Barnaby explained to Blitzo. "The reason why I stolen your cuff is because I am looking for a way to get back to Earth. You're aware of the zombie apocalypse and how serious it is. I was planning on leaving it here so Angle Dust could return it to you. You would have gotten in back." Charlie was giving everyone tea to soothe everyone's nerves. Vaggie was making sure nobody attacked anyone. Alastor was smiling as usual. "I am still human and I need to return to deal with the heavy problems up there."
"Oh, so you're a hero now? You steal my tech—which, by the way, is professional property—and your plan was to give it to the noodle-armed stripper to return it? Great plan, Barnaby. Flawless. I’m sure it wouldn’t have ended up in a pawn shop or... somewhere worse." Blitzo complained with his tail whipping.
"Look, Blitzo, I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m trying to be a survivor," Barnaby retorted, meeting Blitzo’s gaze even as his hands shook slightly. "The world I left is literally eating itself alive. If I don't get back with something to stop it, there won't even be a 'topside' for you to do business in anymore."
Marianna said, "Earth is not the way how you remember it. You cannot go hunting barnacle eggs with those big guns of yours." the orca demon nodded in agreement.
Blitzo scoffed, spinning his flintlock on his finger. "Barnacle eggs? Sweetheart, I don’t hunt breakfast. I hunt people who deserve it—and zombies? They don't have wallets, and they sure as hell don't have souls to reap."
Marianna stepped forward, her sleek, dark skin glistening under the hotel’s chandeliers. She crossed her arms, her presence as imposing as a crashing wave. "He's right, Barnaby. You’re thinking with your heart, not your head. The surface is a graveyard. You go back there with IMP's tech, and you’re just giving the undead a shiny new toy to chew on before they get to you."
Loona finally groaned, tossing her phone onto the sofa. "Can we stop the melodrama? If the fish-lady says it’s a suicide mission, it’s probably a suicide mission. But hey, if you wanna go get your brains eaten, be my guest. Just don’t expect us to come bail you out when you’re being chased by a horde of rotting seniors."
Charlie looked between Barnaby and Marianna, her eyes wide with worry. "Marianna has a point, Barnaby. If the situation is that dire... maybe we should look for a way to help you that doesn't involve you going back alone? Or at least, not without a plan that doesn't involve theft!"
Well, Shamu and his crew are coming. Captain Kid can guise himself as a lost human. Dolly, Shamu, Seymore, Virgil, Penny, and Pete, and O.P Otter will be in the water away from the infected. I should have my bases covered to get to the Briny Batch platoon."
Blitzo stared at Barnaby, his eye twitching as he processed the list of names. "Wait, wait, wait. Shamu? Like the big splashy whale from the postcards? And an otter? What is this, a daring rescue mission or a trip to the sea-life exhibit?"
Loona snickered, finally pocketing her phone. "Hey, at least the otter probably has better hygiene than you, Blitz."
"They are the Defenders of the Pacific." Barnaby explained. They are part of the solution to Earth's problems. If we can fend off the Void Currents and take care of the zombies, the world can be put back in order. I need to get to my platoon, let them know I am alright. Then they'll train me back up for investigations, rescues, and cleaning." Barnaby explained.
"Defenders of the Pacific, huh?" Blitzo leaned back, twirling his tail around his arm. "Sounds like a high-budget cartoon I’d watch while drunk, but if they're actually 'putting the world back in order,' that means more living humans. And more living humans means more future clients for I.M.P. It’s basically an investment in my own retirement."
Loona snorted, rolling her eyes. "Investigating, rescuing, and cleaning? Sounds like you're joining a supernatural janitorial service, Barnaby. But hey, if it gets you out of this lobby and back to your 'platoon,' I'm all for it."
Marianna cackled at Loona. "You are the funniest Hellhound I ever met! No, you mutt! Cleaning is just a euphemism for shooting and killing the zombies! Barnaby here was trained to hunt and eliminate the infected."
Loona bared her teeth, a low growl vibrating in her chest as her tail bristled. "Watch it, sushi-breath. I’m the only one here who’s actually been to Earth this week, and 'cleaning' usually involves a lot more guts than a mop bucket."
Blitzo barked a laugh, slapping his knee and pointing at Marianna. "See? This whale-lady gets it! 'Cleaning!' I love it. It sounds so professional, like a hitman with a feather duster. 'Oh, don't mind me, just tidying up this brain-eating Karen with a shotgun!'"
Barnaby groaned. "You don't understand, Blitzo. My childhood was ruined when my parents got infected and killed right before my eyes. I was rescued and I vowed to never rest until the plague ended. It lasted for years and is still ongoing."
Marianna asked, "But do you get paid and fed well?"
Barnaby sighed, "Yeah, cousin, I do get sheltered, the food in the mess hall is fine, and I do get good pay. Why'd you ask?"
Marianna said, "Just trying to make sure my little cousin is getting everything he needs."
