Work Text:
This is probably the single most crazy thing he’s ever done in his life, and given his reputation, that’s definitely saying something. Blitzø quadruple checks his weapons, even though he knows the clips are full, the safeties are off, and his knives are strapped to his forearms and calves. He just needs something to do with his hands to keep them steady and they’re only steady when holding something deadly.
He isn’t good with delicate, like children, trust, and hearts.
He’s good for very little if it doesn’t involve killing and snarky comments.
That’s why this is perfect for him.
Peeking out from around the corner of the gate, he sees his targets in a window on the lower floor clear as day. If this were a simple assassination, he’d be done by now, but it isn’t so he’s not. Besides he somehow doubts that he’d be able to kill them that way anyhow, one he promised himself he wouldn’t kill directly, and the other is too damn good to down so easily.
He ducks back out of sight and pulls out his phone from his jacket, ignoring the lock screen for a moment as he gets in and pulls up a number he never thought in his life he’d be dialing again.
“Blitz?” says Fizz after the third ring.
Blitz smiles to himself. “Hey Fizz, I’m sorry to do this but I kind of need to ask for a favor.” He considers his words. “Actually, make that beg.”
Fizz sighs heavily. “What do you need?”
“It’s a little involved so pay attention, I’m not going to repeat myself.”
Fizz’s grunt tells him he’ll listen.
“I’m going to need your help with a body.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Blitz!”
Blitz rolls his eyes fondly. “Hey, you know me.”
“Where and when?”
“Atta boy, Fizzy!” Blitz cheers and Fizz groans. “I’ll text you the address when I hang up, and I want you to be there in about twenty – no, make that seventeen minutes after you get it.”
“That’s frighteningly specific.”
“Hey, what can I say? I’m good at my job,” Blitz explains with a shrug.
“Okay?” Fizz sounds confused and a little concerned. “Blitz, what are you involved in?”
“Nothing that will ruin your pretty little life, I promise.”
Fizz scoffs. “That’s what you said when we were eight and we stole a dozen candy apples.”
Blitz fights the tears that memory brings up. “And I was right. You weren’t punished. My piece of shit dad beat the hell out of me and gave you my share of the apples.”
“I never said that didn’t ruin my life,” Fizz mutters quietly but Blitz hears him plainly. “And I did share the apples after he left.”
Blitz hums. “I guess you did. You know, you weren’t always a prick.”
“Wish I could say the same about you.”
It was meant as a jest, but it stung deeper than Blitz would admit. Fizz didn’t need to hear that though, not after everything.
“Yeah well, why mess with perfection?”
If the comeback surprises Fizz, he doesn’t let on, but his tone is kinder when he speaks again. “But yeah, I’ll do that for ya, just remember you owe me after this.”
“I know, thanks Fizz,” Blitz says and then hangs up before he can trap himself in a sappy, lovey-dovey moment he doesn’t need right now. He sends the address to Fizz as promised and then tucks his phone back in his jacket pocket.
It’s finally time to end this.
Blitz aims his pistol and fires just as Striker fires his revolver.
Fortunately for Blitz, his bullet finds its target and Striker goes down like a sack of potatoes.
Unfortunately, so does Striker’s.
Blitz goes down not far from where he stood.
The silence left behind is chilly and heavy. Casings are littered all over the floor, some still steaming and others cold to the touch, shattered porcelain and pieces of drywall join the display. Bullets that didn’t hit their target are lodged in walls and furniture, dotting the scene like an ominous timeline. Blood is splattered on almost every surface available.
Stella emerges from her hiding place in the kitchen, content that the lack of gunfire means the fight is over. She observes the carnage in her sitting room and entry way, wrinkling her nose at the terrible bite of iron in the air. She spies Striker’s foot by her sofa, and she carefully makes her way there, sighing a little when she sees his body; given the bullet wound between his eyes, she knows there’s little reason to check for a pulse.
“You did well,” she says quietly. An employee he may have been, but he did his job well and he was loyal, that is all she could ask for in a hired gun. She will make sure his body is returned home and any relatives compensated, it’s the least she can do.
Then she goes looking for Blitz.
The little imp that ruined everything.
She doesn’t have to go far; she barely makes it out of the sitting room before her heel steps in fresh blood. Her eyes widen and follow the trail back to the source, which is a small limp body sprawled on her silk rug. Picking up her dress so the hem won’t touch the blood, she goes over to the body and smiles wickedly.
It’s Blitz and he’s dead.
A bullet right through the mark on his forehead.
Finally.
“Stupid imp,” she chuckles, pushing the toe of her shoe into his cheek, forcing his head to look away. She needs to see the exit wound. When she does, she almost claps with glee, half the back of his head is missing. He really is dead! “I’m finally free of you, you slimy little bastard!” She kicks his torso. “I hope you rot, you miserable bitch!”
