Trunks in Hell (DISCONTINUED; SEE DESC!!)

Chapter 22 - I.M.P VS. Prodigal

The characters are not mine; Trunks belongs to Akira Toriyama along with Toei Animation. Hazbin Hotel belongs to Vivziepop/Vivienne Medrano and A24.

Chapter 22 - I.M.P VS. Prodigal

The Immediate Murder Professionals, wielder of the Grimoire (sometimes) and murderer of hundreds in the living world faces off against Prodigal, the hellborn demon trained by Janemba himself. Who will win?

─────────────────────────────────────

"Didn't you see our ad? We don't do assassinating down here. The overworld is our thing, got it?"

Blitzo was... tending to a potential client in his office alone, 'calmly' telling them that they weren't in the business of assassinating demons in Hell. They mainly focused on the surface world with some very special exceptions, one being Stolas and his daughter, Octavia's, bodyguard. But those are just outliers.

"Come on..." the client was a rough, yet average looking hellborn demon. Nothing inherently noteworthy, and definitely not someone who would even have enough for the IMPs to even consider doing whatever, Blitzo thought. "I'll pay good."

Blitzo eyed him one more time, noting his appearance doesn't really fit the bill of being wealthy. Sighing, it became even more apparent that this conversation was progressively annoying the already tired imp as he put his arm over the shoulder of the man, directing him somewhere "Listen, pal... I don't know if you can read or whatever the fuck, but if I haven't made it clear..."

Moving to a poster he coincidentally had in his office, he pointed at the "WE DO OVERWORLD ASSASSINATIONS!" quote. "See here? We. Do. Overworld. Assassinations. It doesn't fuckin' say 'we do assassinations in hell', okay?"

The demon shrugged the arm over his shoulder off. "Can you at least hear me out?"

"...Fine," Blitzo reluctantly said, moving back to his seat and resting. "Who in the actual hell do you even need assassinated in this cesspool? Can't be a sinner, they can't be killed permanently, so it has to be someone born here," Blitzo started questioning, still unsure whether or not he'll even consider it.

"Yeah, they were born here, don't worry. It's just someone I need dead. All I'm willing to give you is the money and a general idea of where they are, and the time they might be there," the demon sat down in a chair, putting his arms on his head in a relaxed position. It's almost as if he knows that he'll accept...

"No dice. I'll need more than that for our services, buddy," Blitzo said, unmoving. "Besides, there are a shit ton of assassination services down here. Why us, knowing that, again, we do Overworld assassinations?"

The demon hesitated for a second. Not being able to come up with anything as a rebuttal nor able to tell his true intentions, he opened the briefcase that he brought with him. Something that Blitzo had not noticed until now, uncharacteristically. Sensing some hesitation, the demon spoke up before opening it. "Calm down, it's not a gun."

Opening it, the contents of the suitcase were, suffice to say, extremely fucking amazing. Inside, Blitzo couldn't even fathom how much cash was stuffed within the suitcase. The stacks upon stacks of hundred-dollar bills seemed nigh on endless as Blitzo caught himself staring with wonder in his eyes. "Holy shit, what the fuck...shit? How much is this?"

"Oh, it's nothing... just about a million dollars," the demon smugly said, knowing it's an absolutely large amount of money for just a single kill.

Blitzo was getting increasingly suspicious. Not only did the guy come out of nowhere to try and commission them into doing assassination work in Hell, rather than the overworld as shown many... MANY times in their advertisements, tell him that the only thing he'll give them the location and time the target will be there, and then display one million dollars as a price. This was literally too good to be true. "Okay... so what's the catch?"