Helluva Psionic

The dreamscape stretched out endlessly before Red, a battlefield that had grown dull. He was a victim of his success and bullied the nightmare creatures from beyond the material world until they started sandbagging him. It wasn't his fault he did what anyone else could have done. At the start, there were forty of them, and Red was the only one left. He trained to master his power while the others, far more gifted and powerful than himself, chose different pursuits. Whether it was crafting their own companions or cities, they failed to focus on their greatest asset: themselves. All of them died, leaving himself to fight a foe with no interest in killing him. The broken landscapes flickered and shifted, replaying fragments of battles he'd fought repeatedly. None of them were a challenge anymore. The only explanation was they had won, leaving him to pick off last. It had to be why the enemies in this place were nothing more than shadows of his past, conjured by his mind and obliterated quickly. With enough time, Red would break down and lose. That was the only way he could see this ending.

He sidestepped another phantom sword strike, his psionic abilities crackling at his fingertips as he effortlessly punched through the nightmare form of an elf warrior. It was all spiked armor and impossibly sharp spears, but a blow from Red crumpled the metal and the Elf's chest. The figure burst into fragments of psionic energy to be recycled by the enemy, just like all the others. His war against the nightmare realm had become training something routine, a monotonous grind. No matter how many times he fought, nothing changed.

In the end, before the facility was overrun by nightmare-possessed artificial soldiers created from human DNA mixed with that of the native elves, Red pulled his physical body into the dream and merged with it. His only weakness was gone, and it didn't matter; the world was ruined by the endless numbers of nightmare soldiers spewing from the facility.

Red held the line only to spite them. While he fought, the nightmares were limited in the number of soldiers they could possess. If it were the others, they would have crafted soldiers to fight beside them, strongholds to break the enemy's teeth, or found a way to attack the Dragon of Nightmares in its lair. He was a failure. He could only hold the line endlessly until the sun went out.

"Another day, another dollar," Red muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The dreamscape responded with more opponents—this time, a multi-headed dragon lumbered into view. Red sighed, rolling his eyes at the predictable display. Even the horrors corrupting his room in the dream realm had lost their edge. The once nightmarish figures now felt like background noise to his relentless pursuit of power.

He flipped the great beast off and rose off the ground. Red had long mastered lifting multiple objects and himself without reducing his organs to paste.

"All that power and you use the worst form to duel with." Red taunted, launching a psionic blast into one of the dragon's heads.

Training was his obsession. What did that say when the war he had trained for became just as routine as the training? Red was comfortable fighting endless armies of enemies. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. But what else was there to do? Leave the dream realm and work with the elves to save their world from the forces they summoned.

Red had his principles; he wouldn't save the people who damned him to decades of solitude. Even if he summoned a companion from the Ayther, it would only die in battle or be corrupted.

Dying wasn't an option. It wasn't like he could stop. The alternative was... well, better not to think about that. He would not be corrupted.

Just as Red dispatched the latest threat, the dreamscape flickered. For a split second, he thought it was another glitch — just the unstable nature of the matter, dream, and nightmare realms meeting. But then, a figure appeared, entirely out of place.

A minor demon with red skin and black and white horns with a grin plastered across his face strolled into view.

"Well, this is a freaky place," the demon said, seemingly unfazed by the surreal landscape around him.

Red froze. This was new. He narrowed his eyes, fists still glowing with residual psionic energy. "What the hell?"

The demon waved casually. "Hiya! Name's Blitzo — that's Blitz-o; by the way, the o is silent."

Red stared at him, not lowering his guard. "Great. A talking horse."

Blitzo looked offended, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "Excuse you, I'm a demon, not some awesome My Little Pony superstar."

"Same difference," Red muttered, shaking his head as he turned away, ready to focus on his next target. He wouldn't waste time on whatever trick his mind had cooked up.

Blitzo wasn't so easily dismissed. "Oh, come on, buddy. I'm not just some figment of your weird subconscious. I'm real, and I'm here to help!" He strolled through the dreamscape like he owned the place.

"You see, a friend of yours paid big bucks to get you out of this little pocket dimension you've been trapped in since the 80s."

"I must look ancient," Red said.

"Not a day over 105, but how do you look so young? Do you have a spa around here? I've been looking for a place to take my daughter for a little father-daughter time."

"I think there is a lake of acid spilled from some dragon's gut I sliced open a few years ago. Go jump in the water's fine." Red said.