Her foot is primed to stomp on his head when her front door slams open. She stops and looks up, shocked to see Fizzarolli and Asmodeus standing in her doorway. Stella quickly lowers her foot as they come in.
“I’m so glad you’re here, I was attacked—” she starts but cuts herself off when she sees Fizzarolli looking at Blitz. He then looks at her.
“What happened?”
His cold tone takes her by surprise, but she recovers. “I was trying to tell you, I was attacked—”
“Police! Hands in the air!”
Four officers file in behind Asmodeus, weapons pointed at Stella.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, this isn’t necessary!” she shouts. “I’m the bloody victim!”
Fizz glares at her. “I don’t see your body on the ground.”
Sensing the brewing storm in his beloved, Asmodeus turns to the officers. “Please escort Her Highness out and send in the EMTs, we will wait here.”
“Of course, my Lord,” says one of the officers and they all lower their weapons, then move away from the door to permit Stella to exit. She does so without another glance at Blitz’s body, but she does smirk as she leaves.
Once everyone is gone, Fizz falls to his knees. Tentatively he reaches out and puts his hand on Blitz’s arm, which is riddled with so many bullet holes it looks a piece of pounded meat. He’s cold to the touch and Fizz’s heart breaks.
When Blitz said he’d need help with a body, he never imagined it would be . . . did Blitz know?
“You selfish bastard,” Fizz whispers as tears fall down his cheeks.
Asmodeus kneels beside Fizz and puts his hand on his back. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“We were starting over,” Fizz says, eyes still glued to his friend’s lifeless body. “We were talking again.”
“I know,” Asmodeus says as he helps Fizz back on his feet. He can hear the EMTs coming up the stairs and he doesn’t want anyone to see Fizz so vulnerable, he deserves the privacy to grieve on his own.
Fizz doesn’t want to stand he wants to sit. He wants to know why. He wants to scream and curse and throw things, but his body is numb and won’t cooperate. He watches the EMTs load Blitz onto a stretcher like a scene out of a movie, like he isn’t really there and it’s some sort of strange dream. They have the decency to cover Blitz on a white sheet, but Fizz almost wishes they hadn’t, his blood clings where the fabric touches, and it looks like a mess.
“Take him to St. An’s,” Asmodeus instructs, knowing that it would’ve been more likely Blitz’s body would’ve ended up in the local hospital to be burned en masse with the other lower rung residents of Hell. Asmodeus knows Fizz wouldn’t want to subject Blitz to hellfire, even in death.
The EMTs nod as they move the stretcher out and Asmodeus carefully leads Fizz out with a gentle hand to his back. Paparazzi are already starting to gather, and they need to leave before people start asking questions, questions Asmodeus knows Fizz is in no mood to entertain. Using his size to his advantage, he shields Fizz from the crowd as he guides him back to their limousine. Once safely inside, Asmodeus tells the driver to go to St. An’s and he sits back with Fizz in his arms.
“I need to call Loona,” Fizz says quietly, his blank gaze fixed on nothing in front of him, “and maybe Barbie, but I don’t know where she is.”
“Did you want me to call Stolas?”
Fizz jumps when he mentions the Goetian prince. Stolas is going to be devastated. Especially when he learns the details.
“I’ll call Loona, you call Stolas, we’ll tell them together at the hospital,” Fizz states and Asmodeus nods.
The house feels bigger without Octavia around, even if she does spend most of her time in her room. Stolas laments letting her go hang out with Loona, he would’ve preferred to be selfish and keep her to himself for a little bit longer, since she’s due to spend an extended period with her mother starting tomorrow. He walks the empty halls, trying to make as little noise as possible, and it reminds him of when he was a child; he would play a game with himself to see how long it would be before someone came looking for him if he didn’t make a sound. It didn’t end the way he hoped, which would have been with people searching high and low for him, if anything the servants carried on as if nothing were amiss. It wasn’t until dinner that someone even knocked on his door.
Sighing quietly Stolas continues his aimless wandering, wondering if he should go out or stay in, if he should call someone or just be alone. After how things ended with Blitz, he’s found himself with more idle time on his hands than he ever wanted, and while his daughter has maintained her friendships with Loona, Moxie, and Millie, he can’t say the same for himself. He likes them all well enough, but it feels strange to be around them without Blitz. Like a betrayal.
He finds himself back in his bedroom, bed made and room without a speck of dust, not a book out of place. He hates it. He misses when Via would come in and they’d sit and read all afternoon and make forts out of the books they finished or were too dull to read but made excellent building material. He misses those full moon nights when Blitz would visit and for a few hours, he could forget how lonely and miserable his life was. His life hasn’t changed much since he gave Blitz the crystal, it went back to exactly how it was before, and he hadn’t realized how much of an impact those few nights made until they were gone. He didn’t realize how much Blitz completely turned his life upside down until he was gone; he would trade anything he thought of value to have just even a day of leisure with Blitz again, sex wouldn’t even be a factor, he just wants to be around Blitz again.
