For the Guilty and the Dreary (Helluva Boss Fanfic)
Chapter One: Welcome to a New Hell
“Your hands were free, your feet were not chained: like the downfall of a man before evil man, so was your fall. And the weeping of the people went over him again.”
2 Samuel 3:34
The realm of Hell was nothing but a type of anarchy with a false power system to rule over the masses. From the Sins to the Ars Goetia, any decree that came was from the benefit of those in power heavily; among the damned, selfishness becomes a virtue rather than a crime. For those who try to act righteous, the acts are done with little detection and impact to avoid the assumption of weakness. However, the powers of Hell have experienced challenges to their dominion, and the denizens began to whisper.
In recent events, the public could not decide which was the bigger scandal: the exposure of Prince Stolas, his affair with an imp, and the subsequent excommunication from his status and duties as an Ars Goetia; or the repeated conflicts that have sprung between Heaven and Hell, as Hell seems to be the aggressor in the latest conflict. The public were unaware of what to think, or how to react. Yet, the denizens all agreed on one matter: the powers on top are shaking from these recent events. While the damned– from imps to hellhounds to sinners– revel in the thought of a schism among the powerful, life continued as normally as possible. For the fallen prince Stolas, normalcy was no longer a luxury he could afford.
Change is a difficult thing all may struggle with– even if the change has a cushioned support made by those around you. Now a year without the old ways he was accustomed with, Stolas attempted to create a new sense of normalcy for himself at the I.M.P. organization as a receptionist. While the main group performed their duties on Earth, Stolas simply kept the office space organized and answered the calls of potential clients– or turned away belligerent clients who stormed into the office. For over a year, Stolas performed these tasks exceptionally and with limited error; paperwork and readings were his favorite pastime as nobility, and continue to be so in the lower class. However, this new opportunity allowed for time to be had alone; in these quiet moments, without a voice in your ear, the one in Stolas’ mind filled that void with its own downtrodden commentary. When that inner voice was not heard, though, Stolas pondered about all he had done in the past year alone. He thought of Octavia and the last words uttered to him, a father hated by his daughter; he thought of his current state, an intelligent grown being who failed to properly pay for items at a grocery store; and he thought of Blitzo… and he thought of Blitzo constantly.
Before the trial– before the night of the full moon– Stolas retained emotional and carnal thoughts about Blitzo. Various positions, various sounds, various words– Stolas thought of many sensual fantasies about Blitzo, along with the emotional ties. About the love he felt and respect he perceived. The moments in which Blitzo smiled warmly at Stolas after sex, and how Blitzo respected his wishes during those intimate moments. But those thoughts were nothing but a memory now, and the present was looming in his face. Sins-mas allowed for just one moment of happiness-- one moment where Stolas felt the love and warmth he had long been searching for in a partner. Yet, it was on that same day that the stars he created began to fade into nothingness, and he was, again, surrounded by darkness. The mind raced quickly as each day passed. Just like Hell, the thoughts of Stolas warred with each other, and only so many of these conflicts can subdue the darker thoughts that sat in the background, waiting for the moment of weakness.
“Isn’t this what you wanted,” the voice spoke in his mind. “The life sought after. Aren’t you happy with how everything turned out?”
Stolas buried his head into his arms as the words rang in his skull, and began to ache his brain, then his heart. Despite the impact, Stolas endured these types of words before with Stella.
“You miss her. Don’t you miss her still,” the voice continued. “You still send her texts to update her. She hasn’t blocked the number yet, so that must be good, right? Or is she just feeling sorry? Maybe she can’t bring herself to block her father for good and just lets your number ring when you text. Maybe she’s just as weak as you are.”
Though these weren’t simple to ignore, Stolas adapted to the negativity in his mind and had to endure the noise until it got tired. Fortunately, this day’s self-loathing was interrupted by a bright flash, then a rift opening in the center of the office. Despite the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion across his face, Stolas forced himself to sit up as the others returned from their latest mission.
“Look, I don’t know why you’re getting on my ass about the mishap, Mox, it’s not like I didn’t kill our target,” Blitzo argued as he entered first, followed by Moxxie, Millie, then Loona.
