

Willin' smiled and winked. "For now and for always, Boss."

"You've never let us down, sir," Aoxomoxoa said, pointing to the door. "Whatever these bastards have on the other side of that door, I'll face it happily with you by my side."

St. Anger gave a small, touched smile, despite the turn this job had taken all he felt was pride. "I will endeavor to be worthy of your trust. Every demon from every point in Pentagram City will know that it was La Squadra that not only breached the Vault, but stole the very body of Jes–"

"Hey guys, whatcha doin'?" Blitzo interrupted, grinning. "Havin' a little pep talk?"

"I thought you were dead," St. Anger said, his voice cold and flat. "Seems like I can't have anything today."

"Ha ha! Angie, you are a card!" Blitzo chuckled and punched him on the arm. "Naw! While you guys were locked in epic duels and such, I was just checking out the other room."

St. Anger blinked in surprise. "What did you find?"

"Buncha scientists, a few guards, a dimension-hopping demon named Danger." Blitzo shrugged and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Oh, and that."

The trio gasped in shock; laying on a gurney in a sophisticated-looking capsule of steel and glass, was the Saint's Corpse. St. Anger darted over to it, wincing as he felt its holy energy clash with his hellish essence. Aoxomoxoa studied it with quiet awe and Willin' signed the cross, swearing and wincing as the blessing burned him.

St. Anger looked between the grinning Imp and the corpse, bewildered. "…How?"

Blitzo polished his claws on his lapel, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Well, I walked in, killed all the guards and scientists except one. See, I was looking for pom-poms so I could cheer you guys on, and wanted to see if the scientist could find some for me. Long story short, all those scary magic guys got sent back to their dimension and the demon the humans were using to travel dimensions gave me the corpse! Never did find those pom-poms…"

"You… saved us?" St. Anger muttered, his eyes wide.

"Well yeah!" Blitzo said, reaching out and playfully punching his arm. "We killers gotta look out for each other, eh Angie?"

St. Anger was silent, astonishment and a small modicum of shame clear on his face.

Aoxomoxoa stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Uh, Boss? Want me to, uh, you know?"

"What?" St. Anger blinked, suddenly pulled back into the moment. "No. Not here. We must return as soon as possible."

St. Anger levitated the capsule off the gurney and they made their way to the door.

Moxxie and Millie crouched behind a barricade, a M2 machine gun aimed at the far door. On the other end of the hall was Good Vibrations and Gabriel, covering the other door. The Imps snapped to attention as the door opens with a hiss, holding fire when they saw three demons hobble through the door. Truly and Deeply held a barely cohesive Blackbird up, his arms draped over their shoulders.

"Are you being followed?" Moxxie called out to them as they approached.

"They're sending reinforcements," Truly said. "Guess they figured out their mercenaries fucked off!"

"I've blocked off the hallway with ice," Blackbird croaked. "It'll take them a few minutes to get through that, at least."

"You fellas fought some scary guys, too?" Millie said, looking over their wounds.

Deeply gestured to the bloody stump that used to be his left arm. "No, we cut ourselves shaving."

"Have you seen St. Anger and the others?" Truly said, setting Blackbird down next to Good Vibrations and Playlist's remains. "Or hear anything at all from then?"

Moxxie shook his head, examining them. "You guys look beat! Who did you fight?"

"Jean Pierre Polnareff," said Deeply, pointed at himself and Truly before nodding towards Blackbird. "He fought Muhammed Avdol."

"…Abdul…" Blackbird grumbled, barely conscious.

Deeply looked over at Good Vibrations, more bandage than demon, and Playlist, a head in chunky puddle. "You?"

"Noriaki Kakyoin," said Moxxie, shuddering. "It was like fighting a self-righteous claymore mine!"

"That leaves…" Truly said, eyes wide with horror. "Oh, shit…"

"Enough!" Deeply barked, flexing his talons. "Boss can handle anything!"

"But the others!" Truly moaned, eyes tearing up. "[The Fool]… [Star Platinum]… they won't stand a chance against them!"

"Look!" Millie cheered, grinning. "It's them!"

At the far end of the hall was a group of thoroughly battered but alive demons, an important-looking capsule in tow.

"They're alive!" Truly cheered.

"They look like shit," grumbled Deeply before relenting. "Fair enough, considering…"

"Big Bro made it!" Good Vibrations cheered as he lifted his head, brow creased with worry. "Where's Thriller?"

"Status!" St. Anger yelled, his voice strong.

A series of detonations shook the facility, followed shortly by the sound of commotion at either of the adjoining doors. "Deteriorating!"

"Make ready the portal!" St. Anger commanded. "Wounded first!"