Perhaps it’s time to see if things can be mended.
Just as the thought forms, his phone goes off and the shrill ringtone startles him for a moment, he recovers just in time to answer before it goes to voicemail. He doesn’t even check the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Stolas, it’s Asmodeus.”
He sounds incredibly tired.
“Oh hello! It’s good to hear from you, Oz.”
His tone is still flat, and it scares Stolas a little.
“Stolas, I need you to meet me at St. An’s hospital.”
Stolas’ stomach flips and then sinks. He can only imagine the situation if Asmodeus is calling him personally. “Is it Octavia?” The very thought of his treasured star being in the hospital is enough to almost send him flying out the window.
“No, she’s fine, but I need you to get to the hospital. I can explain then.”
“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Will Fizzarolli be with you?”
“Yes.”
Stolas nods to himself as he readies to cast his portal spell. “I’ll be at the entrance.”
They hang up and Stolas finishes his incantation, then steps through.
“Hey Via, is your dad being . . . weird after everything?” Loona asks as she scrolls her feed, liking a few posts from Queen Bee. She and Octavia are sitting inside their favorite café, two expensive drinks in, and riding out the pleasant buzz from the caffeine, music, and general vibe of the room.
Octavia shrugs, also viewing her feed. “Weird and my dad in the same sentence is pretty typical, Loon. You’ll have to be more specific.”
Loona snorts. “Well, I guess, weirder emotionally? My dad looks at pictures every night when he thinks I’m in my room and he tried hiding them, but I found them under the couch. They’re family pictures I guess, of his mom and sister and the rest of us, even your dad.” She puts her phone down for a second. “And . . . I think I heard him crying a few times.”
Octavia looks up from her phone. “Okay, for Blitz, that is weird.” She considers her father’s behavior over the past few weeks. “I guess my dad’s been gloomier, he doesn’t talk much, and he walks around the house for hours.” She taps her chin. “D’you think our dads miss each other?”
“Could be, or could be deeper,” Loona suggests with a shrug. “Dad hasn’t exactly had it easy lately, fuck I mean the guy can barely walk down the street without something blowing up in his face.”
“Figuratively or literally?”
“Both.”
They share a hushed snicker, aware of the other patrons in the café.
“Still, maybe you should try talking to Blitz?” Octavia suggests even though she knows the answer. Blitz isn’t exactly big on feelings and Loona even less so, they’re a match made in hell that way, neither of them capable of getting over their emotional constipation.
Loona shrugs, going back into her phone. “Maybe. Doubt it’d do any fucking good though.”
“It’s just an idea,” Octavia concedes as she opens her phone again. “I’ve been thinking I might try to get my dad to eat at least a meal with me.”
Something sharp twists in Loona’s gut. Things must be really bad if Stolas isn’t even eating with Octavia, he used to eat with her and Stella regularly even when things were bad. “We could go to that yummy place on Fifth, maybe get your dad to join us? He might need a change of scenery.”
Octavia perks up at that suggestion. “I think he’d like that. Wouldn’t it be weird though? You and my dad?”
Loona shakes her head. “His issue is with Blitz, not me. I have no problem being around him, and if he does, then fuck him I guess.”
“Loon,” Octavia says with a warning in her tone and Loona flattens her ears a bit in submission that she crossed a line. “But yeah, if my dad has an issue, then it’ll just be you, me, and my mom’s credit card.”
Loona gives a toothy grin. “We could do some real damage with that if you’re up for it.”
Octavia returns the smile with a malicious gleam in her eyes. “I think the real question is, can you keep up with me?”
Jumping up from the table, Loona smirks. “Oh, challenge fucking accepted birdie, let’s fucking go!”
They clean up their table and head out of the café, intent on calling a cab to the nearest department store when Loona’s phone starts ringing. They quickly head outside with she works on answering it, not recognizing the number.
“Uh, hello?”
“Loona, it’s Fizzarolli.”
He sounds exhausted and Loona looks warily at Octavia, who looks concerned.
“Uh hi, how the hell do you have my number?”
“Blitz gave it to me, in case of any emergencies.”
Loona’s heart drops to the floor. “Fizz, what happened to my dad?”
“I don’t want to tell you over the phone. Where are you? I can pick you up.”
“I’m at Crooked on Third Street with Octavia Goetia,” she replies, and Octavia looks nervous. “Where are you?”
“Not far, don’t go anywhere.”
He hangs up and Loona stares at her phone for a few seconds. What happened to her dad? Was he hurt? Was he in jail? Why did Fizz call her and not Moxie or Millie?
“Loon, you okay?” Octavia asks quietly.