"Hey, now I'm here to help. I'm going to get you out of here."

Red shot him a skeptical look. "Help me? Right. You and every other nightmare creature I've fought here. What's your angle, demon?"

Blitzo flashed a toothy grin, all charm. "Oh, you know, just your friendly neighborhood imp offering a way out of this delightful little nightmare. Figured you'd had enough fun playing 'Punch the Elf' by now."

He glanced at the pyramid of skulls he had been building with elves with silver hair. It was almost as tall as the tremendous blonde skull pyramid. The new one was built so he could go inside and check out the sights, namely the ridiculous number of skulls he'd been collecting. Nightmare soldiers were possessed genetically engineered clones between humans and elves. They were strong and far more talented than Red ever was. His experience overwhelmed them long before they could use their talents.

Red hesitated, studying the demon. Something about him felt different — not like the other dream figures. He felt... real. Suppose that were the case, he could finally escape. The elves had decades to prepare for this war. He did his time. But demons weren't exactly known for their altruism.

"And what's in it for you?" Red asked, his tone sharp.

Blitzo shrugged, giving a casual wave. "Eh, I like collecting favors. Plus, you seem like the type who could handle themselves in Hell. And trust me, you'd be way more fun down there than stuck in this mind-numbing snooze fest."

Red's eyes narrowed. "Hell?"

Blitzo nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! I can get you out of here, pal. Real-world, real enemies, real fun. What do you say? Or, you know, you could stay here and keep fighting imaginary elf soldiers forever. Your call."

Freedom after so long sounded too good to be true. But if he dared to dream, maybe.

Red crossed his arms, thinking it over. As much as he hated to admit it, Blitzo had a point. He'd grown tired of this place. His obsession with training could only take him so far in a dreamscape filled with fake enemies. If this demon was offering a way out — a real challenge — it might be precisely what he needed.

"Fine," Red said, at last, his expression hard. "I'm in."

Blitzo's grin widened, and he snapped his fingers. "Excellent choice! Let's blow this popsicle stand."

The air around them shimmered, warping as Blitzo opened a swirling portal in the fabric of the dreamscape. Red watched as the landscape he'd been trapped in for so long started to dissolve. Doubt flickered in his mind for a moment, but he quickly pushed it aside. This was his chance.

"Just don't drag me into a circus or something," Red muttered as he stepped toward the portal.

Blitzo chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. Hell's way more exciting than a circus."

With that, Red stepped through the portal, leaving the dreamscape behind.

…

Blitzo's POV

Blitzo couldn't help but chuckle as he and Red stepped through the portal and landed in the middle of Imp City, Hell's lovely little slice of chaos. The heat and noise hit them instantly — streets filled with demons of all shapes and sizes, some fighting, others doing their every day, probably murderous business. It was loud, it was hot, and it was home.

Red, to his credit, didn't even flinch. Most humans would be screaming their heads off or passing out from shock the moment they saw Hell in all its fiery glory. Not this guy. No, he just took it all in with that same deadpan stare.

"So, this is Hell," Red said, his tone flat.

Blitzo puffed out his chest with pride. "Yep! Welcome to the big leagues, kid. And you're welcome, by the way. Not every day you get personally escorted by Hell's best imp."

Red raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Greatest? Fire, demons, and screaming souls. Exactly how I imagined it."

Blitzo chuckled, patting Red on the back. "Don't worry, Red. You'll get used to it. Trust me, this place has all the excitement you're looking for. Plus, I feel you're going to fit right in."

Red shot him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. "Sure."

They walked through the bustling streets, dodging the occasional explosion or brawl. The chaos was just part of life here, and Blitzo had to admit, it was fun showing this human around. Red had skills — no doubt about it — and with some work, he could be a real asset to I.M.P. Blitzo didn't need to sell him on that yet—one thing at a time.

"So," Red said after a while, "why'd you bring me here?"

Blitzo flashed another grin. "Simple. You're a heavy hitter and owe me a great deal, so you're a perfect new employee. It was this or making cash for me at the local glory hole."

Red gave him a look, clearly not a fan of the whole 'owing favors' thing. But hey, what did he expect? A free ride? This was Hell.

"Besides," Blitzo added, "you'll love my team. They're a really fun bunch besides Moxxie. He's a bit of a beta bitch."

Red didn't seem convinced, but he wasn't arguing either. That was a start.

