Inside the farmhouse, Lincoln was seated at the dinner table with IMP. Millie's brothers were eating like wild wolves, and Striker ate by himself in the living room as they waited for the festival to begin. "Here you go, sug." Lin baked a fresh pie that was only for Lincoln's taste buds. "I know some of the usual Hell recipes might be too much for you, but I made sure to memorize this here apple pie!"
"Thanks." Lincoln cut a piece with a fork and ate it. "Mmm, this is great! You didn't have to go so far, though."
"Anything for my new grandbaby."
Joe took a large bite out of some juicy steak. "Hey, sonny! Sure ya don't want none of this fine meat? Nothing to build the muscles more than Wrath grilled meat, cooked to make you the scorn of your enemies!"
"Now, Joe. You know damn well he can't." Lin rubs the kid's head. "His stomach's too soft."
"...Wouldn't go that far..."
"See there? Don't doubt his pain tolerance, Lin." Joe flops the steak around. "Of course, he may as well not have anything to do with doing work for free and everything. Not something worth breaking your body for."
Blitzo tightly grips his chair's arms. "Okay, look. I let little comments like those slide because you're my employee's fam and because you gave us some free food, plus free housing. But just to make it very clear, our job racks in a ton of dough. A real thing you shouldn't doubt."
"Ma! We're done!"
One of the brothers burped out a bone and Lin exasperatingly took all the plates. "I swear, you boys need a new lesson in table manners."
"Let me help." Seeing his father tirelessly cook food for his family taught Lincoln that parents like him and Lin should be more appreciative for all their efforts in slaving away in the kitchen, so he picks up the now empty plates and Lin beamed at his politeness.
"Adorable and a gentleman? That settles it, there must be a God if I got myself the sweetest grandson around."
"If you really wanna help, Lincoln. Then follow your pappy." Joe wanted to show Lincoln the kind of work that a real man should do and the right place for that is the barn out back, too. "This here is where your Ma and her sibs were born in, you know.". Now, it's where he'll teach his grandson how to do some manly work. Joe is living the dreams of every grandfather right now. "Tell me, sonny. You ever worked on a farm before?"
"My friend, Liam, lives in one. He sometimes calls us for an extra hand or two."
Those chickens were a pain, though.
"In that case, buckle up! We here in Wrath do things a lot rougher compared to Earth farms." Joe had himself and Lincoln big stacks of hay to feed all the hell goats that fought each other for the spoils. Next were all the eggs being laid that shot out like missiles, leading both to quickly catch them before they could explode upon the walls, and Joe didn't forget taking the kid n a tractor ride that involved a super fast tractor that also sliced apart pests that were in the way as Joe laughed like a madman. Standard chores and activities at a farm in Hell. "Whoo! Nice to see the old girl still have some fight in her!" Joe said after getting kicked by one of the cows after he milked her for all she's worth. "Way more productive than free work, am I right, sonny boy?"
Lincoln was in a mess of hay straws and feathers. "Somehow, it's just as dangerous. But seriously, we do get paid. Everyone in the company pulls their weight when they really want to. Even Loona...sometimes. Not to mention Moxxie."
"Hmm. That right?" Joe furrows his brow.
"Well, yeah. I'm not kidding, he can be dangerous in his own right." Lincoln states. "He's stronger than he looks, the guy clearly cares a lot for everyone in his life and is willing to do whatever it takes to save them."
"That's...something, I suppose." Joe begrudgingly admits, making Lincoln smile. "I'm gonna go ahead and make sure everyone's nice and ready for the games."
Lincoln waits outside and looks to Wrath's skies, lost in thought. Spending time with Millie's family, where there were a a whole pack of them going crazy in the house, brought a huge sense of nostalgia to him, it almost feels like he's back in the Loud house. Even in Hell, there are those who shower him with familial affection, but is it really right to just accept them as a second family when he already has one waiting for his return?
His thoughts were interrupted when he got a surprising urgent feeling. He gazed at one of the house's windows where Striker's guest room was, he focused his sight and either he was going crazy, or there was some out of place glowing coming from there. "Done with all the work, runt?" Speak of the imp, there was Striker who had been observing all the chores getting done.
"Uh, yeah. Already leaving?"
"Just making sure Bombproof had his fill of grub." Striker pets his steed's muzzle. "Gotta say, surprised ya haven't collapsed from all the work Joe's had you do. Thought you would've done those fancy spells the Goetia's been teaching' you."
"You know about that?"
"That boss of yours really likes to talk." Striker chuckled. "Had a lot of stories to tell. When it came to you, I figured the only reason you've lasted was because you had that little book to get you out of shit. You're about the luckiest little son of a bitch to get access to something' that's off limits to us...lower demons." his tone had a slight edge at the end.
"I can't always rely on the book." Lincoln reasons. "I can defend myself just fine without it."
"Maybe. But going on the offensive never crossed your mind there?" Striker smirked, knowing he had him. "Your little company friends gave you tips on how to stay on the safe side, but this Hell, young'un. Ain't no such thing. Blitz also told me that you're rarin' to break the hold Hell has over you that keeps you from going' back to your kin in the living world." he humorously said. "If you ever want anything out of life, then don't be a softie like Moxxie. Blitz and me, we know what we're doin'. Think about that, kid." he climbs onto Bombproof and rides off.
Lincoln watches him go with a frown, what he said can be seen as sound advice, but he still didn't think he could trust anything Striker had to say.
But still, his words did have some truth, but he pushed it away.
Lincoln doesn't want to be anything like that, he could never be...and yet, Hell has shown him some things and well, it gave him a lot to digest and make sense out of. It's hard to think with the same mindset he once had after the messed up shit he's endured.
"Lincoln!" Millie announced throughout the farm. "Time to go~!"
