Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

135. Warmest Love

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Author's Note: This chapter contains mild gore and content that may be disturbing or troubling to some readers. Please proceed with caution.

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"The warmest love has the coldest end."

— Socrates

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This was definitely a first.

Striker couldn't recall a time where he had actually been apprehended during a job—or ever, really. He had been on his way to Envy for his next job, but once he reached the appointed destination, a grand hotel in the heart of Spectral Shallows, he had entered the conference room only for everything to quickly fade to black.

He had been knocked unconscious—and given the throbbing ache engulfing his skull, he could only assume it had been caused by a hard blow to the back of the head—and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a completely different room in a completely different building. In a completely different ring.

In hindsight, he was grateful he had decided not to bring Bombproof along again—Hell only knows what those cretins would have done if he'd been with him.

The first thing he saw when he finally peeled his eyes open was an old, weathered carpet. He glanced down to find that his limbs had been bound—rather poorly, he realized—to a chair, and he had been stripped of all of his weapons. He groaned—his pounding headache was making it difficult to think. But he slowly lifted his head to survey his surroundings.

The room was spacious, an office of some sort, with a hefty wooden desk near the wall to his left. Large windows covered three of the room's four walls, giving him a clear view of the deep crimson sky above and the unusually quiet city nightlife below.

Striker looked out at the encompassing buildings and skyscrapers in bewilderment—why the hell had he been captured and brought to the Pentagram?

A small band of loan sharks were casually seated at a long table on the other end of the room, their attention turning to Striker when he stirred.

"Oh, look," said one of the sharks. "The fire toad's finally awake."

"We were wonderin' when you'd join us," said another as he stood from his seat to approach Striker. He reached into his pants pocket, withdrawing and flipping open his switchblade and leveling it at Striker's neck. "We'd started to think you weren't gonna wake up in time."

Striker had already begun to work at the thin rope tethering his wrists to the back of the chair, and he flashed the demon an angry smirk when he felt the restraint loosen slightly. "In time for what, might I ask?"

"I'll let that be a surprise," he replied, adding with a sadistic chuckle, "The boss's got some big plans for you."

Quietly, Striker slipped the now untied rope off his hands and held it taut in his fists. "Sorry," he said, "but I don't think I'll be stickin' around long enough to find out what his plans are."

Before they could react, Striker launched himself out of the chair, wrapping the rope around the loan shark's neck. He kept the rope tightly around the demon's neck in one hand while roughly jerking his arm back with the other until he heard a small pop! He caught the switchblade as it fell from the shark's hand—only for another demon to grab him by the horn and yank him backward.