Two Little Jailbirds Flee the Nest

by Disney_FaN_21

Summary:

Blitzo had planned to: find an escape partner, escape prison, escape Greed, and make it home to his sweet Loonie to dismiss the babysitter. 
What he hadn't planned on was: meeting the timid little imp who ends up sharing his cell, looking out for him during their brief time in prison, and taking him home.

Not that he would have done it differently. 
Or, How Blitzo and Moxxie Escape Jail and Remain Loyal to One Another. 

Notes:

Rated for strong sexual themes (includes mention of prison rape and sexual assault) and explicit language, so please proceed with caution.

Chapter 1: Blitzo's Bad Day

The guard nodded at Blitzo as he dialled his daughter's mobile number on the prison phone. He whooped as he got an answer on the fifth ring, and opened his mouth.

Hey, Loonie-Toonie, how are ya, sweetie?" Blitzo asked cheerfully. 

"Why the fuck did you leave me with a fucking babysitter, Blitzo?" Snapped Loona at the other end of the phone. 

"I was worried about ya, sweetie." Blitzo replied simply, as if the answer was obvious - and it should be, he loved his sweet little Loonie! 

"Blitzo, I can take care of myself!" Loona snapped, which made Blitzo falter - he hated it when Loona got angry with him. 

"Where the fuck are you, anyway?" She asked, some of the anger deflating in her voice, replaced by a tinge of concern in her query, which made him feel a little better. "Haven't heard from you for days, shithead." 

Blitzo smiled sheepishly at the prison guard looming over him and he began twirling the phone wire in his fingers. "I'm… I'm in Greed, sweetie, I told ya I would be in Greed for a couple days…." 

"Thought you would've been making your way home by now." Loona replied suspiciously. "You've been going for over a fucking week already." 

"Yeah… I hit a little snag, precious." Blitzo replied sheepishly. 

"Where. The. Fuck. Are. You." 

"... I'm in fucking jail." Blitzo sighed. He had hoped to keep his precious little girl from hearing this; but he also worried about her thinking he wasn't coming back. He wanted her to know this wasn't his fault, at least. 

Well, maybe not entirely true - but God fucking dammit, he'd been so close to leaving Greed and going home to sweet, sweet Pride. 

"Fuck's sake." Loona sighed. "What did you do?" 

Blitzo pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Sorry, sweetie, I'll make it up to ya when I get home, OK?" He decided to ignore her question - now was NOT the time to discuss what happened; especially since this was the first phone call he'd been allowed to make to his daughter since he got his stupid ass thrown in here on Saturday. 

"That's gonna be a while, clown." The guard taunted. 

"Fuck you, bitch!" Blitzo snapped, flipping him off. Then, realising he was on the phone still, he added sheepishly, "Not you, pumpkin, I meant the stupid asshole supervising my phone call -" 

"That's it! Back to your cell, you ugly bastard!" The guard snapped, grabbing Blitzo by the arm. 

Blitzo swore and yelped, as he dropped the phone. "Shit, no, wait! I didn't get to tell my daughter I love her -" 

"Shut up! I don't fucking care! Should've thought of that before you decided to act like a little prick!" 

"I love ya sweetie, and I'll see ya as soon as I can, bye for now!" Blitzo tried yelling to the phone as the guard dragged him away. 

… 

"Dickbitches." Blitzo muttered, five minutes later. He'd been thrown onto the floor of his cell and locked in before he could attempt to fight his captors. 

"Fuck me, wouldn't even let me finish a stupid phone call. Poor Loonie." Blitzo grumbled to himself, as he jumped to his feet and dusted himself down. "I'm quite prepared to give these bitches hell when I get out." 

The ex-circus imp had concocted an escape plan over the 4 days he'd been locked up. He was good at coming up with plans, if he did say so himself - and this particular plan was loud, explosive, and simply genius - so, a fucking good idea. 

However, the biggest snag was that it was a two-man job. Blitzo had sworn up a storm at this realisation, before promptly attempting to butter up a number of his neighbours. 

Unfortunately, this was where he hit another snag; he didn't get on with anyone; for he always ended up in an argument, or losing his temper, or they would just sneer at him and tell him to stop "snorting shit." 

A lot of them were just unpleasant bastards. 

But Blitzo wasn't giving up that easily. He had to find someone who would tolerate his shit longer than five minutes, surely? 

Although, finding someone was bloody difficult… 

Blitzo leapt onto the bed, only to realise he'd overdone it when he accidentally rolled into the wall, and emitted a muffled 'ow!' Along with a choice of expletives. 

"Hey! Shut the fuck up, assholes, or I'll fuck you all in the fucking shower!" Blitzo snapped, in response to the not-so-subtle sniggers coming from behind him. 

"Try us, Scarface!" One jeered. 

"Wow, guess this bitch knows when it's time to not clown around!" Another quipped and jeers and sneers rippled around the floor. 

"Hey, maybe some of us want a fuck, you man whore!" And the laughter only got louder. 

Blitzo clenched his fists, going bright red in the face. "You assholes!" He screeched. 

"Quiet, you scumbags!" A guard snapped, wielding her taser gun. The prisoners were quick to settle, leaving a disgruntled - and secretly relieved - Blitzo to flop down on his bed, cushioning his head with his hands. 

"Fuck…" Blitzo grumbled to himself. "Today's been shit… still, I can at least relax now…" 

It was then that he suddenly heard footsteps. 

"Right, 6984, you're in a cell with Mr. Clownface here." A voice suddenly said harshly, which sounded like he was a cell away from his own, Blitzo estimated, and he raised a brow. 

Damn, he was actually getting a roommate? He didn't think that would happen. 

After all, a lot of the guards had recognised him as an obnoxious, horny fucker and so were careful to isolate Blitzo from the majority of the prisoners to minimise potential riots. 

Not thay Blitzo hadn't caused a fucking ruckus from within his own cell, anyway, but that didn't fucking matter. 

Also… 6984? Even if Blitzo didn't know all the prisoners' numbers off by heart, he could still recognise that this was an unfamiliar number. 

Hm, perhaps a roommate might be more receptive to being his break-out partner - especially a stranger. After all, sharing a prison cell was even more intimate than sharing a flat; this could literally make brothers out of strangers, or bitter enemies. 

He was secretly piqued as to what his new roommate might be like. He hoped they'd get along, he wouldn't mind having a friend, even if it was only for a day or two. 

What worried him was that, looking across the hall, some of the prisoners were looking… rapey. Predatory. Something that, although not entirely new in this place, was something not before seen so explicitly. 

And Blitzo soon found out why.

Chapter 2: Meeting Moxxie

Summary:

Blitzo comes face to face to his new cellmate, and he's really not what he was expecting. But, he can't afford to be fussy, right? Not if he wants to get home to his Loonie, at any rate. 

He watched out of the corner of his eyes, brimming with caution and curiosity, as two guards stopped outside his cell, each grabbing the arm of a younger, smaller imp.

Blitzo thought the force excessively unfair, especially when he saw how weak, exhausted, scared, lonely and all-round vulnerable the poor guy looked; in fact, the little fella looked as though life had kicked the absolute shit out of him. And maybe it had.

After all, Blitzo had had it pretty rough himself; with a fuckton of "Daddy Issues"; an estranged sister and a now-former best friend who hated his fucking guts; not to mention a shitty love life. But, Blitzo was honestly quite pissed at how two guards were needed for this guy - either he was exceptionally dangerous, (which Blitzo doubted) or these guys were fucking cowards.

The only thing that consoled Blitzo somewhat was the guard on the newbie's left was actually a semi-decent guy, named Barry. He was annoying to talk to, but Blitzo, without a doubt, believed this man to be the kindest guard in this Satan-forsaken hellhole. The door was unlocked and opened, before the other guard snatched the new imp from Barry's grip, and threw him in like a sack.

"Was there any need for that, Werring?" Barry asked, disapprovingly. "Hey, you gotta treat 'em rough, remind them who's boss!" Werring chuckled darkly, before turning his attention to the new addition. "Well, well, Knolastname, I doubt your daddy will show his ass around here, so ya might as well sit tight!" The guard mocked.

"Please, Werring," pleaded Barry, his voice the softest Blitzo had ever heard. "The boy has been through enough."

"Bah!" Werring snapped. "Ya know who his daddy is, and I know who his daddy is. Gotta be careful. Ya don't know what he's capable of."Blitzo wondered who the fuck this guy's dad was… and why anyone would consider his new cellmate dangerous - who was, at the moment, quivering and fighting back tears. He was about to ask the guards himself, but they were sweeping away back up the corridor before he even opened his mouth.

Fucking bastards.

Blitzo silently watched on as his new companion quietly picked himself up, curled up on the bottom bunk; and, though he was trying to be as quiet as possible, Blitzo could hear the faintest of sniffles underneath him. Only a sad-looking tail could be seen, hanging limply from the bed, trailing towards the floor. The poor kid was clearly, absolutely terrified out of his fucking wits, and Blitzo was feeling sympathetic; especially as the other prisoners were eyeing him like a piece of meat… so Blitzo decided to show a little compassion; after all, he had a feeling this was the kid's first time in jail; and the mention of his father had piqued Blitzo's curiosity.

"So, what are you in for?" Blitzo asked, casually. The other imp didn't answer - but he was quick to tuck his tail out of sight. It was clear he didn't want to be noticed. Blitzo recognised the feelings, but he didn't want to be perceived as a threat. He wasn't gonna hurt the little guy, after all; not like the other bastards in here, who would have fucking pounced the moment the guards left.

After all, while he was a pervert to the extreme; he was no fucking rapist. He could threaten it till he was blue in the face, but actually doing it was something he couldn't comprehend.

"Not much of a talker, are we?" Blitzo continued softly. Hm, it was kinda odd he was so protective of this little fella already - maybe it was because this vaguely reminded him of when he first met Loona? Maybe.

