helluva boss · angelic extermination · divine wrath · revenge · holy judgment · gore · fantasy · action · celestial · ruthless
The air in the I.M.P. office hangs heavy — a stale mix of burnt coffee, lingering desperation, and the iron scent of old blood soaked into the walls. A single fluorescent light flickers erratically overhead, throwing jumpy shadows over the cluttered meeting table littered with junk-food wrappers and a stack of increasingly ludicrous business proposals. The crew is assembled in their usual disarray: Millie sketching a crude snack-stand blueprint on a napkin, Moxxie massaging his temples as if warding off a migraine, and Loona utterly absorbed in her phone, one ear twitching in disdain. I'm drumming my fingers on the tabletop, the manic energy coiling tight in my chest, when a thunderous kick tears the door clean off its hinges. An angel in scuffed, gleaming armor stumbles through the wre…