As with past festivals over the years, all imps that live inn Wrath gathered together for this sacred event held only once a year. They stood side by side in a large crown, impatiently being on standby until the festivities could begin. On a large stand with speakers stood Wacky Wally Wackford, the ever incorrigible imp that took this shindig as a golden opportunity to make money out of. Behind him sat Stolas, waiting for his cue and keeping his grimoire close to his person, he grins when his eyes meet his delectable imp in the audience and fondly nods in approval to see Lincoln standing with Moxxie, Loona, Millie, and her family.
"Welcome, I say, welcome all to Wrath Ring's yearly annual Harvest Moon Festival!" Wally announced through a microphone. "To kick things off, we have the great prince Stolas here to usher in this year's harvest moon and begin the pain games!"
Stolas takes the mic for himself and laughs warmly. "How very kind of you, dear Wackford. Greetings, all you adorable tiny Wrath Ring imps! Hope you're having fun in another year of celebrating the spoils of your hard labor that continues to feed all of Hell's citizens!" Sure, it seemed like he was honoring those imps' hard work, but the way he worded it reminded the audience how while every other demon outside Wrath get to revel in resources provided by them, they still have to work tirelessly to do so again and it just made them send heated glares at the royal. "I'm especially happy to host your entertaining games that will challenge the strongest possible imps to show their skill and dominance. Good luck to you all!" he waved his fingers at them, and made sure to send a special message to one imp who he was cheering to win. "And a special good luck to the sexy little one there. Yoo-Hoo! It's me, Blitzy!"
"Oh, fuck me. Use my name right." Blitzo rolled his eyes, irritated. "Just start the games, already!"
For those that weren't partaking, they opted to sit in the stands. "Excuse me, young sir." a fancy-looking imp talked to Lincoln. "His highness has requested your presence." Stolas and Wally were in a booth reserved just for them, but the prince wanted to share the experience with his pupil.
"Hello there, dear boy!" Stolas gestured to Lincoln to take a free spot. "Come, sit! I take it you're enjoying the festival."
"Pretty good, so far." Lincoln replied. "Thanks for inviting us to come, Stolas."
"Think nothing of it, my pupil." Stolas looks through opera glasses. "You can say it makes up for taking back my grimoire until all's said and done."
"Oh, don't worry about that." Unlike Blitzo, Lincoln had no grievances. "It does still technically belong to you, after all and how else can you do your important job here without it?"
Nice to see somebody respects authority around Hell. "Too true, Lincoln. Although, I do apologize that Octavia couldn't make it. She never found these sort of affairs in a favorable light."
"Yeah, none of this really screams her, anyway." Lincoln can always tell her about it later. "You know, you sort of put Blitz on the spot. Not sure he wants the deal between you two known."
"How could I resist?" Stolas rang a bell. "Now then, let the games commence!"
Once the starter's pistol was fired, all imps that decided to participate ran like the wind to get a head-start. Moxxie did his best to catch up, but was trampled by all the imps that ran ahead.
It was a contest with many obstacles and challenges that pushed to the very limit and out of all of the participants, Blitzo and Striker were the fruitful to win as they had many things going for them. Moxxie was less fruitful as each contest ended with him failing and each time he lost, he had to get attacked by a Hell shark that seemed to have marked him as a new punching bag He at least managed to win thanks in large part to being on a team with Striker, and that was still a loss after getting drenched.
Nothing went Moxxie's way, only suffering defeat after defeat again and again and then, the shark came back to deliver an elbow drop. "Motherfu-!"
Eventually, the games came to an end and now was the time to present the victor, or in this case, victors. "I say, I say, for the first year ever, we have a tie for the winner of the harvest moon pain games!" The imps cheer.
As per his role, Stolas congratulated the champions. "The winners are Striker and my darling sweet Blitzy~!"
"Just say my name right, it's not that hard!"
Stolas made it hard for Blitzo to feel great about the win with his obvious bias.
Moxxie sat with his wife and Lincoln, despite all his efforts, he couldn't make the cut but he wasn't to let that Striker hold this over him. "Alright, I guess he has the physical advantage." Guns weren't his only forte. "But I'm great at other things, like singing."
But of course, he just had to tempt fate like that. "I'd like to take this opportunity to sing a quick song I wrote just now about me winning." Striker even had a guitar ready.
"Oh, what the fuck?!"
Lights turned on behind Striker as he played the instrument and began strumming that got the crowd in a frenzy. One fangirl rushed to the stage and Striker cruelly kicked her away in annoyance, but she was actually happy he did that and other fans attacked her out of jealousy for getting touched by the imp they also admired. The crowd kept on cheering for the vain cowboy continuing to serenade Wrath with his personal ode to himself and his superiority, acting like he's king of all imps.
Blitzo joins his employees in the stands, biting a festival treat. "Isn't that guy great?" It may sound too corny for him, but Blitzo found meeting and getting to know Striker to be a real treat, the guy had everything Blitzo could respect and may go as far to say that he's something of a kindred spirit.
Shame Moxxie didn't share that sentiment. "False!"
Lincoln suspiciously looks at the still-singing imp. "Blitz, I don't know. Something about him just doesn't feel right."
"Quit being paranoid, Lincoln." Blitzo chided. "That's no way to talk about your soon-to-be new coworker. I tell you, guys, it's gonna be fun working with him."
Moxxie and Lincoln did a double take. "Working with hi-what?!" Moxxie exclaims, aghast.
"Yeah, I asked him if he wants to join I.M.P." Blitzo informs. He felt that his talents were being wasted by being a simple farmhand, a mean SOB like Striker would be a great addition to the company. "We already got an intern. What's one more member of our little family? He says he's more of a solo act, but is willing to consider it. Just one more thing I like about him."
Failing to kill the hog, losing the pain games, and now this. It was no question that Moxxie was truly disheartened that Blitzo, his own boss, went and scouted for a new hire, it left the impression that the taller imp thinks of Striker as a more competent assassin than the gun expert could ever be. Granted, Blitzo likes to insult and denigrate 24/7, but he never once considered firing Moxxie. But now, it seems like he's looking for a replacement and that disheartened Moxxie even further, like this day's only purpose was to point out all his weaknesses and how people think less of him for them. "You asked...but..." Moxxie looked down in melancholy and Blitzo stared quizzically at him.
