The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

Convergence on the Blackstone Bridge

Jerry sat in the booth guarding the gate into Wrath, twiddling his thumbs and exhaling often, flicking a silver dollar up and down in the air with leisurely motion. It became hypnotizing to watch the dollar sail into the air, then slowly descend into his palms. Suddenly, the alarm on the front of his security monitor flashed a piercing blue. Somebody was storming toward Wrath's gates, amazingly. Jerry sighed, pocketing the silver dollar and leaning forward to stick his head out of the terminal, fixing his fiery black helmet with one glove.

"Hey, you really shouldn't-YIKES!!" He screamed, ducking back inside the booth as a flash of black and olive green screamed past, charging up the road in a cloud of dust and smoke. Jerry slammed his fist down on the grate in front of his keyboard, and alarms blared wildly in the desolate wasteland of dust and blood as the gates granting access between Wrath and Pride shrieked upon sliding closed. Jerry once again stuck his head out of the office window, watching as the outline of a cloaked figure riding the cloudy dust storm disappeared into the valley of death.

"Ooh, this'll get my pay docked for sure," Jerry grumbled, tucking back into the guard post and crossing his arms in irritated silence.

Jack rode atop the armored car, one hand fastened tight to his grappling hook glove, which pierced the roof of the car with golden glimmer, and the other kept his cutlass in its sheath on his back as he leaned forward, shouting over the blistering wind. He hadn't seen Wrath in decades, and the last time he had been here, it was an unpleasant visit. Prison, torture, pain, fire, and worst of all, bearing the full might of Wrath itself on his entire body for minutes. Imagining what it felt like only made the pain worse.

"How much further until ol' matchstick's prison?!" He shouted over the dusty valley's billowing fields of magma and volcanic soil. Inside the armored car, thundering through piles of skulls and bones, Crow sat behind the wheel, muttering something to himself while Cynthia broadcasted the Sin Hunter's voice into the car, replying to everyone's conversation. "Jack wants to know when we're planning on reaching Azazel's fortress." Crow broke his train of focus, turning to Cynthia while he turned the wheel to make a right at an intersection.

The armored car swung tight and swirled around the outer edge of a large and deadly pool of volcanic malice. It traced a rough pattern across the edge while the ghastly screams of dust and howling wind shook the outside of the vehicle. In the backseat, rumbling around in his briefcase, Shrap unclipped the hinges, popping his craned, rough black neck out of the suitcase, his theater mask swishing around the car. "So, why is Jack riding up top and we sit in here? Y'all realize I could just fly us there, right?"

Wrench chuckled, leaning down against his seatbelt to face the wartime salesman. His face reeked of oil and the grinding of metallic components. "If you vould haf vanted to stay out zhere and endure zhe blistering dust storms, I haf no qvalms vith more leg room in here." Although his mask reflected emotionless effort, the eyes twisted in a pained, irritated kind of glare. "Fair enough," Shrap replied, hopping around in the suitcase to face the front seat, hauling himself into the seat opposite Wrench with a huff and a puff.

Two other bodyguards from the factory had accompanied the group on their mission into Wrath, their roly poly forms masked by thick kevlar and large bolt rifles. Blast proof masks shielded their faces from the rest of the team, and despite engaging in conversation with their employers, the guards remained largely mute for the majority of the trip. Cynthia would occasionally turn around and give the guards a status update, then return to broadcasting Jack's signals to the crew.

While Shrap rode along with Wrench and the group inside, Jack kept his cool up on top of the armored car. His hands ached from gripping the slowly warming metal bars on the roof, and although his powerful grappling glove held fast to the roof, Jack slumped over, letting the warm breeze from the volcanic wreckage around the road wash over his face and chest. The heat felt good, comforting his body with so much energy being exerted lately. Jack was relieved to have a moment to sit back and appreciate something that millions more would endure daily.

As Jack rolled over on the car, tying the cable over his belt and hiking his cable-wound backpack onto his shoulders like a pillowcase, the Sin Hunter paused in puzzlement. His eyes were closed, but Liana was standing there, as beautiful as the day he had met her. The wings and claw on her arm were replaced with shapely, albeit Hellish features, including horns, a pair of hooved, bent legs and strange, claw-like grippers on her hands. Her eyes still sparkled with light when she spoke. "Jack? Is that you?"

And then Jack awoke, his face a shadowed but dark red from the heat. He sat upright, clutching his stomach and swallowing several times. 'Wh...what was that?' He asked himself. Sitting upright on the surface of the roof, another voice filled his mind. But this time, it was one he recognized. "You just woke up, sleepyhead. How'd your nap go?" Jack chuckled, responding to Cynthia's question by speaking to himself and to her through his thoughts. "Out the front door with everything it needed. I thought I saw the image of a loved one, the same we're looking to bring to justice."

Cynthia replied with another question, ringing in Jack's ears. "You saw Liana? Did she say anything?" Jack shook his head, his expression worsening in the dusty sand of the deathly valley. "Afraid not. Just calling out into the void."

After driving for a long while, Crow checked one of the camera lenses outside of the armored car. He couldn't help himself from noticing a large cloud of dust, spewing fire and flames, charging toward the camera. Crow felt his fingers locking even tighter over the wheel, his beak shaking with irritation. Cynthia, who noticed the pale white in his dried and bloodied hands, faced the Plague Infector with mixed expressions. "Crow? Is everything alright?" Crow grumbled, stripping off his mask to breathe before he spoke.

"Cynthia, if you please. Tell Jack that our guy found us first. And I don't think he'll be happy to see us after what happened a long time ago."