#animezerochan

That fateful accident happened when they were younger. Blitzo's entire world fell apart. Crashing around him: the fire was merciless, destroying everything it touched. Fizzorolli had pushed him out of the way as the beam snapped in half, skewering a random imp.

The jester had shielded him with his body screaming into his ears until Blitzo could hear nothing but a dull ringing. His head had been pressed into a smoldering flame. Blitzo never heard the wailing sirens of the ambulance.

In the static and commotion, Blitzo was left in the dirt. Discarded and in pain. as the paramedics rushed to Fizzorolli. "It had been Fizzorolli's act that cost the scarlet imp his career.   Feeling left out, pushed aside as Fizzorolli was rushed to a nearby hospital. Blitzo was caked in Fizzorolli's blood. He groans, kneeling in place, clutching his face while his best friend screams out in agony. His name was echoed through the big ti.

Blood was everywhere... his best friend was calling out his name, writhing in agony. But his father told him to stay put, that he'd be handling things from now on. Blitzo fought. Only to get backhanded by the Ringmaster. Cash never gave his son a second look. His money maker was injured. Cast aside, he finds an Ausmodeous Crystal in his mother's tent. With a shuddering breath and one last glimpse at his old life, he activates it and disappears. Soon, Blitzo finds himself in an unknown world. A traveling circus catches his eyes. "Haley's circus," it read. Blitzo wondered, keeping his head bowed and face hidden in the shadows. All he can think about is Fizz. Leaving a sizeable blood stain in his mother's tent. He hadn't realized he had been injured. Everyone's focus was on fizz. Blitzo is drawn in by an unexpected family of Romanian acrobats. "The Flying Graysons. Eight years old and lost in the smoldering remains of Haley's big top. "Hello, son," came the low grave voice of an elderly ringmaster. Blitzo peers up, wiping the tears on his sleeve. "Who are you? He asks. "a ghost from the past, the Ringmaster, replies. I've never seen you around here. Say, Haley. where are your parents?' "Gone," Blitzo answers coldly. The imp peers up, expecting to be scolded or ridiculed by the elderly gentleman who just picked him up. "Stay here; I will find someone to take care of you." He is soon found and adopted by a 28-year-old man, the sole survivor of the flying Graysons. "How am I going to explain this to Bruce Dick wonders. He had managed to bandage up the side of the imp's face. Maybe he could sweet talk Kori into letting him keep Blitzo.

Blitzo finds himself caught in a one-sided relationship with Stolas. A young noble prince. Coming home one night through the sleeting rain, Blitzo wonders across an unconscious wild man. He takes him home and cleans him. Mending his wounds. And silently observes him for the night, hoping the brazen imp pulls through. Throughout the night he ignores the constant ringing of his cellphone.

He knew he was caught in a dead end with Stolas, yet he hadn’t the means to break free. He doesn’t want to lead the prince on, knowing he was the side piece. Blitzo contemplates breaking it off with Stolas, while taking care of the unconscious man before him.- what in Lucifer had him throwing caution to the side and letting in a total stranger into his shabby three-bedroom apartment. Blitzo had breeched the topic, not wanting to get in between him and his family. The scarlet devil had walked away from that night limping: his torso and chest were peppered with hickies and welts -

Meanwhile, Striker, the wild imp, was looking for his mate. A lover who had disappeared when the poachers had entered their little village. In the Jungle's heart. ” At least he is wearing pants this time,” Blitzo thought, draping an arm around his eyes.

It had been over several days since he had found Striker and taken him in, the Boss imp recalls trying to dress Striker for the first time. He ended up chasing him around the apartment building. Screaming at the top of his lungs. “For the love of Lucifer, they're just pants!”

Striker still, sniffing Blitzo’s neck. ”Watchya doing? Blitzo laughs. “That tickles, Blitzo exclaims as Striker hisses seductively into his ear. ” Pants on!” Blitzo snaps. adamant about dressing the feral imp. Striker tails coyly flicks from side to side. ”Don’t make me chase you around this bed. Come on, daddy’s got work to do! Blitzo cries. ” We’re expecting company,” the Boss imp went on saying. “They’ll be here any minute”

Fine! You stay here Blitzo says watching as Striker’s  tail bristles as he gets into a pounce position.  “I’ll be home at five Blitzo announces backing up and out of the room “Do not scratch my walls!”

_ Moxie’s voice could be heard on the other side of the door. As the specialist escorts his boss to his office. Moxie had been with him since he was eighteen. The older imp practically raised Blitz. After finding him in a cage near the dumpsters. A decent sized cut on his forehead. He was a child and someone out there was treating him like an animal. It took years of recovery, but Blitz was doing better. _ During long stretches of time, Striker flip through some old beat up album hidden beneath the bed. He traces his finger around Blitzo’s face, growling and cooing at the pictures he finds scattered throughout the enormous book.

