The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

License and Registration

Crow rested his hands on the wheel, gripping the finger edges tight as the sound of clanking chains and the crackling of fire approached the side of the car. Doctor Richmond rolled his window down, revealing a fiery being beyond anyone's expectations. A bit sickly for his size, but among the group there was no denying the identity of the Greater Demon that stood before them. The Lord of Wrath set his elbow down on the ledge of the car, leaning inside with a twisted expression in his eyes.

"Well now. Isn't this an intriguing surprise." Cynthia tilted herself to an angle to see the fiery Tyrant of Torture, sitting against their car. Azazel's eyes flickered back and forth between the inhabitants of the car, narrowing in a tone indiscernible from joy or anger. "Azazel. Good to see you after so long." Cynthia replied, extending her hand to shake. The Lord of Wrath took it, his eyes narrowing at the flinch of cold. "The pretty little scientist girl. I won't forget your smacking me in the face." There was a long, cold silence in the blistering heat of the dusty valley when Azazel spoke again.

"Howdy, folks. Good to have y'all back again." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, including Azazel, who let out a deep, rolling laugh. Crow broke the laughter, resisting the urge to scald himself on patting the Demon's back. "It's good to see you, Azazel. Wish we were coming here on better terms, but not quite. We need your help." The Lord of Wrath stepped away from the armored car, its surface glowing a deep cherry red. "Help? Well, sure. Can't promise I'm in my prime, but if you're referring to the situation in Pride, I'll chip in." Cynthia poked her head over the window gap to speak, pushing past Crow.

"You really mean that?" She asked with a trembling tone. But the Lord of Wrath shook the chains on his fiery muscles and his tattered black leather jacket, chuckling. "You have my word, kiddo. Tell me whatcha need, and I'll see what I can do to help." As Azazel stepped away, the sound of an unhooking cable from the roof filled the desolate road. When the Lord of Wrath tilted his gaze upward, his eyes widened to see the shadow of a night terror born again, fists clenched and eyes narrowed. "Well I'll be a goddamn fire poker. Look what Hell dragged back in the door."

In a flash and a flurry of trench attire, the Sin Hunter landed beside the armored car, rising slowly to level his gaze with the Lord of Wrath. Even with their differences, Azazel towered over the group, save only for Shrap, who remained a few hairs taller. Azazel and Jack both planted their gloves on their hips, eyeing one another down. "Been a damn minute, Sin Hunter. It's good to see your type 'round here again." Jack kept his eyes slitted and suspicious, the flaps of his trench coat blowing around the left in the dusty, dry wind. "It's good to be back. Thanks for waiting."

Azazel's eyes curled into a grinning expression, and his glove struck the Sin Hunter's shoulder with emphasis. "Now there's that steeled expression I've waited too long to see again." Azazel turned to face the rest of the team in the armored car, jerking his thumb upward from the road. "Y'all can ride along with me. Let's getcha situated in my prison system, and then we can talk business." While the Lord of Wrath turned and walked back toward his fiery chopper, whistling a shrill and unsettling tune, Cynthia turned to face Jack.

"Wow. Talk about a warm welcome." Jack turned toward the window, no longer able to prevent himself from cracking a grin. "Jeez," he muttered, folding over with laughter as the rest of the group burst out chuckling at the pun.

Roughly an hour more of trekking across the dry, dead wasteland of Wrath, in fields of volcanoes and sand, the dead and the unwilling, and the team had arrived at the Colosseum of the Damned, Azazel's proud, fiery fortress. Tall black gates hung above the sky, their piercing lances impaling the souls of the newly deceased on their fiery hot flesh. The armored car pushed through the gate slowly, with Crow driving the rest of the team through and everyone else riding up top with Cynthia. As a show of appreciation, Jack was allowed the offer of riding with Azazel into his fortress.

The bike's barbed wheels rolled to a stop beside a dark fountain spewing magma, crisp flames of glowing embers fluttering in the air as the Lord of Wrath dismounted his chopper. Here, where his power grew strongest, Azazel seemed far more competent since the last time Jack had met him. There was something different about him now, something stronger, more reinforced since the last time they had fought. Jack made a mental note to avoid Azazel's bad side in the event that he had grown better and stronger as a countermeasure against the Sin Hunter and his team.

Hopping off of the large chopper bike and stumbling a bit on the dusty, crumbly road, the Sin Hunter rose and straightened, preparing himself to explain what his team needed help with, but before he could say anything, alarms began blaring around the fortress, screaming bloody shrieks of the tortured. Everything froze and then unfroze, soldiers filling the courtyard and large, magma-coated wardens of black iron and wrought metal charged forward,

Azazel leapt slightly, withdrawing the chains on his shackled biceps as they slammed into the ground, flames pouring down their sides. "Nobody sounds that alarm unless something really bad is about to happen," he growled. As a ghastly shriek shredded away the air, dispersing large clouds of dust and smoke, Jack leveled his revolvers with the clouds of dark ash above the fortress, eyes narrowed in steeled anger. "Great. This was exactly what I needed."