Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all fairness,  this wasn't her fault. Not entirely. 

Millie had come with her cousins and sister to celebrate her oldest brother's bachelor party in Greed and had made a rash decision. 

And as rash decisions go, it was a doozy.

The farm girl had met a guy in Greed and made the impulsive decision to stay there.

Why not?

The guy was goofy, but he was fun and told great stories. And Greed was an exciting Ring, always some kind of chaos or crime going on.

It was the kind of violence she thrived on.

Unfortunately,  Chaz was not the type of guy she thrived on.

The snaggle-fanged bastard had dumped her in the most humiliating and frustrating way she could imagine. 

********************

She had met him in the diner they usually had breakfast in. She had been a bit concerned because he hadn't come back to his apartment last night…

…she wasn't quite ready to call it “their place.”

But she lit up when she saw the lanky shark walk towards her, still smiling as widely as ever.

“Heeeeyyyy, Mills….did you remember to drop that envelope off at the landlord's office?”

Millie frowned.

He had barely spoken to her the last two days, was basically missing for the last eighteen hours, but his main concern was rent?

“Yeah? Is something goin’ on? Ah feel like I've barely seen you -”

“I think we should break up.”

That really threw her off.

“Wh - what? Why? Why now? We just started dating!”

Chaz scratched his head, awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact.

“Look, you're fun, it's just ….well, you're not a good long term option, ok?”

Millie balked at that.

“Excuse me?”

The loan shark shrugged.

“Hey, it's not my fault! You don't cook, you don't clean, you go crazy on anybody who looks at you funny! I'm scared that one day you'll go nuts and cut my head off or something. “

Bastard. He had the nerve to come in smiling like everything was fine just to dump this on her?!

Ugh….could be worse.  He could have been a cheat -

“Plus, things finally feel like they're starting to get serious with this other girl I've been seeing.”

Millie felt her pulse speed up.

“Excuse me?”

The lanky demon just went on, oblivious to the sudden edge in her tone.

“Yeah, took long enough. But she's the kind of girl you have to romance, you know? Really classy.”

“And I'm not?”

He held up his hands defensively.

“Woah, don't pin me down! It's apples and oranges! She's rich, well-bred, all refined and shit, and you're ….you're great too.”

The Wrathian imp had to bite her tongue to keep herself from snarling.

“So yer just gonna leave me fer some girl ya just met?!”

“No! No, of course not! I've been seeing her longer than I've even known you.”

She could feel her claws digging into the flesh of her thighs.

It was getting harder and harder to resist leaping across the table to mutilate the son of a bitch.

‘Just be cool, breath. He's not worth it, he's not worth it, he's not…’

“She's got bigger tits and a much cuter ass than you, too.”

Millie saw red.

All the other demons in the diners heard was a Wrathian accent scream out, “IT'S WORTH IT!” before the place became a wild torrent of chaos and bloodshed.

*******************************

The entire outburst had definitely felt worth it in the moment,  but getting caught by the Greedian police and sentenced to six months in Mint City Women's Penitentiary hadn't been. 

Her family couldn't pay the bail or the damages, so her only choice was to wait out the sentence. 

It wasn't so bad.

Within the first couple days, she already the reputation of the one inmate you didn't want to mess with. 

Ripping out her first cellmate's spine and using it to beat a prison guard guaranteed that.

With no drama, her sentence was flyin’ by. She only had two months to go before she could ditch this cesspool forever own perdition. 

Her only regret was that the slimy shark had managed to survive the assault with minimal damage.

Her rage had her swinging wide, so she hadn't been as precise as usual in her attacks. 

Ugh…even thinking of that bastard made her blood boil.

She could only hope that the parasite had somehow screwed up with his side-chick and was at least as alone as she was.

********************************

The police were oddly gentle in escorting her inside the prison processing center.

After being roughly cuffed and thrown into the back of a Greedian cruiser, she was surprised at the sudden respect. 

And then the sudden respect was promptly explained when one of those police leaned over to address her.

“Hey, sorry about earlier.  We didn't know who yer dad was, and got a little carried away. Don't worry,  he already knows you're here.”

With that one statement,  it was as if her blood was replaced with ice water.

Being abandoned by her boyfriend at a heist she wasn't even supposed to be at was bad enough, she didn't want to face her father right after.

He had been adamant that he didn't want her involved in the family business.

But she knew she could help!

She'd grown up watching him run his empire.

She was good with weapons, with poison and getting information. 

She knew how to build a social net, make connections and get things.

But none of that mattered.

Her father only ever saw her as a dumb little girl at worst, and a ticket to a son-in-law and grandkids at best.

She dragged her hooves through processing, dressing in a jumpsuit, and being led to a visiting room.

She didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him, didn't want -

The guard escorting her interrupted her doom spiral.

“Yer daddy is waiting fer you at booth five, honey.”

Next thing she knew, she was sat down in the stereotypical plexiglass booth, her father glaring at her from the other side.

“Daddy, please listen, I didn't -”

His gruff voice interrupted her, just like at home.

“I've told you before;

It doesn't matter what you meant to happen,  what's done is done! I told you this would happen.  You're not meant for working the front lines, Moxxie.”

The freckled imp managed to fight through the tears threatening to spill from her eyes to retort.

“But I got the money, more than what you wanted!”

The older imp grit his teeth and slammed a fist into the table.  The guards looked over but did nothing. 

Not that they could.

“Yeah, and then got yourself caught because you were trying to steal some jewelry from a safety deposit box.”

She balked silently at the accusation as her father continued. 

“That idiot ex-boyfriend of your's told me everything.  This is why I told you to stay out of our business!”

Tears were now running down both cheeks. Other prisoners and guards were watching, but she didn't care.

She was far too overwhelmed by the depth of her boyfriend's betrayal, so much so that it took her a moment to fully register everything her father had said.

“Wait, ex-boyfriend ?”

“Congrats, you're officially single!  That toothless bastard is never gonna be allowed to see you again.”

She couldn't believe it.

Her father wouldn't even allow her the dignity of breaking up with that traitor herself. 

Once again, the patriarch took her silence as an opportunity to continue.

“I've had enough of this rebellious nonsense from you, young lady. Yer twenty years old, time to take proper responsibility.

“You're meant to be the matriarch of this family,  and you can't do that slumming around with losers or trying to be something you're not.

“As soon as you get out, we'll see about getting you hitched. Once you're tied down, everything else will fall into place.”

Her heart sank from her chest, past her stomach, through her feet and into the ground below, leaving her body still and hollow.

“What?!” Was the only thing she could manage to blurt out in her panic.

On the other end, her father either took no notice of her distress or chose to ignore it.

Instead, he acted as if she had simply misheard him.

“We're going to get you a husband.  A good one, someone who can lead this family! We don't have a lot of options here in town, but it's ok. I know a guy in Wrath who -”

“ I can't just marry a stranger!”

Her outburst shocked both of them. This time, the silence was on the other side.

With terrifying slowless, his face curled down into a scowl.

“Interrupting is very rude, young lady.”

In an almost Pavlovian response, she immediately replied. 

“I'm sorry, daddy.”

After a moment of stillness, he allowed his face to shift to a “friendly” expression. 

“That's better. Now, I'll have a talk with some…friends of mine in city hall.  You'll be out in a week tops, no record.”

“A week?”

His voice once again took on a sterner tone.

“Yes, a week. Since you seem to love running away from home so much, you'll be grounded somewhere I know you can't escape from. 

“Then, after you've learned yer lesson and settled down, we'll look into getting yer fiance here for you to meet him.”

Knowing she couldn't argue, she silently hung her head before replying. 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl. Now, what do you say when someone does you a favor?”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm…”thank you”, what?”

“Thank you…..daddy.”

“I'll see you in a few days. Stay safe, and remember; your cousin Darious is in the lieutenant guards if you need anything.

Love you, Princess.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

She clicked the phone back onto its receiver and allowed herself to be escorted towards her cell, having lost the will to even look up as she walked, allowing herself to be blindly led by the guard.

***********************************

Millie's peace and quiet was interrupted By the block guard banging his nightstick on the bars of her cell to get her attention. 

“Look alive, convict.” The gruff raptor demon called into the cold cement box.

“We've got a new roommate for ya. Better let this one stay in one piece, she's a “VIP guest”.”

His tone made it impossible to discern if it was sarcastic or not, but it didn't matter. 

No matter who it was, they were coming into her cell, and better be ready to follow her rules.

A doberman-esc hellhound guided the other prisoner, an imp on the smaller side, through her barred barrier and into the cell.

She was wearing an orange jumpsuit just like Millie's,  but her head was hung down and her long hair made it hard to discern any physical features in the dim light.

The door changed and locked behind the newcomer, and the block guard took the time to look Millie in the eye before leaving. 

“Treat this one gentle, understood?”

The Wrathian bit back a snarl, but maintained eye contact until the Dino demon left, his underling in tow.

Once they were out of sight, she hopped down from the top bunk to confront her new “roommate”, who had already taken up residence in the bottom bunk.

“OK, Ah don't care what they told ya, but this ‘ere is mah cell, and yer gonna - !”

Sniffle, sniffle, hic.

The sound of the other inmate’s quiet sobs stopped her in her tracks.

Normally,  she'd be annoyed by such a display. 

If ya knew what you were getting into, ya shouldn't cry about it!

But…her tiny, trembling form, the muffled hiccups and sniffles, and the short, sharp little gasps she could hear between sobs….

Something about it just stabbed straight through her heart with a pang of pity and concern.

Quietly, slowly, she settled down next to her.

Her shaking form shifted slightly when she felt the weight next to her, picking herself up enough to look at her cellmate.

Giving Millie her first good look at the girl.

She was so…so cute.

Long, slightly curled black hair with a natural shine. A smattering of white freckles on both cheeks, pointed bangs, and dark horns that zagged and curved back.

Big, round eyes and long lashes gave her a sweet, almost dolly look, and her mouth had a slight puppyish shape to it.

Her legs were digitigrade like the Goetia's taloned claws, ending in sweet little hooves. 

And despite her petite size, she had a generous endowment of curves.

A soft, rounded bust, waspish waist and hips that gently swelled outward before curving into her thighs.

Even in this dingy cell, even in a baggy out prison jumpsuit, she was striking.

Millie could definitely see herself hitting that at some point, although now was hardly the time to be thinking about poontang. 

The girl was clearly in distress and needed someone to lean on; Millie may not have been the best at providing comfort but Satan damn it she couldn’t just leave the gal to wallow in her own sorrow. 

She didn’t have a heart of stone!

She reached over slowly to touch the girl's shoulder, but she immediately flinched and tried to scoot further away.

“Are ya ok? You seem -”

“I'm fine, I….it's stupid. I'm…I'm sorry.”

