Chapter Text
“Do you understand the gravity of what you did?”
Fizzarolli kept his ear close against the cloth of the tent, careful not to make a sound.
“Yeah, dad, I fucked up. I know! How many times do you have to say-”
Sudden rummaging, the clattering of disarranged furniture and objects knocking over made Fizzarolli look to the shadows. Dull grays of the storm clouds outside, and rain, made the shadows clearer, waving against candlelight. The hunched imp grabbed the smaller shadow by the shoulders, shaking them with each word.
“WE! HAVE! NO! MONEY! THAT WAS OUR ONE AND ONLY CHANCE!”
“...”
“You…” Venom laced the father’s voice, whipping in a snarl. “you had one use. I only had one expectation for you as a son… yer a waste!”
“I tried my fucking best. God, dad, I… I burned my fucking face out there, and all you can think about is money?!”
“It’s the death of THE CIRCUS versus a few burns. I think the answer is fuckin’ obvious!”
“You know something?” Blitzo exhaled, breaking free from the grip on him with a harsh shrug. “For what a piece of shit father you are, I’m lucky I didn’t turn into you. You’re class-A scum of society.”
“I RAISED you. That is some mouth on you-”
“Raised?! You raised me? Some fucking job you did! Mom was the only one who gave a shit about me!”
“She was an IDIOT who didn’t understand how the world works. We’re in HELL! Enlighten me then! Did her kindness pay the bills?”
“This is why Barb fucking left. You thought it was because she hated it here? No… she hated you- ”
“Then why don't YOU leave?"
Blitzo’s form stared.
"Why don't YOU leave, Blitzo?! You think you’re hard? You think you’re a man now, able to go out and make it on your own? Then LEAVE!"
A period of silence followed before Blitz stormed out, marching through the thick mud. Each step was heavy as it was forced.
“Blitzo,” Fizzarolli tried to call out, but Blitz kept moving. “Blitzo!”
“That’s right,” Cash followed right out. “You’ll be starving with the RATS by then! Better yet, you’ll be DEAD! And when that happens, I don’t want to see yer face here ever AGAIN!”
Blitzo came to a stand still, midstep in soggy mud. Turning around one last time, Fizzarolli swore he saw tears through the rain. They glanced at each other. Then he stared at his father, dead center between them. Thunder racked hard, accentuating anger.
“...I loved you, dad.”
Fizzarolli was left frozen in place, watching Blitzo turn and keep walking. Cash, seemingly unaffected by the ordeal, throwing his hands up and returning to the tent.
“That son of a bitch…” Cash shook his head, going back to counting a wad of cash behind him.. “You have yer work cut out for ya, Fizz! You’re working doubletime until I get a replacement!”
“That…” Fizzarolli clenched his fists. “...that was your son! How could you say those things to him?!”
“Excuse me? And what the fuck do you know about my son?” Cash looked furious.
Fizz stood his ground. He had much to say, but forced himself to internalize it. Turning his back to Cash, he ran in the direction Blitzo went, now nowhere in sight. The rain was intense - it was hard to see through the flecks. But, Fizzarolli kept running, calling.
“BLITZO?! WHERE ARE YOU?! BLITZOOO!” Fizzarolli tried to shout, but the storm must’ve covered his voice.
Into the city he went, dashing past cars, looking through the hordes of people. He slipped past them, trying to find any semblance in the sea of faces; the epitome of a needle of a haystack. Left and right, he scrambled. All until his legs could no longer carry him.
“Blitzo…”
Fizzarolli took a sharp breath, eyes wide. His heart was racing. Cold air against his skin, and a warm blanket, he blinked. The dream was a recurring one - one that relived itself whenever it pleased. But, something was off. The yellow, dimlight of candleburn was replaced by flashing whites from the corner of his eyes. His blanket, only enough to cover half of his body, enveloped him like a cocoon. The heat of Hell’s air was absent; cool, mechanical breezes flowed directly onto him.
Sitting up, he was greeted by even more cold, the blanket slipping off of his upper half.
“...We’d like to interrupt your broadcast with some breaking news!”
Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to a television screen, the light stinging.
“...the prince is dead! The son of Paimon meets a tragic end… and by his own hand?!”
“Yes, Tom, real shocking. No surprise, an affair with an imp ends in you blowing your own brains out.”
“Oh, Katie, that is just a conspiracy theory! As of now, the HPD are looking at it as a murder suicide… is what I would say if Stella were dead!”
“In sex and in death, the limp dick owl is outlasted. How poetic!”
“Rest in peace, sweet prince. But Stella yet survives, albeit in critical condition! Send your best wishes, everyone! I’m sure that will stitch the pieces of her brain back together!”
Gruesome images flashed of two bodies: one dark blue, the side of their head red, with flesh sprayed across grass. Another, paler, looked much the same. The color in their eyes had dulled out, a dissatisfied frown on one, and a look of shock on the other. Fizzarolli was familiar with the names on the broadcast; Blitzo had, once, been tasked to befriend such prince… that was years ago.
