Chapter Text
The floor creaked as Moxxie walked along the musty apartment hallways. He wore a trench coat, black beanie, and circular sunglasses. The lighting was low but not dark. He stepped lightly but casually, hoping to sneak up on his target and remain inconspicuous. Nobody else was helping him on this mission. Having no one watching his back made him nervous. He resisted the urge to recheck his guns and his notes.
Moxxie was hunting a sinner. He had taken a contract to find and kill them as an independent hitman as he was no longer working with IMP. It was late in the night, the time when the target would be in his apartment according to their habits.
Moxxie incessantly chewed a wad of green peppermint gum as he approached his target's door. He took the wad out of his mouth and pressed it to the spyglass, obscuring it, before knocking on the door and standing off to the side. He readied a pair of bolt cutters. He could hear his target stepping up to the door. A moment passed before Moxxie heard the deadbolt unlock, then the door opened a crack with the door chain still attached.
Moxxie lunged at the crack, severed the door chain with the bolt cutters, and forced his way inside. The target, a sinner who resembled a bird, reeled back, quickly reaching for a baseball bat. Moxxie pulled out his pistol and fired it into his center mass three times before he could even get a hand on it. Moxxie knew that Sinner’s were tough, so he kept firing as the target fell over. Every shot sent out a deafening bang and small bursts of red flew from the body. He didn’t stop until his magazine was empty. Silence reigned for a tiny moment.
“Get the f*cking guns!” yelled out another voice from deeper in the apartment.
Moxxie looked up and saw three more sinners scrambling from a couch for their guns. He dived into a nearby bathroom as submachine gun fire ripped through the air above his head. He landed on yellowed linoleum and took cover under the ceramic sink as more bullets burst through the wall. Moxxie started reloading his pistol, trying to keep calm. A shot burst through his left shoulder at that moment, and he dropped the magazine.
“f*ck!” yelled Moxxie.
The firing from the other sinners was a constant deafening racket. Moxxie gritted his teeth, got another magazine from his jacket, and reloaded his weapon despite the pain. He tore a grenade from his belt and chucked it around the corner of the doorframe. He heard panicked shouts from the sinners a moment before the explosion, right after which Moxxie charged into the room firing into the crumpled sinners. He quickly fired three executing shots into the first sinner, then the second, but the third raised his gun and sloppily sprayed submachine gun fire across the room, hitting Moxxie in the stomach. Pain erupted in him and he collapsed to his knees. He raised his gun and fired the remaining rounds into the last sinner.
Moxxie breathed shallow, it was the only sound in the aftermath. His armored vest had stopped the bullet but it didn’t negate the impact. From the pain, Moxxie guessed he may have broken a rib. Still on his knees, he reached into his coat and pulled out a flask for a drink. He tipped it up but only a sip came into his mouth, he felt some liquid splash onto his hand. Moxxie inspected the flask and saw there was a jagged hole in the middle of it.
“Figures,” sighed Moxxie.
Moxxie dropped the flask. He slowly stood from his knees and exited the apartment.
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Blood dripped from Moxxie’s gunshot wound, all the way from the taxi to his room at the Motel. With a shaking hand, he unlocked his door but paused before going through.
Is Vaggie here? thought Moxxie.
Moxxie trudged over to Vaggie’s door, knocked and waited. There was no answer, so he knocked again, harder. Again there was no answer. He slammed his hand against the door repeatedly, but nothing happened.
Moxxie went into his apartment and closed the door. He needed medical attention but he could barely muster the effort to get the medical kit. He groaned and slumped into the chair with the open kit. The sharp pain from his stomach and shoulder was constant. His phone, left on the table, rang at that moment and the caller ID was Millie. Moxxie put the phone on speaker.
“Hello,” said Moxxie.
“It’s me, Jackass.” spat Blitz. “Loona told me you quit. Why the hell did you do that? We had a good thing going, but you just had to throw it away. Well guess what, we don’t need you and we don’t want you. I invited you to a threesome, but you were just too good for that huh? Insecure piece of sh*t.”
Moxxie could hear something in the background. It was a slapping sound and Millie moaning.
“Hear that? That’s your wife begging for a real imp. Hey, Millie, who’s nothing but a useless slu*t for my co*ck?” said Blitz
“M-Me!” yelled Millie.
“That’s right baby-”
Moxxie cut off the call and Silence reigned. The night was old and he wanted to sleep, but he still bled, his pain still sharp, and there was no deliverance.