Millie couldn't help but stare at her for a moment. 

The crying, alongside her sudden defensiveness, said she was anything but fine.

She tried to give her another nudge.

“Yer sorry…fer cryin’?”

That seemed to throw her off a bit.

She stopped to look up at her, encouraging the country imp to continue. 

“Look, Ah don't expect you to spill everything to a stranger, but seein’ as we've got the time, do ya wanna talk about it?”

The smaller imp seemed like she wanted to say something, only to immediately bite her lip and turn away.

Millie gave the girl a nod.

“Alright then. Offer still stands if ya change yer mind.”

********************

The next morning

Feeding time at the zoo, otherwise known as breakfast time.

As one would expect, prison food is pretty crappy all around and the breakfast spread wasn’t any different. Even if they had been spared the usual fare of oatmeal slop in favor of stuff that could actually be considered food; it still wasn’t a significant improvement. 

Blackened toast, dry and congealed eggs, and sausages made from what was most likely horse meat. It was an unappetizing meal all around and most only chose to eat it because starvation wasn’t exactly a preferable choice.

Which is why Millie was rather confused to see her cellmate scarfing the entire thing down like she hadn’t eaten for weeks. The country imp had expected the prissy little thing to be somewhat of a picky eater based on appearances and yet she hadn’t hesitated to inhale every last bit of what she was given. 

It gave Millie a certain suspicious feeling about the girl that she couldn’t quite place…along with something else that she couldn’t quite identify. 

But those feelings were quickly dashed when she spied a certain gang begin to close in on her cellmate. 

The Vultures were an infamous group at the Mint City penitentiary, they practically ran the place through a mixture of seduction and intimidation; making sure everyone knew who was in charge. 

They had attempted to recruit Millie into the fold after her little debut performance, but Millie wasn’t interested in being an enforcer to some snobby bitch; their leader, Jillion, had attempted to press the issue only to end up with a few cracked ribs for the trouble.

And now, much like their namesake suggested, they were descending on the new girl like a flock of predatory birds.

“Well, well, well! Look who it is! Moxxie Knowlasname as I live and breathe!” Jillion said.

The imp, who Millie now knew as Moxxie, looked up from her empty tray and swallowed nervously. “J-Jillion! I-I-I….how are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke…”

“Least a couple of years by my count, hard to keep track in here sometimes.” 

Jillion remarked before her face stretched into a rather uncomfortable grin. 

“But enough about me! I gotta say, I’m rather surprised a nice girl like you wound up in a place like this. Especially when daddy dearest is always bailing you out at every turn.”

“Don’t talk about him….please…” Moxxie mumbled.

“Why not? I mean it’s not like it’s his fault I’m in here! Ya know, framing me for that hit he put out on my uncle, bribing the judge and jury to make sure I went away for a long time! Remember that? Of course you do, you helped testify against me!” Jillion continued, smile becoming rather forced.

Moxxie squirmed in her seat. “I…I didn’t want to…”

“Of course not, you were only following daddy’s orders like the good little bitch that you are.” Jillion spat. 

“Speaking of, how come he ain’t come to your rescue yet? I figured he’d be down here to come pull his precious little princess out of the muck before street trash like me got you all scuffed up.”

“He…he wanted to teach me a lesson about getting myself involved in the family business. I’m stuck here until next week…” Moxxie sighed.

“You’re getting out in a week?!” Jillion gasped, flabber gasted.

Moxxie nodded.

Then the demon girl’s grin turned sadistic as she bared her fists.

“Well then, I guess we’ll have to make the most of our time together.”

Suddenly Jillion lunged forward and grabbed Moxxie by the front of her jumpsuit and ripped her out of her seat, forcing the poor imp to the ground and pinning her down by her wrists. 

All while the guards seemed more interested in counting the tiles on the ceiling than doing anything about the situation currently unfolding. 

‘Figures. If Jillion’s got history with her, she’d wanna make sure nobody got in her way. Probably promised to fuck all the guards if they stayed outta it.’ Millie bitterly thought. 

She watched on, letting her own anger form into a hard ball in her stomach.

The succubus inmate stood above her victim,  jeering with a sadistic smile on her face.

“Way I see it, you owe me a lot, Princess, and I intend to make full use of you before you get away. I wonder what the guards would being willing to trade for a night with Miss Greed.”

She leaned down to get up close and personal with the freckled imp.

“Or, maybe you'd rather make it up to me directly,  huh? Rumor has it that you enjoy…eating out.”

The thinly veiled threat and suggestive implications were obvious,  and though she did look scared, the other imp didn't immediately break down crying like Millie thought she would. 

Instead,  she looked Jillion in the eye, and without missing a beat, she burnt her with one line. 

“I don't eat junk food.”

The comment, alongside her deadpan delivery, made the Wrathian let out a sharp bark of laughter. 

And she wasn't the only one.

A few other inmates, some guards who bothered to stay nearby,  even a couple girls from the Vultures giggled or cracked a smile.

Jillion, however, lit up with a furious blush, her eyes sparking with rage.

“Did you just call me junk food?!”

The shorter demon replied with a sassy quip, despite the tears pearling in the corners of her eyes.

“No, I guess not…people are still willing to pay for junk food.”

This time the Wrathian girl burst out laughing in earnest along with several other inmates in earshot.

But it was all the excuse the Vulture's leader needed to snap.

“Oh, you're so dead now, you prissy, spoiled little bitch!”

She lifted one leg, locking her knee, about to bring it down to stomp the smaller girl's face into the pavement floor.

But she was knocked off-balance and sent flying backwards into a table when Millie launched herself at her.

“Really now? Not only are ya ganging up on her, four vs one, but you snap over a little joke? Where's yer sense of humor, Jill?”

The taller demoness looked up to snarl at her belfort snapping at her underlings.

“Get them both! Just keep Crim's brat alive for now!”

The other three inmates jumped Millie, but she was used to that kind of fight.

Dodging the first girl was easy; a big, bulky Dino demon girl with t-rex features, fast but big and easy to dodge.

She ducked under her legs as she charged and delivered a swift kick to the back of her knee, following through with the whole of her bodyweight. 

She went down like a sack of hammers.

The other girls were a bit harder. They were smart enough to work together. 

The loan shark gal grabbed her from behind, locking her arms behind her back. The last girl, another imp, cocked her fist back to hit Millie, landing a solid punch to her gut.

The impact knocked the wind out of her gut, but only for a moment.

Before she could get in another shot, Millie thrust her head backwards to ram her horns into the shark's face.

The pain of the sudden jab loosened the taller demon's grip enough for the farm raised imp to escape, just in time for the other Vulture’s member to land her second punch in the shark's gut. 

A pained wheeze escaped the aquatic demon as they keeled over in pain, unable to keep fighting any longer.

The larger imp in the fight tried to make a grab for Millie's tail, but the country girl was quick as a whip and snapped it around her wrist before slamming a hoof down hard on her pinned hand.

The delicate bones in her fingers snapped and cracked, making her cry out in pain and scurry away.

Jillion had mostly recovered and charged towards the Wrathian, but Millie had seen her coming from the corner of her eye.

She let the succubus hybrid get in one sharp jab to her back before turning on her.

“Okay, this is gettin’ boring now, so I'm just gonna end this.”

And with that, she landed a sharp gut punch to the taller demon, forcing her to double over before grabbing hold of Jillion's horns.

One in each hand, she bashed the hybrid’s face into the hard tile with all her strength, leaving her broken and bloody, face down on the cafeteria floor.

Huffing and flushed, Millie let herself catch her breath before turning back to her cellmate,  who had watched the entire thing go down.

For the first time since they'd met, her expression was completely different. 

Bright and dynamic and….bright.

She was staring at Millie with shining eyes, her face softly aglow with blush. 

As if she'd just witnessed someone hang up the moon rather than a sloppy prison brawl.

“That was…incredible.” The smaller imp breathed in awe.

Feeling oddly flustered,  Millie just scratched the back of her head sheepishly. 

“Aww…wasn't anything special. Those girls can't really fight, they just always gang up on someone weaker. No offense.”

“None taken. But you shouldn't sell yourself short, either, you're amazing! I've seen a lot of unfair fights growing up in Greed, but that was the first time I've ever seen someone with a dirty prison shank stuck in their back!”

“Huh?” 

A moment of confusion,  followed by a lucky glimpse of her back in a nearby observation window, showed Millie the reason for the other girl's outburst. 

Apparently,  Jillion’s last sharp jab hadn't really been a jab so much as a stab.

“Oh. Oh that's not good.”

Millie reached to yank the thing out, but her cellmate stopped her.

“Wait! You're tired and sweaty. If you just yank it out without properly cleaning it first, you could get an infection. Let me just,”

The smaller imp pulled some handful of fabric from the pocket of her jumpsuit to wrap just beneath the weapon sticking out of the Wrathian girl's back. 

“Here. I'll tie this into a tourniquet to keep it propped. That will stop it from digging in deeper until I can treat it and clean the wound.”

Millie found herself smirking.

“You're gonna treat me? Not the prison doc?”

The freckled imp blushed slightly and looked away.

“The doctors who work here…they wouldn't have your best interests in mind. Besides,  you got hurt helping me, so I want to return the favor.”

The brawler smiled at her. The girl seemed weak, but she also had a decent head on her shoulders and was willing to pay it forward.

She could respect that.

“Sounds fair, Sugar…but could Ah get your name? You still haven't introduced yourself proper.”

The freckled imp smiled back as she helped her cellmate to her hooves.

“Sorry, I was going through a lot yesterday. It's nice to meet you, Millie. My name is Moxxie.“

***********************************************

Fatherhood was a thankless job.

That much Crimson had learned over the past twenty years.

On one hand, a daughter as his only child hadn't been his plan.

He'd wanted a son as his firstborn, someone like him that he could raise up to take over the family business. 

When Moxxie was born, he'd been so shocked he hadn't even bothered to change the name he'd picked out. 

The crime boss was furious ….for about twenty minutes. 

After he was allowed to hold his baby, his cold black heart had simply melted.

So tiny and innocent, with his mother's horns and Corrinas's pretty face, his daughter was the sweetest hellborn to ever live.

The only angel who was too good for Heaven.

Going forward, Crimson devoted as much time and energy he could to raising Moxxie to up be a perfect little lady.

From a young age, she took lessons in cooking and housekeeping.  

She also showed a deep appreciation and aptitude for art and music, which Crimson encouraged.

Corrina would teach her the basics of manners and hosting, and Moxxie would soak up her lessons like a sponge.

Moxxie Knowlasname had a talent for playing the obedient, respectful daughter.

Other bosses and major players would often take the time to compliment Crimson personally on how well he was raising her.