La Squadra did not hesitate, gathering up their wounded and shuffling them into the utility closet, shoving them through the portal. Moxxie and Millie stayed behind, manning the machine gun nests as the rest of the group filed through the barricades and corpses. St. Anger stopped and, shoving the capsule through the portal, turned to the Imps.

"Go! I'll cover you!"

They exchanged baffled expressions before Blitzo raced by, grabbing them by the collars and hauling them into the closet.

St. Anger stood between the machine guns, seizing them with magnetism. Simultaneous breech charges shattered the blockades with deafening crack. He glanced over his shoulder to his team, they were still maneuvering the wounded through the portal. He grit his teeth and unleashed a hell of .50 calibre hell upon the mortals charging through the doors. Bullets whizzed through the air, stopping harmlessly within his magnetic barrier before firing back out with deadly speed. Rockets and grenades cracked about him, red-hot shrapnel slicing into his body as his frayed concentration faltered. He looked back over his shoulder to see Blitzo and his Imps charging forward, M60s in their hands. He smirked, bemused, as they began laying down covering fire.

"Get outta here, Brother!" Blitzo cried over the roar of his weapon. "We'll cover you!"

St. Anger smirked and shook his head, raising his hands. "I appreciate the sentiment."

The Imps cried out as they were levitated off the ground along with St. Anger. He sent the lot of them hurtling backwards into the utility closet and through the portal. The quartet burst through into I.M.P.'s office, the portal shut with a sizzling flash and they all thudded painfully to the floor. Moxxie and Millie sat up, patting their bodies down, taking full inventory of their limbs. Upon realizing that they were home, intact, and very much alive, they locked one another with shimmering, tearful gazes and raced into one another's arms, sobbing joyously. Moxxie didn't even complain when Blitzo scooped the both of them off their hooves in a crushing, loving bear-hug.

"W-we made it…" Willin' leapt into the air and roared. "HELL YEAH! FUCK YOU, VAULT! FUCK YOUR GUARDS AND FUCK YOUR REP! LA SQUADRA UP IN THIS BITCH!"

Truly and Deeply embraced, a tender kiss passed between them. "We made it, babe."

Good Vibrations looked up at Aoxomoxoa. "You look like shit."

Aoxomoxoa chuckled and offered a tentacle. "Likewise, bro."

"Hey!" Came a low, gurgling voice. "Junior! Junior, get off your lazy ass and help me!"

They looked down to see the cracked screen-face of Playlist glaring up at them, dragging himself along the floor with his tongue. "Any time you feel like it!"

Gabriel grumbled and shuffled over. "You called?"

"None of your idiot brothers survived, so I must be talking to you!" Playlist sneered. "Make me a body."

Gabriel sighed and reconstituted the floor into a mass of cubes, forming them into a robotic body. He picked Playlist up and fasted his head to its open neck. The demon fussed around for a bit, the body's legs and arms twitched, spasmed, then whirred to life.

"Much obliged," said Playlist, rising to his feet and turning to his fellow team mates, waving off Gabriel. "See, if I made some Juniors worth a damn, that brat never would have gotten within shouting distance!"

"I'll keep that in mind the next time we fight the Stardust Crusaders!" Good Vibrations chuckled, looking around. "Where's Thriller?"

St. Anger sighed and shook his head, his expression grave. "Gone. Joseph Joestar's Hamon saw to that."

A pall fell over the room, a somber silence as they honored the sacrifice of their fallen comrade for a second time.

Loona stifled a laugh, not looking up from her phone.

All eyes turned to the hellhound, the air turned hold and still.

"Something to say, dog?" St. Anger said, his words sang with gelid fury.

Loona looked up at him and smirked, knocking on her desk. "Come on. Get outta there."

"And I was just getting cozy…" A voice sighed as black, feathered reached up from under the desk, Thriller stood up and hopped over the desk, snapping his fingers at his stunned team. "Hey y'all! And here I thought you didn't care!"

"What was he doing under there?" Moxxie said, eyes narrowing.

"You sunnovabitch…" Willin' hissed under his breath.

"Thriller!" St. Anger stepped forward, looking over his subordinate, relief clear on his face. "But… the Hamon, your body… you died."

Thriller smirked, quietly touched at his stoic Boss's concern. "Well, where was I gonna go, Detroit?"

"I thought no-one ever returned from the Vault?" Aoxomoxoa said, turning to Truly and Deeply. "Survivors of raids never showed back up here, right?"

"We looked into claims and such," Truly said, tapping a root against his chin. "None of our leads panned out. We assumed that it had something to do with all the warding and spellery, keeping the souls in or something."

"Nope!" Blitzo chirped. "They're dead! See, there was this demon named Danger, and–"

"Danger?" Truly interjected. "Overlord Danger? Rabbit-demon? White? Fancy cape?"

