Helluvaboss - A Fizzarolli Story fighting for the greater good

Chapter 5

"Oh fuck my life," said Fizzarolli as he got lost in the city and realised that not only he did not have his phone on him, but Blitzo had even got his . He had never been alone like this before. Sure, he was famous and rich, but he had always had someone to take care of him and make sure that things went smoothly. This time though, he was determined to succesfully get back home. His goal was simple enough; all he needed to do was reach the luxurious part of Hell-City . Easy peasy, right?

Wrong. After hours of walking around aimlessly through dirty streets filled with garbage and homeless demons, Fizzarolli found himself completely disoriented. Everywhere he looked seemed to be exactly the same - buildings were covered in graffiti, trash littered the sidewalks, and imps wearing rags walked past him without a second glance. Finally, Fizzarolli decided to ask for directions from a nearby Imp whose clothes looked more tattered than most others'. The creature stared at him warily before replying in a gruff voice:

"I don't know where you're goin', cutie . But if I were ya, I'd stay outta this area." Then, as if that wasn't enough, she added: "People 'round these parts ain't very nice to strangers." With those words echoing inside his mind, Fizzarolli continued on towards what appeared to be an empty park, hoping for some peace and quiet at last... However, no sooner had he reached its center than he noticed movement behind one of the trees surrounding it. Without thinking twice about what might happen next, Fizzarolli darted forward as fast as possible away from danger while simultaneously yelling loudly enough so that anyone nearby could hear him clearly:

"HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!" Unfortunately, this proved to be useless as nobody came running towards him or responded in any other manner whatsoever, except for a few stray cats scattered among bushes.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. Panicking, Fizzarolli turned his head just in time to see an unknown figure emerge from the shadow of a tall building, making it impossible to discern who exactly it belonged to. "Oh shit..." thought Fizzarolli as he began sprinting faster than ever before. His heart pounded against rib cage threatening to burst open any minute now... After several minutes of running blindly through the district, he finally managed somehow to escape whoever was pursuing him...

Meanwhile, back at the Lust Mansion, Asmodeus was still searching frantically for Fizzarolli, fearing the worst. He had already contacted the other princes multiple times asking for help but they hadn't been to find him ... At this rate, he thought he'd never find his beloved jester again. Suddenly, there came a knock on door interrupting his train of thought abruptly... The door opened revealing none other than Stolas himself dressed in a suit looking rather nervous as well.

"May I come in?" asked politely Stolas standing outside the door and waiting patiently until allowed to enter the mansion.

"Yes, of course," replied Asmodeus immediately moving aside allowing him access. "Please sit down." He gestured towards a couch in the living room. The couch was positioned directly opposite to a large television screen, which was currently displaying a news broadcast showing current events happening throughout entire city including recent kidnapping case involving famous entertainer Fizzarolli... While doing so, Stolas took notice how stressed out prince Asmodeus appeared being constantly worried about his lover's safety.

"There there" he said, giving Asmodeus a couple of pats on the back. "I'm sure everything will turn out fine eventually." This seemed to calm him somewhat as he relaxed, slightly letting go tension built up over the past several hours.

Asmodeus sighed, staring straight ahead expressionless, not saying another word.

In the meantime, Fizzarolli was trying to get back to the Lust Mansion. Hungry, thirsty, dirty and with bruises everywhere on his body, he was walking aimlessly through the streets. Every step hurt and every breath was like a knife in his chest, but he had to keep going. He had to make it home.