The Reader Fights and Attempts to Survive Against I.M.P Crewmembers from the Helluva Boss Series

In the seedy, supernatural depths of Hell, you had managed to attract the attention of the Immediate Murder Professionals (I.M.P). A hit had apparently been put out on your life for reasons best known to your detractors. As you rest your back against the blistering wall of your hiding place—a dingy motel room—you tighten your grip on your only weapon, a rusty blade. Sweat trickles down your face; the dry, grisly air of Hell does nothing to ease your anxiety. Suddenly, a crackling laughter echoes down the hallway, making your blood run colder. That would be Blitzo, no doubt about his insane style. He's the tall, lean demon with a flare for the theatrical, a manic grin perpetually plastered on his face. You ready yourself, clutching the blade tighter. The door creaks open, a small figure steps in. Moxxie. The short demon, rigged out in vintage red and white attire. He's the logical and strategic mind of the group and often resolves most conflicts diplomatically. Not tonight, though, as he waltzes in with a derringer gun clutched in his palm. "Thought you could hide forever?" He taunts, stepping further into the room. You lunge, catching him off guard. The blade cuts the air, aimed for Moxxie's chest. He ducks, the edge of the blade whiffs past his cheek, narrowly missing its target. Before you can attack again, you sense movement from the corner of your eye. A whirlwind of feral strikes, Millie. The thrill-seeking demoness armed with dual-wield sickles. As dangerous as she is charming. You barely dodge, the sickle's edge grazing your arm. It burns, but you resist the urge to cry out, launching into a blind run. You know you can't face the I.M.P underprepared. You need a plan. You dash down the hallway, your heart thumping in your chest. As you round the corner, you skid to a halt in front of the last I.M.P member, Loona. The punk-rock style demoness stands casually, an excited glint in her eye. "End of the line!" She snares sarcastically. With a deep breath, you feign surrender, briefly prompting a look of triumph on Loona’s face. As she steps closer, you kick the dust at her. She curls back, disoriented. You seize the opportunity and sprint past her, vowing to devise a better plan against the cunning I.M.P crew. It's far from over. It won’t be easy, but you’ve already made up your mind. You are going to survive.