Chapter Text
Blitzø's mouth dropped open, and his stomach coiled into a knot. He thought he might be sick.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Oh shit!
Who else fucking knew about his plan to escape?!
The guards didn't seem to know. But then, Blitzø had heard rumours of hle good Boruta was at mind games - of driving people crazy.
He himself had run into Boruta before - just after he's been arrested.
The other imp was sly, shifty, intelligent; the kind of imp who could run rings around the guards; the kind who could pull off money laundering under their noses and cheat at three poker games before dinner time.
He seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere - Blitzø had seen imps piss themselves when Boruta mentioned a family, a dodgy job, a scam…
This guy could have a fucking crystal ball tucked up his ass for all Blitzø knew; but he had made a point of staying away from him, keeping a low profile.
…
Nonetheless, Blitzø had no idea how Boruta had known about Loona, but he'd resisted the urge to punch the motherfucker when he uttered her name.
But, for her safety and his sanity, Blitzø had not wanted anything further about her to get around the prison, and he had not wanted word of his past to fly about in here either, so he tried not to draw attention to himself.
Then Moxxie had to be dropped in.
Ironically, despite his last name, there seemed to be a great deal of importance attached to it, at least in Boruta's eyes.
For a moment, Blitzø was well and truly angry at Moxxie - for being so important enough to draw attention to both of them - to have been the fucker to end up sharing his cell - to be the one to -
But then Blitzø looked at Moxxie, who looked utterly defeated. His eyes, already dull and near-lifeless, were starting to glaze over.
Shit. He was - Blitzø didn't know the word for it, but he had done it in the past to forget the pain of his dad beating the ever-loving shit out of him.
Well, before he discovered the ambrosia for amnesia - fucking alcohol.
“Cut it out, you fucking perverted asshole!” Blitzø snapped, banging his fist on the table in front of them. He was feeling sick just fucking watching Boruta feel Mox up like he was an ornament.
“You know,” Boruta cooed, ignoring Blitzø's outburst. “They might not have given a fuck about you escaping, my dear Buckzo - but to run away with a Knolastname of all prisoners?” He chuckled - a dry, wicked thing that sent chills down the spines of both Blitzo and Moxxie.
“Why, Mammon himself might come after you both. He doesn't take kindly to anyone just waltzing into banks and dipping their hands into his vast pockets…” he grinned evilly, a finger caressing Moxxie's jaw. “And I'm sure…” Here, he leaned into Moxxie's ear, and whispered something in a silky tone.
Blitzø had no idea what the fuck was said, but he saw Mox turn ashen and started whimpering and squirming in Boruta's lap.
Then, Boruta's hand danced its sleazy way up Moxxie's thigh again… right towards…
Then, Blitzø heard a whimper, and his eyes snapped to his friend's face, who was pale, trembling, and looking as though he would faint. There was a barely whispered “Not there,” and the anger quickly intensified.
Oh… oh that motherfucker had it coming!
His hands balled into fists so tightly his knuckles looked whiter than white.
“I'll not fucking tell you again, get your shitty hands off him,” he demanded.
“What was that?” Boruta asked, obviously pretending he hadn't heard.
“Stop fucking touching him, you fucking perverted ballsack!” Blitzø shouted, slamming a fist down onto the table. To damn with a low profile - he would not let this fucker touch Moxxie further.
A purple shark demon on one side of Boruta reached out to grab Blitzø by the arm - but Boruta held a hand up.
“No,” he purred. “Leave him. This one gets… awfully antsy, where Buckzo is concerned.” he caressed Moxxie's arm. “I can't have that,”
Moxxie shuddered - especially as the purple shark demon merely nodded in acquiesce and offered his boss a fresh cigar.
Blitzø watched the process, feeling nauseous himself, when a sharp tap on his shoulder suddenly snapped his attention to a deck of cards laid on the table, which he studied carefully.
“I thought we'd play Texas Hold'em.” Boruta continued smoothly. “Is that acceptable?”
“What choice do I fucking have?” Blitzø asked grumpily.