Or maybe it was the possible daddy issues bullshit? Blitzo could empathise. He jumped down with a grunt, watching with satisfaction as the other man sat up on his bed, looking at him curiously through obviously-teary eyes.

"My name's Blitzo, the O is silent." Blitzo said, clasping Moxxie's right hand in both hands before performing a friendly, gentle handshake. "I'm sure we're gonna get along just fine." He added with a warm smile. He took in the smaller imp's astonishment before adding, casually, "so what'd you do, who'd you diddle? You look like someone who's good with a gun. You look like someone who would shoot up an office and I hope you are! Cos I got a plan to get us out of this dump, but I'm gonna need some help, think you could give me a hand? I need to get out to my daughter - the babysitter will kill me if I don't get back soon…"

As Blitzo garbled on, he saw something extraordinary happen - the imp, who previously looked so teary-eyed and depressed, had started smiling - he was actually smiling!Sure, there were still some tears - but seeing this guy smile threw Blitzo for a moment.

'Shit, did I do that?'

He wasn't used to making people smile. He'd made Loona smile once or twice - but it was a rarity. Though, he'd only had her with him for two months. 

Blitzo studied his new companion more closely: the most obvious features were his skinny frame and dull, greasy white hair. His pale red cheeks were dusted with white freckles, which made him look young, almost boyish. But it was his eyes, his eyes that caught Blitzo's attention the most; for although full of fear, there was a glimmer of kindness and hope that he hadn't seen in a long, long time. He was kinda cute… Honestly, Blitzo reckoned that if this kid was given a chance to bathe, plenty to eat and a classy - ass outfit, he'd clean up real fucking nice.

Blitzo cleared his throat and added, "Hey, um, you still haven't told me your name." He said, waving a hand in the vague direction of his companion.

"M-Moxxie, Sir." The younger imp replied, holding out his hand awkwardly; the other rubbed the back of his neck in a self conscious manner. "Moxxie Knolastname, to be precise."

The fuck?

He seemed way too softly spoken, too polite, too… goody goody to end up in a place like here; which only piqued Blitzo's curiosity even more.

'Who are you, Moxxie?'

"Moxxie, huh? Nice… mind if I call ya Mox?" Blitzo offered. He looked at the younger imp's outstretched hand, and performed a gentle high five, which allowed a relieved Moxxie to recover from his embarrassment.

"I… I suppose you could, Sir…" Moxxie replied, not quite daring to make eye contact.

Something about Moxxie's timid demeanour and the way he kept addressing Blitzo as 'Sir' - even though it was secretly kinda hot - was… off, as well.

Blitzo wasn't gonna pry - not yet, anyway - but he had a sneaking suspicion this kid had been fucking abused.

Satan's balls, maybe that was why he felt so fucking overprotective over a guy he had barely fucking met - he saw a bit of himself in this little guy. Blitzo felt a little uncomfortable at this realisation; after all, he could still remember how fucking difficult it had been to escape his own father's abusive clutches.

He silently vowed there and then that if Moxxie had nowhere to go after they escaped, he'd help him, one way or another.

"Ya know, ya still haven't told me what you're in for." Blitzo grinned, wiggling his hips cheekily.

Moxxie's cheeks went pink from embarrassment. "A bank heist went wrong at the 11th hour," he whispered.

"Christ on a stick, 11 hours on a fucking bank heist?" Blitzo asked, disgusted. "Not sure who I'm more disappointed in, to be honest."

Moxxie shook his head, a small smile on his lips, despite his obvious fear and melancholy.

"I meant that figuratively, Sir. I…" he rolled up his trouser leg and showed Blitzo a bandage. "The security door dropped on my leg before I could escape." He sighed, the smile gone again as he fixed his trouser leg. His eyes clouded over with sadness. 

"Yeah, guess ya need two people on a job, huh?" Blitzo asked.

He attempted this as a joke, but Moxxie's eyes began tearing up again.

"Oh, oh shit." Blitzo realised his mistake. "You did have two people, didn't ya?"

Moxxie nodded tearfully, looking ashamed and sorrowful.

From what little he had heard already, whoever this guy was seemed like a crappy douchebag. He didn't know Moxxie too well, either; but he seemed too naive and kind-hearted for said douchebag.

Blitzo decided to be sympathetic - after all, he didn't have it in him to be a dick. Not right now, anyway.

"Hey, um… I didn't mean to, ya know, bring that up." Blitzo mumbled awkwardly. "You… you deserve better. Fuck that guy, am I right?" He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. …

Shit, he was never very good at apologies.

Still, Moxxie seemed to get the message, and he nodded. "I appreciate that. Thank you." He smiled again, but it was softer, appreciative, and Blitzo allowed his heart to melt. Just a little.

"Right, dinner time!" A guard bellowed, before he could reply, and he pulled a face of disgust. "This your first time here, Mox?" He asked. "Yeah. Why?" Moxxie asked quietly.

"You're gonna have so much fucking fun in here, bitch." Blitzo said. "Dinner especially is such a fucking blast."

"Is it?" Moxxie asked. 

"Hardly. Do keep up, bitch." Blitzo huffed impatiently. "Now, stick close to me, and if any of these fuckers try any nasty shit, I'll fuck them up soo hard." 

As Blitzo stepped out of the cell, waiting for Moxxie to follow, he glanced around the prison, and grimaced at the guards around the place like fucking wasps - aside from Barry, these fuckers would show them no mercy if either of them fucked this plan up.

He just hoped he'd made the right choice in Mox…<

Chapter 3: Dinner Time!

Summary:

Moxxie has his first meal in prison - unfortunately, it doesn't go very well for either imp.

"This is food?!" Moxxie whispered in horror, using his fork to poke at something that was allegedly 'lasagne'... except it was a sad blob of soggy pasta swimming in a very watery cheese sauce - in fact, it was so watery, it could hardly qualify for a sauce.

Greed were notorious for skimping on costs for things like this; often at the expense of nutrition - this didn't surprise Blitzo in the slightest. He had eaten Greed 'cuisine' when working in Loo Loo Land, along with being locked up in here before Moxxie turned up - and eedless to say, he much preferred the food from Pride.

Home.

This, this abomination he could just about tolerate, as he'd had it the other night, but Moxxie had turned as green as their surroundings.

"Ya trying camouflage, buddy?" Blitzo teased. "If it weren't for the orange jumpsuit, you might just blend into the wall.."

"Shut… with all due respect, shut up." Moxxie replied with a wince. His eyes were now fixed on Blitzo, as if expecting some kind of unwelcome reaction. "I've made better dishes before I was 10." He said in disgust.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. Ah, fuck, did he seriously pick a fucking stuck-up prodigy type to escape with?

Well, he just needed to escape, what Mox did afterwards was none of his business.

"Yeah, well, this is Hell, Mox." Blitzo replied dryly, "I've had this already, it tastes worse than wet toilet paper - best not ask how I know that." He took a bite and grimaced as he attempted to swallow it - after all, just because it was a meal he could tolerate, didn't exactly make it a meal easy to eat.

And perhaps, despite the subject matter, the comparison was not the most tasteful, for poor Moxxie went even greener in the face and promptly threw up all over his tray; much to the disgust of their table mates.

"Thanks for putting us off this crappy shit even more, asshole!" One swore, and he struck Moxxie on the back of the head on his way past.

Moxxie whimpered, his hand gingerly sneaking up to check on this latest injury.

Blitzo felt pissed off witnessing this, but it wasn't over yet; before he could react, the asshole actually shoved Moxxie's face right into his tray; puke and 'lasagne' getting into his already greasy hair and all over his face.

Moxxie, repulsed by this sudden act of violence, and being forced into close contact with his food and his puke, promptly threw up again.

Needless to say, Blitzo. Was. Pissed.

"Cunt!" He snapped, leaping up to check on his new friend. He forced the asshole's hand away and helped a now-crying Moxxie sit upright.

"What did you just call me?" The guy - a tall, burly imp with asymmetrical horns - asked, with a sneer.

"Ya heard, dickbreath!" Blitzo snapped, a hand now ruffling the hair between Moxxie's horns. It was… relatively clean, and he wasn't sure how else to comfort the poor fella. "There's no need to assault him, ya fuck-face!"

Jeers and taunts for a fight began in the background, but Blitzo ignored them. He didn't want to fight this limp-dick bastard anyway. (Well, he did, but he knew he would be risking getting separated from Moxxie and condemned to a solitary confinement block if he did, and he didn't want to risk leaving poor Mox to this monster)

He just had to get Mox away from this shitbag, get him cleaned up...

The jeers and snorts of ill-gained amusement filled the air, which only served to piss Blitzo off even more.

He gingerly lifted his hand from Moxxie's head, and cracked his knuckles.

"Fuck. Off."

"What did you say to me?" Asshole hissed.

"Ya heard. Back the fuck up, now." Blitzo snarled. The anger and self loathing he was experiencing was insurmountable; and his heart was hurting for Moxxie right now, not that he would ever dream of admitting it.

"Make me."

"Ohh, ya pissed Daddy off now… naughty naughty…" Blitzo whispered. "You're so fucking lucky I haven't got my fucking gun, you nasty piece of shit!" He snapped. "Otherwise I would've gladly decorated these fucking walls with what little is in your thick skull."

The other prisoners went fucking demented over the prospect of some fucking bloodshed.

Asshole threw a punch right at Blitzo's windpipe; which was promptly blocked. Blitzo delivered a swift kick to the balls, and then he threw a swing at the bigger guy's jaw, which knocked a tooth out; whereupon, he was quickly tackled to the ground by Asshole.

Moxxie whimpered at seeing his new friend being pinned to the floor and felt powerless to help.

"Blitzo!" He cried.

…

Blitzo struggled underneath Asshole for a moment, before using his tail to throw the other guy off him, sending him crashing to the floor.

Moxxie bent down to help Blitzo to his feet, just as a guard broke the fight. Blitzo recognised him; it was Barry.

"Break it up, boys, break it up!" Barry ordered. "Buckzo, Aston, what is the meaning of this?"

