Marianna was humming herself a cheery tune towards the hotel. She opened the door and saw Barnaby pacing up and down. He was wearing his black overcoat and uniform again. "Barnaby, you look nervous."
He looked at her. This is the second time I got attacked by other beings. First was the barnacle zombies attacking us."
"Yeah, I was there for that one." The orca demon nodded.
"Yesterday, an angelic glass bowl covered us and Abyssal rain almost drowned us all in our own grief."
"Saw that on the new." Marianna said.
"It was from Metratron, who sent us a letter. He hates our guts!"
"Well, an archangel being beat by a human, demons, and marine mammals must have been a blow to his ego." Marianna said. "Miss Alba was generous today she offered a way to send you to Earth in your time."
"She's an overlord, she can't leave the Pride Ring." Barnaby said. "Besides, Queen Bee helped us the last time. She is currently recharging her batteries. Later, she can open a portal."
"Well, why not try an easier way to get to Earth." Marianna suggested. "Queen Bee has a boyfriend named Vortex who works with a succubus named Verosika Mayday. She has gone to Earth before. You can go to her."
"Wait, she has been to Earth this whole time!" Barnaby cried out.
"She changes her name while doing concerts to avoid suspicious humans. She is aware of the barnacle zombie infection but because she is a demon she is immune."
"If she is a popular performer, she might not listen to a mere human soldier." Barnaby shook his head.
"Then bribe her." Marianna said with a shrug.
"I'm not stooping to bribery." Barnaby said.
Marianna thought. "Hmm, I have an idea. Verosika had a body guard named Vortex and he is a hellhound."
"Don't like hellhounds." Barnaby said.
"Well, suck it up!" the orca sinner said. He has an admirer named Loona and her stepfather is an imp named Blitzo. He ran a mercenary agency that became slow because of the apocalypse. Sinners are now more focused on the disease because there is no one to blame. You can go to the apartment and take the Asmodeus crystal from Blitzo while he isn't looking, open a portal and your back. Just take it with you to the hotel to beam Shamu and his crew with you."
"That's stealing!" Barnaby said.
"It's called borrowing without permission." she said. "He does it use it much anyway. You don't have to take it with you, just leave it in the hotel and I'll return it before he even notices. I do have a plan to hide what you are doing so nobody suspects. I hear you are making clam chowder. I have a bicycle you can ride on. Take it with you and pretend you are a a delivery boy. Take someone with you."
Barnaby said, "Not going to happen."
"Well then, I hope you understand the longer you are down here, the more danger your friends are in." Marianna said.
"FINE!" Barnaby snapped and looked for someone to help. He spotted Angel Dust lounging on a couch. "Angel Dust, I need to take an Asmodeus Crystal from an imp called Blitzo so Shamu, his crew, and myself can get to Earth. Can you help?"
Angel Dust shifted, one leg crossed over the other, and lowered his gaze from the ceiling to look Barnaby up and down. He let out a sharp, amused huff.
"Blitzo? The little red guy with the 'I.M.P.' sign and the temper? Honey, you’re talkin' about stealing from a guy who sleeps with a sniper rifle under his pillow. And Marianna thinks she can just 'put it back'?" Angel chuckled, his multiple arms gesturing theatrically. "That crystal is practically glued to his glove. You don't just 'take' it; you gotta peel it off him while he’s distracted—or unconscious."
He sat up, looking a bit more interested now that a heist was on the table. "I’ve dealt with his type. They’re twitchy. But... if you’re trying to get a whole crew of 'shamus' out of here, you’re gonna need a serious distraction. And I happen to be the best distraction in this whole gritty Ring."
He leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tell me—how do you plan on getting close enough to touch his hand without getting a bullet in the face? Because if I'm helping, I want to know if we're doing this quiet and classy or loud and messy."
Barnaby said, "Virgil Pelican has made clam chowder and Marianna has suggested to try and lower his guard and sell him some. She suggested riding a bicycle over there."
Angel Dust stared at Barnaby for a beat, then doubled over in a fit of laughter. "Clam chowder? On a bicycle? Barnaby, you’re killin’ me! You look like a hitman, but your plan sounds like a cursed delivery service."
He wiped a tear from his eye, his smirk widening. "But honestly? It’s so stupid it just might work. That red prick probably gets people trying to kill him every ten minutes, but a guy in a trench coat hand-delivering soup on a bike? He’ll be too confused to reach for his gun."
