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Black marble floors, gold everywhere, some poor soul’s spine molded into the base of the table for decor.Real classy.The council demons are mid-freak-out with, papers flying, horns flaring, voices screeching over one another like this is the end of days, and all of this is over the fucking Hunt.

“This is a disaster!” one of them yells, stabbing a clawed finger into a burning report,. “Miasma output in the Seventh Hell will drop 0.1 percent. How are we supposed to conjure that back up?”

“We’ve already lost one sponsorship deal with Gluttony’s Hell!” another demon chimes in, practically shaking. “You can’t make a deal with a place that only wants to devour when there’s no devouring happening!”

“The economy is in free fall,” a third growls, tossing a spreadsheet that hisses when it hits the table. “Gross revenue projections are in the trash. Lord Greed’s contracts are breaking left and right! He’s lost .0000000004 in deals! By the Source, I’m going to die!”

“He have to bring The Hunt back… we can’t go on without! It!” someone shouts and we just sit there, watching them down below, looking at each other like they can’t be fucking for real right now… and I’ve heard e-fucking-nough.

“You bitches done crying yet?” I stand, looking down and the room goes silent like they forgot who the fuck we are and immediately they bow.

“OUR APOLOGIES, MY LORDS!” they speak in unison.

“We were ahead of ourselves,” one speaks up and my brothers and I really don’t give a fuck about The Hunt… but one thing is clear and that’s that these mother fuckers are running this shit however they see fit, or rather how our past incarnations left it. They assume we’ll be the same, but they have another thing coming.

“Yeah the fuck you were,” I grunt, and we all stand, all feeling the same. I exhale slow, and point a finger gun, shooting a ball of firefrom my hand, and the entire table lights on fire. “I said what the fuck I said.THE HUNT ISOVER!And for making me repeat myself…”

I glance back and see Gannon munching on some dry cereal that looks like Lucky Charms but they have our faces on them. I grasp a handful and flick one through the ugly bastards skulls, making the mother fucks drop like flies, twitching with blood pooling from them.

“Heyyyy, my food!” Gannon grumbles and I snort.

“It went to a good cause,” I tell him, walking out, and he smirks, going back to eating as Wilder puts his hands behind his head.

“Man… we were some fucked up people, right?”

“What do you meanhere?” Echo mumbles. “We still are fucked up.”

“Yeah true… but our past selves created bloodsport and sold fucking season passes to the shit… that’s cold blooded, no?” he ask and we all walk down the hall, thinking… as the council explodes behind us from the fireball I threw in for good measure, but we’re already walking out, unbothered.

“Cool guys don’t look at explosions! They blow thing up and they walk awaaaayyyy!” Wilder sings, and Genesis and Gannon join him.

“Who’s got time to watch an explosionnnnn? There’s cool guy errands…”

However, their singing is interrupted when we hear heels clacking hard and fast behind us, and we all groan, knowing exactly who it is without even looking back…

“MILORDS! A WORD PLEASE!” She stops behind us respectfully and we turn to see she’s bowing, making me massage my temples.

“What?” I grit out and she trembles, shaking.

“You all humiliated me!” she cries, but neither of say shit or tries to comfort her.

“And?” Saint lets out yawning

“And you embarrassed and killed the council that has served the past incarnations for generations!”

“Okay...” Pierce mutters…

“You destroyed a tradition that has stood since the founding of the Seventh Hell.”

“Good,” Genesis snorts.

“It was sacred!” she snaps.

“That’s debatable,” Echo lets out.

“It was your legacy!”

“Are you’re not embarrassed?” Wilder curls his lip.