"That asshole beat my friend up!" Blitzo replied angrily, pointing at Asshole - Asston, Blitzo thought to himself wryly, despite his rage.

Barry's face crinkled in revulsion at the sight - and smell - of Moxxie, before turning his attention to the two offending men.

"I should really send you both to solitary," he said to Blitzo and Asshole. "But the smell of puke makes me ill." He eyed Blitzo meaningfully. "I trust that you will see to it he has a shower?"

"I'll clean this - and him - up." Blitzo promised earnestly, seeing a chance to avoid solitary confinement - and he felt a tad guilty that his friend had been physically assaulted - over fucking dinner, no less.

"Fine. Aston, solitary for you! And Buckzo, be careful, or you're going in solitary as well, got it?" Barry said, his face breaking into a small smile.

"OK, asshole." Blitzo said with a cheeky grin. Barry nodded curtly before leaving, hauling Ass-Ton with him. (On reflection, Blitzo noted, that was the best nickname for this dick).

"Blitzo!" Moxxie hissed in alarm. "What was that for? You could've gotten into serious trouble-!"

"Well, he hurt ya, Mox, I couldn't have that," Blitzo huffed, hurt that Moxxie wasn't thanking him. "That guy was always being an asshole to other prisoners, we - well, you, just got unlucky today."

"Thanks… for sticking up for me…" Moxxie replied, rubbing his arm quietly.

"No worries. Ya OK?" Blitzo asked, uncertainly.

"I feel shit…" Moxxie's belly rumbled then, and he let out a quiet, pitiful moan.

"Sorry ya didn't get anything to eat." Blitzo said sheepishly.

"It's fine. It wasn't your fault. Anyway, I'm kind of used to it." Moxxie mumbled. Then, his eyes widened, and he quickly looked away from his companion.

Yep.

Definitely abuse from someone.

'Fuck, had it been Moxxie's ex?' Blitzo wondered. 'Was he fucking coerced into that bank robbery or something?'

He supposed an abusive relationship might not entirely be out of the question, but he was feeling more confident it was an abusive parent in Moxxie's life that led him here.

Moxxie kept very quiet whenever Blitzo asked him about his personal life, which made Blitzo think something was definitely going on.

"C'mon, buddy, let's get ya cleaned up." Blitzo said quietly, and helped Moxxie to his feet, casting one last glance at his dinner before he tossed both trays in the bin. What had happened put him off eating.

But he was also quite hungry…

Chapter 4: In the Showers

Summary:

Moxxie has a shower to recover from the events in the cafeteria, and the pair start to bond. 

Notes:

I feel a moment like this would be where Moxxie and Blitzo decide their relationship from here on out is a 'Ride or Die' situation, plus, I've never been to jail, but a lot of whay I have done thus far, plus the inclusion of Barry, is a slight homage to British TV comedy series, Porridge. It was between this show and some research that I've written this story beyond what we see happen in Exes and Oohs.

Anyway, thank you all for the kudos, comments and bookmarks so far! You've all been stars, and I appreciate you all taking an interest in this story so far.

Do enjoy this update, and I'll see you again next Monday! (or whenever I post something else up)

The pair shuffled off to the communal showers, where Blitzo got a shower running for Moxxie. (He'd learned the hard way that these things were fucking temperamental, and he didn't feel like watching Moxxie get scalded or frozen.) Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Moxxie was staring around the room, bug-eyed with horror. 

The showers lacked even a divider between them, meaning there was nowhere to… hide - no matter which way one turned, they'd be exposed to other prisoners. 

Blitzo wasn't fussed by this, he just tended to either flip them off, or sometimes flaunt his body (he slept with so many people that he had no shame regarding his body - but Moxxie hadn't lost a sense of privacy yet. 

"Do you really get no privacy in this place?" He asked Blitzo, quietly. 

"Hey, privacy is seen as a right, so they do their fucking best to deprive us of it." Blitzo shrugged in reply, who was still fiddling with the shower knobs. The shower sprang to life, soaking him. Emitting a curse, he used his hand to gauge the temperature. 

"Besides, in case you forgot, our cell has a toilet with no privacy whatsoever." 

Moxxie fell into silence, watching Blitzo at work for another minute, before adding, dryly, "Blitzo, I am perfectly capable of judging an adequate temperature for showering."

"I know - I just -" Blitzo finished what he was doing and darted away from the shower "Here, try that." He said proudly. 

Moxxie stuck tentative fingers under the spray, as though it was the jaws of some monstrous beast. Surprisingly, it was at a decent temperature. 

"Yeah, these things are shit - ya either get scalded or ya get it so cold it freezes your dick off." Blitzo explained. "You do learn how to work this thing, but I'm not planning on us staying here long enough for you to do that." 

"Thanks," Moxxie murmured, reaching for the zip on his jumpsuit, which was stained with vomit. "Erm, is there a laundry service…?" He asked meekly. 

Blitzo would've laughed at that, but he refrained. "No worries, buddy, I'll soap that bad boy up for ya." He said instead.

"Oh, Blitzo, no - it's kind of you, but I -" Moxxie stammered. "Sir, you've done too much for me, already-" 

"Bitch, trust me, OK?" Blitzo asked. "Now, strip, bitch!" 

Moxxie blushed a violent shade of red, and he reluctantly obeyed, unzipping his jumpsuit before letting it slide to the floor. 

… 

Whilst Blitzo did avert his eyes to try to protect his friend's privacy, he inadvertently caught sight of his body; his frame was so painfully thin that his ribcage was dangerously visible; scars were running along Moxxie's chest, and there were bruises on his body - some blackish-purple, others were in lighter colours, too old to have been from here.   

His heart bled for him. Yeah, some asshole had definitely been treating him like shit before now.  

But, he sensed Moxxie wouldn't open up about these injuries, let alone appreciate that Blitzo himself had seen them without consent (albeit by accident). So, he respectfully kept quiet about the subject. 

Instead, Blitzo just grabbed Moxxie's suit off the floor with his tail, and added, kindly, "Get yourself cleaned up, buddy."

It was then he realised something obvious - neither had toiletries on them. Blitzo's were still in his cell, and he had no idea if Moxxie had any at all.

"Fuck." 

"What is it, Sir?" 

"Wash stuff - ya know, shampoo, deodorant, neither of us have any of that shit to hand right now." Blitzo replied sheepishly. "Hang on, I'll go grab some of that shit real quick..." 

"...Blitzo? Are you leaving?" Moxxie asked quietly. 

"Why?" 

"I'm scared…" 

"Of what?" 

Moxxie then choked out three words "dropping… the soap." 

"Ah." Blitzo had forgotten. It was too dangerous to leave a defenceless Moxxie on his own, in case some fucker got in here and decided to 'take advantage' of him - but they still didn't have any toiletries.

Fuck. 

Just when things seemed dire… the door opened, and a shoebox was kicked in. 

"What was that?" Moxxie whispered. 

"I don't fucking know, Moxxie." Blitzo replied, nonetheless holding out his hand to a shivering Moxxie. "C'mon, let's go look."

"But I'm naked -" 

"Mox, that doesn't mean jack shit in here, ya idiot." Blitzo replied grumpily, taking Moxxie's hand in his own, and the pair crept over to investigate.

As they walked past the sinks, Bkitzo deftly threw his friend's suit into a sink to wash. 

… 

Blitzo peeked inside the box; and then he crowed in triumph; there were cheap, plain bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, a plain toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste - not to mention some deodorant.

It wasn't super fancy, but Blitzo noted the quantities and brands were far better than what they would normally get, and he grinned. "Sweet! Looks like you're all set, Mox!" He whooped. 

"Who did this?" A confused Moxxie whispered. 

"Think that was Barry," Blitzo replied, picking up the shoebox. "He's pretty decent, actually, I try not to give him too hard a time." 

"Really?" Moxxie asked, still baffled. 

"Yeah… he can be a fucking analistic prick at times, but he has managed to provide half decent shit like this for prisoners sometimes." Blitzo replied. "Plus, he's been the only one sympathetic enough that I've been separated from my daughter…" he murmured. 

Moxxie nodded quietly. 

"I'll stay here and wash your clothes, you just shower, OK?" Blitzo asked. "If anyone threatens ya, they're so fucking dead, ya hear me?" He asked, shoving the box into Moxxie's chest. 

"Thank you, Sir." Moxxie smiled. 

…

Blitzo used half of the bar of soap to clean 'lasagne' and vomit off Moxxie's jumpsuit whilst the younger man got cleaned up properly in the shower. Fortunately, they weren't interrupted much, though Blitzo interrupted his washing at one point to snarl at someone who attempted to open the door. 

They were quick to scarper off! 

"So, Blitzo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Where are you actually from?" Moxxie asked curiously. 

"Pride." Blitzo answered dryly, with a casual shrug. 

"Pride… oh, crumbs, I've never been to Pride." Moxxie replied, with a hint of awe and curiosity in his voice. 

'The guy said 'oh crumbs!'' Blitzo thought incredulously. That was so stupidly fucking lame. 

… though, it was also kinda adorable when Moxxie said it - it was earnest, almost heartfelt. 

… OK, even if he thought it a cringe thing to say, he could tolerate Mox saying it, he decided. He wouldn't be caught dead saying it himself though.  

Shit, this guy could be so annoying one minute and adorable the next - it reminded him of his relationship with Barbie Wire when they were kids. Same with Fizzaroli - they hadn't been biologically related, but they'd been as close as brothers growing up - till they hit puberty, that was.  

He supposed that was why he was maybe being kind to Moxxie; after all, he and Barbie Wire had stuck through thin and thin, as had he and Fizz. 

Plus, they were just two lonely men, stuck behind bars, eager for an escape. 

"Have ya not?" Blitzo asked, trying to distract himself from his now - ruined relationships with people he'd loved dearly. 

"What's it like?" Moxxie asked. "Living in Pride, I mean." 

