Dancing With Fire - Chapter 2
#2 of Dancing With Fire Act 1 - The Kindling Ignites
*Arf arf arf arf arf arf arf!*
Loona rolled her eyes as the doggie phone at her desk sprang to life. Reluctantly, she put down her smartphone and picked up the receiver. "Hello, I.M.P. This is Loona speaking," she droned.
"Ah yes, good morning, Miss Loona. Would you be so kind as to patch me through to your manager, Blitzø? I have a job for your company," rumbled the rich, deep voice on the other end.
Loona pulled the receiver away just far enough to let out an annoyed huff before responding with the same bored monotone. "Blitzø is not available over the phone, but I would be happy to take down the details of your target. We will call you back to arrange an in-person appointment."
"It is very kind of you to offer to take a message, Miss Loona, but I am afraid that this is a pressing matter. I am Lord Harper, and I wish to speak to the proprietor of I.M.P. to arrange a contract."
The Hellhound's eyes widened, then narrowed. A smirk twisted across her muzzle. "Lord Harper, huh? Yeah I heard of you. The big bad construction baron who built the Imp City skyline? Yeah, nice try dipshit. Blitzø gets enough prank calls on his cell phone without me letting every fuckhead pretending to be an Overlord through to bother him."
There was a pause on the other line, before the caller continued. "I assure you, Miss Loona, this is no practical joke. If I may speak with Mr. Blitzø, I would be most-"
"Yeah no, how about you come down here and eat my ass? Cut the bullshit, get on your knees, and choke on my entire ass!" she said, a snarl creeping into her voice.
"Miss Loona, plea-" the Hellhound hung up before he could continue.
Harper stared incredulously at his phone. It had been well over a century since a demon had spoken to him like that, and he was struggling to process the brazenness of the woman's dismissal.
His webbed earfins perked up at the sound of snickering. "What's so funny?" he growled at Drek, who was struggling to contain his laughter.
"Forgive me, sir," said the imp after regaining his composure, "Even I was unprepared for you of all demons to receive such a rude response. It makes for a wonderful first impression of the company, does it not?"
Harper frowned. "Indeed it does," he grunted, "Few talk to me like that and live to see the day after."
"I suggest we forget this I.M.P. folly, sir. As novel as the service they claim to offer is, it is a waste of time."
"Nonsense, Drek," said Harper, that playful smile returning, "You've already cleared my afternoon for today, and I am certain that the unpleasantness with the receptionist was a simple misunderstanding. Have the limo ready after lunch. We are going to pay them a visit in person." The smile slowly faded and hardened, "Whether they are expecting me or not."
Later that day, at I.M.P. Headquarters, the owner was having a less than stellar day. He paced back and forth in his office, tail swishing irritably as he resisted the urge to chuck his phone out the window.
"Stolas, I swear to the God that has forsaken us," he growled through gritted teeth, "I. Am. Too. Busy. For. This. *Bullshit *."
"Oh Blitzy~" cooed the owl demon on the other end, "I just love how tough you act when you're angry. Mmmm, keep talking tough to me."
"Can it, bitch!" snapped Blitzø, "We got a deal. I come to your place and fuck your birdbrains out once a month, and once a month only. I don't care how fucking horny you are; I am not gonna drop everything several times a week just so you can have phone sex."
"Ahhhhh~" the absolutely pornographic moan Stolas let out sent a shiver down the imp's spine, "Yes, I am such a naughty demon. Teach me a lesson for interrupting your busy work. Mmmmh, tell me all the things you're going to do to me."
"Fucking Christ on a cracker," Blitzø grumbled, "Look I gotta go, so unless there's anything really important you want to discuss that does not involve my dick, ass, or any other part of me, I'm gonna hang up."
"Oh! Before you do," cooed Stolas, "Be sure to check Voxtagram later. I DMed you a little something."
"Is it another closeup picture of your butthole?"
"Maybe~"
"Ugh, whatever. See you when the moon's full." Blitzø ended the call. He breathed a sigh of relief that Stolas hadn't started on one of his graphic tirades. Otherwise he definitely would have chucked his phone out the window, and then he'd have to dip into company funds again to replace it.
Blitzø took a moment to adjust his long, tattered coat before striding out of his office and towards the conference room. Husband and wife duo Millie and Moxxie were already waiting for him.
"Sorry that took so long, folks," he said, "Got tied up on a call."
"Stolas?" Millie asked sympathetically.
"Stolas," Blitzø confirmed. "Thirsty bastard is really pushing it. He always gets like this when the full moon is coming up." He took a seat at the head of the table and shuffled the papers stacked on it. Most were blank, though a few of them had crude stick drawings resembling Blitzø on a horse, and others resembling all three imps together.
"Alright!" Blitzø said as Loona sauntered in, "Now that everyone's here, we can get down to business. So, ah, revenue's picked up a little. We got a few new clients, and that Spring Break Sale got us enough money to run our commercial on more channels. Though we would have more business had somebody not insisted we run it on Channel 666. Seriously, what kind of nerd watches that shit?"
Moxxie stood up, his white hair bristling in indignation. "For your information, sir," he said icily, "Channel 666 is the largest network in Hell. As lackluster as your commercial is, I bought the ad space on the channel most people watch."
"Well if you'd have just listened to me even more people would have seen it!" Blitzø fired back.
A grinding sound filled the air. It appeared to be Moxxie's teeth. "Sir, for the last time. NOBODY watches the Your Pretty Horsie Marathon channel! It's just a non-stop loop of badly-drawn toy commercials disguised as cartoons."
