Hazbin and Helluva Shorts II

Strika Part 1: Musical Demons

Hell was a lot of things. It was a place for the wicked and the evil (by Heaven's standards). It was where every sinner was sent once they died. The place was chaotic and unruly with constant fights, wars, and who knows what. But Hell was also where some found peace away from the living world. Some found themselves a new home. Whether they were a sinner from above or born from the depths, all demons ended up somewhere in Hell.

Among all the chaos, some demons had talents and skills that put them above others despite the stone hierarchy. One of said demons was Striker, an assassin with a knack for the guitar. If there was someone you wanted killed off, he was your demon to call. He never missed his target. Playing the guitar was more of a side hobby. But he was a natural. The second was Verosika, the pop idol of Hell's fires. Every demon who was any demon knew her name. Her voice was unlike any other in Hell. The rumors of them dating were true. He had always liked her. But she had been in a relationship with another Imp. But thankfully for him, it hadn't worked out because he had been so incredibly shellfish. Once they had broken, Striker swooped in and successfully took Verosika for himself. Their relationship had developed quickly and resulted in them living together by the end of that year.

Months had passed since then. Striker and Verosika now lived together and composed songs side by side. On some nights, they dueted at Ozzie's; it was always a full house. It was good money, and they got a juicy cut. Most of the money was saved to buy a new home. They needed a bigger place. And they had plans. First, she wanted an in-home studio and acoustics room. She wasn't an audiophile. But she knew the basics (and had friends who could help). For Striker personally, he wanted a weapons cache. As much as he loved music, his income came from taking demons off the census on the daily.

Time skirted on, and eventually, the couple had their new home. By now, Striker and Verosika were married as well. He had taken a break from assassinations to help her with her music during this time. He even attended her concerts both in Hell and the living world. The love of music brought them closer. There was always something playing in the background. Striker even learned how to sing and occasionally provided backup vocals. Surprisingly, he was a good singer and sometimes helped write fresh lyrics. Likewise, Verosika picked up the guitar and eventually bought her own. Soon, she started composing pieces for her band and him.

Between killing for his clients and occasionally dabbling in dealing weapons, Striker made a decent wage. But he was after something greater. After so long, he finally saw the one thing he was missing. Well, he was missing a lot of things. But there was something in particular that he wanted now. Striker hadn't told his wife yet. It would take careful planning. Everything had to be just right. He couldn't afford a single mistake this time.

A few days later, it was time. Verosika had been on tour in the living world for about a month. Striker had taken this opportunity to set everything in motion. Her band dropped her off at home and went on their way. He welcomed her home and had a hot bath waiting. While she relaxed in the tub, he continued cooking up a storm. It was now or never. The table was set, their wedding song was playing quietly over the dining room speakers, drinks were poured in their best wine glasses, and the fireplace was warm and lit.

Striker only had to wait half an hour. Verosika was stunned at the sight before her. He smiled and took her hand as he guided her to her chair and pushed her in. When she found her voice again, she naturally inquired. He never did anything like this. With a nervous smile, he filled her plate and sat down. Amused, she decided to be patient. Soon, he finally asked for the one thing a gun or knife could never give him—a family.