"Flowing golden locks? Sweet bod? Sexy voice?" Blitzo said. "Huge cock?"

"Yeah!" Truly said. "That's Danger, alright!"

Deeply eyed up his lover for a moment. "…What."

"Overlord Danger was the first demon to organize an actual, concerted effort to not only raid the Vault, but acquire the Saint's Corpse as well. He took a thousand of his most powerful warriors and was never heard from again."

"Until now," said Blitzo, polishing his claws on his lapel. "I sprung the guy! See, after I sent all those Crusader guys back to their dimension, I saw that the humans were using the bodies of his army and whoever else they caught to super-charge his dimension-hopping… 'dimension-hopping' he's a rabbit! I just got that!"

"Blitzo, focus!"

"Right, so they mulched up them up while they were still alive and poured them all over Abner Cadaver over there and used the energy of a demon's soul being destroyed to amp-up his powers and nab nifty stuff from all across time and space!"

"D'you ever get the feeling that there's some bigger story at work here?" Millie said, turning to Moxxie. "Like, cosmic-level stuff?"

"This shit's way above our pay grade…" Moxxie rubbed his temples with his fingers, a tired look on his face. "Can this day just be over, please?"

"And he just… let you have it?" St. Anger said, astonished. "He just gave you the corpse?"

"He can't use it for reasons, and was really grateful to be out of that gadget the humans stuck him in," Blitzo shrugged. "I dunno, I just rolled with it."

"Changes nothing," St. Anger said, eyes darting about warily before turning back to Blitzo. "This concludes our business arrangement, I trust you found our work stimulating."

Blitzo nodded fervently, a bloody tooth popping out of his mouth, clattering on the floor. "Oh yes! Man! You guys really know how to bring it! It was my honor to work with you, put 'er there Brother!"

Blitzo's hand shot out and hung in the air, a gapped, expectant grin on his pummeled, swollen face.

St. Anger examined the hand before him, his expression flat. He reached out and grabbed the Imp's wrist and raised his arm high in victory, turning to his comrades. "Men, you all fought well today. You've struggled and bled for this victory and I'm proud to call you my brothers. But this Imp, this man here, saved all our lives. Without him, we would have failed, it's as simple as that. I want each of you to know and remember, deep in your hearts, that we owe this man our lives, and on my honor, your honor, the honor of La Squadra Esecuzioni itself, I will see that debt paid. Starting with this, what was promised." St. Anger handed him the check, the absurdly long string of zeros upon it reflected in

Blitzo's shimmering eyes. "Your pay. You earned it, Brother."

"Bruh-bruh-bruh?" Blitzo stammered, his voice thick as tears threatened.

"Don't cry, Blitzo."

The sobbing Imp lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the much taller demon's waist, pulling him into a tight hug. St. Anger withstood this, his expression flat and very, very tired. He looked over his shoulders to see his team mates grinning, stifling laughter, his eyes snapping open when he felt the Imp's hands creep up onto his buttocks.

"That's enough."

St. Anger magnetized the iron in Blitzo's blood and pushed him back, refraining from actually touching him. With a curt, respectful nod to Blitzo and his team, he made for the door. La Squadra followed shortly after.

"You did good, Blitzo-Kreig," Thriller said, shaking his hand before looking over to Loona, mouthing the words 'call me'.

Aoxomoxoa was next. "You may not act like it most of the time, but you've got that true gangster's spirit. Keep it up."

Willin' strode up, producing a pair of sunglasses and putting them on. "We'll always have the disco-ball, Boogie-Man." He nodded and Loona and blew her a kiss. "Maybe next time, darlin'."

Loona didn't look up from her phone. "Still short."

Playlist approached Moxxie and Millie, who were talking to Gabriel. "Imps. I stand by my original assessment, you two are truly exemplary. You may keep this Junior, if it is to your liking." He reached down and took Millie's hand, running a long, purple tongue across her knuckles. "Oh, yes… perfect."

Gabriel stepped forward and planted a solid kick to Playlist's mechanical chest, sending the leering demon flying out the window.

"If you hadn't, I would have," said Good Vibrations, approaching them with apprehension, wringing his hands. "It was my honor to work with you guys."

"Thanks for everything, Good Vibrations," said Moxxie, taking his hand in his. "We never would have made it without you."

"Really, we can't thank you enough." Millie reached up on her tippy toes to plant a delicate little kiss on his cheek. "Stick up for yourself more, okay?"

Good Vibrations sniffled and nodded, tears welling up in his eyes as he walked out the door.

Blackbird, Truly, and Deeply were last; Blackbird eyed up the Imps. "I had no significant interactions with any of you, so… goodbye."

