The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

The Doctor, The Thief and The Stimpak

Hell had changed. Not for the better, nor quite for the worse, just changing. Like filtered water, it remained, but dimmed in shimmer and effect, a lack of entertainment causing flickering problems across the surface of the plateau of Sins and clashing wars. 

In the streets of Pride, things were unrealistically quiet, hardly a scuffle to be had and rarely any causing enough trouble to send an explosion rocking the streets. 

In Greed, business continued about as casually as one might define the term 'casual'. Casinos surged, chips were exchanged, cash flows, and save for a minor overthrowing of Rulers, Greed changed hardly at all.

Lust was certainly nothing new; the moviemaking and film industry boomed and surged through the coastal streets of glamorous lights. Envy remained largely intact, save for a few sandstorms which ravaged the pinnacle of shimmering, golden glory as the Palace battered the storms.

Wrath's fiery deserts and decaying wastelands rolled in a thriving age known as 'The Wild South' among commoners and inhabitants of the ash-clogged deserts. Since a recent surging of rivals and gang wars, the Lord of Wrath has holed up tight in the Blackstone Fortress seated in the center of the desert wasteland, magma flowing like blood from the unsavory and the truly hideous.

Sloth's never ceasing, always pulsing economy of technology and corrupted utopian society thrived as always, seated in the crystalline bubble beneath the deepest, murkiest waves of Hell's crashing oceans. Morpheus waits in his throne of wires, power cables and technological prowess, remaining the smartest, most terrifying mechanical sea creature in Hell.

Gluttony withheld its beautiful flora and the damn near heavenly society of planters, coastal inhabitants and market stalls, a slice life away from the searing pain of Hell and its dark troubles.

Somebody outside was being shot. That was the only thing Deck could focus on while he managed the stack of papers on top of his desk. As the shorter demon ruffled through stacks of papers, Harley entered the office, a wall of muscle and proud beetle blood, scooping up piles of old paperwork. "Where should I move these papers, hon?" she asked. Deck tilted his head to the air, smiling when he heard his wife's voice. "Those you can just set by the garbage bin, sweetheart. I'll be out in a moment, I'm looking for a document Crow forwarded me before he took off for his date." Harley chuckled, setting the stack of papers and folders down beside the bin while she sighed thoughtfully, brushing a hand along her pincers. 

"Young love. Do you remember a time when we were like that?" Deck grinned, leaping over the desk to greet the hand of his wife with courteous demeanor. "Of course, my darling. But what do you mean by 'were'? Are we not always, my charming Rhinoceros Beetle?" Harley giggled while she swept her husband from the floor, spinning around as Deck wrapped his own silver gauntlets around her neck, laughing as the two enjoyed the pleasure of one another's company. Just then, as the two settled down, the door into the office swung open, revealing a very tired, very worn out Wrench. The black and gold Nazi uniform dragged around his shoulders, the wires in his mechanical arm sparking and groaning against black steel.

Wrench took sip from a mug in his organic hand, grumbling. "Are you two qvite done yet? Zhere are important papers I need to borrow for a meeting." Deck hopped down, grabbing a folder from the side of the desk. "Is that what you're looking for, sleepyhead?" Wrench opened the file, draining the last of his mug's contents before setting the cup on the desk. "Hmm. Yes, zhis vill do. Thank you kindly, Deck," the Nazi replied as politely as his tone would allow for. Deck saluted, two fingers to his forehead. "Don't sweat it, big guy. Thanks for covering for Crow at the meeting." Wrench grinned, his silver eye slashing across gunmetal gray to face the lovers. 

"Don't concern yourself vith me, Deck. I qvite enjoy zhe notion of humoring zhe bored and zhe uncooperative vith my methods." Wrench saluted in his own team's way, then exited the room, closing the door behind him. Deck turned back to his sweetheart, eyes sparkling with confident, overpowering gold light. "Well, the factory's closed for the night. Whaddaya say we go get something to eat from the restaurant just over?" Harley tipped her hat, opening the door for her short king.  "Nothing could put a brighter smile on this beetle bouncer's face, Decklyn." Deck clicked his heels, holding the door open for his wife as the two exited the office space, the door locking tight behind them.