“Sir, it’s not about the target; it's the fact you also shot a nun,” Moxxie countered.
“In my defense, she walked right in front of the shot.”
“After I said to wait because of the walking nun!”
Blitzo shrugged and brushed Moxxie off; Moxxie groaned and threw his arms up in frustrated defeat. The bickering was one thing Stolas had to get used to quickly as Blitzo and Moxxie were constantly arguing over one thing or another. The peculiar and silly topics were what took away the annoyance of hearing the repeated shouting.
“I see another… successful mission was completed,” Stolas softly spoke.
Blitzo delivered a smug grin as though the mishap was never revealed. His hands on his hip with a proud aura to his presence as he looks towards Stolas.
“Yep! Your boss here took the target out with one clean shot,” Blitzo bragged.
“After the first original shot removed the nuns headwear,” Moxxie groaned as he walked back to his desk.
“Anyways, don’t mind the negative Moxxie over there” Blitzo interrupted as he sat himself on Stolas’ desk and stared happily at his receptionist. “Enough about my day. How did yours go, Stolas? You finish catching up on today’s client requests?”
“Ah, so that must be why I felt my mind become blank. I’ll get on those right now,” Stolas said, his eyes half-lidded.
“Hey, feathers, don’t you worry about those now,” Blitzo assured. “You can finish them whenever you want at your own pace, alright? We already got this next month booked, so it’s not like we’re pressed for clients!”
The gesture, while kind to a basic worker, was another of Blitzo’s attempts at placation for Stolas. While this was something easily avoidable, rather than confront the situation, Blitzo sidestepped the problem in favor of Stolas’ emotions. Stolas found it considerate for Blitzo to forgive the minor mistakes made, like the feathers in the drain, but once the bigger mistakes came to be, like mistyping the wrong number for a client’s address, Stolas realized the effort Blitzo was going through. The spared only fueled the conflict inside Stolas. A former prince who could not even do the simplest of tasks; who had to be coddled like a child, despite having ruled over legions. Too exhausted for any argument, Stolas stood from his desk.
“I see… well, then, if nothing else for the rest of the day, I would like to go back to the apartment early, if that is alright,” Stolas asked with his eyes fixated on the floor in front of Blitzo.
“Yeah, sure! Hey, you know what,” Blitzo dug through his pockets and scrounged for some crumbled up bills to hand to Stolas. “Here, that should be enough for something to eat. Get whatever you like and head back to the apartment after, alright?”
Stolas opened his hands weakly and let the bills fall into them.
“Pity,” Stolas spoke in his mind, “You, a disgraced prince, are being given so little out of pure pity. Like the homeless who stand in the street all day.”
Stolas nodded his head and put the money in his pocket.
“Thank you… I will be sure to grab something for you and Loona as well,” he last said before walking out of the office.
The air seemed saddened as the attitude was clear. Even Blitzo was smart enough to detect when something was off… Blitzo was smarter now to detect when something was off. For a moment after Stolas left, Blitzo waved and smiled at the door. Then, the facade dropped and his face drooped as he swiped his rubbed the back of his neck from exhaustion.
“Blitz,” Millie spoke up.
“God, Millie, I know, I know, don’t say it,” Blitzo groaned as he sulked back to his office.
Yet, despite his own admission, Blitzo recognizes the harm is new demeanor can cause and how life remains the same due to his inability to properly adapt. Before, the selfishness and desires of Blitzo resulted in destruction of many people’s lives; many words that could not be forgotten or forgiven. Now, perhaps as a means to make amends, Blitzo’s personality pivoted to where positivity overtakes negativity. A trait Blitzo considered to be a favorable one among others– or one he believed would not push away the people he cared about. Still, though the crass demeanor of Blitzo subsided, the permissive approach resulted in a just as unhealthy environment, especially for this new life him and everyone around him have to adapt to. Blitzo’s own internal conflict was about his own change: from a hardheaded playboy to a compassionate partner. Was partner the proper term to use? In this past year, Blitzo can recall the times the pair have slept with each other, and the Sinsmas kiss remained fresh in his mind.
