Episode 3 “Crusade After Closing”
1732 Words
The office of I.M.P. always looked worse at night. The neon sign outside sputtered and hissed like it was on life support, coughing greenish light into the windows. Empty coffee cups cluttered desks. A stack of unpaid bills leaned against Blitzo’s chair like a Jenga tower of financial failure.
But inside, things were winding down.
Blitzo yawned so loud it rattled the blinds. “Alright, ass-hats! Time to shut down this sin circus and let Daddy Blitz get some shut-eye! Chop-chop, everyone out before I start billing overtime I’ll never pay!”
Moxxie tugged on his little trench coat, grateful for the excuse. “Finally. First peaceful day all week. Not a single soul tried to kill us.”
“Not that we know of, sugar,” Millie added sweetly, slipping her axe into its holster like it was a purse. She kissed her husband on the cheek and swung her bag over her shoulder.
Loona was scrolling her phone behind the receptionist desk, pretending she hadn’t been watching the clock for hours. She stuffed it in her hoodie pocket and shot a glance across the room at the tall figure who hadn’t moved since six o’clock.
Daniel.
The “new hire.” The mysterious muscle cat Blitz picked up because he looked like he could suplex a tank and frown while doing it.
He was still sitting in the far corner, back straight, arms folded, eyes hidden under the shadow of his hood. Didn’t look tired. Didn’t look bored. Just… waiting.
Loona raised an eyebrow. “You locking up, Muscle Cat?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Daniel tilted his head slightly toward her. His voice was deep, steady, almost too calm.
“…I’ll stay a little longer.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a decision.
The others shrugged it off. Blitz stretched like a cat with back problems and waved his hands. “Fine, but if you break anything, you buy it. And by ‘buy’ I mean I’ll forge your signature on the check. Night, freaks!”
The crew filed out, chatter fading as the elevator groaned shut.
One by one, the lights clicked off. The humming of the vending machine cut out. The neon buzz outside grew louder.
Until it was just him.
Daniel rose slowly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the creaky floorboards. He didn’t head for the door. Instead, he crossed to the far supply closet. With a glance over his shoulder—habit, not fear—he stepped inside and closed the door.
The closet looked ordinary enough. Shelves of printer paper. A broom. An industrial-sized container of Loona’s preferred energy drink.
But Daniel knew better.
His hand pressed against the wall panel, fingers tracing invisible grooves only he could sense. A muted click answered him. The wood shifted, revealing a recessed compartment.
Inside waited his true self.
A trunk, heavy as a coffin. He dragged it open, the hinges groaning like they hadn’t seen light in centuries.
Armor gleamed back at him: dark blue steel chased with faintly glowing runes. The plates were sleek but scarred, lived-in. A hooded helm rested atop the pile, sharp cat ears silhouetted like horns.
Daniel’s reflection warped in the visor. His jaw tightened.
“They see a wanderer,” his voice rumbled, low and private. “But I am judgment cloaked in mercy. And mercy has limits.”
He dressed with ritual precision. Gauntlets locked tight. Greaves clicked into place. He tied the cape with steady hands, letting the fabric fall in jagged waves. When the hood came up, Daniel was gone.
The ARCH DARK CRUSADE walked out.
And Hell itself trembled.
The Greed Ring’s skyline was a grotesque parody of the human world. Skyscrapers clawed at the smog-choked sky, plated in gaudy gold and neon. Every building screamed wealth and rot, stacked on the broken backs of those below.
Tonight, one tower in particular pulsed with filthy life. The Baphosino stronghold.
Inside, the boss himself—Baphosino, a bloated demon with diamond-studded horns and a cigar permanently stuck in his maw—sat behind a desk piled high with bloodstained bills. His massive claws flipped through them with greedy affection.
“Nothin’ gets past me,” he bragged to his guards, each a mutated thug in a too-tight suit. “Not the fuzz, not the hunters. I own Greed. I am Greed!”
Thunder cracked. The lights flickered.
One guard blinked—and the guy beside him was gone. No sound. No trace. Just gone.
“Uh… Boss?” Guard #2 swallowed hard. “Where’s Vinny?”
The only answer was silence.
Then the window shattered inward, glass spraying like rain. A gust of sulfur-scented wind blew through, carrying something heavier. A presence.
A voice followed, echoing through the chamber, dark and cold:
“Your sin echoes louder than your wealth.”
The guards scrambled, drawing infernal weapons. Shadows lengthened, crawling along the walls, twisting unnaturally.
From those shadows stepped a figure—armored, hooded, glowing-eyed.
The ARCH DARK CRUSADE.
The fight was over before it began.
One guard fired. Daniel’s gauntlet snapped up, catching the bullet in his palm. He crushed it to powder. The thug screamed as Daniel’s chain wrapped around his ankle and yanked him into the dark, muffled thuds marking each brutal strike.