"Yeah, but I think we need someone other than Virgil to help. Too cheerful." Barnaby had an idea. "I did see Seymore trying to cheat at cards. He might be slippery enough to get by. Unfortunately, Dolly caught him peaking at her cards. He might appear to look cute as a distraction."
"A sea lion?!" Angel Dust’s eyes practically popped out of his head. "You’re tellin' me we’re pullin' a heist with a flapper-footed mammal in a tuxedo? This just went from a mob movie to a circus act, and I am here for it."
He looked over at Seymour, who was currently trying to look innocent while Dolly loomed over him. "I mean, he’s cute, I guess. If an imp sees a sea lion on a bicycle delivering soup, his brain is gonna short-circuit. That’s our window."
Angel walked over to the card table, leaning down to Seymour's level. "Hey, slippery. Change of plans. Instead of losing at cards, how’d you like to put those 'sticky flippers' to use? We're goin' after a magical crystal on a very angry little man. You get us that rock, and Barnaby here gets you and the rest of Shamu’s crew a one-way ticket out of this dump."
Seymour barked a short, sharp note of interest, looking from Angel to Barnaby. He seemed to like the idea of being the "stealth specialist" of the group, especially if it meant getting to Earth. Barnaby said, "He is bored of being stuck in a marine tank. He said 'yes'"
Dolly asked, "Where are you three going?"
"Just having some buddy time with Seymore and Angel. We'll be back to get us to Earth."
"Okay." Dolly laughed. "Don't take too long."
They next encountered Vaggie and Charlie on their way out.
"Going somewhere?" Vaggie asked, her arms crossed and her eye narrowing as she took in the sight of a soldier, an adult star, and a sea lion marching toward the exit.
Charlie, on the other hand, beamed with pure, misplaced optimism. "Oh! Are you three going on a team-bonding exercise? That is so wonderful for the hotel's morale! Is Seymour going for a walk—er, a slide?"
Barnaby stiffened, trying to hide the "heist" energy radiating off him. "Just... taking the little guy out for some air, Princess. And maybe some local cuisine."
"Vaggie, look! They’re making friends!" Charlie squealed, clutching her hands together.
Vaggie didn't look convinced. She glanced at Angel, who was failing to look innocent. "Angel? If this involves explosives, property damage, or harassing the locals, you’re on kitchen duty for a month."
"Relax, Toots," Angel said, tossing a playful wave. "It’s just a little delivery run. Very wholesome. Very soup-based. We're practically the Salvation Army over here."
Vaggie sighed, rubbing her temples. "Just... don't get arrested. Or killed. We have a meeting with the council on Friday and I don't want to have to bail a sea lion out of Imp City jail."
With the bosses' "blessing" (or at least their exhaustion), the trio made it out the front doors. Now they just needed to secure the transportation and the chowder.
Barnaby balanced the heavy pot of Virgil’s steaming clam chowder in one arm while scouting the hotel’s perimeter for a set of wheels.
He eventually found a rusted, oversized delivery bicycle leaning against the back of the hotel, likely a relic from a long-dead Sinner. It had a heavy iron frame—perfect for supporting a soldier and a sea lion—and a surprisingly sturdy front basket for the chowder.
"Alright, Seymour, hop in," Barnaby commanded. The sea lion wiggled into the basket, his flippers resting comfortably near the pot of soup.
Angel Dust hopped onto the back rack, wrapping two of his arms around Barnaby’s waist while the other two held a set of pink binoculars. "Don't get fresh, Sarge. Just pedal. We gotta get from Pentagram City over to Imp City before the soup gets cold or the imps get bored."
As Barnaby began the grueling trek across the Pride Ring, the sight was unmistakable: a soldier in a black overcoat, a pink-clad starlet, and a sea lion in a basket, all wobbling toward the I.M.P. headquarters.
The office building finally loomed ahead—a jagged, red-brick structure with the "I.M.P." logo glowing ominously. Blitzo’s van was parked out front, which meant the target was inside.
Angel Dust squinted at the I.M.P. Headquarters building, a condemned-looking seventh-floor office in Imp City.
"Listen, Sarge, if you’re looking for where he lives, he’s got a separate run-down apartment with Loona somewhere else in the city. But we’re at the office right now," Angel explained, gesturing toward the building they’d just biked to.
"Well if he is here, we can give it a try. If not, we go to his apartment. Sounds like a plan?"
"Sounds like a plan, Sarge," Angel replied, adjusting his gloves and checking his reflection in a nearby window. "The office is the safer bet anyway. If we go to his apartment and wake up that Hellhound, she’ll do more than just growl at ya—she’ll tear that overcoat to ribbons."