Seeing him in such low spirits broke Millie's heart and she does her best to offer support. "Mox, I think you've had enough for now. Let's head back to the house and get you clean."
"Yeah." Lincoln touches his shoulder in support. "I still believe Striker's not that better than you."
As if he overheard them, Striker gave a shout out to Moxxie. "Oh, before I forget. Moxxie, go fuck yourself, you pathetic bitch!"
Tearing up, Moxxie promptly leaves with his wife and Lincoln glared disapprovingly at Blitzo who remains oblivious. "What?"
"Do you have any idea how much that hurt Moxxie? Who am I kidding? Of course you don't." This was one of those times where Lincoln hated how callous Blitzo is. "Putting him down is just another Tuesday for you, Blitz."
"You talking about me wanting to hire Striker?" Blitzo correctly guesses. "Oh, what? Does Moxxie think I'll be kicking him to the curb? He's just being a pussy of a sore loser. It's not Striker's fault that he's so much better."
"Blitz, I just-there's something about Striker I don't like." Lincoln voiced his reservations. "You've only known him for about a day and suddenly, he's your BFF? How much do you even know about him?"
"I know he recognizes a fellow imp that won't take shit from anybody in Hell." Blitzo crossed his arms. "Be real, is this more about him giving Moxxie shit all day."
"That-" Lincoln couldn't come up with a counter argument. "Actually, there is that. But I'm not kidding, you should be more careful about just randomly hiring someone without running it by the rest of the employees. "
Blitzo dryly laughs. "Funny, I did that with you and you certainly didn't really hesitate now did you?" he teased.
That, however, struck a nerve and Blitzo's cockiness disappeared when Lincoln furiously scowled. "In case you forgot, I didn't really have much choice, now did I?! But why should that have mattered to you, anyway?" Seeing no point in convincing Blitzo, Lincoln left to follow his imp parents back to the ranch. "After all, you got yourself an unpaid intern out of it." That looks to be the only thing Blitzo does give a crap about, not even doing whatever he could to help Lincoln get back home.
Blitzo watched them leave and he hated admitting it, but a part of him did start to feel a little guilty.
Didn't come as a shock, though.
Folks can only put up with him for so long before they leave him, or he just gives them reasons to do it to save himself from the pain.
"Hey there, Blitz!" Striker had finished his song and went to meet up with him. "Everything cool?"
"Huh?" Blitzo blinked. "Oh, yeah. Just great. A-Okay."
Striker sensed that was bullshit, but didn't have time to get into that pile of shit. "Say, why don't I take you back on Bombproof? I think he likes ya."
"Done!" Blitzo brightens up and dashes to get on first. Striker hung back and looked at the stage where Stolas was still sitting, watching the higher-ranked rich prick be up there, watching imps like Striker and Blitzo duke it out as if they were putting on a show just for him, it pissed the cowboy off to no end. Still, Striker calmed himself as it wasn't quite time yet.
Soon, that hedonistic royal owl will get what's coming to him.
The end of the games didn't mark the end of the festival and the whole crew proceeded to get on back to the farm for more supplies for the real show that will soon take place, Blitzo was fawning over Bombproof while Millie's family placed Jack-o'-Lanterns into Joe's pickup truck. Inside were Lincoln and Moxxie, the latter still down from his less than stellar luck so far. "Here." Lincoln gave him a slice of leftover pie. "It's really good."
Moxxie graciously took it and admitted that it had flavor. "Lin always did make great pies." he sighs. "Shouldn't you be with the rest? Joe and Lin probably want you to lift the truck."
"I don't want bother their work." Lincoln got to the main issue. "Moxxie, I meant what I said. Win or lose, tough or not, you're you and that means more to us than anything else. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Lincoln, it's not like I want to be. But, for a Wrath imp, not having any sort of physical prowess is about as humiliating as it can be and everyone makes sure I'm aware. They even go far as to imply I'd make a horrible parental figure just for that." Moxxie sourly says. "No demon in Hell is free from being made fun of for one quality or another. The really difficult part is how nonsensical Joe and Lin can be. If guns can get the job done, then they should be happy that their daughter's married to someone who's not afraid to shed blood."
"Okay, this won't help, but I gotta tell you, everything else about you sometimes makes me forget that your an assassin for hire." Lincoln smiled weakly. "I mean, I can't say I've ever heard of one that likes opera music."
"Simple, most of them are philistines." Moxxie waves his hand. "But that's besides the point. They should see me in action, maybe then they'd respect my preference for firearms as opposed to their way of conducting business."
"Have you ever said that to their faces?"
"Satan no!" Moxxie sweats bullets." I can't show such disrespect to the in-laws!"
"Maybe that's the answer." Lincoln uses the logic of this ring. "Millie's parents prefer physical strength, but they could also prefer someone strong enough to stand up for himself and be proud of who he is and frankly, I'll take the gun-toting opera loving Moxxie any day."
Despite his depressive mood, Moxxie managed to crack a smile. "You really mean that?"
"Heck yeah, and it's not only that. You're loyal, smart, wise, and very understanding." To Lincoln, Moxxie was a prime example of a demon that actually has good qualities and the boy can't help but connect with him based on their similarities. "In fact, I like to think any kid would be lucky to have you for a father...I know I feel lucky." he signifies this with a friendly hug. "You know, if I were actually an orphan."
Moxxie's eyes snapped wide at that last part and cried happy tears as he returned the kid's embrace.
Lincoln said this because Moxxie needed to hear it, and also because the kid meant every word.
Being with I.M.P, it really does feel like a family sometimes...
Yet, there are still lingering emotions of guilt when he thinks about the Louds.
"I suppose if some good came from today, it's that you had fun, right?" Moxxie asked.
"Weirdly, yeah. I did. You still want to stay here?"
