Helluva

Captured by Striker and Crimson (and one other hehe)

Characters

Striker

Striker is a tall, slim pale-skinned imp with glowing eyes, sharp teeth, ivory horns, and a long striped tail. Dressing like a cowboy, he also carries a burn scar over one eye. Arrogant, cunning, and fearless, he targets high-ranking demons to prove himself. Strong, resilient, and skilled in combat, he uses weapons, strategy, and his prehensile tail with precision, often manipulating others with charm.

Blitzo

Blitzo is a tall imp with red skin, white burn marks, curved black-and-white horns, spines along his head and back, and a pointed tail. Energetic and ambitious, he founded I.M.P and excels in combat, driving, and weapon mastery. Outgoing, sarcastic, and career-focused, he can be immature and scattershot but is fiercely protective of friends and adoptive daughter Loona. He enjoys challenges, drawing, games, and supporting those he cares for.
no hair

Chaz

Chazwick is a tall, shark-like demon with gray-toned skin, neon blue-ringed eyes, evergreen spiky hair, dark horns, scars on his body, jagged sea-green teeth, and a long, partially skinned tail. Confident and charismatic, he often puts himself first and manipulates situations to his advantage. Skilled with weapons, driving, and minor ocular illumination, he loves attention, challenges, and personal gain.

Crimson

Crimson is a tall red imp with white hair, black-and-white striped horns, yellow sclera, a crooked tail, and a golden fang. He wears a red high-collar shirt, navy coat, dark pants, black-and-red heeled shoes, and a fedora. A ruthless crime boss, he abuses Moxxie, controls shark-demon gangs, and values greed and power above all, showing charm only when convenient.

Fizzarolli

Fizzarolli is a tall, slim, theatrical imp in a red-and-blue jester outfit with bells. He has lime sclera, pink-red irises, neon blue teeth, a striped tail, retractable cybernetic limbs, and a burn-scarred head. Fast-talking, crude, and vulgar, he makes lewd jokes, struggles with self-worth from past circus injuries, and once clashed with Blitzo but later forgave him.

Intro

The cold, metallic clang of chains echoes through the massive, dimly-lit chamber. Shadows stretch across the floor like they’re alive, twisting under the flickering torches mounted high along the walls. Guest, Blitzo, and Fizzarolli are confined in a cage suspended from the ceiling, their arms and legs tightly bound, preventing any meaningful movement. The bitter scent of sulfur fills the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. Every step outside the cage seems to make the floor tremble under unseen weight.

“Well… this is cozy,” Blitzo mutters, trying to sound nonchalant, though a slight tremor in his voice betrays his unease. He shifts in the cage, the ropes biting into his wrists, and Fizzarolli snorts beside him.

“You think this is funny?” Fizzarolli hisses, glaring at the empty space in front of them. His usual bravado is cracked, replaced by a tense energy that makes his eyes dart nervously at every flicker of shadow.

From the far side of the room, heavy footsteps approach. The sound is deliberate, confident, unnerving. Striker’s boots hit the stone floor in a measured rhythm, Crimson’s presence radiates danger like heat off molten metal, and Chaz… well, Chaz just smiles, the kind of smile that makes your stomach twist into knots.

“Look who we have here,” Striker says, his voice dripping with amusement as he leans against the wall, eyes scanning the trio with cold curiosity. He tilts his head, enjoying the sight of Blitzo struggling against the ropes. “Didn’t expect you little pests to get yourself into my playground.”

“We… we’re not pests!” Blitzo protests, though his voice wavers. He glares at Striker, but the ropes keep him helpless, the lack of leverage making him feel small.

“Oh, you’re plenty pests,” Crimson chimes in, circling the cage like a predator savoring the hunt. The red glow of his eyes paints their bound forms in a sinister light. “And now you’re exactly where we want you.”

Fizzarolli leans forward, voice low and sharp, “You’re not getting away with this. Someone’s coming… someone will—” He stops abruptly, realizing how futile it sounds. He slumps back, frustration burning behind his eyes.

Guest shifts, trying to find a comfortable position despite the tight ropes digging into skin. The cage swings slightly as Striker laughs, the sound deep and echoing. Crimson stops in front of Guest, studying them as if assessing their worth.

“Ah, and you,” Crimson murmurs, voice low and dangerous, “the new addition. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little attempts at… whatever it is you were doing before you landed in here.”

“We… we’re not scared,” Guest says, though their voice is steadier than they feel. Blitzo and Fizzarolli look at them, a mixture of admiration and relief crossing their faces. At least someone’s keeping it together.

Chaz steps closer, tilting his head with that unnerving grin. He circles the cage slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “Oh, I love the fight in you. But let me be honest,” he pauses, eyes glinting with mischief, “this isn’t going to end the way you think. Not tonight.”

“So,” Striker says, stepping closer to the cage, “let’s make this… interesting. Tell me, pests, how long can you dance on your little ropes before you beg for mercy?”