Double Or Nothing: A Coin Flip Away

The Scorpion's Band

Crashing into Pride in a stolen sports car, now wrapped tight against a street pole with the windows and lenses shattered all over the bloodstained ground, Darryl and Carlyle flung themselves out of the car, rolling moments before impact and sprinting for a nearby apartment building. As Carlyle leapt through the door and Darryl slammed the door closed, the car exploded in a shriek of glass and splintered metal as the car struck the street pole and stuck to it. The ringing silence brought Carlyle and Darryl to their senses, standing in the empty remains of a ruined apartment building.

Carlyle was the first to stand up, dusting off her sleeves and sharpening her bronze cutlass against the burnt gray wallpaper. "So that was a total nightmare. Why did you think we should steal a car and crash it again?" Darryl chuckled, removing dirt from a broken flower pot from his horned chin. "Well, crashing the car wasn't in my plan, but we needed something speedy to get through all that gunfire in the central districts." Carlyle rolled her eye, turning around as a result of a muffled stomping sound. "No wonder everybody leaves Pride. A city so big and desolate its own people don't know where the roads are, let alone where they are."

Darryl pushed his arm against a doorframe next to the hall, stepping through the burnt and broken archway into an office space. "Give these people some slack, Carlie. Not all Sinners or Demons are as lucky as we are. Some," Darryl coughed, hacking up ash, "less psychologically fortunate than we are." Carlyle laughed, flashing her fangs while brushing up her saber. "So where did Grymm say he and his boys were positioned? Looks like they aren't-?" Darryl stopped, turning to the arch from Carlyle's silence. "Carlie? What's going on, did you find-!" And Darryl stopped too, with twelve flamethrowers aimed at him.

The jangling of strapped firefighter boots stomped through the door, the tightening of leather rubbing as the figure Carlyle and Darryl could only assume was the leader entered the stairwell. "Nicely done, Scorpions. We've found a few more refugees. Or terrorists." The head Demon swirled around the ledge, a powerful set of mechanical wings sprouting from their power pack. A silver jaw plate covered the Demon's mask while a pair of goggles shone beneath the brim of the Demon's firefighter helmet. Talons and an arm blade composed the Demon's melee arsenal while a large flamethrower rested beside his hip.

Stopping in front of the flame point captives, the Demon slid his goggles over his forehead, parting shades of streaking black hair. Ash darkened the Demon's facial features and wrists as a stunned look crept onto their steel jaw plate. Darryl and Carlyle both sheepishly waved to their brother. "Hey, Grymm," Carlyle stammered. The leather wrapped firefighter dropped his shoulders, stiffening with a crack before pointing at the succubi with a razor blade gauntlet. "Let 'em through, boys. These are my posse."

A bulky, armored Demon with a skull on his belt and wings on his gloves and boots, turned their goggles to Grymm. "These your family, boss?" Grymm's steel jaw plate went rigid before answering with a tightened, "That's right Flick. Let 'em through, you boys cover this entrance. I need to speak with them." The firefighters spread out through the building, closing windows and pulling blinds, barricading the door and moving furniture. Darryl sidestepped around a smaller, horned Demon while Grymm gestured to his siblings. "Let's go upstairs, I've got a command bunker."

Darryl and Carlyle followed their brother up the steps of the ruined building, sirens and gunfire screaming outside the walls. Darryl ducked past a shelf full of broken glass. "How long have you been in Pride for, Grymm?" He asked. The winged vigilante scoffed, brushing streaks of dirtied black hair out of his eyes. "Me and my boys have been out here getting people to safe houses all over Pride since the terrorist attacks first broke out. I'd rather it be me taking a bullet than anyone else." Carlyle shrugged, fixing her eyepatch while she glanced down the stairs at the flameproof vigilantes loading their flamethrowers.

"And who are your 'boys'? Some renegade firefighters?" Grymm laughed aloud, pushing through a half splintered door into his office space. Bullet marks, maps, charts and pins with rope lined every inch of the cramped space. Grymm moved around the center table for a glass of water. "The Scorpions were a group of firefighters helping civilians into a shelter when those terrorists and their blood bag monsters pushed in. I leapt up and cut the bad guys to shreds. The firefighters stuck with me, using flames to dry up all the blood." Carlyle pursed her lips, impressed by the swift partnership.

"But now," Grymm muttered, downing his glass of water, "there have been more blood metal monsters appearing in the streets. Metal makes it tough to burn the blood away, so we use napalm to blast through their thick hides." Darryl cracked his knuckles, stepping forward to address the dystopia beyond the command room. "Grymm, we need your help getting our family together again. I know it's not ideal seeing your siblings again, but-." Grymm's bladed glove raised, silencing his brother. "I'm in. No need for a presentation." Carlyle's eyebrow fluttered in surprise. "Oh. So that's it?" She asked. Grymm laughed, jerking his thumb toward the door.

"Ha! Of course not! No, I've got a favor to ask of you both before we go." Carlyle dropped her shoulders with a groan, but Darryl, who seemed shaken by the inability to perceive the gunshots outside, turned to Grymm's direction. "What do you need from us?" Stepping to the door with his glove pressed on the frame, Grymm turned with a slick grin under his steel jawplate. "We're gonna go save some civilians first. Grab some gas masks, let's move out!"