Showing his face after his loss will surely lead to more ridicule, but Moxxie's willing to bear it so long as Lincoln gets to have a good time. "You know what? I should at least actually try to enjoy things for once. Follow me, I could bring some things from the room." The two walked upstairs, but then they stopped once looking at the door leading to Striker's room. A light was shining through the bottom opening, it was the kind that radiated a slight Heavenly sensation, which raised some red flags for the now suspicious Moxxie. "...This is troubling."
"This is Striker's room, right?" Lincoln sees this as finding out more about the cowboy.
Both slowly went in and they froze upon uncovering an opened case that was the source of the light. The human and imp become shocked when they see that the contents was an old-school rifle decorated with glowing white designs. "A gun?" Lincoln had a feeling that this weapon was no ordinary Hell firearm.
Moxxie's gun knowledge confirmed that feeling. "Oh, my crumbs. That's not just any gun." He breathed in awe, running a hand through the weapon to get a feeling to it as if he was caressing ancient treasure. "We're looking at a genuine carmine crafted blessing-tipped rifle!" As with the Sinners of Pride, demons have been known to collect the discarded weapons of Exterminators and make new ones from them, but it was odd that an imp not only had one, but one that seemed like it was recently made. Moxxie was both amazed, yet profoundly anxious that such a weapon was in his wife's family's home. "How-How in the fuck did he get such a rare item?"
"Try asking first, little dudes."
Taken by surprise, Lincoln and Moxxie see Striker leaning by the entrance, they hadn't even noticed his presence. "Shit! Why-Why is this in your room?!" Moxxie demanded, putting Lincoln behind him. It was common knowledge that weapons originating from Heaven are the only things that can erase Sinner completely, but they're also the only known power to use against the top dogs of Hell. "I'm certain you're that with this weapon, you can-"
"Shoot a hole through demon royalty?" Striker cuts him off, not even bothering to hide his intention.
Moxxie nervously answers the rhetorical question. "...Yes?"
"Like Stolas..." Lincoln gasped. "Y-You're gonna use this to kill Stolas!"
"Give the boy a prize." Striker mockingly grins, tossing away his hay straw. The cowboy clawed away at the door to close it, leaving them alone in the room with Striker, who threateningly advances on them.
Moxxie still puts on a brave face, making some distance between his tormentor and Lincoln. "Okay. While I am very much unnerved by that gun and you being more threatening now, I'm at least glad that my instant dislike of you has been validated, because you are a grade-A ass-hole!" Moxxie chokes once Striker's tail constricts around his neck and is tossed against the wall painfully. Snickering sadistically, Striker pins him down, reveling in his futile efforts to push him off.
All Lincoln could do was stare in horror, legs frozen in fear, this guy was hurting his friend and he was scared.
"Wait..." This guy was hurting someone he cared about.
Striker was so heavily focused on choking the life out of Moxxie, he didn't notice Lincoln grab a vase and wack it across his head, causing the cowboy to let go of Moxxie and nudging a table to fall.
All this commotion could be heard outside by Millie.
"Lincoln, run!" Moxxie takes the boy's wrist and runs for the door but could only open and not enter when Striker grabs him by the tail and puts him in a fierce choke hold.
"No! Leave him alone!" Lincoln tries to assist, but Striker whips his tail against Lincoln's feet, making him trip up and fall. Striker's boot was pressed against the kid's chest, and Lincoln couldn't get back up.
"Pathetic, the both of you." Striker sneered viciously as Moxxie slowly lost consciousness. Lincoln tried prying Striker off him, and saw Millie climb in through the window. She dove at their attacker, pulling Striker's scarf back and drove her knife to the farmhand's back. Seeing what he was doing to the love of her life and to Lincoln-her son-that put her into a feral state. She attempted to slit the howling imp's throat, but her lack of self-control became her undoing when Striker slammed her to the wooden walls with extreme force, fracturing her arm.
She slid down in defeat, clutching her arm.
"Millie. Don't you dare hurt my wife..." Moxxie groans, reaching for her.
"No..." Lincoln whispered in dismay. "Leave her alone..."
"Damn." Striker rubbed his back. "Your Ma wasn't kidding, bitch. You do get carried away. Too bad I don't go down so easy like a fucking weakling." He picked up M&M by their horns and his tail restrained Lincoln. Making sure to not get caught, he took all of the three out back to the cellar and threw them in, where Millie got her leg caught in one of the inconveniently placed bear traps, but more convenient for Striker. "Much as I wanna kill y'all right now, that might lose a lot of points with your rodeo clown boss. Plus, you three little runts aren't worth all the cleaning, so just sit tight until the festival's done."
"Why do you want to kill Stolas?!" Even with the circumstances, Lincoln refused to show fear.
"I wouldn't expect an out of water guppy to understand." Striker ruefully responds. "But don't worry, little human. It'll be done quickly, the owl prince won't even notice there's a hole right between his eyes."
Lincoln and Moxxie race to get out, but Striker closes and locks the entrance on them. "No!" The human punches the wooden doors frustratingly before collapsing to his knees in despair. "Please, no..."
He knew if Striker succeeds, he'd be losing a teacher and ally, but he was more concerned with the fact that Octavia will lose her father and he couldn't forgive Striker just for that alone.
"Millie! Are you okay?!" Moxxie and Lincoln went to check on the latter's wife. "Oh, Satan below. This is all my fault." Try as they might, they couldn't get the bear trap off.
She reassured them that she was okay, she wasn't the toughest gal around Wrath just for her fighting ability. "Boys, I'm fine. I got worse than this during the flower toss at my brother's wedding." Millie laughs in nostalgia for that happy day becoming a day of fighting over flowers. "Didn't stop me when I caught that fucking bouquet and it was fucking worth it. You two just need to go up there and fuck up that brown nosing cocksucker for me."
"But I can't break through. I couldn't even get Lincoln out fast enough." That added more Moxxie's shame. "I'm not strong to do anything." If it were Joe or Blitzo, they'd make sure Striker would be put down in no time.
