Max and Loona emerged from a swirl of black-violet shadow into the familiar, grungy lobby of I.M.P. Headquarters. The transition left behind a faint smell of ozone and burnt feathers that slowly dissipated into the already questionable air quality of the office.
The first thing Max noticed was the sound.
Metal scraping softly against metal. The rhythmic click of a magazine being loaded. The unmistakable scent of gun oil mixed with cheap coffee.
Millie and Moxxie were curled together on the couch like a picture-perfect couple—if that picture had been taken in an armory. Millie sat sideways in Moxxie's lap, cheerfully polishing a blood-stained combat knife with a cloth while Moxxie meticulously cleaned a rifle, humming under his breath. Their heads leaned together, comfortable, affectionate, terrifying.
"Aw," Loona muttered flatly. "Gun couple again."
Millie looked up first, eyes lighting up. "Oh! Hey Loona! Hey Max!"
Loona barely had time to step toward her reception chair before Blitzø launched himself across the room like a screaming missile.
"LOOOOOOONA—!!! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU, I TEXTED YOU THIRTY TIMES—"
"GET OFF ME!" Loona snarled, bracing herself and stiff-arming him mid-tackle. Blitzø bounced off with a surprised yelp and hit the wall in an undignified sprawl. Loona dropped into her chair with an exhausted sigh, boots up on the desk like nothing had happened.
Max sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Every time. Every single time."
Millie's eyes flicked back to Max—and immediately widened.
"Sugar…?" she said slowly, standing up. "What happened to your arm?"
Max glanced down at the neatly bandaged stump like he'd almost forgotten it was there. "Ah. That." He offered an awkward half-smile. "Few demons got their hands on angelic weapons. Should grow back in about a week."
Millie's jaw dropped. "A WEEK?!"
"Give or take," Max shrugged. "Depends how much magic I burn in the meantime."
"Damn," Blitzø muttered from the floor as he sat up, rubbing his head. "If I was lucky, they would've finished the job."
Loona didn't even look at him. She just kicked him—hard—right in the ribs.
"ACK—FUCK—WHAT THE HELL, LOONA?!"
"That was for the comment," she snapped. "And this is for thinking it."
She kicked him again.
Max watched the exchange with the tired patience of someone who had long since accepted this was his life now.
"I still don't understand why you despise me so much," Max said mildly as he took a seat near the table.
"You took my Loona," Blitzø hissed, climbing to his feet and jabbing a finger at Max's chest. "That's all the explanation you get!"
"Correction," Loona said without looking up from her phone. "I left you."
Blitzø deflated slightly. Then immediately perked back up.
"ANYWAY—!" he barked. "We got a JOB. Before the Harvest Moon Festival tomorrow. Chop-chop, lovers."
Max raised a brow. "I'm not an Overlord."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Blitzø waved dismissively. "Mr. Fancy Power Guy. Come on."
They filed into the meeting room. Blitzø slammed a battered folder onto the table and launched into one of his famously overcomplicated briefings, complete with wildly inaccurate hand-drawn diagrams.
"So we sneak in through here—no, HERE—then we stab her, shoot her, explode something for flavor, and get out before the humans start screaming about ghosts again!"
"That plan makes no tactical sense," Moxxie snapped. "Why would we—"
"Because it's FUN, Moxx!" Millie cheered.
Loona leaned back in her chair, scrolling on her phone.
Max's phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
Loona: "Tell Blitzø to eat shit."Loona: "Also you look cute today."Loona: "Also wtf why are you reading this now instead of paying attention."
Max smirked and typed back one-handed.
Max: "Multitasking."
"Everyone understand the plan?!" Blitzø barked.
"Yep," Max said lazily. "Same as always. Find target. Kill discreetly. Leave before humans notice anything paranormal."
Blitzø grinned like he'd just been validated by God himself. He tossed a small metal case at Max.
Max barely managed to catch it with his left hand. "Careful! One arm, remember?"
Inside was a pristine Desert Eagle and three loaded magazines.
"Thank Satan," Max muttered. "I'm not supposed to use flashy powers topside unless I want Heaven sniffing around."
"Yeah, well now you have no excuse to fuck up," Blitzø said. "Cost's coming out of your pay."
"We get paid?" Max blinked.
"We don't get paid enough," Moxxie muttered.
Max picked up the pistol and let a thin pulse of shadow-energy flow through it. The gun twisted in his grip, metal warping into black-and-red obsidian. A suppressor formed seamlessly. The grip reshaped perfectly to his hand.
"Now that's my style," Max said, sliding it into his shadow.
Blitzø stared in offended awe. "SHOW-OFF."
Loona opened the portal.
Max leaned in to kiss her cheek—but Blitzø grabbed him by the collar and hurled him through the portal like a carnival prize.
"POWER OF LOVE, BITCH!" Blitzø shouted, diving in after him.
Human World – New Jersey
They tumbled out into a grimy alleyway under harsh midday sunlight. Max coughed, shielding his eyes as the brightness stabbed into his senses.
"How the hell did you even do that?" Max rasped at Blitzø. "Last time you tried that you nearly dislocated your shoulder."
"POWER. OF. LOVE," Blitzø repeated smugly.
Max took a step forward—then stopped dead.
His pupils shrank. His tail fur spiked violently beneath his illusion.
"…Venit Street," he whispered.
Blitzø flipped open the folder. "Target's Lisa Vancová. Tragic love story. Guy she loved got killed running from a gang she married into."
Max's breath hitched.
"Fuck."
He swallowed hard, shifting fully into his human disguise.
Blitzø glanced at him, unimpressed. "Alright, sad boy. Let's go kill your ex or whatever."
Max didn't correct him.
He couldn't.
And they walked toward Venit Street—where Max's past waited, bleeding into his present.