If he hadn't needed two people for his escape, he could have just… walked away. Not thought twice about this.
After all, he could technically try to escape himself - it would just be a hell of a lot harder to actually do so. And he'd probably fucking fail again. He'd already failed once.
Except he could already tell he wouldn't forgive himself for leaving Moxxie behind - he was a wimpy bitch, yes, but he seemed nice. And the little guy was cute, he couldn't forget that.
…
Blitzø eyed the mountain of Souls, packs of cigarettes, half-melted Glut-Slut chocolate bars from the Gluttony Ring (Blitzø wondered where the hell those came from) were piled into a strange mountain of green, purple, red and gold - to Blitzø, it looked like a pirate's treasure.
It did make the book look fucking odd, though. The cover was black and white, dog eared and the spine was cracked to shit. The pages looked as if they'd fall out before long.
Boruta grinned at Blitzø, who had not yet brought anything to the table.
“Well, Buckzo?” He purred. “I hope you are going to contribute a little something to the pot.”
“I… um…” Blitzø thought about it. All his valuables - his phone, his faithful, but forever-jamming percussion pistol, any cash he might have had - had been confiscated by the guards - except for his late mother's skull necklace, which he had been hiding until now.
It had been the one thing he would have fought tooth and nail to keep with him when he was booked in here. He was hesitant to offer it now but he did not have much else, and he couldn't afford to risk having Boruta - or his minions, Shark and Bear - sabotaging his and Moxxie's plans to escape via whatever means necessary.
He could offer his body, but Boruta seemed more preoccupied with Moxxie at the moment.
Poor Mox.
Boruta's earlier comments about Moxxie's legs came back to Blitzø then, and he wondered just how much Boruta knew about Moxxie - and why he took such a huge interest in him, regarding the whole ‘Knolastname’ crap.
But he knew he wouldn't want Moxxie prying into his business so, he'd keep out of Moxxie's, for now, anyway.
Besides, he eyed the demons staring him down - the short, bulky purple shark demon on his left, the fuzzy, sharp-toothed brown-furred bear demon on his right - and of course, at Boruta.
But when he looked into Moxxie's frightened, lifeless eyes, he made his mind up.
Blitzø retrieved the necklace from where he had hidden it - he had managed to keep it hidden from the guards until he'd been assigned his new uniform, then cut a hole in the seams to keep the necklace safe until he could break out and steal his shit back.
He placed it gingerly among the pile of goods on the table, watching as everyone sneered at his meagre offering.
“Is that all you have?” the purple shark demon asked with a nasty snarl that made Moxxie quiver in Boruta's lap.
“Doesn't look fancy to me,” the bear demon added, with a nasty chortle. “Must be worth fuckall.”
“It was valuable enough for me to hide from the guards, asshole!” Blitzø snapped, pissed at the insults. It was his mother's necklace, and worth more to him than anything he had ever owned - even his percussion pistol, which he had had for a while and valued dearly.
He was scared this fucker would find how much the necklace really meant to him, and Boruta would soon know all, if he didn't fucking know already…
“My dear Bjorn, Crusher,” said Boruta, calmly, addressing the bear demon and shark demon respectively. “We must not mock this gentleman for his… meager possessions.”
“Are we fucking playing or what?” Blitzø snapped, eyeing his necklace with dread. The eyes seemed to glint in the dull light of the cell, and, to Blitzø he felt the skull was judging him for his decision.
Rightfully so. If he fucked this up and lost the necklace - the last memory of his mom - he'd never fucking forgive himself.
‘Sorry Mama. I promise I'll get it back.’ he thought to himself.
Boruta smiled, and nodded. “Let us begin.” he then eyed the Scotch on the table, and he chuckled to himself. “Ah, but where are my manners? How about a drink, Buckzo?”
Bjorn, at a nod from his boss, took the bottle and poured the Scotch into four glasses Crusher had somehow acquired. A glass was handed to Boruta first, who offered it to Blitzø, who took it with a polite, albeit nervous smile.
He was 99% certain these were made of real crystal as well.
How the fuck did this guy manage so well in here?