"You're not strong with your hands, baby." Millie tenderly lists his face. "But, you are strong at what you're best at."
It's one of the reasons why she loves him so much.
Moxxie looked offended. "Wait. I'm not good with my hands?" he asked obliviously.
Lincoln and Millie blankly stared at him. "Guns, Moxxie. She means guns."
"Oh, right. Yeah, yeah." Moxxie took out the gun he had that whole time and fired it at the entrance, allowing him to walk out. Lincoln looks at Moxxie, then at his pistol, then back at Moxxie with a profusely confused gaping face and 'got to be kidding him?' eyes. "I-I probably should've used this much earlier when-when he had us on the ropes, huh?" Moxxie laughs and shrugs awkwardly at his own little blunder..
"I love you with all my heart, hon. But for fuck's sake!" Millie groaned, exasperated.
"Let's just hurry up and stop Striker." Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose. "Should we warn Stolas?"
"That would incite a mass panic." Moxxie infers. "Striker would make it work for him." He knew that the powerful Goetia could easily handle a lone assassin, but with a Heaven gun, risks shouldn't be taken and he wouldn't put it pass Striker to fire on some of the imps to get an easy target, including Millie's family.
"What about Blitz?"
"I'm afraid we can't afford to waste time. Come on!" Moxxie runs ahead, but Millie calls to her boy.
"Lincoln, wait!" Still in pain, Millie had enough in her to speak to him. "Are you sure you want to go?" She had faith in Moxxie to protect the intern, but her maternal feelings begged her to do everything in her power to keep him away from Striker.
The kid didn't deny that he was scared, but imagining Octavia's grief outweighed it. How can he call himself her friend or Stolas' student if he did nothing to stop an attempt on the prince's life? "Yes. I am."
Still worried, Millie was proud all the same. "Then, take this." She gives him one of her knives. "Just please, be careful."
Lincoln gives her one last hug. "I will." Just like his promise to reunite with Rita, he was adamant in going back to Millie when this was over.
Seeing that the time was almost arriving, Stolas was ready to wrap up the celebration with the responsibility he's always accomplished over the past festivals through many centuries. It was dismaying that Lincoln was nowhere to be seen to observe this once in a year presentation, but he still had a job to do, and Stolas didn't want to hear any reprimand for shirking that job. "My dear commoners of Wrath and farming!" His grimoire is levitated and flips to a special page. "I, Stolas, of the Ars Goetia graciously curse this year's harvest with the glow of the true Harvest Moon!" A large portal opens in the sky, revealing a beautiful red-colored moon that sends it's magnificent glow across Wrath and the imps who admire it.
Stolas stood satisfied in holding up his duty, unaware that from afar, Striker was positioned in a house with his Heaven rifle, looking through the scope and ready to be the imp who killed a high tier demon.
But then, a click was heard as was an outraged question.
"Uh, excuse me. The fuck is all this?!"
Blitzo had arrived, his flintlock aimed at Striker after seeing what he was about to do and did not like it.
A gun pointing at him did little to deter Striker, he actually had a plan for this. "Blitz! Figured you were still at the ceremony." he treated it as if he just ran into a drinking buddy.
"Like Heaven I wanted to stand surrounded by a bunch of hillbillies worshiping corn shit with a thirsty owl on stage." Blitzo also noticed his employees were missing, so went back to the house, he just didn't expect to find this.
"Heh, and now you seem disappointed in me." Striker observes with feigned disappointment and standing up from his sniping position.
"Yeah, well, I'm not a fan of someone I offered a job to off my easiest lengthy ticket to Earth behind my back. I like to think that's more than enough reason to be pissed off!" Blitzo bitterly reasoned.
Striker was a deceptive imp, but he wasn't lying when he said that Blitzo's aim to be the head of his own private business was impressive. He had both the drive and killer instinct. But despite all that confidence, Striker could see behind all that bravado, there was obvious fear and self-loathing, powerful weaknesses that can be manipulated by the right kind of cowboy imp. Among his many talents, Striker was a big one. Blitzo may think he has the upper hand because he's the one with the gun, but Striker's not so easily disturbed, unlike Blitzo. "Blitz, don't be like that. I'm only doing this to help you out. Anything for a fellow imp who's way superior to most of our kind." Striker boldly walks up to the now wary boss. It suddenly felt like many eyes were on him. "Although, if you were so above sucking on a disgusting rich pompous Goetia for that book, I would've made sure it was for a worthwhile cause besides working for scraps at the beck of pissy Sinners. You could've made a name, killing Overlords." His talk made Blitzo waver.
"I-I get easy money!" Blitzo protests.
"But is that really what you want to be remembered as? The guy for the departed to whine at for their ends?" Striker criticized. "You have more grit than the standard imp, yet you keep letting yourself get weighed down by your own fear of failure and all you have to show for it are a bunch of weak little scrubs."
Blitzo took offense to that. "Hey, at least my team is loyal!"
"Like that little human you keep around?" Striker slithers around the room to keep him distracted. "He's angling to get the fuck out of Hell, if I recall. Which would be such a waste, wouldn't you agree? The brat has access to demon magic that's kept away from us, all because we're considered less than shit by Hell's big wigs. All that juicy knowledge and you didn't think to maybe use a goldmine like that? Think of how useful he can be."
"L-Lincoln's just an intern! He's-"
"What? You're gonna tell me you actually wanna help him get back up top? Spend the rest of his days with his little family?" Striker spat in disgust. "Don't bullshit me, man. Why bother caring about what some mortal runt wants when it's your needs that matter? Small fry like him aren't worth crap, and you're the boss, right? A real boss wouldn't let his lackeys slow him down. It's why I prefer to work alone for so long."
If only Striker knew how much Blitzo wanted to fire, but he found his grip on the flintlock loosening. "Will you stop with all the talk and tell me what the point is?!"