His reminiscing was interrupted as he next saw the very demon on his mind.
“And on that same thought… Blitz, ex-clown act, present day assassin - quote, the O is silent! After shooting up Vlad’s End and being identified as one of the shooters in one of modern pop icon Verosika’s concert, has been linked to the crime scene? Man, can you believe I used to watch this guy as a kid? Nostalgia…”
Fizzarolli’s eyes widened as he got up closer to the screen. Unmistakably, it was Blitz… just as he remembered. How could this have happened all of a sudden?
“Strangely enough, the body was recovered not long before Prince Stolas’ death… and it seems the pair of Goetian royalty attended his funeral! What could’ve led to such a series of events?”
“Unfortunately, as of now, we don’t have all the evidence. But, we have our leads, and shall keep all of you updated on this spicy scoop when we have more! Up next: Alastor spotted with Angel Dust leaving Val’s porn studio? Stay tuned…!”
The audio faded into the backdrop as he tried to piece everything together.
This was all coming too fast. His head was spinning from the amount of information. Looking around him, he was even more confused - this room wasn’t his tent… nor did this look like any part of the circus. This was a hotel… and nicer than anywhere he’d ever stayed. Taking a deep breath, he stood up.
Had he blacked out that badly that he’d forgotten he’d booked a hotel stay? How the hell did he even pay for this kind of service? Fizzarolli walked into the restroom and flicked on the lights. Groggily, he opened the sink, and went to rinse his face… but felt something odd.
Fizzarolli looked at black, metal, claw tipped arms. Then, he looked into the mirror.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Stumbling back, he nearly fell into the tub as he stared at his paler complexion; skin a pure, bleached white. An immovable metal heart emblem laid upon the top of his head, and below, a body that was very much mechanized as well. From head to toe, he didn’t recognize a single thing; as if he’d transformed overnight.
“No. No, Fizz… this is a nightmare.” He stared at his reflection in fear. The senses as he touched the mirror, and the way his reflection looked back, felt much too real.
A knocking noise made his attention shift, jumping at the rap.
“U-uhhh… who is it?”
“It’s me.”
The unfamiliar voice didn’t do Fizzarolli any favors. Looking in the eyehole was a rather tall demon, too tall to even fit the full sight. He had no idea who this guy was.
“Asmodeus. Ozzie.” The voice outside gave an exasperated sigh. “Come on Fizzy, you know who it is.”
“...Now’s not a good time. I’ve got business shit to do!” Fizzarolli was still breathing heavily. “God, what the fuck…”
“But… but what about our date?”
‘Date?’ Fizzarolli blanched. “What? Who the fuck are you?”
The tall figure sighed. “Are you mad at me? Please, if you’re still mad, let’s talk. I know what happened at the club wasn’t great… and trust me! I did not see Blitzo on the guest list. Er… Blitz.”
“Blitzo?”
“Yeah?”
Whipping the door open, he looked up to see the huge form that barely fit in the hotel hallway. The figure smiled sheepishly, trying to go for a hug, but being stepped back from.
“What do you know about Blitzo?” Fizzarolli asked rapidly.
“What do you mean? Honey, where’s your hat?” Asmodeus leaned down to touch his head, but Fizzarolli leaned back.
“Don’t touch me! Just answer the question!”
The tall demon stared momentarily. Eyes crinkling, he sighed. “So. It’s happening all over again.”
"Happening all over again? What are you talking about?"
Asmodeus seemed to dance with this thought, turning his head down the hallway, but not speaking.
Fizzarolli was starting to get frustrated. “If you’re not going to tell me, then fuck off. I am not in the mood.”
As he tried to walk past them, Asmodeus grabbed one of his arms tight. “No. You’re coming with me.”
“NO! Let go." Fizzarolli struggled against their pull.
Asmodeus insisted. "You aren't thinking straight! You need to calm down-!"
"LET GO! LET GO!!!” Fizzarolli screamed, and as he did, felt himself wrench free. Feeling drop;ets spray onto his face, his eyes widened. His hand was no longer where he saw it… and instead, 5 sharp claws were in place. Red, much like the newscast, covered his hand.
Tears welled in his eyes as he shrieked, shaking.
Asmodeus was unphased, the gash on his own arm healing quickly. “Fizz, please… please calm down. It’s okay! It’s-!”
“What… what am I?”
“...”
Bolting past Asmodeus, he ran out of the hotel. Eyes and heads turned as he rushed through the unfamiliar walls. The exit sign as his only guide, he eventually made it to an exit sign, running levels of stairs upon stairs, and bursting out to the first floor.
He didn’t feel tired at all; 8 floors of running and he was not a breath out of line. Briskly pacing, he ignored the receptionist questioning him, and coming out to an open city. His eyes immediately met with a large form outside; a billboard. Depicted was none other than him…
“I don’t… what in the fuck…?”
“Shall I retrieve your car, sir?”
Looking towards a vested man, Fizzarolli made a double take.
“...Yeah. Alright.”
“But,” The valet reached into his pocket, offering a handkerchief. “Sir. Your face.”