"Goodbye Curly Head"

"Killer Queen"

Wherever they went, death followed suit. With an army of faceless devils by their side, a sea of lost souls at their very disposal, no obstacle stood in the way of the dark tide. Losing comrades by the dozens, under the harsh conditions, the hails of bolts and arts born from a deadly disease, hellfire of sorrows, stained steel of mighty blades and many, many more. The one, single constant, numbering a certain four remained as unmoving and stable as ever throughout this endless march towards a goal so vastly different between them all. A troupe of mad puppets, keeping the reaper’s pain monopoly going.

Such were the months spent amongst these hellish rejects, always split into two groups, a case of “us and them” all over again. The familiar and the unknown - a few somewhat friendly faces amidst the ocean of masked brutes. Not to say that the lousy quartet’s relations were all perfect either, but…

… At least they were getting along. Somewhat.

Andy woke up early, yawning and stretching in his tent. Another day, another job, another pile of bullshit to put up with. He turned to grab his goods and chattels, letting the grogginess seep from his eyes. There it was, right by the entrance - a little, pink box, with a bright red ribbon wrapped around it. Cute.

His half awake mind didn’t even bother engaging any self-preservation protocols, simply letting him pick the gift up and shake it. It rattled alluringly.

A glint of childish joy spawned in his eyes, washing the remnants of the night’s embrace away. A gift! For him and only him.

The ribbon came apart, landing gently by his side. His slim, slender fingers grasped the lid and popped it open.

An ear shattering explosion shook the tent and sent his heart rate skyrocketing. A light as bright as the sun itself filled his sight, blinding him completely. A wild, uneven ringing filled his head, setting off every alarm and fight or flight response. He recoiled backwards, covering himself in shock and genuine fear. Once the light finally gave up, letting his eyes free, he turned back towards the source of all this mess. There was a small piece of smoldering metal inside, along with a sticky note. 

“The FLASHIEST of wishes for the not so bright~!”

Signed with a crude drawing of a smiley face with X’s over its eyes. Andy felt his blood bubbling within his veins as his breathing slowly started to stabilize. He grasped his shirt. Still alive. His fingers were still here. Everything was fine.

Outside the tent, sprawled across a black box of munitions sat the perp, wheezing and slapping her knees. A sight so common these past few weeks. Something about that wide, sarcastic grin, about those orange eyes, almost squeezed shut, about how her tail swished through the air behind her, was so weirdly alluring. Despite his completely dazed and shocked state, Andy knew that he had to get closer to her. Closer to that devilishly charming face, those rosy cheeks and pale lips. Right this instant. 

“Enjoyed my little gift, Ricketts? Picked it out just for you, you should’ve been on the ground by now, rolling around and thanking me for… What? What got your panties all in a twist, wh-...?”

W didn’t even get to finish as Andy cocked his arm back and slammed his fist as hard as he could into that complacent mug of hers. She flew back and landed on the ground, clutching her nose.

“Tch… Motherfu-...”

As she tried to get up, another blow rained down upon her smirking face, sending her plummeting to the ground. Andy seized the opportunity and jumped atop the fiend, preparing to turn her facade into mush. To rip those pretty eyes from their sockets, to crush those cute fangs into a fine powder, to draw blood and let it give some color to her ever so pale cheeks. To break and squash that small nose of hers, to rip those snow-white curtains of luscious hair from her head and shove them down her throat. To turn that pretty face to a pile of bloody devil puree, to stop only when his arms finally give out.