"Shit. But it's still better than here." Blitzo replied. "In fact, here is one of the shittier rings, if not the shittiest." 

"Oh." Moxxie said quietly. "How long have you been here in Greed?" 

"Well, I was here for a couple days, I hadn't planned to get my ass in jail." Blitzo replied, annoyed. "I did work here before, though. Not in jail, I worked in a theme park nearby. Ya ever been to Loo Loo Land?" 

Moxxie shook his head, which baffled Blitzo. A lot of kids, whether from Greed or elsewhere, tended to come to Loo Loo Land at least once. 

Though Blitzo couldn't tell for sure if this admission meant anything, he thought it odd, all the same. 

He once again remembered what the guards had said about Moxxie's father when the two first met. 

Knolastname… was the name familiar? 

Maybe not. Greed was, without a doubt, the most corrupt Ring in Hell - not to mention the one with shittiest living conditions - though, he was aware some rich fuckers owned huge fancy-schmancy ass houses. 

Blitzo had wondered if Moxxie was from a wealthy family, as he spoke fancy, and seemed to be pretty intelligent. 

But, then again, he couldn't see sweet, innocent Mox being related to these rich assholes. 

…

"But enough about me, what about you, where are you from?" Blitzo asked curiously, hoping to get a little information out of him. After all, he'd noted that the little fella seemed very un-Greedlike, which had caught his intrigue. 

"I was… born in Wrath, Sir." Moxxie replied. There was something about this reply that sounded too careful - plus, Blitzo didn't think Moxxie was very much of a traditional Wrathian imp, either. 

He'd been to Wrath for horse riding lessons after stealing his now-ex girlfriend's car and credit card; and he had met one or two imps from there - Moxxie was not like them. 

"Pfft, liar, liar, pants on fire." Blitzo retorted teasingly.

He heard a little hoof stomp of irritation behind him. 

"What?" Blitzo shrugged. "I've encountered imps across many rings here and you don't seem to fit either. You seem too much of a wet fucking noodle to belong in Wrath, and you're too nice to belong in Greed."   

Silence descended over the two men, save for the sounds of running water…

Until… 

"My mother was from Wrath…" 

Blitzo caught the tone, and the past tense, and frowned. "Ya ok? I didn't mean to stir up shit that badly if that's what's bothering ya." 

"I'm so sorry, Blitzo, I just…" there was a catch in Moxxie's voice. "Just remembering my mother, Sir…" Moxxie turned the shower off, and sorrowfully looked over at his friend. "She drowned when I was very young." 

"I'm sorry Mox, that… that sucks." Blitzo replied emphatically. Hearing yet more sniffles - Satan's balls, how many times a day did this guy cry? - Blitzo removed his friend's now-clean suit from the sink and sauntered over to check on Moxxie. 

Poor guy was sniffling, complete with a runny nose, and watery eyes - fortunately, he was by now vomit free - and smelled decent, too. 

Fortunately, Moxxie's suit was clean, if still wet, so Blitzo wrung it out as best as he could, before tossing it over to him to put back on, which he did as quickly as possible, still sniffling and hiccuping. 

Blitzo watched Moxxie struggle into his suit, feeling awkward… but also oddly compassionate. 

"Hey, do… do ya want a hug?" Blitzo offered, awkwardly. "Between what happened in the cafeteria and your little trip down Memory Lane…" he trailed off, at a loss for words. 

Moxxie considered his offer, and then, wrapping his arms around the taller imp, he clung tightly to Blitzo, quietly sobbing into his shoulder, getting snot on his own suit. 

'Little shit, I clean his suit for him and all, and he has the nerve to get mine all snotty and gross!' Blitzo thought in annoyance.

Not that he'd mind in the long run, anyway. Blitzo felt oddly honoured that Moxxie trusted him at all to be a shoulder to cry on - he hadn't had that trust in a long time. He quietly held onto Moxxie, rubbing comforting circles on his back. 

Bkitzo was quick to note that Mox was clinging on to him as if he was drowning; still-wet claws digging into his back; burrowing himself as close to Blitzo's body as he could. 

Poor guy, having no one in the world to rely on, save for a stranger who had only shown him kindness for half a day. 

… 

As Moxxie continued quietly sobbing on his companion's shoulder, Blitzo lifted a hand and began stroking his little friend's hair with an unaccustomed gentleness, and he rocked him side to side, hoping to calm the poor thing down. 

Chapter 5: A Chat Between Cellmates

Summary:

Blitzo and Moxxie make it back to their cell, and they chat to pass the time till Mox nods off.

A/N: So sorry for the lack of updates! Had a bad case of writer's block so was struggling to finish this chapter! But here it is - chapter 5! 

Enjoy! 

…. 

"Oh, crumbs, sorry, Blitzo, sorry…" Moxxie cringed, pulling away from the older imp with cheeks turning bright pinkn "I didn't mean… oh, crumbs." 

Blitzo was a bit hurt. "Bitch, calm the fuck down. I offered you a hug cos you looked like you needed one - and you definitely needed one." 

"I'm sorry…" Moxxie whimpered, recalling with shame how tightly he'd clung to Blitzo's neck, and his fingers digging into his friend's back.

"Honestly, you're fine. Heh, it's surprising, actually." Blitzo said quietly.  

"What is?" Asked Moxxie, raising an eyebrow in bafflement. 

"That you were willing to trust me enough to hug ya." Blitzo replied, folding his arms, as if attempting to replicate the hug he had just had. 

 "It's just… it's been so long since anyone's hugged me… I mean, my ex was the last to hug me, I guess, but… thinking of him now…" Moxxie's face soured in disgust. "Whatever affection he showed me then feels fake now, no matter whether he genuinely meant it or not at the time." 

"Heh, I know the feeling," Blitzo replied quietly. Honestly, trying to remember kindnesses from his ex-girlfriend, Verosika Mayday, was fucking difficult these days.  

"Well, what about your parents? Siblings? Didn't one of them hug ya, at least?" Blitzo pressed. He needed a Satan-sent distraction from that succu-bitch of an ex, and fast! 

Besides, Blitzo prided himself on being such a nosy bastard. And he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to poke about in someone else's business. 

Moxxie opened his mouth to speak - and immediately twigged what Blitzo was up to. 

"Don't. Go. There." He warned. 

"C'mon, Mox. Ya trust me, right?" Blitzo asked, earnestly. 

Moxxie considered a moment, then decided to relent. "Alright. I'll tell you. Let what I don't tell you answer the questions you might have." 

This was an odd answer, but Blitzo just shrugged. "OK. Spill, bitch." 

"OK. So, my mother loved me a lot. I don't remember much about her, but she was an angel. She had such an amazing smile, one I couldn't forget, ever." Blitzo watched as Moxxie's golden eyes softened as he spoke of his mother. "She was so gentle, so patient… she was like an angel -" he saw Blitzo glowering at the mention of angels, and he sheepishly added "-or at least, what I would imagine an angel to be." 

Even Blitzo couldn't deny that she seemed fucking awesome, and he was sorry he wouldn't get to meet her, or tell her that he was her son's friend. 

"... she was someone I was lucky to have in my life, even if I wish I could have her in my life for longer." Moxxie's eyes were soft, tender, and Blitzo felt bad for the little guy - he clearly loved his mom a lot. 

"And I have no siblings." The tone was more formal, more reserved, than it had been previously, which sounded to Blitzo like a record screech.

So, an only child, a mama's boy, and an ex who seemed to be more of an idiotic douchebag who didn't appreciate what he had, than anyone genuinely dangerous. 

This was food for thought, thought Blitzo, as Moxxie became quiet again. 

He considered pestering the younger imp for more info - but quickly decided against it. 

"C'mon, lil bitch, we should head back to our cell, or we'll get fucking manhandled." He said, putting a hand on Mox's back and shoving him onwards. 

… 

Fortunately, the pair made it back to their cell without further interruption, and were promptly locked in with little more than a grunt of acknowledgement.  

"Well, I'm glad that's over." Sighed Moxxie in relief, rolling into his bunk with a sigh that seemed to lighten his limbs. 

"It's only day one, bitch!" Blitzo retorted playfully, and smirked knowingly as Moxxie groaned on realising that he'd still be here tomorrow. 

Blitzo couldn't resist giving Moxxie's newly-washed hair an affectionate and playful ruffle. 

It felt so nice to touch this guy, and anyway, the glare he got from Moxxie was worth it. Cos Blitzo loved annoying people. 

"Blitzo!" Moxxie scolded, trying to swat his companion's hand away (and failing). 

"Hey, your hair's fucking nice to touch now," Blitzo argued. And it was true - it hadn't been very pleasant to ruffle in the cafeteria earlier when he'd tried to comfort his friend.  

"It's all askew now," Moxxie grumbled, sliding into his bunk. 

"Relax, bitch, it's not like you're gonna laid in here." He wiggled his eyebrows seductively. "Unless you wanna -" 

"No!" Moxxie retorted. "I don't know where you got such a ridiculous notion from." He huffed. 

"Your choice." Blitzo replied with a nonchalant shrug. "I usually fuck to forget my crappy exes, and also I'm -" 

"Just horny?" 

"Ouch, you hurt my feelings, bitchface, I'm gonna go cry on the toilet now." Blitzo retorted sarcastically.

"Is that the way to… deal with a breakup?" Moxxie asked. 

"Meh, I've done worse." Blitzo shrugged. "How ya feeling?" 

"Awful." Moxxie replied. "I mean, the shower was refreshing - but, I feel…"

Blitzo put a hand on Moxxie's back, patting it gently. He wondered about saying something, but everything he thought of seemed to sound… wrong, as if it wouldn't comfort Mox at all. 

The pair sat in silence. 

… 

Eventually, Moxxie broke the silence with a meek, "Sir.. how are we… going to break out of here?" 

"Get in the kitchen, cause some fucking chaos, set the place on fire, and run." Blitzo replied proudly, as if it was the best idea he ever had. 