"Well I do, and I think Your Pretty Horsie is a timeless work of art."
"YOU DON'T COUNT!!!"
Loona glanced up from her phone at Millie. "And they're off," she quipped. Millie rolled her eyes and nodded. She scooted closer to Moxxie and put a hand on his shoulder, but he was already on a roll, and Blitzø was only stirring the pot.
"Did you even look at the channel ratings, sir???"
"I don't need to," Blitzø crowed, "Folks in Hell aren't all uncultured bottomfeeders like you, Mr. Fake News."
Moxxie's face flushed, and his tiny body quivered. "Uncultured?! You...I...but..." The little imp's face flushed, and his eyes bulged. A prominent vein throbbed in his forehead.
Before Moxxie could explode, Loona set her phone down and came to the rescue. "Heyyyy, so I got this hilarious prank call before the meeting." That got Blitzø and Moxxie's attention away from each other. The Hellhound continued, "Some loser called pretending to be Harper. Acted like he had this big job for us and it was really important he talk to Blitzø."
There was a long silence, suddenly broken by uproarious laughter from all four demons. It took several seconds for them to settle down. More importantly, it had interrupted a potential brawl.
"Ho-holy shi-hit!" Blitzø said between gasps. "That's the best one yet. The Builder Baron himself wants to hire three imps and a Hellhound for something? Ohhhh fuck that's funny."
"I know right?" Loona said with one last chuckle, "So yeah I told that dickshit to eat my ass."
"Atta girl, Loonie! That's how you talk to liars." Blitzø left his seat and spread his arms out for a hug. Loona ignored him.
Unfazed, Blitzø continued down the agenda for the meeting. Just as he was dismissing the crew, he stopped Moxxie. "Hey Mox, before you go, I just wanna say I accept your apology."
Moxxie turned and raised an eyebrow. "You what?"
"Your apology for not being able to appreciate true art. I get it. Really I do. To be fair, you need to have a very high IQ to understand Your Pretty Horsie."
"W-why you...you-" Moxxie's brow furrowed. He was stopped mid-retort by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his wife looking at him with a pleading expression.
The imp took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Thank you sir," he grumbled, "I suppose I just don't understand it the way you do."
"That's what I like to hear," Blitzø chirped. He then reached into his coat and pulled out a small, brightly-colored plastic pony. He set it on the table in front of Moxxie and pointed to it. "Now kiss Q-Tip and make up."
"YOU DEMENTED SON OF A-"
"-bitch," said Drek, prompting a glare from Harper.
"Drek, remember what I told you about using that sort of language?" he said.
"Tis tame in comparison to the language she used with you, sir," Drek coolly responded.
Harper only chuckled, then leaned forward in his seat to pat the knee of the imp sitting across from him. The limo swerved suddenly, nearly sending the dragon sprawling onto the floor.
"Gah! Careful, Bainbridge, you almost made me crush my valet!" he exclaimed.
"Sorry, m'lord," called the chauffeur from the front of the vehicle. "A jaywalker stepped into the road."
"That is what the cowcatcher is for," grumbled Harper as he got back into his seat. "Now where was I? Ah yes," he gestured to Drek. "It pleases me you are so quick to defend my honor, and it is one of my favorite things about you. However, I do not believe your ire will be necessary for long. As soon as I arrive at their office, they will see that it was all a silly misunderstanding."
Drek settled back, having been knocked off balance himself. "That's very generous of you, Mr. Harper," he said.
"Hardly," replied the dragon, "An Overlord must pick battles wisely, and ideally is above bringing wrath down on those who are so low as to escape our gaze. Had a Kingpin or one of my employees spoken to me in this way, that would be a different matter. But in the grand scheme of things, one strange Hellhound not realizing to whom she was speaking is insignificant."
That playful smile reemerged. "However, that isn't to say I won't have a little bit of fun when I pay them a visit."
Minutes later, Harper's limo pulled into the parking lot beside the decrepit, horned skyscraper that I.M.P. called home. The draconic Overlord stepped out with his imp in tow. He took a moment to regard the building.
"Not very promising, is it Mr. Harper?" Drek groused.
"Indeed not," Harper agreed, "I remember this is one of my former competitors' buildings, before I bought out their office. Definitely needs some extensive renovation. Hmm, might have to look into the current owner, see if they'd be willing to talk." Even as he spoke, Drek was dutifully entering it into his PDA.
Without further ado, Drek took the lead into the building and up the stairs to the second floor. Harper noted that the interior was every bit as unimpressive as the exterior. Finally, they reached a worn office door with "I.M.P. Headquarters" crudely scrawled across the upper half.
Loona was sitting at the front desk browsing Voxtagram as usual when she heard the door creak open. She glanced up from the computer to see a well-dressed imp. "Welcome to I.M.P., how can I help you today?" she recited unenthusiastically.
"Ah, you must be Loona," Drek said with a smirk. "It is not me you'll be helping, but my employer."
The Hellhound glanced past Drek to see a massive dragon with burnt red scales in a tasteful two-piece suit and overcoat duck under the door frame to squeeze into the waiting room. Her eyes almost bugged out of her head. "No way..." she murmured.
The dragon demon's face was unreadable as he stepped past Drek and right up to the front desk. Loona's ears drooped, and she sank out of her seat to hide behind the furniture in a futile gesture.
"Now then," said Harper, he looked down to his hands as he slowly and deliberately pulled off his dark leather gloves one finger at a time. "What was this about me 'eating your ass?'"