The next day..
we all sat around the table, digesting what had happened yesterday. For the first time since I'd gotten here, I actually felt proud of what we had accomplished. We'd executed the job almost perfectly. It hadn't been a flawless success, but compared to the usual I.M.P. disasters, it was a win.
But I knew better than to get complacent. The last thing I needed was to fall into the same trap Blitzo had—thinking that one success meant everything was magically fixed.
"Alright, we've got work to do," I said, standing up from the desk and grabbing a fresh stack of papers. "We need to take this momentum and run with it. We can't let things slide back into routine."
Moxxie, who had been quiet for the past hour, gave me a questioning look. "What do you mean by 'momentum'?"
"Simple," I said, flipping through the papers. "We're setting up a system. A real one. No more flying by the seat of our pants. If we can handle these jobs more efficiently, we might actually start gaining some real credibility in Hell."
Loona, who was slouched in the corner scrolling through her phone, didn't even bother to look up. "And how are we supposed to do that? You gonna hold our hands through every job?"
"No, Loona, I'm not gonna hold your hand," I said slightly mocking, already anticipating her sarcasm. "But we're all going to start working together in a way we never have before. No more distractions, no more last-minute decisions. We're going to make this a business, not just a mess of work."
Millie, ever the optimist, cracked a grin. "I like the sound of that! A well-oiled machine, huh? But how do we start?"
"We'll need to map out our resources, set clear roles, and plan ahead for each job," I said, feeling the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. "We'll divide up tasks based on strengths. You're muscle, Millie. Moxxie, you're the brains. Loona, you're handling the tech and communications."
"And you?" Moxxie asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I'm going to be the guy who holds all of you accountable," I replied, with a smirk.
"We can't afford to slack off. If we want I.M.P. to work, we've got to stop acting like a bunch of lunatics running around with guns. Efficiency and professionalism. That's the goal."
There was a beat of silence as everyone processed the plan. Finally, Moxxie spoke, his voice thoughtful. "Alright, I get it. But…"
"But?" I prompted.
"How are we gonna convince clients that we can do this better than anyone else in Hell? We're not exactly known for our professionalism."
That was a good point. Hell didn't exactly reward people who tried to make things clean and orderly. If anything, it punished it. But that didn't matter. What I needed to do was show people—show Hell—that efficiency didn't have to mean losing what made I.M.P. unique.
"We start small," I said. "We take on jobs that no one else wants. We build a reputation slowly, through consistency and careful planning. After a while, people will realize that we can get the job done right, and they'll start coming to us. Word gets around, right?"
Loona chimed in with a smirk, "Yeah, and then they'll have to deal with our professionalism."
I grinned. "Exactly."
The day continued
Just as I was about to go over the job boards again, Moxxie burst in, his face calm.
"We got a new assignment sir," he said, holding up a file with the familiar I.M.P. stamp on it.
Taking the folder, I glanced at the name on top. Martha. It didn't ring any bells. The description underneath didn't exactly help either: Hired to take out a heroic homicide survivor.
"A survivor?" I muttered, frowning. "What do you mean by 'survivor'? Like... a hero?"
Moxxie nodded. "Seems like it. Someone who got famous for surviving a dangerous situation. Now someone wants them dead."
I stared at the folder, trying to make sense of it. Then, a thought struck me. It was too familiar. The target, the setup, the whole premise of the job—it all seemed eerily similar to something I'd seen before. I looked at the folder again, then glanced at my team, something heavy starting to settle in my chest.
"Wait a second…" My mind was racing now. Heroic homicide survivor. I had seen this before, hadn't I? A hero, surviving something terrible, making a name for themselves. It wasn't just a coincidence. It was... the exact plot from the pilot episode of Helluva Boss. The Murder Family job.
Blitzo and his team had been hired to take out a "heroic homicide survivor"—someone who had survived a brutal incident, only to become a target of Hell's underworld politics. In that episode, things spiraled completely out of control. The target wasn't just another random kill—it was about the bigger picture, the politics, the drama, and all the chaos that followed. The Murder Family had been caught up in something far more than they had bargained for.
Realizing it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was in the pilot episode. I was part of the exact mission Blitzo had screwed up.
The only difference now was that I was in control. I wasn't going to let this turn into the disaster it had in the show. This was my chance to rewrite the narrative. The job would be cleaner, more efficient and more professional.
I could feel my pulse quicken. This wasn't just another job. This was a chance to change everything.
I looked at Moxxie, Millie, and Loona, who were all waiting for me to give them the plan.
The thought of the canon timeline rushed into my head with blitz antics, that mess of a Tv drama, the confusion, the bloodshed... I wasn't going to let us follow that same path.
"Alright," I said, standing up and holding the folder. "This job isn't what it seems. We've been hired to take out a heroic homicide survivor, someone with more importance than just some random target. Lots of people are gonna be around her.
If we screw this up, it's going to get messy. I don't know what kind of person we're dealing with, but it's probably not gonna be pretty."
I paused, trying to calm the rising tension in my chest. "You all know the deal. We need to keep this clean. No surprises, no chaos. No running off on wild chases"
I glanced at the folder again, trying to shake off my worry. I was in the pilot episode of Helluva Boss. The job had played out in such a way in the show—explosions, messes, blood, disorganization.
But this time, I was going to show Hell what real professionalism looked like.
I took a deep breath. "Moxxie, get us everything you can on this survivor. Who are they, and why is someone gunning for them? Millie, you're our backup and muscle. Loona, I need you to handle the tech—comms, surveillance, whatever you can give us."
They all nodded, but I could see the skepticism in their eyes. They hadn't fully bought into my vision for reform yet. But this was my chance. This wasn't just a normal job. This was the start of something bigger.
I turned to them with a determined expression. "We're not going to screw this up. We're going to do it right. This is I.M.P.'s shot at becoming something more than just a bunch of screw-ups."
They seemed to take the seriousness in my tone. "Let's move," I said.
It wasn't just about surviving—this was my chance to reshape the course of events. Blitzo had made his mess, but I wasn't going to let history repeat itself.
With a deep breath, I gave one last look to my team.
Today, we were going to show Hell that the new I.M.P. was nothing like the old one.
We were going to finish this job with precision, and not one step more out of line. This is our start of something new.
I was resolved to make sure the mission didn't end like the canons dsaster in Murder Family. If I could pull this off, maybe, just maybe, I could make this team into the unstoppable force I always dreamed of.
We were about to step into the portal to earth—and I wasn't going to let anyone screw it up.