Moxxie, meanwhile, was giving him a look that suggested he found this the worst idea he'd ever had. 

"What's with the bitchface?" Blitzo asked, annoyed and disgruntled that Moxxie wasn't 100% behind him. 

"Sounds a bit… vague, doesn't it?" Moxxie asked, before suddenly looking as if he wanted to backpedal and mute himself.  

"Go on," 

"Well, we need to get out of the cell, work out how to cause chaos effectively enough to distract the guards - and most importantly, get out into the yard without being caught." He pointed out. 

As Moxxie droned on, Blitzo realised that the smaller imp was onto something. He realised that he hadn't quite thought their plan all the way through, he just wanted to break out and cause trouble doing it. 

But when he asked Moxxie about how to combat these issues, Mox froze, stammering that he had no idea. 

So, unimaginative, but very detail-oriented and critical. 

Blitzo had some smarts, and quickly realised a man like Mox could be useful in the right circles. So perhaps he could get him a job in Pride somewhere. 

But first… 

"OK, we'll go through everything after breakfast tomorrow." Blitzo said. 

"Shouldn't we do so now? It's quiet." 

"Look, bitch, it's been a long ass day and I don't want to fucking think about shit right now." Blitzo replied crossly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Moxxie let out a very small, nearly inaudible whimper and fell quiet, leaving Blitzo still wondering what Mox had had to deal with before… 

"How about we just… talk?" He suggested awkwardly, kneeling by Moxxie's bunk.  

"Sounds good…" Moxxie replied sleepily. 

Sounded like the little bitch boy was finally going to sleep soon. Blitzo was fond of little Mox already, but he needed some fucking peace to think without the twerp asking him about the escape plan or some random shit.  

"What are you going to do, Blitzo… when you get out of here?" Moxxie yawned. 

"Me?" 

"Do you know another Blitzo? No, don't answer that, one's enough." 

"Cheeky bitch!" Blitzo chuckled, playfully shoving Moxxie, who giggled. "Well, to answer your question, Mox, I'm gonna get home to my Loonie, see if she's OK. That's the priority." 

"So, do you have other plans in mind?" Asked Moxxie curiously, blinking owlishly at Blitzo. 

"I wanna start up my own killing biz." Blitzo replied dreamily. 

"What?" 

"Yeah! I'd kill some nasty-ass pricks in exchange for money, so I can buy…" 

"Buy what?" Moxxie yawned. 

"Horsies!" Blitzo cheered. At that, some of the other prisoners started laughing and making horse impressions. 

"You've got a face long enough to be one!" One jeered. 

"Oh, fuck off!" Blitzo snarled, flipping the bird at the prisoners. 

"Why horses?" Moxxie asked curiously. 

"Cos they're fucking cool, bitch!" Blitzo replied, feeling his tail wiggle in excitement. "I love horses! Always have, since I was a sprog. I'd love to own my own horses someday." 

"Well, that's… cool," Moxxie said politely. Blitzo could tell his friend had no real interest in horses, but he did appreciate that at least Mox was being kinder than the rest of the fucking prison. "I couldn't imagine you moving to Wrath, though." 

"Eh, when I'm rich and famous, I'll buy a ranch! Make it a home away from home." Blitzo grinned wolfishly, patting Moxxie's cheek. "Maybe you could come hang out with me when I've got it." He added, hopefully. 

"Do… Do you mean it?" Moxxie asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, why not?" Blitzo shrugged. "Just have a drink, and laugh at how we escaped this fucking hellhole… I could even teach ya to ride! I took some horse riding lessons before I got thrown in this dump." He boasted. 

Moxxie chuckled. 

"I could get some target-thingies, too, practice shooting shit!" He chortled. 

"You're good with guns?" 

Blitzo noted a hopeful note in his companion's voice. "Yeah, I'm pretty good with guns, shooting things. Haven't done so in a long fucking time, though." 

"How come?" 

"My fucking flintlock stopped working before I left for Greed. Coulda done with it, to be honest." He sighed in annoyance. 

"Have you… consulted a professional gunsmith?" 

"Fucking cheating bitches they are, Mox, wouldn't trust them with it!" Blitzo fumed. "I tried one, bastard tried charging me a thousand and said there was nothing he could fucking do!" 

"What did you do?" 

"Punched his stupid smug face in and left." Blitzo shrugged, seeing Moxxie now wondering if that was how Blitzo had got himself thrown in jail. 

He decided not to say anything, and the two were silent again. 

Then, 

"-mind if I take a look?" 

Blitzo blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?" 

"I could - take a look for you, if you want." Moxxie said, quietly. 

"I take it you're coming back to Pride with me?" Blitzo asked, scratching his head. 

"Yes… if you're okay with it." .

"Meh, why not?" Blitzo shrugged. "Are ya good with guns?" 

"I've been around them for a long time, Blitzo, I know how to fix them, clean them, keeping them well primed…" 

As Moxxie rattled off what he knew, Blitzo realised that, whatever he knew about guns, he had nothing on this kid. 

In fact, he seemed to know more than the 'professional' scumbags he initially tried to visit.

But Blitzo was still a tad sceptical in case this guy was all talk and no show. 

The only thing that persuaded him to give his new friend a chance was that Moxxie's eyes seemed to lighten up as he spoke at length - and with great enthusiasm - about all kinds of guns. 

"OK, so, you know your shit," Blitzo interrupted. "Tell ya what, if ya can fix my gun, I'll hire ya once I get this killing business up and running." 

"Oh, no, I couldn't." Moxxie said shyly. "I appreciate the offer, but I wanted to fix it as a favour for you helping me so much here," he replied. 

Blitzo wasn't giving up on such a promising prospective employee yet, however. He decided that if Moxxie knew so much about guns, he must also be a good marksman, and having a possible weapons specialist for his new business - before it even started - was a golden opportunity he couldn't afford to throw away. 

"We aren't even out of here yet, stupid." Blitzo replied dryly. "Tell ya what, though - if ya can do that, and prove how good a marksman you are, I'll definitely hire your ass. Deal?" He held out a hand, impatient for Mox to shake on it. 

"Deal." Moxxie replied, blinking in astonishment, before shaking hands with Blitzo. "I'm pretty sure this isn't standard hiring practice, though." 

"Well, this isn't standard recruitment practice either, but I don't give a flying fuck what is." Blitzo huffed. "If I don't do this now… I might not get to speak to ya again."

He looked over; saw Moxxie attempt to articulate a question, only to shut his mouth so he looked like a fucking fish. 

"Look, bitch, get some shut-eye, K?" Blitzo huffed. "We can talk more tomorrow." 

"At least I have you for a cellmate." Moxxie smiled sleepily as he nestled into his bunk.  

Blitzo blinked in surprise. 

"I think you're a good person…" Moxxie sounded so sleepy. So fucking cute. "Better… better than most people I've met in my life… thank you…" 

Blitzo watched intently as Mox closed his eyes and he was soon softly snuffling into his pillow. 

"Hehe, what a cute little fucker you are, Mox," Blitzo muttered, gently ruffling Moxxie's fluffy hair once more, before purring tenderly. His feelings towards this guy were complicated, but he liked him a lot. 

"Goodnight, Mox," he whispered, before vaulting up to his bunk. 

He smiled fondly as he listened to his new friend's soft snuffles and snores. 

Cute little bitch. 

He sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, reflecting on his family, and how much he missed them - not just his Loonie, but he also missed his twin, Barbie Wire. He hadn't seen Barbs since… well, fuck, before he adopted Loona. 

He hadn't been able to tell her she was an adoptive aunt, and he found himself tearing up at that realisation. 

His sister would have made a fucking AMAZING aunt - talented, confident, feisty, and a fuckload of fun to hang out with, too - well, before she ended up in rehab, when that H-8 shit fucked up her life - fucked up their lives.

He hoped Barb was OK - but she was all the way in Sloth, and he… wasn't. He wished he could see her, give her a hug, tell her he loved her. 

Still, he reflected, at least his sister was somewhere safe, and getting help. 

Blitzo had to help himself for survival now. 

And he also had a friend counting on him now. 

Chapter 6: Nightmare

Summary:

Blitzo find out that, once again, he's trod in some metaphorical dog-shit.

And if he can't get himself and Moxxie put of trouble...

Suddenly, he realised he could hear Moxxie whimpering in his sleep; and thoughts of his beloved twin vanished as quickly as a stone striking water.

His heart twisted to realise that he recognized those anguished, helpless whimpers as ones he himself had stifled, whenever his father got drunk after their shows and stumble about the tent, cursing if any of the kids - himself, Barbie or Fizzaroli - dared to get in his way.

…

"Mox?" He whispered, shaking the smaller imp's shoulder, tearing up at both Mox's distress and the memories it had unintentionally triggered.

Moxxie whimpered again, trembling violently under Blitzo's touch. Blitzo felt his stomach churn, for he was also familiar with the trembling and shaking.

Fuck.

"MOX!" Blitzo hissed, shaking his cellmate a little harder, waking Moxxie with a start.

"Blitzo… I'm sorry I… I woke you." Moxxie looked at the floor. What concerned Blitzo was that his companion had wrapped his tail around his legs; huddling into his knees, and he looked tense, as if he was bracing himself for impact.

No…

"Nah, you're fine, buddy, I couldn't sleep anyway." Blitzo confessed sheepishly. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how best to deal with a situation like this. But he somehow sensed that poor Mox wouldn't open up about shit right this second.

"Had shit on my mind." Was all he could say, lamely. He thought if he talked to him, like how he had talked when he first spoke to him, Moxxie might start feeling more himself again.

Well, as much as possible, anyway. If Blitzo was correct in his deduction about Moxxie suffering from abuse - and he was 100% sure that he was - then the little guy wouldn't feel completely whole.

He caught a glimpse of a hesitant nod - but Moxxie didn't dare make eye contact just yet.

Blitzo wondered if his friend even believed him.

"You uh, you ok?" Blitzo asked reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He only just realised his other hand was still on Moxxie's shoulder, but he made no effort to remove it yet.