"The point, Blitz, is while you've got a lot of good stuff going for you, you don't think big." Striker believes imps of his and Blitzo's design can do so much more than just take killing jobs from disgruntled sinners, they could make it so that no one saw them as weak, not even the really powerful demons. "Why struggle to run a business that is rigged against you?"
All Blitzo wanted was for Striker to keep his trap shut for just one second, for the cowboy spoke a lot of unfortunate truths. Despite his success, I.M.P is still not as big a hit as he hoped. He was in imp. In Hell, imps aren't good for anything other than servicing all the other demons like how Wrath imps provide all the food, or Stolas' many servants, or a bumbling circus clown performer that never could succeed without his sister or childhood friend. Blitzo wanted to prove that he could bring about his own success, but he could not do so all alone, he needed help and that was what angered him most of all. He didn't feel any of his current successes were good enough if it mostly involved him having to depend on others.
"What do you want from me?"
"What I want is for you to wise up and see the benefits of partnering up with me and kill the unkillable." Striker tempted, trapping Blitzo to the wall. "Starting with the one who treats you like a plaything."
Blitzo stops and contemplates all of it, it all just sounds like the kind of thing any imp like him would take. In the middle of thinking, Blitzo sees the door creak slightly and smirks before getting Striker's attention. "Ooh, that's kinda hot."
Striker was pleased to see that Blitzo was seemingly coming around. "We could be the most dangerous beings in Hell, Blitz."
"Wow, that was an excellent fucking pitch."
Admittedly, Striker did have a way with words. "I workshopped it all day." he pushes the gun out of the way.
"You know what?" Blitzo grinned maliciously. "Fuck it. Sounds like fun." He had him...only it was Blitzo that had Striker when the cowboy realized too late that Moxxie and Lincoln were there and the shorter imp took the Heaven rifle for himself to use against its previous owner. "Took you two long enough!" Letting Striker continue trying to sway him, giving his employees enough time to leave him without his trusty tool. "Wow, you should've seen your dipshit face!" he insulted Striker, and looked behind to see a knife held by Striker pointed at him. It looked like Striker was ready in case Blitzo didn't join him. "Whoa, okay. Can you scream cliche?" Striker pulled the flintlock forward and made Blitzo pull the trigger and Moxxie came really close to getting hit if not for his quick thinking of using the rifle as a shield to deflect it. "Oh, why you daddy fucker!" Blitzo angrily bit down on Striker's arm and elbows him in the face to free himself. He tries whacking him with the gun, and Striker disarms him to tangle Blitzo's arm, then pushes right into Moxxie, causing the rifle to be dropped.
Moxxie tries reaching out and screams when Striker steps on his hand. "You dumb fucks lost the upperhand fast!"" Striker taunts, pointing it at them.
Blitzo wouldn't count them out just yet. "Ha! You seem to have forgotten one thing, bucko!" he whistled loudly and Striker prepared himself the hellhound of I.M.P.
Only for her to not show up at all. Loona was outside browsing through her phone, not even bothering when her ears picked up Blitzo's whistle.
"Ugh..." Loona irritatingly groaned.
"Fucking dammit, Loona." Blitzo hoped she knew this would lead to a lot of grounding and regressed phone time.
"Like I told ya." Striker tells him. "Can't have any faith in scrubs."
Except for one. "Forget about me?!" Lincoln bravely grabbed the rifle and struggled to pry it off Striker's hands.
Striker gritted his teeth. "Trust me, you little shit. I haven't!" The imp cowboy pushed him off and struck and swung the butt of his rifle against his face, then to the gut, and coiled his tail around the human's neck, lifting him up and restraining Lincoln with one arm. Alarmed and further angered, Blitzo and Moxxie moved to assist, but Striker wagged a finger at them. "Ah, ah, ah. Be a shame if the boy gets hurt." he tightened his tail's grip on Lincoln's throat.
"Don't listen to him...!" Lincoln exclaimed through choked grunts.
His coworkers growled hatefully at Striker and reluctantly lowered their weapons.
Outside, Loona heard his cries as well and this time, she actually stopped searching. "Lincoln...?" she questions with a worried frown, she dropped her phone and she didn't pick it up.
Inside, Striker laughed triumphantly. "You see, boy? Little fellers get stepped on in these parts! It's only natural. After all, without your babysitters, or your little book, what do you have? Nothing and no one to save you! Especially not your precious fam! How about this? After I'm done with ya, I go ahead and take care of your pals at I.M.P, and when I kill your teacher, I take that book and track down your kin? They must be so worried sick about you! It's only right that I reunite you! Haha! What do you think?!"
Lincoln's eyes slowly closed and it seemed like this was it, this was how his story would end, until he heard Striker's last threat.
'...No.'
He was scared, so terribly terrified, but what was more of a powerful motivator was hatred.
Burning hatred, and he had more than enough for the imp called Striker.
What he did to Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo. What he's trying to do to Stolas, the pain he'll cause for Octavia. He's hurt the people he loves in Hell, and he was threatening to do the same to the people he loves on Earth out of spite.
It ignited a fire in Lincoln, the same kind of feeling he felt back during the cherubs incident.
At the ceremony, Stolas notices the grimoire's pages glowing and equally perplexing was that the Harvest Moon gaining a darker shade.
As if both were reacting to something.
Or rather, someone.
A fire set off in him. "You wanna know what I think?" he manages to say, opening his eyes to reveal them glowing red. "Fuck you!" he bellowed, brandishing the knife Millie lent him and in a flash, used enough strength to stab the imp assassin's hand.
This shocked all others, none more so than his coworkers. Striker shouted and he broke his hold on him. "You little son of a bitch!" His momentary shock was all Blitzo needed to kick him in the leg and in the gut. The rifle was once more out of his hands and back to Moxxie's. Blitzo charged with a lamp to smash on Striker's face and then tried punching the two-faced imp.