"Ditto," said Deeply, waving as he strolled out of their office. "See ya."

"Boss is hard to impress, you should be flattered," Truly said, turning to Loona. "Call me, girlfriend!"

Loona looked up from her phone and waved, a small smile on her face. "You know it, T!"

The assassins left and something like normalcy returned to the office. Moxxie grumbled as he stowed his guns away, sorting through his various knives. Millie snuck up behind him and kissed him on his cheek.

"You did good out there, Moxx," she said, whispering into his ear. "I think a little reward is in order later tonight…"

Moxxie blushed and smiled back. "Hey, that reminds me. Just how much did we make on this job? I'd like to know how much to charge the next time I risk my life and soul on an impossible mission, becau–" Blitzo snuck in behind him and held up the check, Moxxie's eyes snapped open wide, his jaw slack. "–UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH…"

Millie locked her eyes on the check and began to harmonize with her husband, it was entirely likely that no Imp in Hell ever held such a sum to their name before.

"God, will you two shut up?" Loona growled as she walked by. "Like dipshits in stere–" Her red eyes locked on the check, the number upon in. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…"

Blitzo smiled warmly and drew them all into a group hug. "Truly, it was a Helluva Job."

Their stunned droning immediately gave way to a cold, contemptuous silence.

Moxxie glared up at him. "I feel like I should punch you for that."

The limo ride was quiet, the team was exhausted, but exultant, the pain of their injuries washed away by a wave of triumph and fatigue. St. Anger would like for nothing more than to rest and heal, for the sooner they were back in fighting shape, the sooner they could go about their work of becoming the new power on the Hellscape. There was but one thing left to do.

"Stop here," he told the driver, turning to address his team. "Once we deliver the body the rest of the money is ours. If they were going to kill us and take the Corpse, now would be the time, so I want you all to be on guard."

A round of agreements sounded throughout the limo and St. Anger turned to Aoxomoxoa. "With me."

Inside the complex was as he remembered it, a far cry from the opulent fortresses this particular gang occupied before its leader was slain and the full might of Lucifer's forces scattered what remained. Still, they had capital and power enough to be a tremendous threat to any lone demon, no matter how powerful. St. Anger and Aoxomoxoa approached the control center and were greeted by the powerful, skull-faced general of the organization, Crossroads.

"That's it?" He said, his voice a hoarse, wondrous whisper.

St. Anger nodded, gesturing to it. "Feel free to check."

His hand reached out to touch the capsule, but he drew it away with a hiss of pain. He examined the burn on his hand and smiled. "You may enter."

They did and were approached by the two leaders of the remaining organization, the wispy demoness Boadicea and the tall, Hellish priest, Trouble.

Trouble approached them and, his arms outstretched, smiled. "I knew I could count on you, St. Anger. Truly, La Squadra lives up to its reputation. Exceeds it, even! I trust it wasn't too much of an ordeal?"

"The money," said St. Anger, flintily.

"Of course." Trouble gestured to Boadicea. "The bonds."

Reluctantly, she floated over to them, in her ephemeral hands was a large metal suitcase. She opened it to reveal countless stacks million dollar Hellnotes, the bearer bonds of Hell.

St. Anger levitated the suitcase out of her hands and turned to Aoxomoxoa. "You know what to do."

St. Anger opened the capsule, the purified air inside sparked and sizzled as it reacted with the defiled atmosphere of Hell. Aoxomoxoa's tentacles raised and, careful not to touch the corpse, applied generous amounts of the silvery secretions onto its desiccated body. The effect was instantaneous, old joints snapped and popped back into place, flesh engorged and swelled as long dried muscle and skin rehydrated, ancient veins filled once again with blood. Full, supple lips closed once more over teeth, the grim rictus of a corpse replaced with the serene, sleeping face of a young man. The corpse was now a body, not alive, but not dead either.

"Marvelous," Trouble said, something not unlike glee in his even toned voice. "Truly worth every penny."

St. Anger and Aoxomoxoa turned to leave when Trouble called out after them. "Aren't you the least bit curious what we plan to do with this?"

St. Anger looked around him, at the demons in the room, seeing the hidden but present desperation in their eyes, the fanaticism, the loyalty to a dead lord. "No. Whatever you're planning, keep us out of it. If you must call on us again, just know that our rates have increased substantially. If that will be all?"

Trouble nodded and gestured for the other demons to stand down. "It will."

"Good day."

With that they left. The limo sped off into the vast city, its occupants about to upset the local order of power in a bloody conquest worthy of its own tale. However, such a story would be made utterly banal for the seed of destruction they left in their wake. Something truly terrible was underway.