Moxxie nodded again, still not daring to say a word.

"Course you will. You've got me looking out for ya!" Blitzo boasted. "Don't ya worry, Mox, you're in good hands." He gave the small shoulder a tender squeeze. "We will break out soon, Mox, I promise." He whispered.

Moxxie nodded once more; a small smile now dancing upon his lips once more.

Then, his eyes suddenly widened, his lips twisting themselves into an expression of shock and horror.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blitzo saw a shadow creep across the floor. "Hey, c'mon, bitch, what's the matter with ya?" He asked, still concerned, but trying not to let on that he was starting to feel nervous.

A small whimper escaped Moxxie's throat before it could be muffled.

Blitzo scoffed, despite feeling no less uneasy about whatever the fuck his cellmate was freaking out about.
"Chill the fuck out, bitch, probably just a -"

There was a 'click!' from behind them, followed by a metallic creak, cutting Blitzo's statement short.

Irritated by the interruption, the ex-circus imp finally whirled around indignantly to see what Mox was looking at.

There was a bear demon looming in the doorway; he was so tall that his ears; which were the size of snow globes; grazed against the top of the door; and was so corpulent, that fitting through a cell door was a fucking miracle in itself.

Midnight-blue eyes, keen and alert, glittered dangerously in the darkness, a stark contrast to the sickly green around them.

He had a scowl on his face.
"Boruta." Was all he said to Blitzo, who merely swore, whilst Moxxie shrank into himself.

"Can't ya tell him to fuck off?" Blitzo pleaded. "I'm not in the fucking mood to deal with his fucking bullshit tonight."

The demon shook his head.

"Fuck! God-fucking-dammit!" Blitzo screamed, kicking the wall beside Moxxie's bed.

"Boruta?" Moxxie asked quietly. The bear demon raised an eyebrow, but Blitzo quickly jumped in.

"He's new. Literally got in today - or would be yesterday? Fuck, it doesn’t matter."

He turned to Moxxie. "That fucker is always running banned poker games and it seems he wants me to play against him tonight."

"Are you bad at it?" Moxxie asked curiously, wondering why his companion seemed so freaked out.

Blitzo scoffed. "No, I'm actually fucking good, bitch! My problem is that little bitchface won't take-"

He was interrupted by the bear demon slinging him onto his shoulder like a sack of unrefrigerated black-market organs.

"Put me down, asshole!" -

"Let me go!"

At Moxxie's yelp of distress, Blitzo rammed his knee repeatedly into their kidnapper's shoulder; to no avail, for the bear was unfazed.

"I suggest you stop now." He said to Blitzo. "Or the runt will become a pancake on the floor."

Blitzo had no choice but to stop, grumbling and cursing under his breath, not caring what the demon did to him.

"What do you want with Moxxie, anyway?" Blitzo asked, irritated. "He didn't even do fuckall! He only just got here, asshole!"

"That is none of your business."

"Well, just… just don't hurt him, OK? Or I will let loose." Blitzo warned him.

"This is a dangerous thing to care about." Remarked the demon, drolly.

"Shut the fuck up!" Blitzo snapped.

Seeing Moxxie withering on the bear's other shoulder, Blitzo allowed his tail to snake over and wrapped itself around Moxxie's in a gesture of solidarity.

Moxxie managed a teary, but brave smile; but it quickly faded when he realised he'd never gotten an answer about Boruta.

"What - what does Boruta want with us?"

"Quiet, little runt." The bear said.

"At least let me tell him, you fat fucker!" Blitzo snapped.

The bear growled at the insult.

"Quiet, Tubs, someone had to say it." Blitzo added, trying to sashay his hips in a sassy manner and failing miserably; namely cos the bear growled as he inadvertently rubbed his dick across the bear's shoulder.

"Blitzo!" Moxxie hissed in alarm.

"Fine, fine." Blitzo replied dismissively, settling down again. "To answer your question, bitch, Boruta is a mean poker player, like, real mean."

"You mean 'mean' as in 'good'... or 'mean' as in 'nasty and horrible'?" Moxxie asked nervously.

"I meant good at his game, but he fits both descriptions, not gonna lie to ya." Blitzo replied. "He got thrown in here for tricking some poor bastard and killing him."

Moxxie shuddered.

"How?"

"Don't ask, he was supposedly killed a favourite of Prince Mammon himself, so he's been locked up for a fucking lifetime." Blitzo replied. "But I don't actually know. How he actually ended up here has been argued upon - before even I got my stupid ass in here."

"So, why does he want us?" Moxxie dropped his voice to a whisper.

"He wanted me to play a poker game, it was supposed to happen last night, but it never did. Security had to deal with a fucking fight after dinner. Some fucker stabbed some other fucker in the eye with a knife."

"Oh…"

Blitzo sighed. "Mox, I'm good at poker, but this fucker is REALLY good. Even so, he's not afraid to cheat. And he's fond of killing the loser. So if I don't beat this fucker tonight-" Blitzo replied gravely.

Moxxie got the message loud and clear, and he fell silent, limp as a corpse; as their captor softly plodded down the corridor, unseen, unheard.

Unimpeded.

...

A/N: Thank you all for your kudos and comments, as well as for reading my story this far. I hope you're still enjoying it and are prepared for chapter 7! 😊

Chapter 7: Through the Corridor

Summary:

Blitzo and Moxxie are both dreading what lies ahead for them after being whisked away from their cell.

Trigger warning for brief mention of suicide.

As the bear plodded onwards down the dim, green corridor, Blitzo saw Moxxie inhale, as if gathering courage. 

"Don't even, Mox." Blitzo growled in warning. 

"What?" 

"You're gonna ask me something, aren't ya?" Blitzo groused, attempting to stretch out his limbs from his precarious perch. It… wasn't very wise, but he was used to doing more extreme stuff from when he was in the circus, so he didn't care too much. 

Moxxie exhaled, slumping against the bear's shoulder, which almost felt as if he was sinking into a plump feathery mattress- if only that was true! 

"I only wanted to ask about this Boruta guy." He mumbled into the bear's shoulder. 

"Mox, he's a seriously dangerous fucker." Blitzo replied, earnestly. "In fact, I could wank off just thinking about him if I wasn't shitting my pants right now - and I didn't mean that literally!" He added that last part to their captor, who had stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned his head warningly. 

Moxxie just gave a 'wtf' look in response. 

"OK, so this bitch adopted the name from some demon that humans believe in - this demon tricked people into getting lost in forests and shit before killing them." 

"But why?" Asked an alarmed Moxxie. 

"Don't ask me, stupid, I'm not a fucking expert on this, just telling ya what I did hear." Blitzo retorted. His hand twitched threateningly. 

Suddenly, the bear let Blitzo drop halfway down his body, so the imp was upside down - very briefly - before being hauled back up again. 

In the Unholy Name of Satan, he was ready to grab this fucker's ear and yank on it harder than a bitch's tit! 

But, he didn't want to risk getting himself - or worse, Mox - injured by this fucking brute. That would, at best, make escaping more difficult - and at the worst, impossible.

"How did you… hear about him?" Moxxie whispered in a horrified awe. 

"About my second day here?" Replied Blitzo, annoyed. He was exhausted, starving, and now he felt queasy from being dangled upside down. Moxxie's persistent questions were only adding fuel to the fire. 

Still, Blitzo made an unusually gallant effort to keep his temper in check - after all, Mox hadn't even been here for 24 hours yet, whereas Blitzo had been here for four days. It seemed kinda unfair to give the poor kid shit for not knowing fuck all about this place. 

"I've been here for about four days now - maybe five now? Some stupid air-headed Incubus got himself locked up the day after I got my ass thrown in here, and he told us how he fucked some Polish myth professor or something - that's how word got from up there-" here he pointed towards the ceiling - "to down here." 

And, waving his hand around the perimeter of the room, Blitzo finished with a shrug, waving a dismissive hand as if dismissing someone. "But yeah, I-'' he paused, suddenly realising something. 

"Ah fuck…" he buried his face in his hands.  

"What is it?" 

Blitzo realised that this situation was maybe kinda sorta his fault? But he wasn't about to admit that to his cellmate if he could help it. 

"I'll tell ya later." He replied, before adding, "So yeah, this Boruta fucker traps people up in horrible schemes - from fraud to cheating in card games, poker being a firm favourite. If you ever team up with him, you're either naive or fucking stupid." 

"I know someone who sounds terrifyingly similar." Moxxie whispered. "Only, he was more physically violent - or so I've heard." He added, sheepishly. 

But there was something in Moxxie's words that made Blitzo consider that something weird was going on with his friend. Namely, he suspected that Mox had more personal interactions with this person than he was willing to admit. 

"Hey, don't worry, Mox, I'm pretty fucking good at poker and shit." Blitzo said. This was partly to change the subject, partly to reassure Mox but he didn't sound too certain, even to his own ears. 

Fuck. 

Moxxie looked as he was about to say something - but squeaked instead as something dropped on his hair. But it was just a droplet of moisture falling from the ceiling, and Blitzo rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

Great, he was facing the biggest fucker in this place with his oh so timid cellmate. 

How fucking wonderful. 

… 

Silence descended over the imps as they drifted through the corridor. They were tiring, now, and struggling not to fall asleep on the bear's shoulders, for fear of not knowing exactly what lay ahead. 

The ex-circus imp couldnt help nlticing the lack of footsteps to distract him from his sleepiness - and, despite himself, Blitzo was curious as to how the fuck this massive bear could move as if he were no more than a ghost. Not a single fucking soul stirred in their cells, and silence echoed through the dark, gloomy prison. 

He glared enviously at other prisoners, still slumbering on; wishing that he and Moxxie were in their beds right now - 

A small whimper from Moxxie suddenly interrupted his troubled musings, and he turned to scowl at his friend, who had turned pale. 