How she was growing up to be better than the vapid, spoiled brats of recent generations. 

How the Knolastname legacy was safe with a matriarch like her.

But unfortunately,  as Moxxie got older, her attitude started to take a rebellious turn. 

It started with her wanting to attend school.

He offered to hire a tutor, but didn't want her out of his sight all day. Who knows what could happen if one of his enemies got to her?

Crimson had said as much to his wife and daughter, but they weren't  convinced and tried to enroll her in Notamafia Public behind his back. 

Needless to say, he was more than a little upset. 

They eventually compromised, enrolling her in St. Beryl’s Private School for Girls, so he could be sure she was safe from the shady low lifes that passed for men nowadays.

Even today, Crim regretted enrolling her at any school.

He was certain that the exposure to outside influences had only further poisoned his daughter's mind.

Before he knew it, she was asking to go out, to be allowed to drive, to stay out after midnight. 

And, the final nail in the coffin, she asked if she could join in on the family business.

He had allowed her to play a passive role up until that point, true,  but it was no more than what she'd be doing once she was the official matriarch anyway.

Getting rid of evidence, bookkeeping,  networking, just  the basics any broad in the upper echelons of the family should know.

Crimson had also, very reluctantly,  allowed Corrina to teach her how to shoot.

Something he was told would be just for “self defense”, but Moxxie seemed determined to break her way onto the street.

It was a constant source of conflict in his house that he could live without.

Then, the absolute loser she had started dating. 

A shark named Chazwick of all fucking things. 

The idiot had shown up to her 20th birthday party, uninvited and already drunk off his ass. 

Normally,  anyone who crashed an event at the Knowlasname estate would be “politely encouraged to leave”, but there was no need with this one.

He immediately fell down half a flight of stairs and into a glass punchbowl, getting himself stabbed by several shards in the process.

While Crim was hoping to use the party as an excuse to introduce Moxxie to some promising fiance candidates, instead the young Mafia heiress spent the rest of the night tending to the moron who had ruined her party.

The expression she wore, eyes glittering with stars as she slapped bandages on that absolute waste of skin, it reminded Crimson so much of how Corina looked at him when they first met. But instead of warming his heart, it made him sick to his stomach.

Why couldn’t she have fallen for one of the sons of his business partners? 

They were proper men that could provide for her like a husband should and consolidate his own financial holdings across Greed; after all, nothing strengthened working bonds quite like a good wedding. 

Instead she clung to some sleazy bum who would never amount to anything in his life. 

But it wasn’t all bad he supposed. At least Chaz had managed to break Moxxie out of that strange little phase she was having. 

Crimson was young once, he knew how confusing one’s teenage years could be; hell his brief stint of experimentation with Alessio proved that much. 

So when Moxxie started giving goo-goo eyes towards some of her female classmates he wasn’t particularly worried, at least not compared to the rebellious attitude she had been displaying. 

The crime boss dismissed it as a phase, a bit of silliness brought on by teenage hormones, something Moxxie would grow out of with time.

Unfortunately growing out of that phase took quite a significant amount of time and Crimson was not a particularly patient man.

He was worried that Moxxie was growing up to be some kind of….ugh, he didn’t even wanna say the word; the mere idea of his precious little daughter being one of those deviants made him want to vomit.

Things came to a head when Moxxie attended a circus with some friends for a ‘girls night out’ and she came across a real slut of a trapeze artist. 

Crimson didn’t know what sort of weird circus tricks that harpy pulled on sweet innocent little Moxxie to get her into that shithole trailer, but if he hadn’t been there to stop that bitch right as she was getting her hands under Moxxie’s shirt he knew the end result wouldn’t have been good. 

For Satan’s sake he could see bruises on Moxxie’s neck, BRUISES! If he wasn’t so worried for his daughter’s safety he would have killed Barbecue or whatever her name was on the spot.

After that night, Crimson knew he had a duty as Moxxie’s father to nudge her in the right direction before she wound up on the streets of Lust as some five dollar hooker, spreading her legs for any whore that was willing to pay. 

Which resulted in the party that delivered her straight into Chaz’s scrawny arms. 

And of course Chaz didn’t realize how good he had it 

He decided to drag Moxxie out for a job at her request then ditched her when things went south. 

The man had a diamond dropped square into his lap and he ditched her.

That was a mess, but nothing he couldn't manage.

Chazwick,  the moron, was easy enough to deal with.

The little gutter guppy actually thought he'd gotten let off with a warning. 

In truth, Crimson had sent the burnout off to be eaten alive.

Moxxie was a sweet girl, a good girl. A real rarity in Hell, and especially in Greed. And he wasn’t the only one who knew that.

Before letting the parasite leave, Crim had Alessio make some calls to the the inner circle, the other families, some notable business heads, really anybody who wasn't afraid to spill some blood.

He let them know, as per Crimson's instructions,  that the beloved heiress to the Knolastname syndicate had been imprisoned  because some low-level no-name was dumb enough to try to drag her into the frontlines.

That it was “so unfortunate” and “poor Miss Moxxie is so scared and heart broken” and “if only something could wipe the smug smile off that bastard's face?”.

It had the desired effect.

Crimson had been bombarded with calls from every major player and family head, who were “so, so sorry to hear about poor sweet Moxxie” and that they'd gladly take the time to “teach the fucker some manners” for her sake.

With just  a couple phone calls, the Knolastname matriarch had a veritable army of pro-bono hitmen stepping up to bat.

After all, why should he bother to kill the shitstain in his own home? Idiot wasn't even worthy of being  a trophy mount, so he might as well make sure there's no scraps leftover.

Waste not, want not, even for a waste of flesh.

But as much as he loved to think about getting revenge upon those who screwed him over, he had bigger problems to deal with. 

Namely making the arrangements for Moxxie’s wedding. 

This whole mess was one big eye opener for Crimson. He had been willing to give Moxxie some level of independence, any growing girl needed a bit of room to spread her wings, but after thoroughly proving she wasn’t worthy of such trust Crimson knew he needed to get her leashed before she got herself hurt; it was for her own good after all.

And he knew the perfect man to do just that.

Dialing up a familiar extension in Wrath, Crimson drummed his fingers on his desk as he waited for his future son to pick up. Getting through two rings before a gruff voice came through the receiver.

“Who is it?” The demon said.

“Easy cowboy, it’s me.” Crimson replied.

“Don Knowlastname!” The wrathian demon exclaimed. “Been awhile, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Been having a bit of trouble with my darling Moxxie.” 

“Shit. Need me to come down and take care of it?” 

“Not yet.” Crimson huffed. “Good instinct though, I like it.”

“Alright. So what do you want then?” 

“Simple: I think I’m ready to kick off that little agreement we discussed a few years back, when Moxxie turned nineteen.” the mob boss said.

The line went silent but Crimson could hear the grin stretching across the demon’s face. 

“...you’re serious?”

“I’ve already got the venue picked out.” Crimson grinned.

“Sir, I’d be honored!” the cowboy demon exclaimed. 

“Once I finish up with this little job here, I’ll hightail it to Greed as fast as I can. Should be there before supper tomorrow.”

“Good to hear! Can’t wait to welcome a man like you into the family proper, Striker.”

*************************************

Today had been a crazy fuckin’ day!

He'd brought Moxxie along on the smash and grab job at the Mint City Bank as an effort to seal the deal.

Recovering from the injuries caused by his ex had seriously slowed down any effort to get busy with the mafia heiress,  so he was getting desperate. 

Being nursed and pampered by Moxxie while he recovered was nice, though.

Hot, homemade meals, a classy guest room in her family mansion to crash in, having his shoulders rubbed while a pretty imp fawned all over him…

Paradise.

It was proof that he'd made the right call going all in for Moxxie. 

Yeah, she hadn't agreed to have sex with him yet, but there was no way any hot-blooded demon in Hell would turn a set up like this down.

Being waited on hand-and-foot by a beauty queen who looks at you like you're the most amazing guy in Hell?

Say less!

Only real issue was that she was a Daddy’s girl.

And daddy, in this case, was a trigger-happy psycho mob boss who lined his walls with trophies taxidermied from guys like him.

Bringing her along on the bank job was a last ditch effort to endeared himself to both of them.

He wanted Moxxie to see him in action as a bad-ass mafia soldier, and wanted Crimson to see that he had successfully protected his precious daughter.

It didn't…it didn't turn out great.

Moxxie was fast and good with the locks, but she wanted to hold the gun, and if she shot to kill any of the guards he'd look less like a bad-ass and more like a dork who needs his girlfriend to save him.

His aim wasn't the best, and they ended up chased down.

When the security gate started coming down, he managed to get through with the money, but Moxxie’s leg got caught.

He would have stayed with her,  totally would have!

But…well, it wasn't like she'd be in holding for long. 

Crimson was too much of a demented menace for anyone to upset the balance of power by upsetting him.

Even if she was charged or put away, she'd be fine! 

Everyone knew her, loved her.

He didn't have anyone who'd stick their necks out for him or try to pull any strings to help him out, so running away made sense!

But Don Crimson and the rest of the family didn't see it that way.

Chaz thought he was hated before, but the cold reception upon returning to the estate was so chilling it made him shiver.

Crimson had eviscerated him verbally,  nearly had Alessio eviscerate him physically, and any family members he saw on his way out took a swing at him, or at least gave him a death glare.

The maid even spat on him on his way out!

Bunch of hypocritical old bastards…like they could have done better!

But what was done was done.

Besides, once Moxxie got out, she'd stick up for him, she always did.

Yeah, he'd fucked up the job, but Moxxie was the forgiving type, she'd get it!

He just had to keep it together until she got home, easy.

Speaking of home, he had his own to get to.

Chaz was an idiot but he wasn’t stupid, there was no way Crimson hadn’t called every single hit squad in Greed to go after him for leaving Moxxie behind. He might as well have a target painted on his back. 

So the best course of action at this current juncture was to go to his apartment and keep his head down until this all blew over.

Or at least…that was the plan.

Chaz had ascended the fire escape to avoid any potential ambushes in the lobby and hopped in through a window on his floor. Making his way to his rat nest of an apartment and inserting the key, only to find it wasn’t fitting the lock.

“Chaz? The fuck you doin’ here?” A gruff voice said.

The shark demon saw his landlord waddling over to him with a sharp and annoyed frown.

“Hey Butch. I think some jackass changed the locks on my doors.” Chaz said.

“That jackass would be me.” The landlord replied.

“What?! Why? I paid up this month!” Chaz whined.

“I don’t rent to dead men Chaz and word on the street is that Crimson is gunning for your sorry ass.” Butch rudely replied. 

“Might as well get ahead of the game and boot you out now so I can have a new tenant in rather than wait for you to die.”

