The Fixer 1 (Patreon)

The Fixer - or ‘When in Hell, behave like a Hellish (Small) Man’ (Helluva Boss, IMP!SI)

To be an Imp is not the same as being a human being.

If you have no family behind you, then you will be facing a rather high mortality chance due to the ruthless conditions of mid-poor districts in the Realm of Lucifer. I was technically recognized as an orphan, but I didn’t grow up in Hell.

Still, I had to ‘work my ass off’ to get to where I was and, while I wouldn’t say I was a ‘survivor’, I had to stab my way out of a lot of bad situations up to this point and… right now, those skills made me good at my job.

I.M.P. was an interesting concept. Not a new one because higher demons did take on tasks to kill mortals from time to time, but it was never done in the lens of a business. Especially one that was handled by a small group of Imps and a hellhound.

Today was, however, a very interesting day as…

“Our target is a child.”

My statement was met with a few slow nods. No one here in the business room was sure what the fuck was going on. Right near the door stood a small medical bed with some machineries connected to the little fella and… I was a bit perplexed.

“So, where’s the issue?” And I wasn’t trying to sound too harsh about this but… is it really a surprise nowadays for a child to become a target of someone that recently died in hell?

I mean, sure, it was morally off, but the business we were dealing with was not to make a judgment call on who is good and who is not.

“It’s a child, Jo’.” The only female Imp in the room reasoned, and I spared a flat look to her.

Millie was usually the ‘jovial Straight Man’, being a good match with her husband’s ‘neurotic Straight Man’ attitude in recent years. She was a ‘sweet gal’ from the Wrath Ring that was familiar with the harsh reality of having to handle things ‘by her own hands alone’ at times.

The Wrath Ring was, surprisingly enough, a more violent version of Texas, where murder was acceptable if you did the bare minimum needed to cover your traces. Considering the harsh competition, it was also a surprise that big families were common. Millie herself was the eldest in a swarm of implets still working at her family’s ranch.

“A target is a target, Mils.”

“W-Well, I am not sure that was… the right one,” Her husband argued nervously.

Moxxie was a good guy deep down despite his upbringing that he mentioned to me briefly. Out of all Imps I have known, being the first one I ever met due to my unique circumstances, I deeply respected the man for being ‘soft’ towards some instances, yet willing to snap and rebuke some of the worst responses coming at him.

“Like, really, Jojo. The whole point of this business is to get the right target so… Moxxie fucked up.”

Blitzo, the ‘o’ being silent, was more than happy to prey on Moxxie’s potential mess as he had a tendency to fuck over people like that. I wouldn’t say it was outright maliciousness as he hardly reacted as a ‘normal living being’. And yes, this extended to the standard Imp’s mindset.

As a guy born in a circus, forced to learn the cutthroat nature of his existence through his father and then bombing hard at his first efforts to be a comedy master… Blitzo is a case of fuck-up that was capable of surviving by being this intensely fucked-up.

…

“He did not.”

The response got most of the attention on me, the ‘Jojo Man’ of this situation. And yes, I did rename myself Jojo while I am here. John ain’t an Imp name after all.

“Oh, and how can you tell?” Blitzo asked, having long learned to not raise the voice around me for two reasons. First, I handled the business’ economy and, second, I ‘fixed’ problems if needed. If this was a legitimate fuck-up I would be called to clean the mess.

But… I think this is not the case.

Rather than speak up my own points, I proceeded to fish out the phone I had been browsing under the table through this conversation. The first moment I laid my eyes on the dying child, I decided to double check through a different meaning- I knew Loona, our secretary and bitchy hellhound, was doing that herself at the moment through our client, but I had access to a phone of the mortal realm and… Hell has Wi-Fi. I don’t know why, but it does.

Looking into the search results about the kid’s names, I learned he has a Youtube account and… he joked heavily about a bully’s house getting ‘burned up by a random fire’.

Yeah, the kid is an evil psychopath or worse.

I brought up the video, let it play and I saw the ‘dying kid’ tense up a bit at hearing his voice being played in his most recent video yet. I saw him slowly shift in an effort to descend the bed and then make a run for the door but…

“Blitzo, can you give me your special gun?”

“Uh? Why for? Giving me a little rub-”

“The real gun, please.”

I offered no restraint on the urgency and the guy shrugged before throwing the thing at me. I swiftly cocked the weapon at the back of the unaware child’s head and took a shot.

Bang! The kid is properly dead and-

“Holy shit,” Loona exclaimed. “The kid was our target… oh.”

She caught up just now what happened and everyone gave me a bit of an awkward look.

“Problem solved. And I guess we can skip to the main point of this meeting- the budget.”

Blitzo groaned, Loona focused harder on her phone the M&M couple was… fine with it, with Millie giddy because there was much to discuss about her request for new ‘toys’ for work.

In that sense, she referred to a couple dozen knives that she had been quite interested to get either as a ‘safe choice’ or because she had the chance to try out new tools of murder.

Moxxie had made two requests on guns, one about a new rapid-firing sniper rifle and another for a SMG. Both cases were accepted, with the couple happily checking the boxes I brought from the hall.

The bigger one for Millie due to the quantity of things she requested, and the ‘longer’ one for Moxxie due to the dimensions for the guns’ boxes. All in all, the real gripe for Blitzo was the expense on the income. We made enough this month for him to not complain but… money is money.

And he sure has a deep attachment to the gold he made from this sort of shit. Still, I was the one handling the money and the one that recognized how a good arsenal could present shitty issues from happening ever again.

Plus, he had nothing to whine about since he had asked for a fuckton of guns last month just for ‘shit and giggles’.

After the meeting was wrapped up and all math was delivered to the rest of the group on how much we needed to make the next month, I found myself walking back to my flat at the edge of the Pride Ring.

The place was overpopulated, so I had to pick a relatively small and a bit shitty place to call home. The saving grace was that I improved it a bit by adding magical grates by the windows and putting on a sturdy door at the entrance. No issues in regard to thieves and serial murderers passing by while I slept.

Right before I could enjoy some rest, however, I got a message from someone I was ‘fixing’ in the long run. After all, my business was not just with I.M.P. but also with the troubles that could indirectly screw my job.

In this case, a certain Bird Mama sent me a spicy pic with a caption attached to it.

This naughty girl misses you, daddy~.

I don’t know who has been feeding cheesy vocabulary for booty calls to Stella Goetia, but it has made me rather amused.

I turned a bit on my bed, pulled down my pants, got my cock hard and took a dick pic. Normally I wouldn’t do this but…

I think you meant ‘this slutty womb misses your big dick, daddy’. Will call you tomorrow as today was a tough day. Hope you like the reminder~.

I know this should be enough to put her to rest as she had enough material for solo masturbation.

I just needed some rest as… these next days were going to be intense.

—----d-d-d-d—------

AN

Jojo’s Impish Adventures feat. Bird MILF and more girls.