The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

The Unnamed Visitor

Once Morpheus, Azazel, Satan and Mammon were properly seated at the table, Lucifer fixed his collar and the gold straps of his trimmed white suit, gesturing to the table on vast and vibrant Rulers. "Ladies and gentlemen all, thank you for attending this meeting." While those of Morpheus, Satan and Asmodeus offered careful respect, Azazel and Mammon refused to budge from their laziness. Azazel remained with his boots upon the table, exhaust pipes from his charred black armor rumbling brass at the tips, and Mammon hastily swiping across social media platforms and devices in his multiple arms.

Lucifer grumbled at the sight of his newest child seated at the table. Azazel could be forgiven for his actions. As the Lord of Wrath, one's duties would imply most of their reputation when working as an executioner clad in chains and charred black steel.

Mammon, however, was new to his job, and as such could be incredibly irritating to deal with whenever needing a favor or wanting to seize an opportunity. Lucifer debated speaking to the strangely adorned Ruler, settling on a hesitant, but very cautious yes. "Mammon? Are you doing alright?" Lucifer muttered. In a flash, the Lord of Greed replied. "Yeah. Fine, just fine."

Although Lucifer would have loved to lay into the spiteful, self-gratuitous pile of lard disguised as a Demon, the Lord of Wrath opposite the table had beaten his "father" to the punch. Fiery fists struck the table, and the exhaust pipes and chains rumbling on Azazel's burning flesh soured at the presence of the four-eyed Demon Ruler. "Alright, I'm sick of this, how in the HELL did you kick Beelzebub off of the stool?!" The clicking of fingers and typing on screens stopped as Mammon twisted his head with jingling bells to the air, tilted as if to emphasize a dangerous conversation. "What's the problem?" He asked with a smug chuckle.

Morpheus stood forward, gauntlets raised in calm demeanor. "Gentlemen, please," he started, but Satan and Asmodeus both joined in the commotion, Satan rising for a quick lashing at the Lord of Greed. "Azazel is right. We hardly tolerated Beelzebub, but he was the true Embodiment at that moment. What gives you any more right to the claim than he had?" Four sets of hands struck the table, silencing the Lords and Ladies. Mammon rose from the table, fixing the position of his bow tie before continuing with a deep sigh. "I beat your boss fair and square. He wanted to play cards, and he lost. Case closed."

As the doors into the mansion rang one final time, all of the bickering voices froze, turning heads to the entrance into the Dining Hall. Something emerged from the doorway, a strange, certainly indistinguishable creature, sliding across the carpet in a floating pattern. The hum of flies could be heard with distraught ears across the room as the cloaked, silent figure took the final seat at the table: Gluttony. There was a stunned and disbelieving silence as all of the Rulers at the table froze, observing the creature that sat toward the end of the table, wrinkled, bandaged hands wrapped in patient silence.

A voice reached for the table and for its audience, a slow, mildly weathered voice, shrouded in wraps. "I am told this seat has been empty for a long time." Lucifer stepped forward, brushing beside the seats of his children before stopping in front of the cloaked figure, laying a gloved hand on the lip of the throne. The King of Hell leaned in toward the putrid, yet amazingly floral scent of the silent king, the flowers in his brim wilting and blooming in indisputable argument. "I do beg your pardon, sir, but this is a private meeting, only for Rulers of Hell." The hood, void of facial features beneath, tilted from the neck of its muddy brown scarf, facing Lucifer with a slow, patient silence.

"You are correct, O' Humbling and Ancient One. That is why I am here." Lucifer stepped back, crossing his arms. "If you intend to stay here, then at least prove yourself worthy of that seat you've taken. Surely you have some kind of mark to prove your worth?" The shrouded, bundled figure rose slowly, inhaling and exhaling in loud, slow bursts, finally extracting a palm to Lucifer. The flesh was calm, lotioned and calm, yet wrinkled with age and bandages. "Unwrap the bandages, please." Lucifer turned to face the other intrigued and anxious members at the table before sighing. He rolled up his sleeves and removed his gloves, sliding the white gloves beneath his cloak.

"Very well, then." Lucifer laid his hands upon the old, dusty garbs. The bandages came away like coarse sandpaper, gritty and frail. And when the bandages recoiled, they revealed a blazing gold mark upon the flesh, a beautiful flower adorned with petals and a beautiful orange stem encircling the flower. Lucifer stepped away, eyes wide with amaze. "Impossible. The Mark of the Flies..." he whispered. The silent shroud withdrew its hand, folding robes over robes before extending a new hand toward the King of Hell. Within the hand was a beautiful, golden apple, with blossoming pink buds and a blazing blue eye on the front of the apple's skin.

The Lords and Ladies inched closer, Morpheus especially intrigued by such a bizarre display of vegetation. Lucifer stepped forward once again, holding out his hands this time. "A gift," the hood whispered to the wind, "for your gracious hospitality." Lucifer nodded, accepting the golden apple which he quickly handed to Satan, who had been standing next to him. Lucifer bowed deep to the floor, sweeping up his cloak with a firm but gentle hand. Coughing before replying, the King of Hell motioned with his hand to the seat adorned with flowers and strange mushrooms. "Please, I implore you, sir. Have a seat, stay a while for our meeting."

The shrouded figure nodded, sliding into the seat with folded, bandaged hands. "Your generosity precedes you, Sire." Lucifer nodded, returning to his seat at the head of the Dining Table. While Morpheus and Asmodeus both inspected the gift from the stranger, Morpheus' bright blue lights scanning and waving over every surface while data pooled in his receivers, the stranger engaged in conversation with Satan, finding many common traits and topics to bond over. And Azazel continued bickering with Mammon about why the Lord of Greed was allowed to sit where he was. And Lucifer, at the head of the commotion, felt oddly shaken with relief, as though a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Hell had placed a crucial piece of its puzzle back into the board, and with Gluttony having a new claim of ownership, the King of Hell smiled when he realized that things were one step closer to being as whole as they could possibly be.