“What about my deposit?!” 

“I’m keeping that. You’re gonna be dead in a ditch tomorrow anyways, not like you’re gonna need that money.” Butch snorted.

Chaz’s frown grew. “Can I at least get my stuff?!” 

“All I found in there were a bunch of well used porn mags and an expired box of condoms.” 

“Wow! I had condoms?!” Chaz exclaimed. 

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BUILDING, CHAZ!” Butch screamed.

Not wanting to tempt his luck against the demon he'd seen use a shotgun loaded with rat shot against a Gluttony Scout troupe, the shark wisely left.

Place was a dump anyway, anybody who wanted to could bust in no problem. 

It was the only reason he could afford the rent in the first place.

His second option was probably the safest, but it came with the unavoidable obligation of asking his uncle Corban for help.

The man had basically raised him, (albeit incredibly reluctantly), as Chaz’s bio mom was so unstable, not even the corrupt Greedian legal system thought she should be trusted with a child.

He'd introduced Chaz to the world of organized crime, Corban himself being one of Crimson's more trusted soldiers. 

He stayed in a townhouse with his wife and Chaz’s younger cousin in one of the less openly sleazy parts of town.

Relatively secure and full of guns, it was a good place to ride out his recent streak of bad luck.

And, like a good omen, Chaz happened to have a spare key to the place.

Taking the backroads to avoid drawing any attention to himself,  the shark managed to make it to his uncle's in one piece.

There were a couple close calls…the lady with the pizza cutter had seemed especially eager to maim, but he made it!

He unlocked the door, stepped in, and -

“Damn it, Darlene, I told you he'd come here right away! We should've changed the locks today!”

His uncle stood in the entryway,  glaring down at the younger Greedian in front of him.

His Aunt Darlene poked her head out of the kitchen. 

“The locksmith was closed, Corban! Besides, you said he'd be dead by now!”

“I said he'd probably be dead!”

“Jus’ deal with that idiot will ya?! Sooner you do that the sooner we can dig into this pot roast!”

“I was just about to!”

Chaz stood there, more than a little confused about their conversation. Finally ,  he spoke up. 

“Um, am I in trouble or something?”

Corban snapped his head back at his nephew. 

“Trouble? You're kidding! You are way past trouble, you slack-jawed moron!”

The older shark stepped forward to shove him back towards the door. Chaz tried to stand his ground, but stumbled.

“You brought Don Knolastname's daughter, his only daughter, alongside a heist without a proper crew, and ditched her there, you jackass!

Trouble is thirty miles behind you! Now you're just dead meat.”

The lanky demon swallowed nervously. Fuck, was it always this hot in Hell?

“But-but -”

Corban growled down at him.

“But what? What could you possibly say that would make what you did ok? What's The “magic word” that'll make all this mess go away?”

The shark on the floor hung his head, and The older of the two nodded.

“That's it. Had to hit you over the head with it, but you finally learned.”

He then bent down and snatched his spare key from Chaz's clawed hand.

“Hey!” He protested, only to be cut off by his uncle's sneer. 

“We’re finished Chaz, YOU are finished. As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a nephew anymore.” Corban said.

“You’re disowning me?! Leaving me to fend for myself just because Crimson told you to?! What happened to family loyalty?!”

A swift crack across the face, delivered by his uncle with first class shipping, knocked Chaz to the floor.

“Don’t go talking about loyalty to me, Chaz. I ain’t doing this because Crimson asked me to, he didn’t. Even if he did I still wouldn’t have thrown your sorry ass out because I know the importance of family.” Corban barked. 

“No, I’m throwing you out because of what you did to poor Moxxie! That sweet girl was our ticket into Crimson’s inner circle, we could have become MADE and instead you threw that all away on a whim ya fuckin’ moron!”

The older shark huffed in frustration. 

“Now I’ll be lucky if Crimson will even let me clean his toilets after what you did!”

The man stomped over and flung open the front door to shove Chaz out, and the lanky demon began to flail and fumble.

His uncle didn't care. Just continued to berate him as he shoved him out  onto the street.

“When this happened,  I was just gonna treat it as a happy accident. I never thought a girl like Moxxie would bother with a nobody like you, but I was ready to make the best of it.

“Fuckin’ figures you'd screw it all up.”

Finally,  the parasite was back out on the street, a little too shell shocked from the beating/abandonment to react.

His uncle gave him one last angry distribution.

“Don't come back again.  I'm being nice by not killing you myself here and now, but I won't be so polite a second time.”

And he promptly slammed the door in Chaz’s face.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuckidy FUCK!

It wasn't supposed to happen like this!

He was supposed to seduce Moxxie,  win over her dad and his inner circle,  marry in and then live a cushy life as a major underboss in a fancy mansion with a hot wife and a handful of mistresses!

Was that so much to ask?!

Sitting himself up on the edge of the curb, the lanky shark let out a defeated huff.

‘At least things can't get any -’

A chunk of concrete beaned him in the side of the head.

“Ow, what was that …oh.”

Crowding the side walk, glowering down at him was at least a dozen rough looking demons.

All guys, all between nineteen and twenty five, and instantly recognizable as the sons of major families and crews.

At the front, standing tall and growling lowly, was a spider-imp hybrid with an extra set of massive arms, the undisputed leader of Notamafia Town's sons, Rocky Whowantztokno. 

“Hey there, gutter guppy. How are you? From the looks of it, not good.”

His heartbeat had already sped up to a low hum in his chest, but despite the adrenaline and primal instincts telling him to run, Chaz couldn't move.

Rocky stepped closer, inviting the other demons to side up by him, boxing in their target.

“See, we heard about your recent “relationship troubles”. 

So we did some talking and my friends and I agreed that it would be best to take the time from our busy schedules to “teach you” how you're supposed to treat a classy girl like Miss Knolastname.”

His tone and use of finger quotes made the implications crystal clear, and the thinly veiled look of glee in their eyes meant his pain and suffering were guaranteed. 

Faced with harsh and swift punishment and with no escape in sight, Chaz only had one thing to say.

“....shit.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Moxxie noticed as she tended to her cellmate's wound was how toned and strong her muscles were.

Even the offending weapon seemed stuck in the Wrathians's solid form, with Moxxie having to lean back and use her weight to gently pull the thing out.

Her deltoids and trapeze muscles felt as solid as rock, but hot to the touch. Warm Wrathian blood surged under the skin, still pumped up from the earlier fight. 

Practically radiating adrenaline and fury.

 A hellborn body built through years of hard work and determination. 

Next was the actual feel of her skin.

Course and rough, almost as if it had thickened and hardened into a callous. 

That, along with the faint webs of overlapping scar tissue told the story of working out in the blazing heat, of fights hard fought and won.

‘No wonder she didn’t feel the shank at first.’ Moxxie mused to herself as she threw the makeshift weapon aside.

That tough skin, those solid muscles….

“Hey, you ok? Ya been quiet fer a while now.”

Millie's voice pulled the smaller imp back into reality, but the thought of being caught oogling her left her more than a little flustered.

“Oh, …I uh…sorry you just have a lot of scars, I …I got distracted.”

Smooth.

Thankfully, Millie didn't seem to find her awkward outburst funny or annoying. She just shrugged her shoulders in an affirmative gesture before shooting the freckled imp a smirk.

“Yeah, been fightin’ almost as long as I've been walkin’. Ah could tell some stories.”

Moxxie spoke out loud before she could stop herself. 

“I'd love to hear about it.”

The brawler gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret, but it felt as though she'd said the wrong thing.

“Really now? Ya wanna hear about Wrath?”

Swallowing her nerves, the Greed-raised demon doubled down.

“Yes, I'd love to. I was born in Wrath, and it's where my maternal family is from, but I was never allowed to really visit or know it. 

“It…I'd like to learn more about it from someone who got to grow up there.”

The tense stillness in Millie's back finally seemed to loosen a bit.

“Ah actually love talkin’ about home. What would ya like to know?”

The freckled demon was glad the other imp was facing away from her. She couldn't see that Moxxie beaming like an absolute dork.

“Start with whatever you'd like, I want to hear it all.”

The brawlers's childhood stories tinged with nostalgia and happiness made the tedious work of slowly disinfecting and stitching the wound a much happier task.

The cheerful way she described her family, the ranch she'd grown up on, her hometown

It filled Moxxie’s heart with a kind of pleasurable hurt.

A family you can't wait to see again….what she wouldn't give for that.

“ …and then, Sallie, that's mah sister, she tried to put out the fire with the rain barrel water, but that's when we found out where Griff had hidden the moonshine he swiped -”

It sounded so nice. To not be afraid of the people you shared blood and a home with, even when you mess up.

Shaking the dark thoughts from her head, the freckled imp snipped the last stitch of thread from the spool and pasted on a bandages.

“All done, and it looks like you'll heal up nicely.”

Millie twisted in her seat to look over her shoulder at her cellmate's handiwork. 

“Damn girl, that was fast! You a nurse or somethin’?”

The smaller demon shook her head sheepishly. 

“No, nothing like that. My father just had me take first aid lessons when I was younger to help with the family.”

At this, the Wrathian gave her an odd look.

“What’s yer family doin’ to be needing a nurse 24/7?”

Before Moxxie could come up with a suitable excuse, they were interrupted by the sound of a baton clanging against the bars of their cell.

“Eyes up, convicts. We've got news for you two.”

The cell block guard opened the door and stood aside to let the warden through. 

A sickly thin clown demon, the markings around his eyes ironically enough, resembling teardrops.

He smirked at the sight of the two ladies huddled so closely together, and although he didn't say anything, his gaze made Moxxie feel as if she'd been covered in a layer of slime.

Her cellmate glowered at the man, moving to put herself in front of the freckled girl.

The sudden change in position made the guard start to step forward, but his boss waved him down.

“At ease, boys. Remember, we're just here to make sure our girls here are taken care of before things get out of hand.”

Millie couldn't keep herself from growling.

“What do you mean by ‘taken care of’?”

The guard huffed back at her.

“We told you before, didn't we? Your new cellmate is a VIP, and what do you do? You get her mixed up in a prison brawl!”

Before she could say another word, Moxxie shocked them all by speaking up.

“That wasn't her fault! Jillion, she…we have history. Millie is the one who defended me when all the guards just pretended not to see it!”

The warden shot his guard a dirty look and the demon looked away sheepishly. 

Turning back to the inmates, he smiled with way too many teeth.

“Well, it's a good thing you two are getting along so well, it'll make this next part easier. Starting today, you'll both be in protective custody.”

That actually managed to shock Millie. 

“Wait, why all of a sudden?”

The warden's smile became strained.

