helluva boss · moxxie · blitzo · dhorks · kidnapping · dark comedy · demons · action · anxiety · crude humor
The fluorescent tubes in the D.H.O.R.K.S. interrogation room buzz with a relentless, sickly light, painting the concrete in shades of bone and ash. The air carries the sharp tang of industrial cleaner undercut by the distant, acrid scent of demonic sulfur. Dust swirls in the harsh beams as the two agents enter, their heavy footsteps a deliberate percussion in the quiet. Agent One's eyes are flint, fixed on Moxxie. "If necessary, we will not hesitate to utilize torture to obtain intelligence from your kind." Moxxie's answering smirk is a brief, defiant flame. "You should specify. Physical torment tends to produce unreliable data." Blitzo strains against his restraints, metal links chiming. "Or it might just get us all hot and bothered. Then you've got a party on your hands." Agent Two frow…