The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

A Sudden Arrival

In a brilliant flash of light, Shrap exploded from the ground, spiraling headfirst into a pile of wet leaves near the sidewalk while his briefcase flung out onto the sidewalk beside him. Crashing to the ground, Shrap planted his hand on the cold, grassy earth, lifting himself from the floor as leaves tumbled off of his back. "Ugh, guess we made it." Stepping onto the sidewalk to retrieve his briefcase, Shrap removed his mask, clipping the silky silver theater mask to his belt while dusting off his sleeves. Shrap's deep blue suit with bright red stripes struck the calm white sky in a flashy manner as the Reformed Sinner opened his briefcase by a bench at the corner.

"Now let's cross our two sets of fingers now and hope that these fellas don't come out condensed like tin cans." Shrap snapped open his suitcase, and with a slurching noise and a pop, Crow and Deck both flung out onto the park bench by the street, covered in strange, bioluminescent goo. Crow blinked back the goo, wiping sludge from his face as he removed his mask and motionless goggles, setting them down by the bench. "Yeesh. Talk about pins and needles, everything in my body fell asleep!" Deck laughed, rolling over on the bench when he suddenly froze, eyes quivering in shock. Shrap revealed his thin, kindly features when he spoke to the demon. "Uh, Deck? Everything okay?"

Deck clutched his arms and shoulders, appearing unable to seek warmth. "W-wh-why i-is i-it s-so c-co-col-cold?" His jaws clattered like the keys of a xylophone while Crow raised a hand from beneath his dusty, yet oddly fashionable Plague Infector's robes. "It is a bit chilly. Where are we, Shrap?" The salesman laughed, swinging his arms out into the air with a breeze from the East. "Gentlemen! Nothing could possibly make me happier than to present to you, the Biggest Apple in all the world, the pinnacle of economic growth, the beautiful city of New York!" Crow's new, almost eerily normal face glanced around the sky, removing the brim of his sun hat to inspect the cloudy skies above.

"Goodness," he found himself reverting to Champ de'Otielles in Rural France, "I've never seen America before. I've only ever heard rumors during my travels in France and Italy." Shrap snapped his fingers, holding his hand out with a flask of alcohol secured. "A little something I picked up in Germany. For the road, of course." Crow nodded, taking a swig before passing the bottle to Deck's shivering lips. "Drink that," Crow replied, handing the bottle to Deck, "it'll warm you up fast." Deck nodded, sitting upright before clutching the bottle and downing the contents in one gulp. Wiping his lips, Deck sat forward, beating his hands against his sides.

"Whew! So this is the Living World, yeah?" Shrap nodded, dusting his mitts while Crow stood from the bench, joining Shrap by the lake in Central Park. Crow tucked his gloves into his pockets, closing his eyes and breathing deep the fresh, smogless air. "It's...it's quiet," he commented, breathing in and out, in and out. Deck nodded, hopping off of the bench whilst Shrap removed his coat, handing the demon some cover from the elements. The demon happily accepted the coat, realizing that he was, in fact, wearing a mortal disguise. Deck, without his pale gold skin and vibrant purple mane of hair, resembled a strangely adorned surfer with a deep tan, dusty blond hair, a gray tank top and some striking silver eyes.

Upon gazing at his reflection in a puddle, Deck bit his lip in shock. "Wow. Is that me?" He asked. Shrap nodded, patting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You betcha, Deck. We are no longer monsters here, just people the world has yet to meet again." Crow turned, cracking his knuckles. "Couldn't agree more, Shrap. Now we need to find-" "Jack?!" Deck cut through. Crow and Shrap turned like whirlwinds, and joining Deck by the ledge of the brick wall, they followed the demon knight's hand across the street in the direction of two people. From any ordinary glance, a bystander or spectator of the park would have dismissed the duo walking on the street as little more than another group of people.

However, the Stimpak Society members recognized one another, no matter how many disguises they may have thrown over to cloak or hide away from the world. And it was unmistakable to notice a man with a large fedora and a bulky trench coat on the sidewalk and not believe it was their friend. Crow stepped forward, stumbling over his robes. Inspecting the handiwork around his ankles, Crow huffed, rolling the fabric high enough to let his pants beneath breathe easy. "Y'know, it would have been fantastic if I hadn't come back wearing what I was when I died." Shrap chuckled, patting a hand on the Plague Infector's shoulder. "And now, Mr. Richmond, you know exactly how I felt the first time coming up here."

Crow nodded, but Shrap could see that something was irritating the Plague Infector. A twitch in the man's eye indicated something was amiss. "Are you feeling alright? You keep staring at your mask," he commented. Crow turned around, waving a hand beneath his robes with a deep sigh. "I...I guess it's just a phantom effect. In Hell, it felt like this mask was my only real face. But now, in the Living World," Crow responded, brushing his fingertips along the edge of his goggles and beak, "it's just the shell of someone who lived before and died with the rest." Shrap sucked in a deep breath, his deep, brick shaded eyes avoiding the painful reality.

"Crow, I can tell you this, m'boy," Shrap exhaled, patting Crow on his opposite shoulder. "I've lived a collective forty eight years on Living World soil, and I can tell you that masks make no difference to the human eye. Y'see," Shrap motioned, walking with his hands in his pockets and the Plague Infector by his side across the sidewalk, "when you wear a mask, it gives you a beacon, a guide to navigate the world you want to see." Crow nodded, chewing the bottom of his curled lip. Up ahead, Deck had crossed the street and turned right after their destination. "But here's the practicality of masks. They give a person form. It provides devotion, a message reflecting the contents of the wearer."

Crow shrugged, removing his shivering red hands from his pockets. "Does...does that imply that, when I removed this mask, nothing in Hell matters after that?" Shrap chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. "Of course not! When you go back to Hell, you become the mask again! It's beautiful simplicity in that." Crow nodded, hopping up onto the curb as the duo walked after Deck, who had been carefully inspecting a street musician playing a parody of "Bring It On Home." The Plague Infector shook his head, cradling the strap of his goggles in his hand. "I see what you mean. But I'm...I'm worried about Satan." Shrap nodded, patting his hand on the back.

"Hey look, bud." Deck leapt over the railing, finally reaching the bundled man and the shorter teenager, tapping both politely on their shoulders. "She truly loves you. I've seen enough romances and dramas in my time and in my age to know when a gal gets that twinkle in her eyes." To Deck's overwhelming joy, he was embraced with laughs and quivering excitement. "Because you're the only one who can match her stoic, confident aura. And I don't think Satan would trade that away for anything in the whole universe."