“Because your roommate here is a VIP, remember? And because apparently my guards can't be trusted to prioritize her safety in the general population, this is the best possible move. Less…bloodshed this way”

The harlequin gave Moxxie a pointed look at that last statement, causing the freckled demon to duck her gaze away.

But Millie pressed on.

“OK, but why me?”

The warden's eyes seem to light up at her question, as if he was hoping she'd ask.

“You're going into protective custody for the safety of everyone else here. 

“You've already caused as much damage as a medium-scale riot, so we're keeping you two separated from the general population, but together.

You two seem to get along and this way we don't have to change our meal or shower schedules too much, you two can just do everything together.”

The clown demon then sent another smile towards Moxxie specifically, causing the Wrathian beside her to raise her heckles.

Not deterred, the warden spoke clearly.

“Oh, and before I forget, your father called. He asked me to make sure that you speak to your cousin today.”

It was a simple request, and his tone wasn't aggressive or threatening. 

But still, Millie could feel the other girl quivering beside her as if some chill had come over her.

The Warden stepped out of their cell and turned to address them one last time once he was safely on the other side.

“Your meals will be brought here to you in your cell from here on out, and you'll be showering an hour earlier than general population to avoid the crowd. Any questions? No? Good. Have a nice day.”

The sound of the warden and guards walking away echoed in the silence of the cell block for a moment, but then the two imps in the cell were finally alone again. 

The silence hung heavily for a moment, so dense and palpable that it was like a third person in there with them.

Until Millie shooed it away with a question Moxxie had been dreading.

“So what was that about?”

Inwardly Moxxie panicked, but managed to bite her tongue. 

No one talked about the Family Business with outsiders. Not if they wanted to keep all their limbs.

“O-oh, that. That was…nothing!”

‘Real smooth, genius. No wonder dad doesn't trust you to take over.’

Of course, her cellmate wasn't convinced. 

“No, it's something. I've been here fer two months, and that was the first time Ah ever saw the warden come down to the block.”

She was facing Moxxie now, a look of serious curiosity in her big, perfect eyes.

“Oh, you meant that! My dad he's just…friends with the Warden, they've known each other for a really long time.”

That part was true. Crimson had been an ally to the warden back when he was just a lieutenant. 

Right before all other candidates for the big promotion to become the warden died in mysterious Mafia related accidents.

But that wasn't exactly something she could share.

Thankfully, her cellmate seemed fine to just let it be, at least for now, just shrugging it off.

“Alright. So, when are we gonna go meet yer cousin?”

“Wait, you want to come too?”

Pulling her jumpsuit back on, Millie nodded.

“Yeah, Ah mean, you heard the Warden. We're stuck together like peanut butter and jelly. ‘Sides, nothing else going on.”

That was true.

It wasn't like Millie would be allowed out in the general population anymore, so she wouldn't get to spend time with anyone else.

She didn’t seem to mind, but it wouldn't be fair for Moxxie to deny Millie some excursion or entertainment after getting the other woman punished for protecting her.

“I guess it's ok. We'll just have to let him know you're a friend right off the bat.”

The brawler smirked and hopped to her hooves.

“No problem there, sweetie. Let's go.”

********************

Moxxie’s cousin was…much different from what she was expecting. 

For one, he worked for the prison. A lieutenant, of all things.

Complete with badges and stripes on his uniform. 

He was also a lot older than either of them. Millie had been expecting a demon around Moxxie’s age.

This guy was probably in his forties, though the rough smoker’s voice made him sound older.

There was also the fact that he was a massive Mako loan shark rather than an imp or hybrid.

This immediately put Millie on guard, in case the guy had made up a lie about her cousin being here to see her just to get Moxxie alone, but the freckled hellborn approached the sketchy demon without fear.

And for his part, the shark gave her a friendly, genuine smile.

“There's our Princess. How ya holding up, Moxxie?”

The imp in question tried to give him a confident smile.

“I'm ok, Darious, all things considered. Just very rattled.”

The shark chuckled as he sat up.

“Course you are! Delicate little lady like you had no business in this business.”

Moxxie was still smiling, but she shifted her gaze to the ground, clearly uncomfortable. 

Her “cousin” didn't seem to notice. Or just didn’t care.

“I swear, your dad nearly hit the roof when he heard you were here! I thought he'd come charging in himself to bust you out!”

See, this is why he wanted you at home. It's a dangerous world out there, and a dame like you -”

“Ah don't think it's fair to judge her fer fumbling her first time out when y'all are the ones keepin’ her caged up.”

Millie couldn't stop herself. 

The condescension in his voice just rubbed her the wrong way, and her mouth moved without her permission. 

After he had ignored her all this time, this seemed to finally put herself on the shark's radar. 

In response, he glowered down at his “cousin's” guest.

“And why are you here, exactly? Aren't you the one who kept pickin’ fights with everybody?”

He was sizing her up, she could tell.

Millie was tempted to launch herself at him, injury be blessed, but Moxxie stepped in between them.

“It's ok, Darious. She came up with me. She's a friend.”

This seemed to soften him a bit.

“Oh…oh right. I heard those Vulture bitches tried to corner you already and another inmate stepped in to help you out.”

This her?”

Sighing in relief, the freckled demon nodded.

“Yes. Darious, this is my cellmate Millie. She's been helping me adjust.”

This seemed to amuse the larger demon. He even let out a soft laugh. 

“Fuckin’ figures…of course he'd make sure you got bunked with an extra bodyguard.” He murmured, smiling to himself.

She could see Moxxie visibly swallow the discomfort she felt, and Millie wanted to pull the poor girl away from this asshole. 

Never the less, she let her speak.

“Darious, did you have an actual message for me?”

The shark smiled with his crooked fangs as he shook his head.

“Naw…your dad just wanted me to touch base, make sure you're not hurt or gettin’ into any more trouble. Since it looks like your friend there has you covered, we're good.”

the freckled demon breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you. Just…tell him I'm doing fine. And don't mention the fight if you can avoid it.”

The shark shrugged. 

“Nothing to mention. Looks like Jill and her Vultures will be in the infirmary for the next two weeks. Longer if they can find anyone in need of a new kidney.”

The girls both cringed lightly at that, but she had been the one to pick a fight.

It wasn't their problem anymore. 

Moxxie excused them both from the guard's office and they stepped back out into the bleak industrial hall.

There, another guard was waiting on them.

His smile was leering in a way that immediately made Millie bristle. 

“Just in time. Gen Pop is all done in the showers, so it's your turn now.”

Ugh!

That fuckin’ smile and tone made Millie want to castrate this fucker bare-handed!

Leave it to the Greed Ring to hire perverts for the worst possible jobs.

She would've eviscerated him, verbally, at least, but Moxxie's voice stopped her before she could. 

“Yes sir.”

Simple, accepting. 

It gave the guard all the permission he needed to shove a couple clean jumpsuits into Millie's arms before he began rushing them along to the showers.

All the way, the guard continued to be as creepy as possible. 

“It’s so nice to have a girl without an attitude for once.”

“So many bitter bitches, I forget what talking to a nice girl is like!”

“Shame you ended up in here, you really are too pretty.”

‘Nasty.’ Millie thought as they arrived at the shower room.

Moxxie turned to their “escort”.

“Thank you for walking us. We'll knock when we're done.”

The guard gave a light chuckle.

“Sorry sweetie, but you girls only get a fifteen minute shower. And I can't exactly leave you two in there alone, now can I?”

The freckled imp lifted an eyebrow. 

“So you're going to shower with us?”

His smile grew all the more lascivious. 

“Well, I was just planning to watch, but -”

“Let me stop you right there.”

The sudden shift of her tone from sweet and accepting to blunt and brutal was so jarring that it shocked both the guard and her cellmate. 

“You make my cellmate carry both our jumpsuits, deemed it appropriate to flirt with me, a prisoner in protective custody this entire time, and then suggest that it is somehow part of your job to fiddle with yourself while you watch us shower.”

Moxxie shot a withering look towards the guard's right hand.

“...all of this, and you couldn't even bother to remove your wedding ring?”

Her accusatory tone, mixed with her articulation and composure, left Millie a bit taken back.

And she wasn't the only one, judging from how the guard in question suddenly started to tug and twist at the dull gold ring on his finger.

“L-look, I …I didn’t….”

Moxxie continued. 

“You didn't what? You didn't take my obedience and silence as a tacit excuse to be disgusting? You didn't use your position of authority to proposition someone powerless and vulnerable?”

Her pretty eyes narrowed under dark lashes.

“Or did you just not realize that the reason I was sent to speak with Lieutenant Darious, your immediate supervisor, is because he is my cousin?”

Any color that was left in the man's face drained away.

Moxxie used this as a chance to deal the final blow.

“If I had to guess, I'd say this isn't your first time doing something like this, is it? So, unless your bosses, spouse and the general public need to be informed, my friend and I will be taking a long shower. As long as we want, in fact. Alone.”

With that, she swiped his key card off him, unlocked the shower room and gestured for Millie to follow her.

The Wrathian bounded after her excitedly, her own heart still thrilling at the incredible scene she just witnessed. 

“Damn girl, that was fuckin’ badass!”

The smaller imp looked away, but the blush dusting her cute freckled cheeks was obvious. 

“Well, it's just that…what you said to Darious got to me. About how being sheltered kept me from learning.”

Taking the clean clothes from Millie's arms, she continued

“I…I feel like I can do these things, but I always hesitate to use the skills I have because I've always been told it's impossible.”

She smiled at the brawler.

“I want to be more like you. Someone confident and strong. Even if I can't do it the same way you can, it's better than any other option I've been given so far.”

Millie smiled right back. 

“Well yer off to a great start. But don’t think ya can just go around throwing yer family connections around and always expect it ta get ya outta trouble. Out in Wrath that’s a good way ta get yerself killed.” 

“I know, it’s just hard. I’m not exactly the most intimidating woman out there.” Moxxie muttered. 

“Coulda fooled me with that whole song and dance you pulled on that jackass. But tell ya what, how about I give ya a few pointers on telling ya how ta stand up for yerself all on your own and maybe teach ya a few of my moves before you get outta the joint?” 

“It’s a date!” The Greedian imp replied. 

The words hung in the air for about ten seconds before the implication behind them dawned on Moxxie and her entire face immediately went red. 

“I-I m-mean not like a ‘date’ date! J-just two g-girls spending q-quality time together! Ha Ha Ha!” 

Millie was starting to feel more and more pity for his poor girl by the second. 

She may have not been the brightest bulb on the Sinsmas tree but she considered herself to be fairly decent at reading people. Not that she needed to with all the obvious signals that Moxxie was giving off. 

Dad who was friends with the Warden, speaking with big fancy words that was clearly far above the average reading level of the entire prison, the way she carried herself like a terrified rabbit among wolves, and so on. 