It was only as they passed a cell, about 11 cells down from their own, that Blitzo just about caught the glimpse of a forlorn figure, ratted, smelly bed sheets around his neck like a scarf, hanging limply from the chains holding the upper bunk to the wall like a rain-soaked scarecrow; before the bear passed to the next cell down and kept going, not even batting an eye to the sight. 

"That happens more than ya think." Blitzo muttered quietly to Moxxie, gently nudging his friend to provide some form of comfort. 

Somehow, he felt guilty; Mox seemed far too innocent to be witnessing things like this - so young, and obviously sheltered…  

"Crumbs… is he… is he just going to… be left there?" Moxxie whispered, horrified at the fact that, even in death, the prisoner would remain without dignity. "It's too cruel…" 

At these words, the bear stopped, and without warning, suddenly squeezed Moxxie's middle, causing him to whimper in pain. 

"Stop… let go…" he attempted to wriggle away, but it was no use. 

"You, little one, speak of kindness as if you do not live in Hell!" The bear spat in disgust. It was the first words he had spoken since they left the prison cell. "You forget where you are, and what we are here for. Here, we mean nothing to Mammon. You are nothing but some imp bitch's runt, and you will do well to remember that, do you understand me?" 

At the mention of his mother, Moxxie's eyes brimmed with tears, glittering with an anger Blitzo had yet to witness in his cellmate; but he said nothing. 

Blitzo had other ideas. He was pissed that anyone could dare speak so ill of one's mother - especially a deceased one - and he was even more pissed that this bitch had dared to say that to poor Moxxie. 

Grabbing the bear's ear as hard as he could, he yanked it with all the strength he had in his body - despite his fatigue, and the hunger, still lingering in his belly from earlier. He twisted it, and was grimly satisfied when the bear yelped and groaned in pain. 

"Fuck! I'll get you for that, little imp…" 

"Hah! I'd like to see ya -" but Blitzo was thrown to the ground, where he landed in a crumpled heap. 

"BLITZO!" Moxxie squeaked in alarm, sounding like he was about to burst into tears. 

…

Poor Blitzo was so dazed that he barely had time to lift his head up from the hard prison floor before he was roughly scooped up and slung back over his shoulder again. 

"I suggest you be quiet." The bear growled, having calmed down a fraction, "or Boruta will find it easier to trick you, in your highly emotional state." 

"Go fuck yourself, buddy!" Blitzo snapped, wincing in pain from the cuts and bruises he had sustained. 

… 

Shortly after they got moving again, Blitzo felt something soft wipe the blood away from a nasty cut on his temple. 

He turned to see that Moxxie had managed to shift closer to the bear's neck, and a small, smudged streak of black on the cuff of his left sleeve - that definitely hadn't been there before. 

"Thank you, Blitzo, for standing up for my mother like that." The younger imp murmured appreciatively. "I… I wanted to, but…" 

"Hey, I'd have been pissed if anyone dissed my ma like that." Blitzo replied, with a gruff sincerity. "Besides…" he added as quietly as he could, "that was shit of him to say about your ma. But, i don't blame ya for not screaming your fucking lungs out at this lardbag, I'll take a beating from him, but I don’t want you getting one from him. " 

Moxxie smiled softly in appreciation, but was clearly at a loss for words; instead opting to wipe away a blood stain on Blitzo's cheek, before gentle fingers brushed over a newly-forming bruise on his facial scars, as soft as a butterfly's kiss. 

At the contact, Blitzo felt something in him flutter - and he began to purr quietly. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8: Meeting Boruta

Summary:

Blitzo and Moxxie finally meet Boruta... its not looking good for either of them.

Notes:

⚠️Trigger warning included for non-consensual touching/'feeling up'⚠️

Blitzo squinted as they finally entered a cell at the end of the corridor. It was bigger than most, and kinda looked more like an office than a cell.

Sitting in the only chair in the room, was a short, fat imp. His horns were curled in a way not unsimilar to Barbie's own. A bowler hat rested between them, atop a balding head.

He wore an orange tracksuit with the number 6450 stitched across the breast; but, glinting next to it was a gold pocket watch.

Contraband.

There was a simple round table in front of him; atop which was a deck of cards, and a bottle of Scotch. More contraband.

The imp smiled lazily at his henchman, gazing at his prisoners through partially milky eyes. In his left hand, he was holding a smoking cigar; something that made Moxxie writhe in discomfort.

“Well, well, if it isn't Knolastname's son. Valuable collateral indeed.” He smiled lazily, eyes running up and down Moxxie as if he was a lamb cutlet in a butcher’s shop.

Blitzo, confused, turned to look at his cellmate; who had gone green at the mention of the name.

“Mox?” He asked, confused. “The fuck is he going on about?”

“Oh? You don't know who I'm talking about, Buckzo?” Boruta asked, grinning. He snapped his fingers, and the bear demon lifted Moxxie off his shoulder before tossing him like a sack towards Boruta.

Boruta quickly hauled Moxxie into his lap, holding him tightly to stop him wriggling away - which he tried to do, frantically attempting to avoid breathing in the smell of cigar smoke.

The fuck was wrong with him??

Blitzo felt repulsed as he watched the fucker caress Moxxie's jaw.

“Well, well, you've grown nicely, dear boy.” He cooed, his hand now moving down Moxxie's body towards his thigh. “I see you've inherited your mother's legs…”

Moxxie blanched at the remark.

How fucking dare he?!

“Oi! Stop there right now, motherfucker, or I'm gonna rip your fucking dick off and shove it down your cum-stained teeth, you fucking bitch!” Blitzo snapped, grabbing the bottle off the table, ready to smash it.

Boruta just clicked his fingers again, and the bear demon growled, before grabbing the bottle out of Blitzo's hand; before twisting his wrist around for good measure.

There was a loud ‘CRACK!’ and a cry from Moxxie at seeing Blitzo's face turn ashen in reaction to the injury.

“Hm, interesting. A Knolastname, caring for a nobody like yourself.” Boruta tutted, his arms securing Moxxie in place.

“Let him go, bitch.” Blitzo hissed furiously, wincing at the pain flaring in his broken wrist.

“Hardly. Not unless you, my dear Buckzo, can beat me at poker.”

Oh shit.

Oh, fuck.

This was bad - like, really fucking bad.

How the fuck was Blitzo supposed to beat this guy’s ass at poker?!

Especially with one broken hand??

He threw a despairing look at Moxxie, who was trying desperately not to throw up - both from the inappropriate touching and the cigar smoke.

Hold on, Mox.

Blitzo mouthed at his friend, desperate to keep the little fucker from freaking out altogether and making it harder for them to get away.

“Fine, what's your terms, bitch?” He asked, furiously.

Boruta smiled mischievously. “I do like a man who can be forthright.” He purred. “When I win, he is mine-” Blitzo growled inaudibly as Boruta caressed Moxxie's cheek in an almost tender fashion. “And if you win? Well, you will both be released.”

“From this cell? Fuck off.” Blitzo spat, disgusted.

“We'll be placing bets, of course,” Boruta purred. “Do you have money?”

“Hardly.” Blitzo scoffed, but relented and began reaching into his suit.

He didn't have a lot to bet on - just the keys to his van, which he somehow managed to hide away from the guards.

“Here.” he chucked them on the table. “My van keys. All I can spare ya.”

Boruta looked disgruntled, but nonetheless nodded, and clicked his fingers.

Everyone placed something on the table. Boruta placed a wad of cash and the pocket watch. Two of the men threw down notes and coins, one - reluctantly - surrendered a box of cigarettes, and the last one handed over a battered, dog-eared copy of Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux.

Boruta scowled. “Fool!” He whacked the man across the head with his meaty hand, before settling it down on Moxxie's thigh in a possessive manner.

Blitzo scoffed at the book - but saw that it alone had piqued Moxxie’s curiosity. He was staring at it, trying to read the writing on the back.

Fucking dork.

Blitzo decided that he was going to try and win this stupid fucking game anyway - he just hated seeing Moxxie being treated like a piece of meat.

Hardly a surprise for a place like this, but Moxxie was clearly too innocent for a place like this.

“Any other terms I should know about?” Blitzo growled.

“Smart man,” said Boruta, with a purr. His hand was now in Moxxie's hair, making the smaller imp shudder.

“Will ya fucking stop that? He's not a cat.” Blitzo snapped, wanting nothing more than to snap that bitch's wrist.

“If you lose, Buckzo, I'll tell the guards you plan to escape.”

Chapter 9: One for the Pot

Summary:

Blitzø is required to make a contribution to the pot, and it's the one thing he managed to keep in prison...

Notes:

I know it's been a while, but I'm looking to get this updated again!

Enjoy this short update while I continue to work on future chapters!

T/W: more non-consensual touching/molesting, and a fuckton of swearing.

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? 

Chapter 10

Summary:

Let the game begin...

Notes:

T/W for assault

Blitzø's heart pounded in his chest, watching Boruta smling amiably and joking around as if he was playing poker at his own home than in a fucking prison cell. 

He stared into the eyes of his Mama's skull pendant, glittering in the dark, wishing desperately he had had something - anything - else to offer instead. 

He was a fucking idiot. 

First he had gotten her killed in an accident, and now he was gambling his last memento of her in a desperate bid to save Moxxie from some fucking perverted crime lord and help their chance of escaping. 

If he won the money, and Boruta's watch, he could fund his - and Moxxie's - way out to Pride. He could go back home to Loonie. Moxxie could go and do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Speaking of his cellmate, he snuck glances at Moxxie every so often, trying to offer silent, encouraging smiles - but he wasn't feeling it himself. 

After all, it was kinda hard to feel optimistic in a situation like this, but Blitzø reminded himself that his mom's necklace - and their freedom - were at stake. 

He did consider himself to be a pretty good gambler, but he feared Boruta might be better than him, or cheat and get away with it. 

Boruta suddenly chuckled again, disturbing Blitzø's thoughts. 

“I can tell you two have developed quite the affection for each other,” he said slyly, his arm wrapping itself around Moxxie's waist. 