He growls, his tail flicking from side-to-side, flipping through the album, finding scratches on photos the more resent the pictures became.

He cocks his head to the side, sniffing a picture of Verosika, his eyes wonder to a picture of Fizzorolli something was off about that imp. There was a hidden darkness lurking behind a pair of laughing eyes.

It was your average day in Loo-Loo land, Blitzo was looking around for his best friend Fizzorolli. When a stranger approached him, he hadn’t seen this cowboy around before and the young imp wondered if the snake was lost.  

The time traveler tilted his hat, his golden tooth gleaming in the hot noon sun. 

“Are you alone little imp?” 

Blitzo looked around, he had a bad feeling about this. His sister was in the big top, practicing on the trapeze wires and  Fizz, was trying to find a sugary snack for the trio to devour. 

His Momma was gone along with Lord Mammon. his father wasn’t allowed into the amusement park. 

“No! Blitzo answers looking around.  Striker cocks his head to the side and looks around. 

“I see no one here little one, and you remind me of someone dear to me child” 

Blitzo was beginning to get nervous, he didn’t like how close the cowboy was getting. 

“you want to see some tricks mister” Blitzo asks stalling for time or until the stranger took the hint. 

Striker bent down, biting his lip now would be a good chance to snatch him up and take Blitzo back with him. he could groom the child into his own design creating the perfect partner.  he could picture Blitzo all grown up, without IMP’s influence on him, he’d be a killing machine only answering to one code. 

The Cowboy’s. 

The Cowboy reached down intent on picking up the tiny devil and leaving when Blitzo yelled for his friends. 

Fizzy... Barbie... don’t let him take me” Blitzo cries squishing the cowboy’s face. 

Fizz bounds out from the concession stands,  cartwheeling over to his best friend and slamming a fist into the cowboy’s face.  Striker snarls taking out a gun and firing out the tiny demon. 

Fizz cackles spinning chaotically and ramming his head into the cowboy’s stomach.. the snake snarls venomously.. 

Striker turns, Just in time: to meet both Tilla’s and Mammon’s murderous stares.  Tilla had just signed on... unaware she was selling her children into the limelight.  that she had just sold Blitzo and Barbie to a devil of a man... 

Striker clutches his monogramed cellphone: nearly cracking the case. It had been months since the harvest moon festival and the botched assassination attempt. 

A guttural growl scratches at the back of his throat, as he thought about the last time he ran into IMP. He needed to see him, to convince him that their partnership was absolute

That Blitzo was just chasing dreams. 

He needed to wake him up, open his eyes to the hell around him. 

Blitzo’s phone number stared back at him, in bold black letters.  It would be too risky to leave a voicemail. 

But he needed insurance: and those two leeches, he calls employees would suffice The cowboy would have fun, torturing them before ending their Miserable  lives.  

He’d read about, the catastrophe that was the illustrious House of Ausmodeous.  Not doubt, Blitzo was hurting: and licking his wounds.  

In the end, he caved dialing that familiar number.  He thought about hanging up once or twice. 

But he was glad he didn’t. He could hear, the imp pick up. Blitzo took a shuddering breath. 

“Who--who is this?” he asks.  the cowboy grits his teeth, suppressing an irritable hiss and  hating the brokenness in Blitzo’s voice. 

Blitzo’s heart freezes in his chest, it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. 

“How did you get this number?” he demands. 

“Ride or Die Blitzy, side with me and together will unite hell- underneath an imp pantheon 

“That rich pompous ass, is living on borrowed time, stringing you along darlin”  “I don’t want to talk about-” he couldn’t even say his name. 

“He hurt ya bad, didn’t he sugar-cube?, lets start with him and work our way up the ladder, after I put a bullet in his head, there will be nothing stopping us from pursuing the throne”  

“Striker its late- I was wondering-

“if you want to pick this up in the morning?”  Striker finished. 

Blitzo looks around, his eyes sore from crying. He took another shuddering breath realizing he didn’t want to be alone tonight and if Striker was offering a partnership- if that partnership was still on the table then he wouldn’t be so lonely. 

What could one little night hurt, after all- his own family had left him alone tonight. Loona was gone and Moxie and Millie were to involved with one another to come check on him. 

“Actually Striker, I was wondering if you could pick me up, I don’t feel like driving anywhere tonight-and I don’t want to be alone” he admitted.  Striker’s eyes widened he was halfway out the door, whistling for his stead.