He patted the bicycle basket, where Seymour was already sniffing the air, his whiskers twitching at the scent of the hot chowder. "Okay, here’s the layout: We take the elevator to the seventh floor. Loona is usually at the front desk looking at her phone, and Blitzo’s office is right behind her. If the boss is in, he’ll be making a racket."
The trio entered the lobby. The elevator dinged—a slow, rusty sound—as they crowded inside. Barnaby held the heavy pot of Virgil’s chowder, the steam fogging up his glasses, Seymore flopped inside. The elevator doors opened and they found the office door.
Seymour didn't wait for a cue. He flopped out of the elevator and immediately started his routine, barking a rhythmic tune that echoed off the walls. He balanced himself on his front flippers, doing a miniature handstand that would put any circus performer to shame.
Barnaby adjusted his grip on the heavy pot, the steam from the chowder making his black overcoat feel even heavier. He marched toward the door marked "Manager / Boss / Horse Lover" and gave it a solid, professional kick-knock.
The door flew open. Blitzo stood there, looking like he was about to scream at whoever interrupted his horse-figurine cleaning session. But his eyes immediately dropped to the floor.
"Is that... a sea lion? In my office? Doing a handstand?" Blitzo’s pupils dilated. "Loona! Look at this fat little water-dog! He’s adorable!"
He reached out, his left hand—the one wearing the glove with the Asmodeus Crystal glowing faintly—extending toward Seymour’s head.
"Delivery for Mr. Blitzo," Barnaby said, his voice a low, tactical growl as he thrust the steaming pot of chowder forward. "Compliments of the hotel. It’s heavy. You’re gonna want to use both hands."
Blitzo looked at the pot, then at Seymour, then back at the pot. "Free soup? And a show? Today is turning around!"
Barnaby scanned the room with a soldier's precision. Loona was at her receptionist desk, but she was still completely engrossed in Seymour’s performance. The rest of the I.M.P. crew—the married assassins Moxxie and Millie—were nowhere to be seen, likely out on a hit or in the back break room.
"Wow, this smells... actually edible," Blitzo remarked, leaning over the pot of Virgil’s chowder. His left hand, with the Asmodeus Crystal embedded in the glove's yellow heart decoration, gripped the edge of his desk for balance.
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Seymour, sensing the opening, shifted his "dance" closer to Blitzo’s hand. He let out a playful bark and did a soft roll, his flipper "accidentally" brushing against the back of Blitzo’s glove.
Angel Dust leaned against the doorframe, blocking the view from the hallway. "So, Blitzey, you gonna eat that while it’s hot, or are you too busy falling in love with the wildlife?"
Blitzo reached for a spoon with his right hand, leaving his left hand—and the crystal—completely exposed and occupied.
Barnaby’s gaze shifted from Blitzo's turned back toward the receptionist's desk. Loona, was now staring at her phone, slumped in her chair.
Seymour’s rhythmic flopping and barking had worked—to Loona, he was just another weird distraction in a day full of them. She wasn't even looking at Barnaby; she was just occasionally glancing at the sea lion with a scowl before scrolling back to whatever hell-social-media was trending. The coast was as clear as it was ever going to be in a room full of assassins.
Inside the office, Blitzo was humming to himself, rummaging through a drawer for a spoon, his left hand—with the glowing Asmodeus Crystal—dangling near his hip. "Bingo," Angel Dust whispered from the doorway, his eyes fixed on the prize. "The dog's in a trance and the boss is hungry. Move in, Sarge."
Barnaby’s hands, usually calloused from rifle grips and military drills, moved with the surprising delicacy of a watchmaker. He timed his reach perfectly with the clinking of Blitzo’s silverware as the imp finally found a spoon.
With a masterfully light touch, Barnaby slid the Asmodean Crystal cuff right off Blitzo’s left wrist. The imp didn't even flinch; he was too busy sniffing the briny aroma of Virgil’s chowder.
"Man, this smells like... I don't know, ocean and sadness? It’s perfect!" Blitzo exclaims, oblivious to the fact that his ticket to the human world was now tucked safely into Barnaby’s black overcoat pocket.
Angel Dust’s eyes widened, a silent "holy shit" forming on his lips. He quickly stepped back into the hallway, beckoning for the others to follow. Seymour, sensing the mission was accomplished, gave one final, theatrical bark-spin and started his "stealth slide" back toward the elevator.