Striker evades by ducking and claws at Blitzo's face with just his left hand. His handicap gave the boss a winning edge as Striker got a headbutt from the boss imo. Blitzo's own tail coiled around Striker's waist and threw him across the room. In a surprising show of strength, Lincoln lifted a potted cactus plant up and threw it at his hated adversary, and he was nearly shot by Moxxie with the rifle. All three cornered Striker who was now at the mercy of Blitzo ready to shoot him point blank. "I still think it's embarrassing. '' he still found it in him to keep ragging on Blitzo. "You're wasting a lot of potential relying on a weak little-" A bullet almost hits him, and for once, he breaks a sweat.
"You wanna finish that fucking sentence, partner?" Moxxie challenged.
Striker smirked. "Vermin."
Tough talk coming from a guy that lost a fight against all three. "Who's weak now, bitch?! Not so hot shit now without this gun!"
At the insanely wrong time, the door is kicked open by Loona, colliding it with Moxxie, disarming him. "Lincoln?! Where are you?!" Loona gapes in shock at her young coworker's face, wielding a knife and looking like he could go out cold. Her eyes went to look at the downed Striker and judging by the looks of it, she figured out he must have been messing with her only friend. Her little brother. Baring her teeth, she lunged at Striker, grabbing his collar and slamming his head into the mirror window. Getting something from his pocket. "Mess with Lincoln, will you?! Striker throws dust at Loona and all she sees are blurs.
"Good try, junkyard dog!" Striker knew how much of a pain in the ass it is to tangle with a hellhound he was loath to admit defeat, he knew when to cut his losses. He kicks Blitzo's gun out of his hand and makes a break for the window. "Maybe you'll get me next time, Blitzy." he remarks.
"No! You're not getting away!" Lincoln shouts.
Striker glared at him in silence before he smirked, and to Lincoln's confusion, Striker began chuckling to himself. "You know something, boy? You did the one thing not many have done. You went and surprised me. That!" he yelled in what sounded like respect. He showed his fresh cut. "That is what I meant before, remember? Someone gives you shit, you make sure that's their last mistake! And those eyes!" Lincoln's eyes still had a red color. He hated to admit it out loud, but Striker couldn't hide how impressed he was. "Those are the kind of eyes you should be havin' if ya serious about surviving Hell! Guess I really did underestimate you, boy. But don't go thinkin' it'll become a habit!" he warns through a twisted grin. "Happy trails, y'all!"
Striker proceeds to jump out the window and Blitzo would've pursued him, but the cowboy was long gone.
"We..." Lincoln panted, losing his balance and dropping the knife still wet with Striker's blood. "...have to follow him...he might...try again..." His eyes went back to normal and fainted.
"Lincoln!" Loona catches him and the three demons gaze at the passed out boy in concern.
This Harvest Moon Festival was one for the books.
"I see. So, this would-be assassin made his escape?"
After the events of last night, Lincoln had a lengthy rest following the confrontation with Striker. Upon waking up and getting band-aids, the first thing Lincoln did was run to Stolas and inform him of everything involving the attempt to assassinate Stolas with a Heaven rifle. "Yeah. He did." Lincoln scowled. That imp didn't deserve to be let off that easy, free to go for a second try. "Stolas, maybe you should have someone track him down. Right as we're speaking, he could be plotting, and-"
"Dear boy, please do not fret over this." Stolas liked the concern, but felt it was unneeded. "Opportunistic riff-raff opting to kill demon royalty are a dime a dozen in Hell. It's actually quite amusing that this wandering cow-poke thought he even had a chance."
Lincoln wasn't so flippant. "But he had a gun made from Heaven weaponry! If we hadn't been there, think of how bad it could've ended!" he was sounding disrespectfully angry, it came from a student worrying for his teacher. "We don't even know how he got it!"
"But you were there, and you drove him away." Stolas oddly finds this as a sort of conversation he'd be having with Octavia, even making his own vow. "Lincoln, I made a promise to guide you in your mystical training and that hasn't changed and never will." A Goetia would normally be insulted that a mortal human thought it'd be so easy for them to go down, but Stolas saw Lincoln truly didn't wish to see any misfortune come to his teacher or see Octavia in intense grief as well. Lincoln always manages to warm the cold hearts of some demons with his affinity for compassion. "Should this Striker reappear, I can guarantee heavy...repercussions." His four eyes briefly glow with malice.
Attempting to kill him was something Stolas can overlook, but he refuses to ignore Striker savagely accosting Blitzo and Lincoln.
The boy wished to protest more, but chose to have faith in his mentor. "If-If you're sure."
"Of course I am, and tell Blitzy I plan on giving him a very...extended award for his bravery." Stolas laughed at his own impishness.
"...Right. Tell Octavia I said hi."
"It shall be done." Stolas hails the driver of his carriage. "Let us be off now!"
The prince opens a portal to head back to his luxurious palace. Lincoln was still troubled, but couldn't worry much about it now, in fact, he could do more with unwinding from this whole ordeal. Granted, it was expected that things would get hectic, but the stakes were notably much higher this time around. For a minute, it really did seem like Blitzo would really take up on Striker's deal. What he said truly affected Blitzo and Lincoln wanted to believe he was just stalling, but with Blitzo, understanding his whole deal and what he'll do, not easy at all. Another concerning fact was how he just let loose and stabbed the cowboy, it was a familiar feeling like when he unleashed his anger out on the cherubs.
For Striker, it was pure hatred.
The hate was still there, but Lincoln still couldn't believe he did all that.
He truly stabbed someone for the first time in his life.
In his defense, his and his friends' lives were threatened and it can be attributed to adrenaline coursing through him, but it felt like more than that. Lincoln never imagined himself ever going that far no matter what they've done, and in this instance, knowing that he did so frightened him.
The rush, however, was exciting.
Lincoln walked back to the farmhouse where I.M.P were prepared to head back to Imp City. Joe and Lin were taking care of bandaging up Millie's injuries, but didn't spare her from some admonishment. "I can't believe you let him trap you in the cellar, Millie!" Lin scolded. "I know we taught you better!"