It all just screamed ‘sheltered rich girl in over her head’ to Millie and only spurned her protective instincts on further. 

‘She’s probably scared to be naked with a total stranger like me. Maybe I should give her some private-’

Millie’s thought process came to a screeching halt when she briefly snapped out of her internal reflection to see that Moxxie was looking at her with an expectant expression….while also standing completely bare ass naked in front of her. 

“Well? You aren’t planning on showering with your clothes on, are you?” Moxxie asked.

Millie tried to formulate a response but found her throat being uncharacteristically dry for a very specific reason.

Moxxie….was cute.

Not like a puppy or a stuffed animal, she was cute in the ‘girl next door’ way from all those romantic comedies her oldest brother loved so much. 

The kind of cute that made ya wanna carry her home and really go to town on her, the kind of cute that you’d wanna take home to your mama. 

Details that had been a bit obstructed by the prison uniform were more obvious now.

A thin, waspish waist, rounded bust, thighs with a surprising bit of tone…

…and an adorable smattering of white freckles across her left butt cheek, which were much more eye catching than any other feature, much to Millie's surprise.

Thrown yet another curveball by the frail girl, Millie found herself a bit tongue tied.

“Sorry,Ah…Ah guess Ah thought you'd want some privacy. 

Moxxie just shrugged, inadvertently letting her hair slide off her shoulders to expose more of her bare breasts.

“It's ok, I went to an all-girls school, and I did a lot of extracurricular activities where we had to change and shower together.”

Moving to switch on the tap, she called over her shoulder. 

“You don't have to worry about offending me. You're not the first girl I've done this with.”

Whether or not she meant the innuendo wasn't important.

Throughout their nice, long shower, Millie couldn't control the heated blush radiating off her face.

Or the strong internal desire to bite the freckled cheek of her friend's backside.

But she had to force down those feelings for her own good. No matter how badly she wanted to try and do some exploration with her new cellmate, she knew that it would only lead to more heartbreak down the road. 

Millie still had several months left on her prison sentence, while Moxxie would be out of this joint in a matter of days. Leaving Millie with nothing but an empty sense of longing

She’d maintain a friendship, but keep things at a healthy distance for both of their sakes.

It was better this way.

***************************

Striker always hated coming to Greed. 

He hated everything about the ring. 

The industrial smoke clogging the air, the sleazebags in nice suits always ready to stab you in the back, and the clowns oh Satan don’t get him started on the clowns! 

The only type of clown he could tolerate was a good old fashioned rodeo clown. At least those guys could take a beating. The type infesting this ring were more like cockroaches. 

Sure Wrath wasn’t exactly paradise, but at least over there, folks were polite enough to stab you in the face rather than the back. 

The smell of brimstone always beats toxic sludge. 

But his personal feelings on the local had become more of an afterthought at the moment, Striker was far too excited for what was to come in the near future to let even the scummiest of cities ruin his good mood.

His first impression of Notamafia Town was no better than the rest of Greed.

It was polluted, crowded, violent and corrupt, even more so than the rest of Hell.

Still, he had a handful of decent memories of the place.

Of course, they all involved her.

From his very first trip to Greed and every other pop-in thereafter, it was always about her. 

**************************

He was young when he was first brought to the Knolastname estate.

A fifteen year old punk who thought his problems were over after his bastard father drank himself into an early grave.

Of course, the snake had only left problems behind for his son to inherit. 

A mass of gambling debts and ill-advised loans had a handful of rough loan sharks knocking down the door before the old man's body was even cold.

They dragged him to Greed, the first ring he'd ever seen besides Wrath.

As if the situation wasn't bad enough.

When he found himself in the parlor of a massive mansion full of expensive antiques and weapons, Striker had been expecting some brutal shark boss or harpy to be in charge.

Color him shocked when those same loan sharks who burst into his home and treated him with such disrespect lowered their heads to an imp.

Don Crimson, the current head of the family, was a commanding presence.

But that wasn't what Striker was focused on.

The hybrid was in awe at his surroundings. 

All this money and power and respect…it belonged to an imp of all demons!

His father, a rattlesnake demon, had always told him that his impish side was his weak side.

That no imp could ever achieve any real power or success. 

But he died, and the man who had come to collect on his debt was here to prove him wrong.

The imp in the red and navy blue suit looked down at him, condescension obvious in his gaze.

“So, you're Darryl's brat?”

Steeling his nerves, Striker looked him in the eye.

He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing his “guest” intimidated.

“Yessir.”

The older imp smiled at this. His show of bravado had been correct, and he was met with a sense of respect.

“Glad to have you here. Now, you have my condolences on your father's recent passing.”

The man stopped to light up at cigar he had, pre-clipped in his jacket.

“That being said, condolences only go so far. Darryl owed me a not insignificant amount of money. And I don't keep all this running by losing track of my ledger.”

Inhaling deeply as he puffed, Crimson continued.

“That's where you come in. You, kid, have the privilege of inheriting Darryl's debt.”

He had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing out loud.

The rat bastard couldn't even die quietly. As usual, his son was being dragged into his mess.

Still, he couldn't afford to lose face.

Not with everything else he owed.

“Got it, sir. What do Ah hafta do?”

Nodding, the mafiosos’ smile widened.

“Proactive! I like that. That kinda attitude will get you pretty far in this business.”

The cigar, now a shouldering stub, hissed faintly as Crimson ground it out in an ashtray.

An ashtray with teeth.

The taxidermied remains of various demons stared down at him from the walls of the parlor. 

Warnings from other demons who played the same game and lost.

‘Not me.’ Striker thought to himself as the crime boss turned his attention back to his young guest.

“I can think of a few things you could do, but I hate talking about all this heavy shit before dinner. We'll eat, then we'll have a sit-down.”

That was…good, probably. 

If Crimson didn't want him around, he'd just tell him to get lost and get the money.

Instead, he was being patient. Taking his time. As if he'd be willing to hear the kid out.

But this did nothing to settle his nerves.

With nowhere else to go, the young Wrathian sat in the dining room. 

Mentally, he was focused on what he'd say, what he could offer to Crimson to save his skin.

This focus was only broken when the door to the kitchen swung open, and a tiny imp girl carrying a large dish entered the room.

She looked small and delicate, wearing a fancy dress, her hair carefully styled and curled.

Bringing out fragrant servings dishes, utensils, plates and a bottle of wine, setting the entire table before she took notice of him.

“Oh, hello.”

“Uh…hi.”

She glanced past him.

“Do you mind moving? Just for a moment, I need to set your place at the table.”

Wordlessly, he backed away.

Her clothes, her words, her actions…they all spoke of a demon who was taken care of. 

Raised with the time and resources to polish her.

But unlike usual, this didn't make him feel jealous or angry. 

Instead, he was uncharacteristically focused on her poise, her manners. The quiet, reserved dignity with which she carried herself. 

Once she was done setting the table, she finally looked him in the eye.

“How much trouble are you in?”

The question caught him completely off guard. 

“Ah…how do you know I'm in trouble?”

The girl shrugged.

“My daddy said we were having a last-minute guest for dinner. All the last-minute guests here are in some kind of trouble. The only question is ‘how much?’.”

She…she wasn't wrong. He was in trouble, but only because…

“Mah Dad owed Mr. Crimson a lot when he died. There's no one else, so now Ah gotta pay the difference.”

“Ah, well that’s not too bad then. Assuming you’re willing to settle.” The girl eyed him with an uneasy look. “You are willing to settle the debt aren’t you?”

“Yeah but uh…what exactly would happen to me if I didn’t?” 

“Then daddy would probably cut off your horns, mount them on his wall, and then dump the rest of you in the lake with a cinderblock tied to your tail.” 

Striker was rather taken aback by the response. 

Not so much what the girl said, Striker knew that Crimson’s decor was proof enough she wasn’t joking, but more in the blunt and matter of fact way she said it; along with the fact that it was coming out of a dainty little thing like her of all people.

“Well then I suppose it’s a good thing yer daddy’s giving me a chance to work things off.” Striker nervously chuckled in an awkward attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Yes, I suppose. Now please take a seat, my father is somewhat of a stickler for table manners and not a very patient man.”

She stopped to think for a moment, then looked him in the eye.

“Keep that in mind, and I think you'll be ok. Sit up straight, look him in the eye, and speak clearly.”

The young Wrathian nodded, watching as the girl then walked around the dinner table and took a seat directly across from Striker, never once dropping the air of refinement surrounding her. 

“My name is Moxxie, in case you were wondering.” The girl said, a small, polite smile painted on her face.

“Striker.” Striker replied.

Moxxie nodded and then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Daaad! Dinner’s ready!”

There was a few moments of silence before the dinning room door opened and Crimson came sauntering in, fresh cigar in his mouth. 

“Thanks for taking care of dinner honey, normally I’d have the chefs take care of it but…well….they had to go on vacation, permanently.” Crimson said with a threatening growl.

That seemed to pique her interest.

“Another plant?”

“Another corpse. That's all you need to know.”

She looked at him as if she wanted to ask a question, to know more, but she didn't say another word.

Just began serving her father's plate, pouring his drink and stood at his side until he nodded, signaling her to cross back over to Striker's place to do the same for him.

Crimson chuckled and lightly pat his daughter’s hair when she walked past to return to her seat.

“Ah, you really are the only angel in this universe who was too good for Heaven”

The freckled girl smiled before she went back to sit in her own chair, only now serving her plate.

The crime boss then moved his gaze over to Striker who instinctively straightened up in his chair, keeping Moxxie’s previous words about manners well in mind, luckily Crimson’s cheery expression didn’t falter.

“See that kid? My daughter’s just the perfect little lady. Making you a five-star meal, pouring your drink. She’s gonna make her future husband very happy, being the most wonderful wife in hell.”

“Y-yeah, I’m sure whoever gets hitched to her is gonna be a lucky man.” Striker nervously replied.

“You said it.” Crimson remarked before his expression darkened. 

“But don’t go getting any funny ideas. Nobody so much as looks at my daughter without my permission, capiche?” 

Striker nodded.

“Great! Now let’s dig in before the food gets cold!” Crimson exclaimed, the darkness in his eyes disappearing all at once. 

For all his cruelty, the man seemed to soften quite a bit around his daughter.

The tone he used to ask her about her day, school, hobbies was so different from the gruff way he was addressed earlier.

The food was good, too. 

Italian, probably. Some kind of tender red cutlet, breaded and topped with melted cheese and tomato sauce with some pasta in an unfamiliar shape.

A crisp, leafy green salad. Fresh bread with a crisp crust and soft, chewy inside.

It was the best food he'd had in what felt like years.

He couldn't cook.