"Glad you like it, Mr. Blitzo," Barnaby said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Enjoy the meal. We have other... deliveries to make."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever! Leave the bird, he's funny!" Blitzo shouted over his shoulder, already slurping a spoonful of soup.
The trio scrambled into the elevator. As the doors hissed shut, Angel let out a breath he’d been holding for three floors. "Sarge... I gotta hand it to ya. You got the stones of an overlord. You just robbed the most annoying man in Hell with a bowl of soup."
They were back on the street in seconds, the Asmodeus Crystal thrumming with a faint, magical heat in Barnaby's pocket.
Barnaby didn't waste a second. He scooped Seymour into the bicycle basket, nearly tipping the bike over in his haste. Angel Dust scrambled onto the back, gripping Barnaby’s overcoat as the soldier pedaled like a madman through the jagged streets of Imp City.
"Pedal, Sarge! Pedal like your fins depend on it!" Angel shouted, checking over his shoulder for any sign of a red van or a very angry Imp with a sniper rifle.
They blurred past the neon signs of the Pride Ring, weaving through traffic and startled Sinners. The heavy iron bike groaned under the weight, but Barnaby’s adrenaline was pumping. He could feel the Asmodean Crystal thrumming against his chest through his pocket—a warm, steady pulse of magical energy that promised a way out of this nightmare.
By the time they skidded to a halt in front of the Hazbin Hotel, the bike’s tires were smoking. Barnaby leaped off, chest heaving, as Seymour flopped out of the basket with a triumphant bark.
"We... we got it," Barnaby panted, clutching the glowing cuff.
Marianna was waiting by the front doors, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. Dolly and the rest of the Shamu crew peered out from the lobby, their eyes widening at the sight of the artifact.
"You actually did it," Marianna said, her voice dropping to a respectful whisper. "You robbed the most chaotic imp in Hell with a bowl of soup. I take back everything I said about your tactical skills."
But the victory was fleeting. Now that they had the key to Earth, they had to use it before Blitzo noticed his wrist felt a little too light.
The trio burst through the hotel lobby doors, Barnaby’s black overcoat flaring behind him like a cape. He didn’t stop until he reached the center of the rug, his hand white-knuckled around the Asmodeus Crystal cuff.
Marianna stepped forward, her bioluminescent markings glowing with excitement. "You actually pulled it off. A soldier, a sea lion, and an adult star... the most unlikely heist crew in the Nine Circles."
Seymour let out a series of triumphant barks, flopping proudly at Barnaby's feet. Even Angel Dust looked impressed, dusting off his suit. "I gotta admit, Sarge, the 'soup-and-slide' maneuver is going in my memoirs. But we gotta move fast. Blitzo is gonna realize his wrist feels light the second he tries to check his phone for horse pictures."
Barnaby held up the Asmodean Crystal. In the dim light of the hotel lobby, the yellow heart-shaped gem pulsed with a steady, warm light—the literal key to the human world.
Charlie practically bounced over to them, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Back so soon? That must have been some high-speed team bonding! And you still have the pot! Did the delivery go well?"
Barnaby stiffened, instinctively shielding the glowing Asmodean Crystal cuff with the flap of his overcoat. "Uh, yes, Princess. Very successful. The... customer was very satisfied with the soup."
"And the show!" Angel Dust added quickly, leaning against a pillar to look casual. "Seymour here is a natural. We're just heading to the aquarium to give the little guy a victory lap in the big tank. He’s got a lot of... nervous energy to burn off."
Vaggie leaned over the mezzanine railing, her single eye narrowing as she watched the group's suspicious body language. "You three look like you just robbed a bank."
"Nonsense, Vaggie!" Charlie laughed, though she tilted her head at the faint yellow pulse coming from Barnaby's pocket. "Is that... a light? Do you have a flashlight in there, Barnaby?"
"It's our ticket to getting myself, Shamu and his friends back to Earth so none of you won't get threatened anymore." Barnaby said. "No more Metatron. No more zombies."
Vaggie’s hand immediately went to the hilt of her spear. "A ticket? Barnaby, that looks like Asmodean magic. If you stole that from a Deadly Sin or one of their associates, you didn't just find a ticket—you found a war."
Charlie’s smile faltered, her maternal worry for the hotel guests clashing with her desire to see them happy. "Barnaby, wait! I want you all to be safe and go home, but if that’s how I think you got it... the Asmodeus Crystals are heavily regulated!"
"We did not take it from Asmodeus or a high ranking officer." Barnaby said. "We are only borrowing it for a couple of minutes."
