One Helluva Ride

Chapter 37: Western Energy

        Splice sat anxiously between Blitzø and Loona as they drove through Sloth. Splice put a comforting hand on Loona's arm. "It'll be okay." They whispered. Loona spared a thankful glance at the imp. The moment is ruined by Blitzø's phone loudly ringing. "Oh, shit! Stolas! It's really not a good time, buddy." He said as he picked up the phone. His eyes remained cautiously on the road.

         "I'm sorry it's a bad time yet again, Blitzy, but, uhm- I seem to have found myself in a bit of a sitch. I'm tied to the back of a horse at the moment." Stolas said. Blitzø rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Lucky bitch." He muttered. Splice elbowed him in the side. "Um, well no, rather unlucky. I seem to have been stolen by that little cowboy friend of yours." Stolas explained.

         Blitzø didn't seem to really be paying attention. "Ohh, which one?" He asked. Moxxie deadpanned from the backseat. "How many cowboys do you know?" He asked annoyedly, before turning to the phone. "What does he look like, your Highness?"

         There was a pause from Stolas. "Mm.. sexy?" He answered. Moxxie's eyes widened. "That's Striker, sir!" He exclaimed. Splice glanced back at him. "You knew from just that?" They questioned. Blitzø groaned. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Can't you just get away? Aren't you powerful?" He asked.

         "I believe he has bound me with blessed rope, which limits my ability to free myself, I'm afraid. So, I think you should come save me." Stolas answered. Blitzø did his best to keep his focus on the road. "Oh shit- Stolas, I can't today, alright? I-I'm literally on my way to take Loona in for her very important Hellbies S.H.O.T."

         Loona's fearful eyes landed on Blitzø for a moment. "It takes years to book an appointment at this place. It took five to get this one! And she's been doing a lot of fieldwork, so, y'know, she needs it..." Blitzø said. Stolas let out a dry chuckle.

         "Oh. Ha ha... Well, I do agree that is very important.. but I-" Stolas was cut off. "Would you shut up already? I can hear you, by the way." Striker's voice ran clear through the receiver. Splice's tail rattled in anger. "Don't worry about your lanky birdie.. he's in good hands." The call dropped as Striker finished speaking. Blitzø groaned. "Damnit!" He yelled, crushing the phone in his hand.

         "Blitzø." Splice said, crawling onto him to get into the driver's seat. "Move." Blitzø squirmed out from beneath them, letting them drive. "Splice, what are you-" He was cut off as Splice slammed onto the gas pedal, sending the van soaring down the highway. Splice gripped the wheel, staring at the road with tensed shoulders.

         "You take Loona to the doctor. We'll handle Striker." Splice said firmly. Blitzø glanced over worriedly. "You sure you three can handle this?" He asked. He gripped onto his seat as the van screeched to a stop in front of St. An's Hospital. "Yes. I've got a score to settle with that cowboy cunt. Now get out." Splice demanded. Blitzø and Loona got out of the van. "Alright... Well, hurry. Stolas sounds like he might be in real trouble this time."

         Millie put a cowboy hat onto her husband's head as Splice sped off again. "Right. Knowing Striker, he's holed up somewhere in Wrath. So, let's find that slippery son of a bitch." They said.

         After getting to Wrath, the imps had to stop for gas. Splice's tail twitched impatiently. "Crumbs! I'll grab the gas. Millie, go and see if anyone's seen Striker anywhere." Moxxie said. Splice remained in the front seat, fingers tightly curled around the steering wheel.

         A group of bikers rolled up to the gas station. "Hey, queer boy! You stealin' my hat?" The leader asked. It just so happened that he and Moxxie shared a similar hat design. "What?" Moxxie asked, turning away from the gas he'd been pumping. The biker glared down at him. "Same hat." He said.

         Moxxie tensed up slightly. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. My wife just put this hat on my head, you know, because it was.. hot.. outside..." He said. The biker's expression remained unmoving. "Same. Hat." He repeated. Moxxie sighed. "We're really doing this, huh?" He asked. Moxxie proceeded to brutalize the biker imps as Millie returned to the car. "Come on! We've got a lead." She said. As soon as Splice got the green light, they started the car and sped off.

         Splice leaned into the car horn as they burst into Striker's hideout. The side door slid open and Moxxie aimed a rifle toward Striker. Before he could fire, Striker threw a knife toward him. The blade embedded itself into Moxxie's gun. Moxxie flinched, firing off the rifle. The bullet ricocheted across the cave before blasting through a boombox. It started to play a country song. Splice grinned, their tail rattling. "Fuck yes. Let's do this."

         Striker tapped his foot against the ground rhythmically, stretching out his back and shoulders. He spun a set of Carmine revolvers in his hands. Millie lunged at him with a sword. Splice leaped from the car, twirling their angelic dagger in their hand. The imps engaged in a heavy and bloody brawl.

         Striker pinned Millie to a boulder with her axe. Splice jumped onto Striker, stabbing him in the shoulder. "Taste angelic steel, fuckface!" They growled, twisting the blade. "No one fucks with my friends." Striker's teeth clenched to stifle his pained groan.

         Splice yelped as Striker slammed his head against theirs. They recoiled, pulling their blade from Striker's flesh. "You really thought you could overpower me?" He asked with a laugh, shaking his head. "You should know better. You're just a weak little pet-"

         Before he could finish, Splice stabbed him again. A cry of pain rippled through him. "Fuck! You little brat." Striker took the dagger from his flesh and swung it. Splice yelped and jumped back, feeling as black blood oozed from the fresh wound on their arm. "Quit gettin' in the way of my job." Striker demanded, tossing the blade. It snagged Splice's shirt, pinning them to the wall of the cave. The gash in Splice's arm burned with each passing beat of their heart.

         Striker's predatory gaze shifted to Moxxie, who was struggling to reach for his pistol. Striker straddled Moxxie, wrapping his arms around the small imp's throat. "I forgot how easy you are to choke the life out of, little one." He said with a crazed grin. Moxxie's hands trembled as he reached for his neck. He groaned. "Harder~" He managed.

         Moxxie uses Striker's surprise to knock him over, snatching his lasso. "You cowboy piece of shit!" Moxxie shouted, wrapping the lasso around Striker and throwing him into a stone statue of himself. Millie slammed her axe into the bottom of the statue. Cracks spiderwebbed up the supports until the statue came down.

         Splice freed themself and returned their dagger to a sheath on their thigh. Once the dust cleared, Striker was gone. "Fuck." Splice muttered. Their attention was grabbed by Millie, who was waving them and Moxxie over. At her feet was a heavily injured Stolas. "No. No, no, no, no." Splice muttered, dropping to their knees and cutting the prince free. "Get us back to Sloth. Now." They demanded.

         With the help of Moxxie and Millie, Splice managed to get Stolas into the back of the van. They cradled him in their arms, refusing to leave his side. They ran their fingers through his blood-soaked feathers. "Please be okay." They whispered.

         As soon as the imps pulled in to the hospital, Stolas was ushered away by various doctors and nurses. Blitzø, who had just left the hospital with Loona, had been trampled. "Sir! Are you alright?" Moxxie asked. Blitzø rolled his eyes as he stood and brushed himself off. "Oh, peachy. Yeah, no. Today has been wonderful." His voice was laced with sarcasm.

         Blitzø pointed toward the hospital doors. "What the fuck was that about?!" He asked. Millie frowned as the imps neared the van. "Stolas got hurt.. bad." She said. Blitzø saw Splice in the back. Their hands were caked in a mix of both Stolas' and their own blood. "Stolas got.. what? How?" He paused, his brows furrowing. "He can get hurt?"