“I . . . I don’t know,” Loona replies as she puts her phone in her pocket. “Fizz said something’s wrong with my dad, but he didn’t say what.”
Octavia puts her hand carefully on Loona’s shoulder. “Should I call a cab?”
Loona shakes her head. “No, he says he’s on his way.” She looks at Octavia, her eyes full of concern and brimming with tears. “Via, I think . . . I think something really bad happened to my dad.”
This time Octavia puts her arm completely over Loona’s shoulders, holding her close. “I’m here for you, Loon. No matter what.”
She’s given a shaky smile in return, which is honestly more than she anticipated. Loona is prickly on the best of days, so the fact she’s not only accepting Octavia’s presence but also her touch, speaks volumes to her personal distress. Octavia means what she said, she won’t leave her alone.
The hospital looms overhead as the limousine pulls into the entrance, where Stolas is fretfully waiting outside. He hurries over when he sees the car drive up and opens the door ahead of the driver, more than a little surprised to see Octavia get out first, followed by Loona. Fizz and Asmodeus get out on the other side. They all appear distressed in some way or another.
Stolas looks to Asmodeus as he comes around to the other side of the car. “Oz, what’s going on? What’s happened?”
Asmodeus looks to Fizz, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but there, and says, “That’s Fizzy’s news to share.”
All eyes turn to Fizz, who tries his best to maintain his composure but looking at the faces of Blitz’s daughter and lover and knowing what he needs to tell them, it’s enough to shatter even the toughest demon.
He takes a deep breath and slowly says words that feel foreign on his tongue. “I’m sorry, but Blitz is dead.”
Octavia understands it first and she immediately looks to her father, who looks skeptical. She looks at Loona and her friend seems shaken but also not entirely comprehending the situation.
“He’s not dead,” Loona snaps. “He’s not dead, he can’t be dead, he doesn’t die! His stupid ass gets injured and maimed, but he never gets killed!”
Fizz rubs his arm and simply looks at the ground. “I thought so too, until I saw his body.”
Loona’s heart pounds harshly in her chest, as if mocking her that it’s still beating while her father’s is just still. She tries to fight the tears, but they come anyway, rolling down her face and clinging to her fur. Lifting her face to the sky she howls, it’s broken, hollow, and loud. Like her grief. Like the hole Blitz left in her heart. Like her heart.
Octavia is there for her, and she all but collapses into her friend’s waiting arms, using her strength to hold herself up. Fizz’s heart breaks for the girl. She didn’t ask for this; she didn’t deserve this. She lost her father, the only person who really truly loved her and cared for her, and now she’s alone again.
It takes longer for Stolas to process everything happening around him, but when he hears Loona’s distressing howl, he realizes there must be some truth to Fizz’s grim announcement. Her howl echoes his heart, and he can’t bear the thought. He needs to see Blitz. He needs to know the truth. Immediately he takes off running into the hospital, completely disregarding everyone and everything in his way until he reaches the front desk where he asks for directions to the morgue.
“I’m sorry, but—” the receptionist tries to say but is cut off when Stolas decides he’s done holding back and playing the polite prince. He shows her his true form, in all its horrific glory as he repeats his demand for access to the morgue.
She faints but the person working beside her quickly hands him a keycard and tells him to put this in the elevator and select level three. Stolas regains control over himself and takes the keycard then dashes off to the nearest elevator. He follows the instructions and by a thread of patience, he makes it down to the morgue without destroying anything. He’s sure Blitz would’ve preferred some chaos and destruction, but he isn’t in the mood for that right now, he’s far more concerned with finding Blitz instead.
The door opens and he practically flies inside he’s moving so fast, looking for any sign of Blitz, completely ignoring the staff that is working as he searches. Finally, in a back corner, he sees a white sheet soaked in black blood on a stretcher, a body that has not yet been processed. Something tells him this is Blitz and his entire body shakes as he approaches the stretcher. With a trembling hand he lifts the top of sheet, and he gasps so hard he chokes when he sees Blitz’s face.
It's easy enough to tell which wound killed him, as simple as looking at his face. Where there once was a beautiful, intricate mark is just a bloody, mangled hole. Stolas moves the sheet away from Blitz’s head and then gingerly cradles his face, slowly moving down until their foreheads are touching.
“My darling,” Stolas whispers as tears fall, some landing on Blitz’s face. “My poor, beautiful darling. My Blitzy.” He holds Blitz just a little tighter. “I love you, Blitz.”
The sound that follows and echoes throughout the hospital, down the block, and as far as the next city over is one unlike any other. It is neither divine nor demonic. It can only be described as devastating. Universally devastating. Many will say later it was some new creature, so terrifying in nature it’s never seen but only heard. Only a few will be able to say they know the true source of that horrific noise.
That they heard for the first time in their lives the sound of a creature shatter.