Borrowing? Barnaby, that's not how stealing from an imp works!" Vaggie yelled, vaulting over the railing and landing with a heavy thud in the lobby. She pointed her spear toward the aquarium doors. "If that's Blitzo’s crystal, he’s going to come in here guns blazing before you even get your flippers wet!"
"Vaggie, wait!" Charlie cried, catching up to her, her expression torn between panic and heartbreak. "He’s trying to save his friends! He’s trying to stop Metatron from hurting us!"
Barnaby then muttered, "Now how does this thing even work?"
The hotel doors didn't just open; they were kicked off their hinges with a thunderous bang. Blitzo was beet red.
Standing in the wreckage was a beet-red Blitzo, his chest heaving as he pointed a flintlock pistol directly at Barnaby’s head. "You... you soldier-boy, soup-slinging thief!" Blitzo screamed, his voice cracking with fury. "I was halfway through the best damn clam chowder of my life when I realized my wrist felt about three pounds lighter! You thought you could distract me with a sea lion?!"
Barnaby reached for his rifle and pointed it at Blitzo.
The tension in the lobby snapped like a dry bone. Barnaby’s military training took over; in one fluid motion, he leveled his rifle, the cold steel steady against his shoulder.
"Back off, Imp!" Barnaby barked, his voice dropping into a low, combat-hardened growl. "I’ve faced Barnacle Zombies and Angelic glass bowls. A red little mercenary with a grudge isn't stopping this mission. My crew is going home!"
Blitzo froze, his flintlock still aimed, his eyes darting between the barrel of the rifle and the glowing Asmodeus Crystal pulsing in Barnaby’s other hand. "Oh, you want to play 'Soldier,' do ya? I’ve killed things bigger than you before breakfast! Give me my legal ticket to Earth or I’ll turn this hotel into a giant, flaming shish-kebab!"
Vaggie stepped between them, her spear flickering with celestial light. "Both of you, lower your weapons! Barnaby, if you fire that in here, Charlie will never forgive you. Blitzo, if you shoot a guest, you’re answerable to the Princess of Hell!"
"Whoa, whoa! Easy with the hardware, Sarge!" Angel shouted, his four arms shooting up in the air as he ducked behind a decorative marble pillar. "I didn't sign up for a firing squad! I thought this was a 'soup and slide,' not a 'bullets and brine' situation!"
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!" Blitzo shrieked, his voice hitting a high, incredulous pitch as his gaze snapped from Barnaby's rifle back to the spider hiding behind the pillar. "I recognize those boots! You were the 'starlet' in my lobby five minutes ago! You and the giant tuxedo-rat were the distraction!"
Angel Dust stepped out from behind the pillar, all four arms raised in a "guilty as charged" shrug, a cheeky smirk plastered on his face. "Guilty! And honestly, Blitzey, you were a total sucker for the sea lion. I’ve seen harder targets at a Lust Ring talent show."
"I was being polite! To a marine mammal!" Blitzo screamed, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. "And you used that against me? That is—that is—actually kind of impressive, but I’m still gonna kill you both!"
Barnaby didn't lower his rifle. The weight of the Asmodean Crystal felt like a lead weight in his pocket.
"The spider's right, Imp," Barnaby growled, his eye steady on the sights. "You were distracted. And now, you're outgunned. My crew is halfway to the Pacific. If you shoot, you lose the crystal in the crossfire. Is your 'legal ticket' worth a shattered rock?"
"Loonie! Get your furry butt in here! We've got a heist in progress!" Blitzo shrieked, fumbling for his phone with his right hand while keeping his flintlock trained on Barnaby with his left.
The sound of heavy, rhythmic paw-steps thundered from the hallway. Loona didn't just walk in; she kicked the remaining half of the lobby door off its hinges, already in her feral demonic wolf form. She loomed over the scene, her extra eyes glowing red as she snarled at the sight of Barnaby’s rifle and the stolen Asmodeus Crystal.
"Which one am I ripping apart first, Blitz?" Loona growled, her voice a low, terrifying vibration.
Marianna aimed her triton at Loona. The orca sinner said, "Touch one hair on his head and you'll be a rug on the floor."
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel was now a hair-trigger death trap. On one side, a furious Blitzo and a snarling, demonic Loona; on the other, Barnaby with his rifle and Marianna leveling her wicked, sea-forged trident at the Hellhound.
"A rug? Honey, I’ve been called worse by better Sinners than a sushi-reject like you!" Loona barked, her claws digging into the floorboards, leaving deep gouges. Her fur bristled, and her eyes locked onto Marianna’s throat.