His father only ever focused on meat, and he wasn’t even good at preparing it. It was always overcooked, underseasoned and tough as old boot leather.

He polished off his plate and Moxxie immediately stood up to fill it again, taking the time to top off her father's drink as well.

The good food, her quiet attentiveness…it had been so long since he felt anything close to pampering.

“Thank you.” He managed to say around the ball of nerves in his throat.

She just smiled before taking her seat again to pick at her salad.

“Daddy, have you done anything about the ones who sent the chef?”

Crimson wiped his mouth and shot her a look.

“Young lady, you know that I don't want you involved in that.”

To her credit, the freckled imp didn't back down.

“But if it's Whathisface again, he won't stop trying to invade our house, right? If I'm in danger too, then aren't I already involved?”

The man's glare softened slightly and he chuckled. 

“Such a smart mouth on such a cute girl. I know you're right, but daddy still needs to find someone who can fly under the radar to get that bastard.”

“Don't want to do things sloppy or half-measured, Princess. Not with you involved.”

He stopped to glance over at his “guest”.

“Oh. Right. Moxxie, Princess, tidy up and head to the kitchen. It's time to actually talk business now.”

The freckled imp looked over at the Wrathian in her dining room.

“But we're still hosting a guest. I could stay -”

“Now, Princess.”

She looked like she may say something, but didn't. Just obeyed, standing up and stopping to bus their plates.

Before she crossed back into the kitchen, she shot the two imps at the table one last look.

“Be nice to him, ok daddy? He hasn't done anything to you.”

The older male snickered at that.

“Moxxie, sweetie, what do you know about inherited debt?”

She bit the inside of her cheeks at that, her expression a cute pouty scowl.

“I know that if you died owing somebody, your last thoughts would be praying that they'd be nice to me when they come to collect.”

That statement seemed to genuinely shock the mafia boss. Or at least, took him off guard before he shooed her back into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Crimson’s attention was back on Striker now, but that was ok. Now he had a plan.

“Ah know how to pay you back.”

The older demon smirked.

“Really now?”

“Ah can kill the guy who's trying to get you and yer daughter. Whathisface, whoever, Ah can get ‘em.”

That seemed to interest him. His smirk was gone, but there was interest burning behind his eyes.

“It's not Whathisface himself, you know. It's the guy's son who's trying to get us. And it's a personal matter, kid. You shouldn't offer to jump into this without knowing all the details.”

Striker wasn't backing down.

“But Ah can do it. Ya said it needs to be someone they won't see coming. They don't know me, so they wouldn't even look.”

That was true, and Don Knowlastname knew it. He was thinking it over, he could tell.

“Have you killed before?”

“Yessir.”

Hogs, bulls, snakes and fire lizards, he'd killed a handful of each before he was even ten. 

He'd taken his shots at his fellow hellborn too.

He probably would've gotten the sharks who brought him here if they hadn't ganged up on him all at once.

Still, Crimson looked skeptical. 

“There're a lot of experienced killers out there. I have more than a couple working for me already.

“Why should I go with you?”

He took a deep breath. Here goes nothing…

“Because, if Ah do a good job, you'll have another good killer you can call. If Ah screw up, you can just kill me. Whathisface won't know, and you don't lose anything else.”

There was a predictable silence, but only for a moment. 

Crimson’s horse, ragged smoker’s laugh cut into it as easily as a knife through warm butter.

“Ha ha HA! Satan be blessed. I didn't think any demons your age still had the guts to offer an old-fashioned wager!”

Once he finished laughing, he looked Striker in the eye. 

He was still smiling, but it wasn't a smile of condescension or forced politeness. 

His expression was one of genuine respect and expectation.

“Alright kid, I like your guts, so you've got a deal.”

He reached over, offering his hand. The younger demon took it and shook it firmly, holding his gaze.

“Ya know, I can tell you've got a good head on your shoulders. Better than your old man at least. I think you could go pretty far in this biz.”

The compliment caught him off guard, so his voice may have cracked just a little as he spoke.

“R-Really?”

The mafioso smiled wider.

“Yeah. You've got moxie, kid.”

He knew it was just a turn of phrase, an old idiom common in the man's vocabulary. 

Still, the image of the sweet girl who'd given him advice, made dinner for him, treated him better than he'd been treated in years…

He bit the inside of his cheek.

Don't dwell on that now. You've got a job to do.

The younger demon looked his new boss in the eye.

“I'll do mah best, sir.”

**********************

And wouldn’t you know it? Striker made damn good on his promise, as evidenced by the severed head he was carrying in a plastic bag at his side. 

Look of surprise still frozen upon his face.

It had only been a week since he'd been dragged before Don Knowlastname, but this time he was coming back on his own hooves.

He brought the head, both as proof of his success and as a gift for Crimson. 

Another trophy for his wall since he wouldn't be getting the Wrathian anytime soon.

The guy’s right hand, some tall shark with an underbite, looked shocked to see him back, but welcomed him into the den regardless. 

“You make yourself comfortable. I'll tell the boss that you're back.”

He was left alone this time. 

Apparently, he'd earned just that much trust.

It felt…good to kill like this. 

Whathisface Junior had been an intimidating man.

Rich and powerful in a poor and desperate world, he'd grown up with everything Striker had gone his whole life without even a glimpse of.

And now he was just a severed head in a baggie.

Granted the hit wasn’t as difficult as Striker had anticipated, he found the bastard at a bar by pure happenstance; Junior well into several shots of absinthe and barely able to string together a single sentence, much less put up a fight. 

It was almost insulting easy for Striker to convince the guy to meet him in alone in the alley behind the bar with promises of some illicit substances, where he proceeded to stab the drunken lout seventeen times in the chest and watch him bleed out on the ground. 

Striker could still hear the way the poor Greed demon gurgled out his last breaths, it gave him a strange fuzzy feeling in his chest he couldn’t quite describe. 

He was almost sad that the job was over so soon, it was rather delightful to put his skills to the test for once and he barely got any time to savor all these wonderful feelings.

Though, the look of shocked amusement on Crimson's face when the Don stepped in wasn’t bad either.

The older demon smiled as he stepped toward the teen holding his new trophy.

“Well I'll be blessed, you actually got'im!”

Striker stood up straight and made sure to look Crimson in the eye as he handed off the package. 

“As promised, sir.”

He took the bag from the hybrid's hand and held it up to inspect.

“Yeah, that's definitely Junior. Ugly as ever! Probably did his family a favor, now they won't have to spring for an open casket service.”

The imp snapped his fingers, and another loan shark, heavy set with a mean glare, stepped forward to take the head off his boss's hands.

“Good job, kiddo. Deals’ a deal, so now we're square.”

That…wasn't nearly as satisfying to hear as he thought it would be.

It was too easy. Too neat and tidy.

His job was done, but he wasn’t ready to walk away yet.

Should he say something? The hit was done out of obligation. Crimson only gave him the option because he had nothing else to lose.

But if he asked -

“Since you did such a good job, how ‘bout you stay over for dinner again? Moxxie’s making carbonara.”

He looked up and nodded…probably a little more eagerly than he intended. 

“Great! Make sure to get washed up, can’t go to dinner with bits of blood still on your face.” Crimson said.

Instinctively Striker reached up to his cheek and felt that there was indeed a layer of dried blood clinging to his skin….how did he not notice that sooner?

Whatever, it wasn’t important anyways. He needed to focus on getting himself washed off. 

Striker’s first instinct was to go to a bathroom but a quick glance at his muddy boots made it pretty clear that would be a bad idea. Crimson would go ballistic if Striker ended up tracking mud through the house. 

So his only other option was to find a hose or a fountain in the backyard that could serve for such a purpose, maybe he could wash off his boots while he was at it.

There was a utility entrance in a mudroom that led straight into the back garden.

It was as over the top as the rest of the mansion.

Massive stone walls encircled the space, itself filled with hedges, trees and flowers.

It seemed incredibly lush for the Greed Ring. And one quick inhale told him how Crim managed to have such a verdant yard.

The soil he was standing on was Wrathian. 

The dark, volcanic earth he'd grown up on was right beneath his hooves.

It made sense.

The pollution in Greed was so ever present, that even the hardest of hellish weeds would die in the local dirt.

But that didn’t stop Crimson. 

Naw, he had bought what he needed from the best source and brought it here, to his home to make a garden in defiance of what would be impossible for any other imp.

There were other options he could have gone with.

Fake plants or a sculpture garden probably would have been less expensive. 

But Striker was oddly relieved that he hadn't. 

The hybrid found himself at ease with the familiar smell of ash and soil surrounding him. 

Even though the more pressing danger of the debt looming over him had passed, he couldn't shake the intense, anxious feeling stewing in his gut.

Like he was waiting to be punished for the sole reason that he didn't belong here.

Walking out towards a nearby hose, Striker let himself enjoy the surroundings. The smell, the sun, the music….

Wait, music?

It was surreal, but definitely there.

He could definitely hear music. A sweet, feminine voice singing something, it's source just out of sight.

“Ay, de mí, llorona

Llorona de azul celeste

Ay, de mí, llorona

Llorona de azul celeste”

It was old Wrathian Spanish. He could even pick up a couple words. The tune was familiar, too.

But he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd heard it last.

“Me subí al pino más alto llorona

A ver si te divisaba

Me subí al pino más alto llorona

A ver si te divisaba ~”

It was such a sweet, sad melody.

It brought his mind to a distant memory . 

A warm afternoon in Wrath. At his old house.

Before his dad gambled everything away, before walking through his home became a desperate sort of quiet game, trying to avoid the older man's drunken rage.

Before his maw passed, leaving him in the care of someone immature and hateful.

Keeping close to the hedge so he couldn't be seen, Striker peered around to finally lay eyes on the mysterious singer.

The sight almost took the air from his lungs.

Little Miss Moxxie, wearing a well-loved house apron slightly too large on her, the sash having been wrapped around her tiny waist twice.

The skirt of it was pulled up into a makeshift basket, one hand delicately holding it, revealing the deep red and dark lace of the dress she wore underneath. 

Singing quietly, practically to herself as she flitted between pots and planters holding various herbs,occasionally plucking a few leaves or stems and placing them into the fold of the apron.

She was focused on this, adding each plant in as carefully as possible so they wouldn't bruise or break.

Her singing was almost like an afterthought.

But with how naturally sweet it sounded, it was a clearly practiced and beloved melody. 

Shame it had to come to such an abrupt end. As Moxxie turned to pluck some flowers in pots further away, her eyes caught Striker’s form hidden behind the hedges and her song trailed off.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop on a lady, you know.” Moxxie said. 

Striker blinked in surprise and emerged from his spot behind the shrubbery. “What gave me away?” 

