"Welcome to the family." -Crimson

In the darkness of their room, the reader and his friend were looping through 'Helluva Boss' episodes, chuckling at the misfortune of Crimson at the hands of I.M.P. Little did they know, from the mystical realms of the Helluva World, Crimson was watching them, seething with a revengeful hatred. Crimson's wrathful eyes narrowed to slits as laughter echoed from the screen of his scrying mirror. "You're laughing now, are you?" He sneered, his fingers drumming against the expensive mahogany desk. "Enjoy it while it lasts." With a swift swish of his dark, imposing coat, Crimson materialized in their world, standing before the bewildered pair. His tall stature and aura of fear towered over them. He simply beckoned, and before the reader and the friend could comprehend the absurdity of the situation, they were transported into Crimson's mansion in the Helluva world. Fear gripping at their hearts, the two found themselves strapped onto a bizarre contraption, their backs firmly stuck on cold metal slabs as Crimson approached, a wicked smile adorning his face. The golden fang glinted ominously under the dim light. Crimson adjusted the dials on his contraption—the invention he had discovered in a dark alleyway of the imp city. The twist of his hands sent jolts of blinding light and immense pain searing through the bodies of the reader and his friend. Their human forms contorted, shifting, morphing until they resembled Crimson. Both of them grew in height, their skin burned tautly, turning a darker shade of red. Black and white striped horns sprouted from their heads, white hair grew out to cover their scalps, their sclera turned a glowing yellow. The transformation was one of immense pain and terror, but its end bore witness to Crimson's twin clones arising from the ashes of their previous identities. Their clothes were replaced by similar attire to those of Crimson's. The red high-collar shirt clung to their necks tightly, the navy blue coat with light blue accents and red stripes spilled over their broad shoulders. Their dark blue pants hugged their new plantigrade legs, and they came into a pair of black dress shoes with noticeable red heels. A black fedora with a red and white band completed the transformation. But Crimson wasn't finished. He turned another dial, and their minds started flooding with new memories and experiences - all of them belonging to Crimson. Gone were the images of their human life, replaced with the countless exploits of the imp mafia boss. They could recall only a life filled with cruelty and ruthlessness, their personalities morphed into a perfect imitation of Crimson's. The transformation induced an absolute erasure of their human identities, making room for the brutal consciousness of the imp crime kingpin to merge with their own. Their eyes opened, shining with a newfound wicked sense of self, and the first words they uttered were nothing short of malicious, a testament to the success of Crimson's devious plan. "I am Crimson," they both stated simultaneously, their grins malicious and equally deadly, each sporting that same golden fang. The transformation was complete. Crimson stood triumphant, watching his clones marvel at their new forms, their brilliant, malicious resemblance of him. He laughed darkly, "I hope you'll still find your situation funny, dear clones, your laughter has turned into your eternal torment." The duped pair of friends, now embodying the very existence and mentality of the imp they once found entertaining, glared back at Crimson, hands clenched in fists of power and a promise of vengeance. These were no longer the humans Crimson had whisked away from reality. They were now purely and solely Crimson, in body, in mind, and every inch in spirit.