"I was seeing all the red, Ma!" Millie can't help it if she got mad over her boys getting hurt. "And he was a slippery eel!"
"Excuses won't work!" Lin didn't let up. "You're better than that, Mildred." It was way harsh, but both just wanted Millie to be more mindful of her unchained bloodlust, they expected her to not just fight, but also fight smart.
They could go a bit easy on her, though.
Moxxie had enough. "You know, she protected me and Lincoln." he informs his in-laws, and in a very unexpected move of a bold attitude, denounces their actions for once, pointing out their own screw ups. "And maybe I'm not a strong beefy dickhead, just a sensitive soul. but Millie's strong enough to take care of us all! You two are on her case about being hurt by a psychopath you hired?" Joe and Lin couldn't hide their shared shame in that as Millie beamed up in pride over her husband's forwardness. "Shame on you!" he finally took Millie and Lincoln's words to heart.
"Wow." Lincoln smiled. "Way to go, Moxxie."
"Aw, Moxxie, you look so grown up!" Blizo shows his gratification through a proud parent voice. "Speaking like a big boy buying his big pants and telling off the in-laws!"
Joe advances to face Moxxie who stood his ground and the older imp hums and nods, accepting the blame much to Millie's astonishment. "Wow! He really nodded! He's never acknowledged your input before!"
"I think you're making some progress." Lincoln encouragingly says to Moxxie and helps Millie up in her crutches. "And Millie, I guess you'll want this back." he shows the knife she gave him.
Fervently shaking her head, Millie denies it. "Fuck no, sweetie! That's the knife you used to stab a son of a whore for the first time, that makes it all yours!" she sniffles, swelling with happy tears. "My baby's first knife and his first stabbing action! I can't believe I missed that!" she bemoans.
"I-uh..." Lincoln holds the knife hesitatingly. "I don't think-"
"You should've seen it, Mills!" Blitzo had it all memorized. "Striker was all like, 'Grr, you little shit! I'm-a about to choke you, yee-haw!' and Linc grew a pair and was all, 'Go fuck yourself! I got a knife!' If you weren't still an intern, I'd pay you on the spot...but don't take that seriously. Still, I do smell some new video games in your future, sport!"
Joe and Lin had something to say about that, too. "Gotta say, that sure was heavy to hear." Lin rubs her arm. "I suppose some apologies are in order for thinking you were too delicate, honey. It's just Hell can be a very bad place and well, I don't want to lose my first grandbaby so fast."
"Believe me, I understand." Lincoln surely surprised himself.
"Heh-heh, told you there was a fighter in there!" Joe tousled his hair and looked at Moxxie. While he may still have some reservations, the farmer is beginning to see why Millie and Lincoln hold him in high regard. "I guess it helps to be both strong, sharp, and smart at the same time." I.M.P went inside the van and it drove away from the ranch.
"Come back, anytime!" Lin yelled in farewell. "Don't be a stranger now!"
Blitzo sees Lincoln through the rear view mirror and the kid had a troubled expression. "It really was pretty badass how you handled yourself, kid. That badassery may just get you home faster." Lincoln looked up to see Blitzo's light smirk and he smiled in gratitude. "Next time, I could listen to whatever feeling you get over a slimy ass-wipe, got any more feelings?"
"...Yeah. I do." Lincoln gazes out the window. "I think we're not done with Striker just yet."
Striker needed a place to recover.
Hideaway Motel was not the best place in Wrath to lay low until the heat dies down, not even his first choice either. But Striker didn't have other options and he wasn't expected to get far without treating his injuries. He was pissed beyond measure, thanks to Blitzo and his people, they completely fucked up his job, all that time and energy spent on being a new farmhand to a pack of farmers, waiting for the day of the festival to make his move, all for nothing.
He was left with only wounds and a damaged ego and the fact that it was smaller weaker imps that had to go and outdo him just rubbed salt in those wounds.
Be that is it may, he had to give it to them. They knew how to give a challenge and that kid, Lincoln, did he ever show that there was more to him than he seemed, more than just a runt lost in Hell.
No, there is something in him.
It was unclear as to what, but it was something special.
Unique.
All that aside, Striker knew that in addition to losing the Heaven rifle being bad enough, but now, he had to report his failure to the one that hired him to take the job in the first place.
The demon who wanted to have Stolas killed.
"The target's still alive. Afraid I ran into some...interference at the festival." Striker resentfully admits through the telephone in his rundown spotty broken temporary room. "But don't fret none, ma'am. I won't let it happen again." He fiddled with a similarly blessing tipped revolver.
Lot more toys besides the rifle.
"You had better! I didn't waste my time hiring you so that cheating prick doesn't die! I don't care who you have to go through! Make it happen or you can forget about your damn payment!"
So says Stella Goetia herself. Legal wife to Stolas and mother of Octavia, also known as the vindictive avian demon who's outrage over her husband's infidelity with an imp had gotten to the point where she, without remorse, hired an assassin to kill him for it. All those times spent away from the palace, looking for the right demon for the job under the guise of socializing with other demon aristocrats led her to Striker and she wasn't going to allow it to be all for naught.
"I understand."
"Anything else, more failures to report?"
"...Nah. Just know the feathery dick-brain's head will be on a silver platter soon enough." They hung up on each other. "Tch. Royal whore." he spat. Huge payment or not, it inflamed Striker that he accepted a job from the type of uppity vain demon royalty that he detests so much, but opportunities like this come once in a lifetime. That doesn't imply she has his complete loyalty, since he purposely neglected to tell her about Lincoln. She believes she's the one in control since she gave him the job, but Striker won't bow down to no one and Lincoln could prove to be a useful tool to show her who's the real superior demon. For now, he just has to make sure another failed hit doesn't occur again. Twirling his pistol, Striker turns the lamp light off with a venomous grin. "I'll get him next time and that kid better watch out..."
His hissing was the only noise in the dark room.
This indeed isn't the last time Striker will act.
Not by a long shot.