Candles flickered and swished in the coastal breeze of the shoreline as the sun dipped just below the horizon of the waves beyond Lust's borders. "Thank you so much for this, Crow. I appreciate all the work you've been putting up with, and-" "Relax, please. You've been just as busy, how could I possibly say no?" Through the crowd of snapping cameras and up the steps to the balcony, Crow sat across the red cloth table from the Lady of Envy herself, Satan. The far taller imp stretched out in her seat, sparkling silver flashing across a dress adorned with orange flowers and vibrant green which clashed with her burnt red skin and white scars. "And Clio wasn't too much trouble for you?"

The Plague Infector waved a hand, gesturing to the sunset beyond the candlelight. "Of course not. He was a delight to have around. gave me a real shining hope for the kids these days." Satan laughed softly, extending her hand to gently fold over Crow's. "You've been so helpful lately, there's no way I could possibly thank you more." Crow wiggled the lids of his goggles, winking and forcing his eyebrows to jump up and down in glee. "Well, y'know, once dinner is served and I've payed for everything, I can think of a few things," Crow grinned. Satan covered her mouth with one hand, her dark red skin growing a pale ruby shade. 

"Oh, please, you. At least let me pay for dinner, I insist." Crow shrugged, sitting back while he tipped his own top hat. "If it makes you feel satisfied, then I've got no problems," he concluded when a waiter stepped forward. The waiter was taller, more angled, with tinted purple glasses and a flashy sports coat. "Good evening to you both. Your complimentary dinner is served." At once, a plethora of jaw dropping, eye catching, mouthwatering dishes were arranged on the table, each one more ravishing and devastating to the stomach than the last. Crow tilted his beak toward Satan, goggles wide in shock. 

"And exactly how much did you pay for, again?" he asked. Satan laughed, crossing her legs beneath the table and her hands on the table. "Like I said, you've been pulling your weight and my weight on your shoulders. Why not celebrate that? Doing a Queen's work is not something to take lightly in Hell." Crow shrugged, reaching for a fork and knife for his platter of seasoned strips of meat. "Why of course. But really, it was nothing." he smiled. Satan reached a hand over, gently sliding her hand beneath the edge of Crow's chin. The starry skin beneath Crow's leather mask flashed and burst with colors as the Golden Knight chuckled softly.

"I'll give you a couple of reasons to say otherwise," she grinned, and Crow matched that energy as the two ate, discussing not only politics and work life, but the rare flora along the railings and Satan's unusual love for the world of ornithology. Crow countered and reinforced with his own perspectives and how, prior to his death, he himself had a cousin who was a fascinating ornithologist and trainer of all things, from falcons to sparrows. Satan's eyes sparkled with every sentence Crow spoke, just as the Plague Infector laughed and grew more intrigued by the topics touched on by the knowledgeable Ruler of Envy.

Once dinner had been finished, Satan paid for the check, then pushed back her seat, wiping her lips and readjusting her platinum earrings. "Now just how do we get down without going through all those mobs and cameras?" She pondered, tapping her hoof in puzzlement. Crow, however, walked forward froths side of the table, offering his hand. "If I may, m'lady, I propose a rather daring solution." Satan turned as Crow whispered his plan, and her face brightened with every word. "I'd wager I could race you down there," she challenged. Crow, eager to begin, gently brushed three fingers beneath the edge of satan's chin and her neck.

"Care to prove it?" he asked. And the two leapt from the railing, clearing gaps and using the rooftops to nimbly scale the restaurant and escape to the street below while avoiding the hordes of cameras and paparazzi that broke through the security guards to enter the top floor and arrive to absolutely nothing worth recording or interviewing.