As they approached the I.M.P. office, Blitzo couldn't help but

Blitzo felt a twinge of excitement. Sure, Red wasn't exactly a bundle of joy, but there was something about his quiet intensity and sarcastic jabs that felt like the perfect addition to the chaos that was I.M.P. Plus, the guy could hold his own in a fight. He had skills, and Hell was full of people—well, demons—who appreciated that.

As they reached the entrance to the office, Blitzo couldn't help but flash a grin over his shoulder. "This is where the magic happens."

Red raised an eyebrow, taking in the shabby-looking building, its neon sign flickering with the words "Immediate Murder Professionals." It wasn't exactly a glowing endorsement for Hell's finest, but then again, Blitzo wasn't known for his attention to details like cleanliness or professionalism.

"This is it?" Red asked, his tone deadpan.

Blitzo waved his hand dismissively. "Don't let the appearance fool you. We've got a killer business going here." He winked. "Literally."

Red didn't seem amused, but Blitzo didn't expect him to be. The guy's sense of humor seemed locked somewhere between "I'll punch you if you get close" and "I'm bored of everything." Perfect straight man material. Blitzo couldn't wait to introduce him to the others.

Blitzo swung open the door, leading Red inside. The familiar chaos of the office greeted them—papers scattered across desks, random weapons lying around, and a half-empty bottle of booze on one of the tables. From the back, Blitzo could hear Moxxie and Millie arguing about something, and Loona, as usual, was behind the reception desk, staring at her phone with a scowl.

Blitzo gestured broadly. "Welcome to I.M.P.! Home of the finest assassins in all of Hell. You're looking at a well-oiled killing machine." He paused as Loona let out a groan from behind her desk. "Uh, most of the time."

Red's eyes flicked to Loona, who glanced up, giving him a half-hearted glare before going back to scrolling through sinstagram. Red's face remained unreadable, but Blitzo could tell he was sizing everyone up. He wasn't the kind to make judgments out loud, but his gaze said it all—he was constantly calculating, probably trying to figure out if any of them were worth his time. The guy was such a straight-lace, serious type. The halos would probably love him or hate his guts.

"So," Red said slowly, his voice dry, "this is your crack team of assassins?"

Blitzo puffed up his chest, determined to sell this ragtag group as best as possible. "Oh, yeah. We may look like dysfunctional psychopaths, but we get the job done. And now, with you on board, we're practically unstoppable!"

Loona rolled her eyes from behind her desk. "Did you drag another idiot into your mess, Blitzo?" Loona glanced up. "Wait, are you a human? Blitzo, we could get in trouble for this."

"It's fine. That guy hired us, and we'll be in the black for a while, so Loona, I'm going to take you out horseback riding."

Loona groaned.

Blitzo ignored her, leaning in conspiratorially to Red. "Don't mind her. Loona's my receptionist-slash-adopted daughter. She's got a bit of an attitude, but deep down, she's a total softie."

Red shot him a look that said he wasn't buying it. Loona, clearly overhearing, narrowed her eyes and muttered, "I'm right here, you know."

Blitzo threw up his hands. "See? Softie." He clapped Red on the back. "Anyway, you'll fit right in. Think of this as your new home away from the Elf world and whatever nightmare realm you were stuck in."

Red gave the office one sweeping glance before settling his gaze back on Blitzo. "So, what's the catch?"

Blitzo blinked. "Catch? No catch! You owe me a favor, and in return, you get to help us with some good old-fashioned murder-for-hire jobs. Simple, right?"

Red's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're a demon. There's always a catch."

Blitzo grinned. "Well, yeah. But that's the fun part."

Red exhaled, clearly weighing his options. He wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the idea of staying, but then again, what else did he have? Hell might have been a fiery pit of chaos, but it was also filled with opportunities. Opportunities to push himself further, face real challenges, and—whether he'd admit it or not—escape the monotony of endless training.

"Fine," Red said, at last, his voice low. "I'll stick around. For now."

Blitzo pumped his fist in the air, triumphant. "That's the spirit! Stick with me, Red, and you'll see that Hell has much more to offer than fire and brimstone. Trust me, we're gonna have a hell of a time."

As they made their way deeper into the office, the door swung shut behind them, leaving the chaos of Hell outside as Blitzo mentally plotted all the ways he could put Red's skills to use.

One thing was for sure—this was the start of something big. And Blitzo, for one, couldn't wait to see how it all played out.

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