"Easy, Loonie! Don't ruin the trident, that looks like it's worth a fortune in the Gluttony Ring!" Blitzo cackled, though his finger was still white-knuckled on the trigger of his flintlock. He looked at Barnaby, then at the glowing Asmodeus Crystal near the water. "You’ve got a choice, Soldier Boy. You can give me my legal ticket to Earth back right now, or we can see if orca skin is as tough as they say."
Vaggie, the most sane one at this moment, intervened.Vaggie slammed the butt of her spear into the floorboards with a crack that silenced the room. She stepped directly into the line of fire, her single eye flashing with a cold, angelic intensity that even made Loona hesitate.
"ENOUGH!" Vaggie roared. "Blitzo, put that ancient piece of junk down. Barnaby, lower the rifle before you put a hole in the Princess's favorite painting!"
She turned her glare toward Blitzo, who was still beet-red and twitching. "You want your Asmodean Crystal back? Fine. But if you shoot a guest in this hotel, Charlie will have your head, and Lucifer will have the rest of you. Is a legal permit worth a death sentence from the King of Hell?" Then she whipped around to Barnaby. "And you! You’re a soldier, act like one! You want to save your crew? Put the rifle down."
"Yes, ma'am." Barnaby lowered his rifle with his eyes on Blitzo and the hellhound. Marianna pointed her triton at Loona still.
"Marianna," Vaggie warned, her tone sharp as a blade. "Lower the trident. Now."
"Fine!" the orca demon sighed as she lowered it.
"Loona didn't back down, her lips still pulled back over her teeth, but she stopped her forward crawl. Blitzo huffed, tucking his flintlock into his belt with a dramatic flourish. "Fine! But the clock is ticking, Soldier Boy! Every second you're standing here playing 'I'm a good boy' for the Exorcist-reject, my soup is getting colder and my Asmodean Crystal is getting further away from my wrist!"
Charlie, seizing the rare moment of quiet, clapped her hands together with a nervous but hopeful smile. "Okay! New plan! Everyone, please, let’s just sit down and talk like civilized... well, civilized people! We have comfortable chairs, and I think there’s still some tea in the kitchen."
Vaggie sighed, but she lowered her spear completely, gesturing toward the plush velvet sofas in the lobby. "Fine. But if anyone so much as twitches toward a weapon, the 'civilized' part is over."
The tension in the lobby shifted from "imminent shootout" to "uncomfortable family meeting." Blitzo sat with his legs crossed, one boot bouncing irritably, while Loona leaned against the side of his armchair, already back to scrolling on her phone with a bored expression.
Charlie leaned forward on her ottoman, her hands clasped tightly. "Okay! See? This is much better. No guns, no tridents, just... communication! Barnaby, you were saying?"
Barnaby cleared his throat, his gaze flicking to the Asmodeus Crystal resting on his knee. "I’m a soldier, Blitzo. I don't like stealing, and I don't like games. But my crew is dying here. The Barnacle Zombies are a real threat, and Metatron isn't going to stop until every marine soul in this hotel is 'purified'—which usually means deleted."
Blitzo snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, 'mission' this, 'duty' that. Look, Captain Crunch, I get the 'savior' complex—I've got a hellhound daughter and a depressed owl prince to deal with—but that rock is my livelihood. No crystal, no I.M.P.. No I.M.P., no rent. No rent, and Loonie here is living in a cardboard box."
Loona didn't look up from her phone. "I’d just move in with Vortex, Blitz. Get over yourself."
"You stay out of this!" Blitzo shrieked at her, before turning back to Barnaby with a narrowed gaze. "So, you want to 'borrow' it. What’s in it for me? Because 'good vibes' and 'saving the whales' don't pay for my specialized horse-hair brushes."
Marianna said, "Listen, Blitz-o, we only want the crystal to get Barnaby and the marina mammals back to Earth. We know your business is tanking because the newer sinners are upset with the barnacle infection and nobody to get mad at so let Barnaby use it to go back and it's all yours. Sounds fair?"
Blitzo’s eye twitched at the mention of his business "tanking." He looked over at the empty lobby, then at Loona, who was pointedly ignoring him by scrolling through Sinstagram.
"First of all, it's Blitz, the 'o' is silent!" he snapped, though the fire in his voice was dying down into a defensive pout. "And second... okay, fine! Business has been a little slow since everyone started turning into crusty, salt-water freaks."

End of Chapter