Crap. He'd been observing Blitzø trying to cheer Moxxie up. 

“We're friends, asshole!” Blitzø snapped. Sure, he hadn't known Moxxie that long, and vice versa, but you tend to make friends (or enemies) very quickly within the close proximity of a prison cell. 

Moxxie managed a brave nod. 

“Are you really?” Boruta asked. He nodded towards the purple shark demon, who began dealing the cards amongst the party of four sitting round the table - Boruta, the bear demon, and Blitzø. 

Boruta was given two hole cards first; then Blitzø, then the bear demon, and then the purple shark demon was last. 

After everyone had been given their hole cards; the shark demon dealt another five cards - the community cards. 

Blitzø studied them carefully. These cards were; the Queen of Clubs; 4 of Hearts; 7 of Diamonds; 2 of Diamonds; and 8 of Spades. 

He glanced across and was instantly irked when he realised Moxxie wasn't being included, but he tried not to kick up a stink. 

He needed to get both of them out of this alive.

…  

“I'd think this friendship through.” the imp warned, catching Blitzø off guard. “This one-” and here he sniffed Moxxie's hair. “smells of trouble,” he grinned, teeth glinting in the dull light of the cell. 

Moxxie blanched in horror - but Blitzø didn't know if it was the comment or the hair sniffing that Moxxie had been disturbed by. Probably both, to be honest.  

He had to admit, he was still curious to know what Boruta was hiding from him - no, what Moxxie was hiding from him. 

But he forced himself to ignore his curiosity. He couldn't afford to let the story of the fire get out - and anyway, Boruta was just going to fucking use the knowledge to distract Blitzø to win - it seemed like something he'd do. 

Blitzø gritted his teeth. He had to focus on the game. He had to win. 

For his Mama's last memory; for his and Moxxie's freedom; and for Loonie. 

He had to fucking win. 

… 

Blitzø watched as the others picked up their hole cards, before doing the same. 

He had a 2 of Aces and 7 of Hearts. 

Fuck! 

This was an ill omen. He mouthed the numbers to Moxxie, who quickly paled.

‘You'll have to fold, Blitzø, there's no way you can win,’ he mouthed. 

‘But I can't lose the pot!’ Blitzø mouthed back. He felt as though he would be sick there and then. 

He vaguely heard Crusher, who was sitting to his right, announce something to the others, but he was too dazed and panicked to register what he was saying. 

‘We'll have to do something, but you won't win on a hand like that.’  Moxxie mouthed, trying to smile bravely at Blitzø.

Growling in defeat, Blitzø announced his intention to fold. 

“Oh dear,” Boruta smiled, in a way that suggested false sympathy. 

Blitzø managed to flip Boruta off when he turned around to say something to Crusher, before staring hopelessly at Mama's necklace. He saw the cold, fishy smile playing on Boruta's lips and he wished to fuck he could punch the other imp's lights out - and maybe rip his dick off and shove it down his ass for good measure.

But it was no use - he was out already, and he felt tears pricking at his eyes. 

The fact he had folded so soon meant that he had to forfeit Mom's necklace, and he hated himself for it. 

He was also concerned for Moxxie, who, despite his effort to put a brave face on, was looking very ill. He somehow seemed to look paler and more ill at ease with every passing minute. Fuck knows how the little shit hadn't passed out yet. 

He half-heartedly listened to the conversation going on, feeling bile bubble in his throat and his stomach churn. 

He was a piece of shit, he was a piece of shit, he was a piece of shit, he was -

“I win,” Boruta smiled, moving his arm to  sweep the stash away, including Blitzø's necklace, when - 

“Wait! How about another round? I'll deal the cards this time,” said a voice. 

Everyone stopped to stare at Moxxie, who looked as though he wished the ground would swallow him whole, but there was a fire in his eyes Blitzø didn't recognise. 

‘Atta boy, Mox!’ He thought to himself. 

But Boruta merely yawned. 

“I do not see the need - we have given everything we own into the pot.” He said, souding… bored. “What else could you possibly offer me that would be worth risking not only the retrieval of my watch, but also this fine haul?” He swept his hand vaguely towards the pile of treasures. 

Blitzø's heart pounded in his chest. He had to get the necklace back. He'd gladly rot until his release date if it meant he could retrieve it tonight. 

Moxxie stood up, staring Boruta square in the eye, and said, quietly, "I have little of value to offer, but I will offer up my body,” he replied. 

“Mox!” Blitzø protested. He saw his friend grip his knees with his hands, his shoulders suddenly too tense for his liking.

That was too fucking high a gamble for Moxxie to take. 

What if they lost? What if Blitzø lost? 

In fact, Blitzø suddenly decided that he would rather find another way to win back the necklace. Moxxie giving himself up like this was too high a price to pay. 

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He thought, desperately  wishing Boruta had never fucking got them involved in the first place.

“I-I'll do it, Mox!” Blitzø protested. He could cope with rough prison sex - Moxxie would wither in here faster than he already was.  

Poor Mox looked agonised; but as if to emphasise his point, he unbuttoned the top button of his prison uniform- and another. He pulled down the neckline of his white undershirt as well. 

“Hm, free preview, I see,” purred Boruta. “I like that. But, let's save the rest for the winner, hm?” he winked at Blitzø. 

Blitzø like he would vomit. What in the actual living fuck was Moxxie doing?!

Whilst he himself had nothing against strip poker- he'd done a lot of it in college with a few friends before he'd pissed them off - he only found it fun and sexy when the person stripping wasn't under duress, or forced to strip. 

He could make horrible and crass sex jokes till he was blue in the face, but forcing others to do what he wanted wasn't something he did. He had some standards. 

Bjorn, however, had other ideas - he grabbed Moxxie by the collar and began unbuttoning the uniform, one by one, shaking Moxxie as if he was a mere ragdoll. 

Blitzø's rage was insurmountable. He was ready to pulverise this guy’s head until his brains spattered the wall. 

And he did attempt to fight for his friend - he sprang at Bjorn's eye, fingers ready to do some damage.

Except Bjorn ended up swatting him to the floor like he was a fly.

“Blitzø!” Moxxie exclaimed in horror. He'd been kicking his legs, trying to aim for Boruta's ribs, or his throat, or his face - just somewhere - but his legs were too short.   

Blitzø winced, and hauled himself up to his feet with a grunt, before he swung at Bjorn's ribs. 

“You motherfucking asshole!” He yelled, landing two hard blows to Bjorn's side. 

The grizzly bastard didn't even fucking flinch. Just undid the last button and yanked the uniform off Moxxie until he was in nothing but his underwear - a pair of white boxers and the matching undershirt. 

Blitzø wished then that he had his suit jacket to offer a now-shivering Moxxie. 

As much as he enjoyed a bit of strip poker, seeing that had made his stomach turn. 

Satan, he'd be lucky if he didn't throw up by the time they got out of here - if they got out of here. 

“Bjorn,” said Boruta, calmly, but not without distaste. “What the fuck was that?” 

“Thought I'd make things interesting, boss,” said Bjorn with a shrug. 

“You're a fucking prick!” Blitzo shouted. It was a tame insult, but he was overwhelmed by how quickly things had snowballed. 

“What? I didn’t fuck him!” Bjorn bellowed. 

“You'd be fucking dead if you had!” Blitzø bellowed, storming up to face Bjorn. “Let Mox go, now!” 

“My, you've got fire in your belly,” Boruta commented, sounding only mildly impressed. 

“Yeah, and it's gonna ensure every one of you fuckers ends up dead for what you've done to Mox!” 

“What I've done, Buckzo?” 

“Yes! You could've called this off!” Blitzø snapped, grabbing his still-full glass of Scotch and hurling it at Boruta. It missed, unfortunately, instead hitting the wall behind him, shattering on impact and  crystal shards and amber Scotch rained down onto Boruta's bunk.

Crusher stood up, clearly ready to deliver a beat down to Blitzø. 

“How dare you attempt to assault our boss–” he began, but was interrupted by the click of a gun. 

“You fool!” Boruta hissed at Bjorn, as Moxxie stood up on the table, eye to eye with Crusher, cocking a small black Glock in his hand. 

There was a deadly gleam in Moxxie's eyes, as he aimed  the gun around at everyone in the room, except for Blitzø. 

“This stops right now.” He hissed. “I… I refuse to be handled like I’m some fresh meat in the butcher's window,” he hissed at Boruta and Bjorn, before turning away from the former to aim the gun at Crusher. “And you two will not hurt my friend further,” he said, loudly. He immediately flinched, as if he was about to be hit by someone. 

“You were the one who offered yourself up–” 

“That was to up the stakes!” Moxxie hissed. He was shivering - though whether it was from the cold or fear Blitzø could not say. “I made that choice. You-” vere he aimed the gun at Bjorn again - “you decided to strip me of my uniform and my dignity against my will.” 

“Very well,” sighed Boruta, defeated. “Buckzo will not be harmed so long as he remains in these walls.” 

“And Christ on a stick, let Mox put his clothes back on,” Blitzø added.

Boruta just nodded to Bjorn, who shoved Moxxie's uniform into his hands, snatching the Glock back in the meantime. 

 ...

“That was fucking impressive, Mox,” Blitzø hissed to his friend, as Moxxie struggled into his prison uniform again.

He had to wonder when and where did Moxxie get so comfortable with a gun. His initial spiel about Moxxie being able to shoot up an office was sounding very fucking accurate.

“Thank you,” Moxxie whispered back. “I was just… fed up with all that was happening.” Then, in a quieter voice, he added. “I need a shower.” 

“Don't worry, Mox, I'll win this fucking game,” Blitzø replied, patting his friend's shoulder. “And if I get the chance, I'll give Mr. Sad Grizzly Ass here a good dick kickdown.” 

“Don't,” Moxxie warned, quickly buttoning his uniform up. “Please, just win this, Blitzø.” 

Blitzø stared into his friend's pleading eyes, and nodded. 

Fuck.