Blitzo’s expression shifted from annoyance to a rare, albeit brief, moment of actual silence. He lowered his flintlock, his tail giving one final, sharp flick before settling.
"Ugh, the dead parent's 'vow of vengeance' trope," Blitzo muttered, though his tone lacked its usual bite. "Look, I get it. My childhood wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows either—more like fire and disappointment. If you’re getting paid and fed well by these Defenders, then you’re already doing better than most of the saps in this hotel."
Loona leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Barnaby. "A mess hall and a paycheck for killing things? You're basically a government-funded version of us, just with more... salt. And better dental, probably."
Marianna patted Barnaby’s shoulder with a heavy, damp hand, her grin returning. "See? I told you, he’s a professional! My little cousin is a big-shot hunter for the Pacific. If he says he needs to go back to lead his platoon, then he’s going back."
"Yeah, so I need to take the marine mammals with me and Captain Kid as he is the only other human. Unfortunately he is more of a sailor than a fighter so I will have to protect him on the road back. I will have to come up with a story, to explain my disappearance."
Blitzo rolled his eyes, his finger hovering over the remote to his portal. "Oh, classic. The 'mysterious disappearance' story. Just tell 'em you were at a very intense, very red, very sweaty retreat. It’s technically the truth."
Loona scoffed, finally looking up from her phone with a smirk. "Or just tell them you got kidnapped by a cult. With Charlie and Alastor around, that’s not even a lie."
Barnaby felt his phone ring. "Hello?" he asked.
"Finally, I reached you!" he heard a familiar voice say. "We heard about what happened and never found your body at the marine biology labs. Will you be able to come back?"
"Yes, Miss Salty." Barnaby replied.
Loona snorted, her tail giving a lazy wag. "See? Kidnapped by a cult. It works every time. Just tell 'Miss Salty' the 'High Priest' with the radio voice tried to eat your soul, but you're too much of a 'cleaning' professional to stay down."
Blitzo leaned over, trying to eavesdrop on the phone call, his face inches from Barnaby’s. "Who’s 'Miss Salty'? Is she the one who signs the checks? Because if she’s looking for more... specialized contractors to handle the 'messy' parts of the apocalypse, tell her I.M.P. offers a group discount for 'clearing out' the undead."
"Who is that on the phone?" Sally asked.
"Another survivor." Barnaby said.
"Well, bring him over." Sally said.
Barnaby glared at Blitzo. "Yes, whatever you say." he told Sally. She hung up. "What were you thinking Blitzo?"
Blitzo just grinned, completely unfazed by the glare, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I was thinking about market expansion, Barnaby! Business 101: Always be closing. And 'Sally' sounds like she’s got a budget and a problem—my two favorite things."
"Sally Salty is the one in charge of the Single Government in the world! Don't you know what she does to survivors who are strong enough?" Barnaby asked.
Blitzo paused, his grin faltering for a split second as he processed the words "Single Government."
"Wait, like... the only boss left?" Blitzo’s eyes widened, his tail giving a sharp, excited twitch. "That’s not a client, Barnaby, that’s a monopoly! If she's looking for 'strong survivors,' she’s looking for the best, and baby, you're looking at the CEO of I.M.P.! I'm practically overqualified."
"She is not looking for a boss, she is looking for recruiting people. You could get sent to the Barnacle Batch boot camp and train you to hunt the infected!" Barnaby said.
"Boot camp?!" Blitzo cackled, clutching his sides. "Barnaby, buddy, pal... I’m the one who gives the orders! I don't do 'drills,' and I definitely don't do 'push-ups' for some lady named after a crusty rock on a boat! I’m a professional assassin, not a recruit!"
Loona snorted, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "I’d pay to see that, actually. You, in a uniform, trying to take orders from a 'Single Government' lady. You’d last five minutes before you tried to shoot the drill sergeant for insulting your horse drawings."
"Yeah, you would not last a day in camp. Trust me, I had to toughen and harden up just to make it to the big leagues. It takes fierce determination to make it through. I'll have to explain to Miss Salty that Blitzo is just in need of rescuing and a place to stay, not someone to go fighting in the apocalypse."
Blitzo’s eye twitched so hard his entire face cramped. "Excuse me? 'In need of rescuing'? I’m the one with the guns, the portal, and the unmatched charisma, Barnaby! I don't 'stay' places; I grace them with my presence!"
Loona let out a bark of a laugh, doubling over. "Oh, please do it. Tell the scary world leader that Blitz is just a helpless, homeless little... whatever he is. I want to see the look on his face when he has to eat 'mess hall' mystery meat while the rest of us actually do the 'cleaning'."
Barnaby said sharply, "Alright, that settles it. Loona was not heard from Sally so she does not have to come. Blitzo will have to come because he couldn't help himself and deal with the fall out."
Blitzo’s jaw dropped, his tail standing straight up in indignation. "Wait, what?! Loona gets to stay here and scroll through Hell-stagram while I have to go play 'pathetic refugee' in a wet basement full of barnacles? That is ageism! That is... whatever the word is for being mean to bosses!"
