Double Or Nothing: A Coin Flip Away

The Tides Are Changing

A window into the warehouse at the forefront of the barricades slid open, and with the flashing sirens of a brutal investigation scene far below, the silent Sin Hunter threw himself over the sill, rolling across the floor and stopping with a knee on the floor and a boot planted to stop. His fedora flopped in the breeze from outside, righting itself with the corner flaps of his trench coat. Two sharpened pupils of silver light glared out from the void beneath his face as his trench coat flowed past his shoulders and pooled on the floor in front of his boots. Standing upright, the Sin Hunter resembled an abandoned pillar in the empty workspace.

Jack adjusted his eyes to the darkness, squinting against the flickering lights from the scene outside the room. Reds and blues made it difficult to focus on anything particular in the office, but Jack was able to pick out key details that implied the office identity. Cubicles left to gather dust in the horrifying wave of reds and blacks swarming the streets, a faint green tinge against the flashing shrieks of sirens in the distance and the unsettling smell of burnt coffee grounds and cake too sweet to be consumed. Jack's senses gathered all of this together before he pushed forward into the office space.

His journey through Pride and crossing into Greed was rushed, sloppy, but it did the trick fine. A motorcycle heist across the train tracks and mounting the tracks running through Pride's districts took Jack straight through the carnage in the streets and blasting out in front of Greed's gates. The crime scene was a stroke of luck on Jack's behalf; a drug bust with some reckless teens had turned into a shootout, presently under inspection by the local authorities. 'Ironic,' Jack told himself with a chuckle, 'Hell's got a better law system than the Living World does. Better run some tests and surveys on how to fix that grave problem.'

Jack stepped over a patch of dirt and dried leaves from an overturned plant in the row. 'Must've been knocked over in all the commotion,' Jack muttered. Sweeping through the cubicle rows without a glance to the empty spaces, husks of their former selves, the Sin Hunter's primary focus was directed toward meeting with Wrench. 'That rift, whatever or wherever it is...I have to shut it down from the outside and crawl my way back in when the job's done.' Jack pushed his hands against a chair in the center of the row, sliding the squeaking furniture to the left before moving quickly and quietly.

For such a resilient, armor clad detective, Jack made hardly any sound when he swept across the building floor, a shadow in gliding rather than a person lost in an anxious jog. This was something Jack had learned in his time serving in the military. The battlefront in Europe had taught Jack how to move quietly and fire only when it's required. Jack caught himself snagging on memories of leaving innocent soldiers to fend for themselves while he moved toward the control centers of the enemy force. It struck him with an irritating sense of guilt, but Jack righted himself, reaching the stairwell up to the next floor.

Pushing the door open, the Sin Hunter stepped into the stairwell, his trench coat flashing out in the neon green light of bright advertisements beyond the fiberglass wall to his left. Casting large shadows over the lower floors of the stairwell, Jack mounted the steps and pushed upward in his mission to gain higher elevation. Only once did Jack pause, when the light fixture in the hall flickered and then snapped off again. Jack's heartbeat quickened but slowed, keeping blood flowing to his arms and legs while his mind drifted elsewhere, pacing together his plan for attack. 'Greed's under high lockdown despite my squirming through. If Bile knows I'm here, there'll be hell to pay, and it's likely he wants me to pay it.'

Flipping over the handrail and taking a stepladder from the top floor up to the rooftop access, Jack pushed his fedora back before propping open the hatch to the rooftop, lifting his eyes above the lid and glaring out onto the empty roof space. Nothing but a few leaves and some junk littering the walkway. Jack's eyes narrowed as he lifted himself out of the tunnel, rolling to his feet and straightening upright. The cool, misty breeze from below felt clear and fresh on his face. For a moment, the Sin Hunter forgot he was in Hell. Stepping over the ledge and peering down into the flashing lights of city traffic, Jack caught himself in surprise.

'Greed's usually packed this time of year. Summertime ends and crunch time for businesses kicks up, so where is everybody?' The streets were empty, buildings illuminated by the ghostly remains of corporations whose doors now bolted shut. Only the flashing message of a passing blimp gave Jack his context. "Attention all Greed inhabitants! Lock your doors and remain calm, the city has gone under full lockdown with the arrival of the Sin Hunter in Hell again." Jack spelled out the message as it scrolled by, clenching his fists. "Well, shoot. Looks like Bile's beaten me to it. Whoever he is, he's good. Too good."

Turning his eyes toward downtown Greed, the Sin Hunter's pupils rested on the flashing high beams of the Big House, the most powerful and popular casino in Greed's muddied green streets. In the midst of a global apocalypse, business thrived. Jack curled his lip with an irritated twitch in his eye. "Of course, in a world ravaged by terrorism and fear, capitalism still holds all the power," Jack chuckled, exhaling into the dark foggy night when a playful echo tapped at his shoulder. Yawning, a very sleep-obstructed Eleanor rubbed at her eyelids, dropping her shoulders to let her weary eyes gloss over the bright green horizon.

"Okay, so what are we supposed to be looking for?" she muttered, floating beside the Sin Hunter. Jack slid his gloves back into his coat, now a bundle of kevlar and padded equipment wrapped in a shroud of muddied beige leather. His fedora blew back to reveal the silver blades of his eyes in the obsidian void of his face. His pupils reflected a stern, almost sorrowful glare. "Lucifer told us that a rift to the Living World has been opened in Greed. My guess is, wherever or whoever has it, somebody opened it near Beelzebub's place of operations in the middle of the city." Eleanor blinked, her starry eyes fixating on Jack. "Uh, Jack? Beelzebub doesn't rule Greed anymore."

This jerked the Sin Hunter away from the rooftop ledge, turning to face Eleanor's intangible voice. Jack couldn't see Eleanor in the mist; he hadn't been given a proper set of special contacts. "Wait, what? When did this happen?" he asked, taking a step back in surprise. Eleanor sighed, turning her wisps of hair toward the horizon of Greed. She could still feel the shell of that bullet chewing away at her skull. It sickened her. "There's a new owner in town. His name's Mammon, a small, shrew-looking reptile with a knack for playing by and rewriting the rules." Jack's eyes wandered at the ledge, filled with images of the laughing serpent salesman he had once fought, and had once been allies with.

"I can't believe it. Is he...y'know," Jack stammered, but Eleanor cut him short. "No! At least, we don't know. He was run out of town before anybody could track him down. But if he's gone, Lucifer would've known by now." Jack swallowed back stale saliva, his eyes narrowing. "Well, if Mammon's anything like his former, it shouldn't be difficult to slip past him, right?" Eleanor sighed, sliding herself into the shadow of the Sin Hunter. "Maybe, maybe not. Let's just get to the rift," she slipped out, catching herself at the end of her tongue. Jack nodded, his right hand unfurling from his coat and steadying the brim of his fedora. Without a warning, the Sin Hunter leapt away from the rooftop, somersaulting on the roof below and sprinting into the emerald city.