“Nothing in particular. I’m simply good at catching small details, daddy always said I was born with my mom’s eagle eyes.” Moxxie replied. “That’s also where I learned that song from, my mom.”

“It’s beautiful. You have a great singing voice” Striker instantly said, practically on instinct.

Moxxie blushed and giggled. “Well thank you, I practice a lot when I’m not helping out around the house. One day I hope I can be a singer on stage, just like in the musicals that daddy always takes me to. Have you ever been to the theatre Striker?”

Striker shook his head. 

“Oh it’s an incredible experience. The lights, the sounds, the passion of the actors, it’s practically transcendent. See just the other week Daddy and I went to see this show called Les Imperables and-”

“Am I interrupting something?” A gruff voice said.

Both Striker and Moxxie immediately went still and slowly turned around to see Alessio standing there with a rather unimpressed look. 

“U-Uncle Al.” Moxxie nervously stammered. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. Your father was wondering what was taking Striker so long and sent me to look for him. I don’t think he’d be too happy finding out you were spending private time with a boy in the gardens.”

“But we were-”

Alessio shook his head. “You know the rules about having boys over Moxxie. No supervision, no dice.” 

“It’s my fault sir.” Striker replied. “I was jus’ looking for a hose to wash off with and-”

“A hose? What are you, a barn animal?” 

Striker bit back the obvious sarcastic reply and simply told the truth. “I didn’t want to track blood all over the floors.”

“....fair point.”

“Please don’t tell daddy about this Al.” Moxxie spoke up. 

“You know I can’t do that princess, if he found out I was keeping secrets from him on your behalf we’d both be in trouble.”

“You mean like that shrine you have in your closet?” 

Alessio’s stern expression immediately shattered into a look of confusion. “Wha-”

“I found it when cleaning the attic. You didn’t hide it very well.” Moxxie replied. “If you tell daddy about Striker talking to me, I’ll tell him about the shrine.”

“Blackmail. Your father would be so proud.” Alessio snarked. “Fine. I’ll keep your damn secret. As for you.”

Alessio’s gaze turned to Striker. 

“Get your ass washed up then head back to the house. Crimson’s starting to get impatient.”

With that, Alessio marched off in the direction he came. Leaving the two young imps alone together once more.

“Well you heard uncle Al, you had better get to it. Can’t keep daddy waiting forever.” Moxxie said, jostling the herbs in her apron.

“Hey wait uh….thanks, for covering my ass.” Striker awkwardly said.

“You’re welcome. I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me. Now good luck with your meeting!”

Moxxie then sauntered off into the rest of the garden, leaving Striker with all sorts of strange feelings in his heart. 

*****************

That was the first time anybody had ever stood up for Striker and he never forgot about that moment even as he blossomed into a man.

The memory was always there, a warm and gentle image in the back of his mind as he kept killin’ for a living. 

Quick and brutal like the snake he was, he carved out a name for himself in the competitive field of gun for hire.

Cutting his teeth to pay back his father's debt had given Striker his purpose, and he had the triple digit kill count to prove it.

He had other clients besides Crimson now, of course.

Clients with more power, more money and notoriety. 

Ones who'd send him after more dangerous, high-profile targets and rewarded generously after.

But he'd still call up Crimson for the occasional freelance gig.

To Striker's surprise, Crimson actually offered to bring him into the family as a full time soldier on multiple occasions. 

The offer was tempting, but Striker prefered to keep himself without any significant ties weighing him down. 

Still, he was one of Crimson's go-to freelancers, called upon whenever Crimson needed a hit done with a certain degree of professionalism and style. 

It was a deal that worked out well for both of them....especially since it meant Striker could keep seeing Moxxie on the regular without all that mafia political shit getting in the way.

The time and money poured into the young imp's upbringing had done good.

Moxxie had grown into a model lady, a perfect homemaker, someone any man would be proud to take home to meet his folks.

And for his part, Striker had worked hard to become that man. Honing his body to perfection so she’d have the perfect temple to worship in their bed every night, learning everything from plumbing to woodworking to make sure their forever home didn’t fall apart under his watch, and even paying a bit more attention to personal grooming; he wasn’t a big fan of that ‘conditioner’ stuff but he couldn’t deny he liked the feeling of silky hair.

Soon enough he'd won Crimson over, not that it was hard.

Most of the mafia sons who would've been his competition were lazy, incompetent cowards.

Morons who were fine coasting on their family name for the rest of their lives and only saw Moxxie as another trophy to add to their pile of unearned wealth.

Don Knowlastname, being an old-fashioned sort, would rather his daughter marry someone hard-workin’.

Ambitious, a real pull-himself-up-by-his-bootstraps type.

Striker knew that, so that's what he worked to become.

A perfect match, really.

Moxxie, for her part, had worked hard to become a perfect mafia wife and future mother, and he wasn’t the type to reward hard work with laziness.

If she was working hard for the sake of their future, then he would too.

And it had paid off in spades. 

At a birthday party for the young heiress, Crimson had pulled Striker aside and asked about his plans for the future before asking how he'd feel about joining the family. 

But not as some soldier, or baron or even a capo. He'd welcome the Wrathian in as his Underboss and son-in-law.

Of course, Striker accepted.

Unfortunately, they couldn't go ahead with the wedding right away.

Moxxie was old enough, sure, but the social environment she grew up in was a major factor.

Crimson had other families and crews trying to push through for an engagement with her all the time, and it was hard to keep shutting them down without burning any bridges.

But he'd been patient, and now here was his reward.

Finally, he'd be coming home to his prize, his Princesa.

The start of the future they'd both been working so hard for.

……………………………….

The Knolastname estate was oddly quiet, as it had been for the last two days.

In a town where you were incredibly likely to meet a graphic and violent end on any given day, quiet was generally appreciated. 

Don Crimson, though, could feel the silence grinding down into his nerves. Claws clattering away at his side table just to fill the air with something.

It was too damn quiet.

There was no music playing anywhere, no gentle humming coming from the kitchen or garden accompanied by the sounds of cooking or working. It made the whole house feel empty and abandoned, like the very soul of the house had been sucked out.

The empty halls were devoid of the gentle “tap-tap” of familiar hoof steps, and he hadn't heard his daughter’s voice call out to him in days.

“Daddy, can I please come home?”

No, no!

Crimson shook his head, clearing out the mental image of a six year old Moxxie in her adorable summer dress and mary janes standing in his doorway.

He couldn't let his imagination guilt him into cutting her punishment short! 

No, she had to learn her lesson this time, he'd been way too indulgent with her for way too long.

Things are different now.

She was getting married.

Moxxie is the family matriarch. From a young age, she'd been raised for the role. 

Everything from house care and hosting to book keeping and child rearing, she'd learned it all.

Crimson had only put off her engagement out of convenience.

Striker was the best option, sure, but he wasn’t an ideal option.

Kid was a good killer, decently smart, and had a way of charming anybody. 

But he was still an outsider. Not a bred gangster.

But at least he had the genuine markings of a made man, unlike the latest generation of mafiosos that Greed had to offer.

And his absence gave Crimson a useful card to play when negotiating with the other families. 

Lots of ‘em liked the idea of merging families with his via marriage, and the fact that Moxxie was such a popular girl in town made it all the better. 

Even if he did end up having to chase away any of the slobbering mutts that were sniffing around his daughter more than once; he didn’t understand why it was so hard for his business associates to teach their sons the proper way to treat a lady.

In any case, Moxxie being available was always the perfect carrot on a stick to dangle in front of any lowlife looking to climb the ladder. 

Crimson always masterfully showering them with half truths and empty promises about how their sons would be allowed to court his daughter if they did certain favors for him. 

These jobs were usually passed onto their sons who were always far too eager to do effectively anything the moment they laid eyes on the prize that was Moxxie, more blood flowing to their dicks than their brains when accepting whatever jobs Crimson threw their way.

Which is probably why most of them ended up dying in the process but hey, mafia sons were a dime a dozen in this ring. 

It’s a bit of a shame he’d be losing that particular bit of leverage, it had proven so useful on so many different occasions. 

But he supposed he’d have to let Moxxie settle down eventually, at least it was with someone he actually approved of instead of that asshat Chaz she had fallen for.

‘Which reminds me. After the honeymoon, I should get Striker to bring that prick’s head to me.’ Crimson thought half-heartedly.

Regardless of if the shark was dead or not, it would be satisfying to make sure.

Fucker wasn't worth being a trophy, but the idea of ripping out his jaw just to chuck it into the trash was just too tempting.

The idea made him smirk unconsciously. 

Would serve the fucker right, trying to take advantage of his daughter just to abandon her without a second thought.

He took a bite of the dinner in front of him -

…only to immediately spit it out, because it was inedible.

“Ugh, what is this? Some canned slop? Who put this on the table?!”

Alessio, who'd been waiting close by, as always, looked up from his own plate to answer.

“This was all the maid could put together, boss. She's not a cook.”

At that, the mafioso sneered.

“No shit. Where's the cook?”

The shark turned back to his food.

“We haven't had a cook on staff in years, boss. Moxxie’s been the one handling the kitchen since she was twelve, remember?”

Oh. Oh yeah.

Moxxie was a great cook, so Crimson had let her take over after the last guy turned out to be a spy.

She'd done such good work, he just let it be.

Saved money for the family, and it was great practice for her future husband. 

The temptation to let Moxxie come home early flared up again but Crimson forced it down once more. Even if he was willing to cut Moxxie’s punishment short, it would only bring him temporary relief. Once she got hitched to Striker, the two of them would move into their own little love nest and carve out their own little space; no room for little Moxxie’s dear old dad.

He’d visit often of course, invite her over just as frequently, and conduct frequent business with her husband. But it simply wouldn’t be the same.

Pushing the plate of garbage away with a sigh, Crimson got up from the table.

“Just look into a new cook…and a new maid….and someone for anything Moxxie used to do. Make sure they’re all up to snuff without any hidden ties.” Crimson instructed Alessio.

“As you wish boss. Anything else?” Alessio asked.

“Try to get in touch with Striker, see how far out he is.” 

Right then one of the lower level goons poked his head into the room. “Hey boss? That Striker guy just showed up out front, should I send him in?”

“Huh, speak of the angel and he shall appear.” Crimson mused. “Yeah, send him up to my office. We got a lot to talk about and the sooner it’s handled the better.”

The goon nodded and dipped back behind the door, Alessio giving Crimson a nod and taking his own leave. Which left the mafia boss alone once more.

Crimson huffed and rubbed his eyes. “Two days. Just two more days and everything can get back on track, the way it’s supposed to be.”

Sadly, Crimson’s plans would have a catastrophic hiccup. All because of one little country imp who was in the wrong place at the right time.