"Well, at least Loona knows not to get in between conversations without drawing unwanted attention to herself." Barnaby said.
Loona didn't even look up from her phone, but she gave a sharp, one-handed middle finger to the air. "Yeah, yeah. Have fun playing dress-up with the Crusty Commander, Barnaby. I’ll be here actually enjoying my internal organs inside my body."
Blitzo let out a wounded gasp, clutching his chest. "Et tu, Loonie? My own flesh and blood—well, adopted hellhound—abandoning me to the 'Barnacle Batch'? Fine! I’ll go. I’ll be the most pitiful, rescued stray that woman has ever seen. I’ll make her want to start a charity for me!"
Vaggie stepped back, clearing a space in the middle of the lobby. "Enough. Barnaby’s right—if Loona’s not on the radar, keep it that way. One demon is hard enough to hide; two is an invitation for a dissection table."
Charlie nervously twisted her hands together, looking at the portal remote. "Okay! So, the plan is: Barnaby is the returning hero, and Blitzo is the... um... 'emotionally fragile' survivor he found in a ditch? It’s very dramatic! Very 'Redemption-adjacent'!"
Alastor leaned in close to Blitzo, his grin static-charged and wider than ever. "Do try to keep the whimpering at a believable frequency, won't you? Too much and she’ll think you’re rabid. Too little and she’ll think you’re... well, an assassin from the pit."
"One last thing, Blitzo. If Sally Salty asks why you're red, I'm telling her it's a severe chemical burn from the biology labs. That may postpone you being recruited. Got it?" Barnaby asked.
Blitzo winced, rubbing his arm as if he could already feel the phantom sting of a chemical fire. "Ooh, 'severe chemical burns.' Spicing up the backstory with some medical trauma? I love it! It’s gritty, it’s relatable, and it gives me a reason to moan and groan whenever I don't want to do something. Like, 'Oh, I’d love to help you with those barnacles, Sally, but my third-degree biology ouchies are acting up!'"
Loona snorted, finally looking up from her screen with a look of pure pity. "Just don't overact, Blitz. You’re supposed to be a victim, not a community theater reject. If you start fake-crying, she’ll probably just shoot you to put you out of your misery."
Barnaby nodded and said, "I'm heading to my room and getting ready. We leave tomorrow."
Once Barnaby left, Marianna walked towards Blitzo. "So, you were an assassin, eh? Don't you miss your job?" she gave Blitzo a coy smile.
Blitzo's ears perked up, and he immediately snapped out of his "pathetic victim" rehearsal, his usual cocky grin returning in an instant.
"Miss it? Honey, I am the job!" He spun his flintlock with practiced ease, holstering it with a flamboyant click. "Business is always booming in Hell, but a professional likes to keep his options open. Besides, 'assassin' is such a cold word. I prefer 'unauthorized life-ender' or 'high-velocity problem solver.'"
He leaned back against a hotel sofa, crossing his legs and looking Marianna up and down with a mix of curiosity and his typical bravado.
"Why do you ask, Shamu-lite? You looking to put out a hit on a particularly annoying seagull? Or are you just impressed by a guy who knows how to handle a long-range barrel?"
"If you join the bootcamp, you get to go hunting again! I worry about my human, living cousin. You can go and join the platoon and get well paid. Barnaby doesn't have to agree but you would make a valuable ally. Captain Kid is a guy who knows how to entertain small children and sail old fashioned boats. If you get past the boot camp, it would be like the good old days? Wouldn't it, Blitzy?" she leaned close to him and batted her eyebrows. "Sounds enticing, doesn't it?"
Blitzo's pupils dilated for a split second—the lure of "hunting" and "getting paid" was like catnip to a guy who usually spends his afternoons filing paperwork and dodging bills. He leaned back, his tail giving an interested little flick as Marianna's shadow loomed over him.
"Bootcamp, huh? High-stakes 'cleaning' with actual government funding?" Blitzo’s grin turned sharp, almost shark-like himself. "And I get to protect the 'human cousin' while some old-timey sailor plays sea shanties for toddlers? It’s basically I.M.P. but with better benefits and... probably less hellfire."
Loona snorted, finally looking up with a look of pure disbelief. "Blitz, she’s literally batting her eyelashes to get you to do manual labor. You're a sucker for a pretty face—even if it's a giant aquatic one."
"Who me? I am just offering a big strong man a chance to relive his dreams once more! It takes a lady to boost a guy's confidence." Marianna winked.
Blitzo practically preened, puffing out his chest so far he almost tipped over. "See, Loonie? The lady has taste! She recognizes a 'high-octane killing machine' when she sees one. Confidence? Honey, my confidence is so high it’s got its own zip code, but a little extra 'boost' from a gorgeous sea-devil never hurts!"
Loona let out a groan so loud it echoed off the hotel’s vaulted ceiling. "I’m going to go bleach my ears!"

End of Chapter