Blitzo retreated to his desk and sat in the chair behind it, his desk littered with piles of paper and the only light source peeking from the open blinds. In a brief moment, when Blitzo sat at his desk and stared into nothingness, his mind began to run. Run the memories of how harsh he pushed Stolas away; the words he uttered to the person he once denied ever loving to were chained to Blitzo's spirit. The tears that fell from Stolas' eyes, the break in his voice, the utter look of dejection and defeat across his face-- these were the thoughts that played on repeat in Blitzo's mind.
In contrast, to seek comfort, Blitzo thought of the moments the pair had shown care and love for one another. The pair risked themselves for each other's safety: Stolas faced the ire of a corrupt system, and Blitzo challenged a member of nobility to a battle. The pair kissed twice-- lovingly both times. The pair stayed with each other for this long and had not much of an argument in this past year, and yet, Blitzo refuses to believe anything changed, or that anything changed for the better. As he sat in his office, alone, the inner thoughts began to rear their heads to instill fear and rage for Blitzo.
“You know, when you offer to help someone, you usually have to make things better instead of worse, you know,” Blitzo’s thoughts said. “But, hey, things can’t be too bad… for you, at least. You have a prince in your apartment. Sorry, a former prince in your apartment since you had to spoil that as well.”
“I’m not having these thoughts again,” Blitzo muttered as he started to tap his fingers rapidly at the desk.
“Over a year now, you know? A year in your cramp little apartment where you both rotate sleeping on a couch. A year where you have to watch Stolas stare into his phone and weep for his daughter. A year that you accomplished so much, though, like… what did you accomplish again, Blitzo?”
Blitzo grit his teeth out of frustration– to create a distraction from the inner thoughts. Perhaps a broken tooth could pivot the mind; maybe a bite of the tongue would help the most. Something to help alleviate the mind from these thoughts would be better than being left with the sound of his own voice berating him.
“Come on, don’t be modest. You’ve done so much for him, right? Like made him go from dining on exquisite meals your stupid mind can’t even say, to eating cereal you stole from the store. I’m certain he is truly appreciative of it; I mean, did you see that smile? Wait, can you remember when he last smiled?”
“Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! I’m past this bullshit!”
“You must give yourself credit, you managed to do something impossible. You managed to turn doing good into something insufferable and something harmful to the people around you. Where’s that old Blitzo that wasn’t such a bitch now?”
“Fucking dead like you will be in a few seconds if you don’t shut up,” Blitzo snarled out.
“What? Are you finally going to put those thoughts into action? You want to shut me up, you have the means to do it. Just be sure not to make too much of a mess for them to clean up,” the voice taunted. “Maybe this time you’ll go through with it. Time and time again, you liked to bounce that idea around in your mind when you failed everyone you met. Verosika, Fizzarolli, Stolas… mom.”
Blitzo stood with swiftness and shoved his chair back. Sweat built up on his face and began to drip down as his hands laid firmly on the desk. Quickly, Blitzo’s chest grew and deflated while his mouth swallowed and spat air at an increased pace. The red of his eyes shook as water began to flood them. In a pattern, Blitzo shook as part of him struggled to retain stability as the other viciously beat him down.
“You do good, and someone gets ruined. You do bad, and someone gets ruined. Honestly, it’s a damned situation, which is funny considering we’re in Hell. Maybe nothing will change from your pushover attitude. Maybe you should let him go back to that asshole from Verosika’s party. You caused enough harm, haven’t you? So many lives ruined, so much time wasted, for what exactly? You know, with all that’s been happening and who you ruined… with all that selfishness that still lives inside you, you’re starting to look like dad.”
The last comment tightened Blitzo’s stomach and the imp could not retain himself any further. Blitzo ran beside his desk and knelt into the trash can to hurl the remnants of his lunch into the bin. Once the last of the fluid left his body, Blitzo simply curled up and hugged the trashbin.
“Please… anyone else… please, just not him,” he softly wept as he shook on his floor.
Silence. Silence was all Blitzo heard around him. Not the soft weeps that came from his mouth, or the light thuds his shaking body made against the desk. A world where he believed hope can thrive had become silent.
