The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

Regrouping Forces

The shadow of Ciaphus Industries towered above Sloth's blissfully industrial utopia, glistening in the moonlight from above the ocean waves. In the tower, at the pinnacle, powerful boots clanked against the smooth white steel floors, guiding the Lord of Sloth through his halls. Morpheus was an honest cephalopod, if not a bit amused by his clever theatrics. As the smartest being in Sloth, the cyborg octopus had developed a large, though discreet, following across all of Hell as the renowned engineer, a pioneer in the world of hydroelectrics and charging energy through natural resources. As such was permitted in his home, Morpheus had taken a suspiciously lustful liking to the Depthcharge, a rare breed of eel.

"The Depthcharge, as is the name given to our proud idol of Sloth's power source, shall lead the way for our newest projects and slice our efforts to produce a more beneficial power source for Hell in half with its ingenuity." Morpheus curled his tentacled beard into a smile, recalling that lie he had delivered in a speech to the inhabitants of his kingdom. Turning away from his workspace, Morpheus walked to the opposite end of his home, retrieving a vial of strange, almost slop-like substance, pouring the vial across his exhaust ports in deep relief. Volts of bright white energy surged across the Lord of Sloth's muscles as he entered the Warming Space, a bubble of a room.

The sheer size of the Living Room alone could have fit a hundred people if it had desired such a thing. However, due to the Lord of Sloth's indiscernible height and size compared to his siblings, the Lord of Sloth found such adjustments well met for his stature. Lining one side of the walls was a large collection of documents and tabs, each tab a screen holding a separate file of history and recording from centuries before. Labeled in perfect numerical order, Morpheus swept his mechanical fingers across one tab, pulling the screen from the shelf to inspect the contents. Within the screen shimmered a flashing image of a young, humanoid octopus creature and presumably its father and mother, enjoying a lovely evening on the coast of Gluttony.

Morpheus chuckled as he let the folds of his beard swirl along his ice-cold skin, sliding the tab back into the shelf where it sat prior. The Lord of Sloth turned away from the bookshelf, moving for his Private Study across the hall. Barred by a large steel frame with a dense, near empty wall, Morpheus ran his finger gently along a crease in the center, hooking his finger into a small crevice just behind the frame, pushing his finger into the hole. A loud crunch echoed in the Warming Space as Morpheus planted a hand on his wrist, twisting the gauntlet counterclockwise as the steel frame opened itself, the wall sliding back to reveal the Private Study of Morpheus Androphadae IX.

They say that wealth is measured in smiles, in money and in memories. And none of these are exactly incorrect. The concept of wealth, beauty and happiness exist in the eye of those perceiving the concept in the first place. For Morpheus, it was his indescribably vast room filled with knowledge. Books, scrolls, excerpts from every corner of Hell and even, in the Lord of Sloth's own mind, the Seven Blessings of Life, seven documents that had been gifted to Morpheus by Lucifer as a welcome to the throne of Sloth. These books contained precious documents that were, for every intent and purpose, revered by the Living World people as the most powerful, emotional, and quintessential documents ever perceived by mankind.

Morpheus flipped the cap of his left finger open, revealing a data stick which he promptly inserted into a slot beside the books, lifting the bookcase while he reached for a leather-bound book titled, "The Arts of Love and Devotion." Morpheus swept through the pages with his free hand as the glass case slid shut, admiring images and descriptions of the most powerful pieces of art ever created. At long last, Morpheus paused at the sight of The Mona Lisa. It was a simple, rather bland color scheme, but the portrait of the woman, neither smiling nor in sorrow, confused Morpheus, which drove the cyborg cephalopod to near madness.

"What is your secret, mistress of mystery? Why do you cry, yet brim no tears? Or smile, yet bear no joy in those lifeless eyes?" As Morpheus pooled over the mystery, his mind driving itself mad from comprehending the spiritual meaning of devotion to work, a voice alerted the Lord of Sloth of someone's presence, jolting the Tyrant of Technology from his daze. "LORD MORPHEUS. YOUR HEAD OF THE BIOTECHNOLOGY BRANCH HAS ARRIVED." Morpheus nodded, closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf with the other six books. "Mm-hmm," Morpheus nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes, of course, R.I.L.E.Y. I will be ready in six point four five minutes." The notification system switched off, and Morpheus was left alone in his Private Study.

Reentering the Living Space, Morpheus closed the shaft in the wall as the elevators into his living quarters slid open, revealing a mechanically enhanced female assistant, clutching her clipboard in relieved presence. "Ah, there you are! I was wondering when you'd show up." Morpheus stepped down the stairs leading into the canyon in the center of his Warming Space. "Of course, dear scientist, of course. And I observe that your new mechanical form is structurally stable after all." The robot swirled its autonomous dress back and forth, a televised screen winking at its employer. "You betcha! It feels great having something to pilot and move about in a corporeal state again." Morpheus laughed a great, satisfying laugh, crossing his mechanical limbs behind his back as he strode toward the machine.

"And you do not regret leaving your former employer for a new life in Sloth in the slightest?" he asked. The robot chuckled, its voice crackling with volts of neon energy. "Not one bit, Murph. And I intend to cherish every moment I've got in this new form!" Morpheus smiled, brushing a hand against his daughter figure's cheek in contented fashion. "And you, Miss Eleanor, are welcome to utilize that form for the rest of your precious eternity. The power cell specially wired by yours truly runs on oxygen and carbon fuel sources." Eleanor tilted her head, the screen reflecting a confused expression. "Meaning?" she asked. Before Morpheus left the room, the Lord of Sloth turned with a smile, chuckling. "Meaning, my dear, that your little robot suit will run infinitely unless I say otherwise."

As Morpheus closed the door into his Private Quarters, Eleanor staggered, placing a hand on her steel-molded breastplate. "No...really?" she quivered, her byte-fixating tone shaking in volts of positive and negative energy.