Blitzø The Eternal: Thus The Imp And it's Eternal Live

Prologue: The Imp And His Careless

Since you guys took a liking of the story. I couldn't help but to make this Prologue, the chapter is pretty much going to start with a whole lotta death, and murder.

P.S don't start the music up top.

Enjoy.

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But, ya don't wanna do things alone, Blitzo!

You tried the solo act, it didn't work out so well!

Yet you still shove away anyone who gets too close until they resent you for being a selfish, shitty, shit fuck!

Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?

Blitzø stood in the corner of a dimly lit room, the only light flickering from a dying bulb above him. The metallic hum of the air conditioning rattled through the silence, broken occasionally by muffled voices beyond the walls. He adjusted the long black trench coat he now wore, the heavy fabric settling comfortably over his shoulders. His once flamboyant signature attire was a relic of the past, left behind for reasons that haunted his thoughts.

The comm in his ear crackled to life.

"Blitzø, your target has entered the building. Floor 27, VIP lounge," the voice said. It was his handler, a nameless entity within the unknown organization he had begrudgingly aligned himself with. "You have fifteen minutes before the area goes on lockdown. Make it clean."

"Yeah, yeah," Blitzø muttered, his voice devoid of its former sarcastic charm. He secured his dual flintlocks in their holsters, their polished metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. Strapped across his back was his trusted katana, and in a side pouch rested the unassuming yet deadly knife known as Bloodbane.

This wasn't the kind of job he enjoyed. Assassination lacked the chaos and improvisation he once thrived on. But it was necessary, a means to an end.

Blitzø exited the maintenance room, his boots silent against the marble floor as he slipped into the shadows of the hallway. The organization had provided him with blueprints of the building, a towering skyscraper owned by the wealthy and corrupt. His target, a high-ranking official with ties to a dangerous underground syndicate, had been marked for elimination. The reason didn't matter to Blitzø; all that mattered was completing the mission.

He took the elevator to the 25th floor, then switched to the stairwell to avoid drawing attention. The climb was effortless, his years of combat training making such physical exertion trivial. At the 27th floor, he paused, pressing his ear against the door.

Laughter and faint music leaked through the cracks. The VIP lounge was alive with activity, a lavish gathering of elites oblivious to the shadow that had just arrived. Blitzø pushed the door open, entering the lounge like a specter.

The room was a symphony of decadence golden chandeliers, crystal glasses filled with expensive liquor, and the murmur of deals being made in hushed tones. Blitzø scanned the room, his sharp eyes locking onto the target. A man in his mid-40s with slicked-back hair and an overconfident smirk sat at a corner table surrounded by bodyguards. He was leaning back, laughing at some joke, completely unaware of the predator closing in.

Blitzø's movements were precise. He navigated the crowd, his hands brushing past his coat as he mapped out the best approach. A waiter passed by, and Blitzø grabbed a glass of champagne, blending seamlessly into the atmosphere.