Another swung a cleaver. Daniel sidestepped, cloak flaring, and slammed the man into the desk so hard the wood splintered. A single backhand sent him sprawling unconscious across the room.
Each takedown was silent, surgical, but savage enough to make the survivors wish they’d run.
Baphosino backed toward the elevator, sweat pooling under his diamond horns. His cigar tumbled from his mouth. “W-what are you?! Some kinda vigilante freak?!”
The armored figure advanced, each step measured. His visor burned faint blue.
“I am the reckoning you thought would never come.”
Daniel raised his arm. The bladed cross mounted on his gauntlet whirled to life, glowing with runes. He hurled it into the far wall. It struck, shattering into sigils that crawled across the ceiling.
The entire skyscraper groaned. Metal shutters peeled back, exposing the night.
Above, a beam ignited—harsh, otherworldly light. It cut across the smog like a knife, forming a massive angular cross that loomed over the Greed skyline.
Demons across the Ring looked up. A new symbol burned in the heavens.
When dawn crept across the ash-choked horizon, the stronghold’s roof bore an even grimmer sight.
Baphosino, the self-proclaimed king of Greed, was bound to a steel beam in chains. His body hung like a grotesque warning banner. The cross-symbol still burned faintly behind him.
Crowds gathered below, murmuring in awe and fear.
On a nearby rooftop, Daniel stood alone, cape snapping in the morning wind. He watched the scene in silence, then melted into the shadows, unseen.
By the time the others stumbled into the office, bleary-eyed and coffee-deprived, the world was already buzzing.
Loona was first, tossing her bag on the desk and jamming a claw at the TV remote. The morning news blared to life.
“Breaking reports this morning,” the anchor announced, hair perfect but smile brittle. “Infamous mafia lord Baphosino was discovered at dawn bound and battered atop his own skyscraper. Eyewitnesses describe a glowing cross-shaped symbol blazing in the sky above the Greed Ring. Authorities remain baffled—no group has claimed responsibility.”
The footage cut to shaky phone video of the glowing sigil burning in the clouds. Demons could be heard in the background shouting in fear, others in worship.
Blitzo spat out his coffee in a geyser. “PFFFT—HAHAHA! Holy hell! Who the f**k is doing free crime-fighting around here? I love it! About damn time somebody did Hell Batman!”
Moxxie adjusted his tie, frowning. “Or… it’s a dangerous vigilante operating outside the law, Blitz. Doesn’t that worry you?”
“Uh, no?” Blitz scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “That’s like a free intern with muscles! It’s like… sexy philanthropy!”
Millie giggled. “I think it’s romantic! Some shadowy hero cleanin’ up the streets, makin’ a big ol’ symbol in the sky like a firework. Aww.”
Loona sipped her coffee, hiding her grin. “Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”
Just then, the office door creaked open.
Daniel stepped inside, dressed in his casual layers again. Hood up, expression unreadable. In his hands he carried a tray of steaming coffees, which he set down gently on the center desk.
“Good morning,” he said simply.
Everyone turned to stare.
Blitzo blinked, then grabbed one of the cups. “Ooooh, well look at you, Mr. Polite! Bringing Daddy Blitz his liquid cocaine! You’re already better than Moxxie, ten outta ten!”
“Hey!” Moxxie squeaked.
Daniel didn’t smile. He just handed Millie hers, then slid one across the desk toward Loona. Their eyes met for half a second before she quickly looked away, muttering, “…Thanks.”
Stolas shuffled in last, feathers ruffled, clutching a stack of papers to his chest. Once a prince, now reduced to Blitzo’s reluctant secretary after the court stripped him of his title. His once-majestic aura was dimmed, though he still carried himself with fragile dignity.
He looked up at Daniel and froze. The towering feline bowed his head, lowering one arm across his chest in a gesture of respect.
“Sky kitty,” Daniel murmured softly, just loud enough for Stolas to hear. “I walk the land. You once walked the stars. You still do.”
Stolas blinked, his throat tightening. No one had spoken to him with reverence since the trial. His hands trembled, but he managed a quiet, “Th-thank you…”
Blitzo, oblivious, smacked the stack of papers out of his hand. “Okay, enough of the morning soap opera, let’s talk business! Who’s ready to get murdered today?”
The office descended into chaos again. Moxxie whining. Millie cooing. Loona hiding smirks behind her phone.
And Daniel—silent, watchful, the quiet shadow in the room—listened.
No one suspected a thing.
But outside, in the waking rings of Hell, whispers of a crusade were already spreading.
The symbol had burned into the city’s memory.
And the Arch Dark Crusade was only getting started.
FADE TO BLACK.
Title Card: “The Crusade Has Begun.”
- Writer
