Wrath and Tilith entered the city's most elite club together.
The guards didn't want to let Tilith in, but Wrath's patience ran thin—and he preferred settling disputes with his fists.
After knocking out the guards, they entered the club and walked toward a table at the far end of the hall, drawing a crowd around them.
By the time they reached the table, at least two dozen suited demons stood in their way, armed.
Wrath cracked his knuckles, ready to tear through them, but a female voice ordered them to return to their posts, and they dispersed.
At the table sat a large, obese demon in an elegant suit.
Her skin was dark, as was her long hair, and her ample breasts strained the buttons of her shirt.
Her eyes glowed purple, as did her claws.
On the table was a plate of spaghetti, which she was devouring. After washing it down with some whiskey, she lit a cigar.
She signaled to two demons to bring chairs, and they hurried over.
Wrath and Tilith sat down across from her, and she blew smoke in their faces.
— Gluttony. — Wrath said.
— Wrath. Care to explain what the hell you're doing here? We had a deal.
— A deal? — Tilith asked.
— You don't dig around my business, and I don't stir up the fucking Hell against that filthy Angel whose ass you lick. By the way—who are you, little girl?
— My name is Tilith, ma'am.
Gluttony looked Tilith over, clearly liking what she saw, and licked the corner of her lips.
— Not a bad piece. You could drop by my place sometime later.
— I didn't come to dig, but your days are numbered anyway. The only reason I haven't thrown you in with Pride yet is because Lucifer isn't interested in you—for now. The moment you catch his attention, prison awaits you, and don't think a few third-rate demons will get you out of it.
— Wow. As always, good to see you, brother. — she exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. — This is legal business.
Gluttony winked at Tilith, who stared back at her with a raised eyebrow, slightly confused.
— Legal my ass. But I've said it already—that's not why I'm here. This is serious, and I'd appreciate it if at least you could help.
— Fine. Spit it out. What happened?
— Envy is dead. I found his fucking body in a goddamn bathtub, and I really want to know which one of you took him out. Did he owe you too, like he did Greed?
— Dead? That idiot! Of course he owed me too—and he was supposed to pay it back with interest.
— He owed Greed one million skulls.
— One million? He owed me two! That bastard!
— Did he tell you what he needed the money for? Anything about chaos mining?
— Of course I heard about it, and yes, he told me. I think his plan was to mine enough over a few thousand years to open a portal straight into Lucifer's ass. He wouldn't shut up about overthrowing him, taking Hell back, blah blah blah… You know how spineless he was—just loud, nothing more.
— So you don't know how much chaos he actually gathered? No major deposit he discovered?
— Do I look like a fucking miner? I have no idea where you'd find enough chaos to open a portal. Ask the others.
— I did. Including you. Greed and Lust don't know much, and Pride refuses to talk.
— I just gave him the money, that's it. I don't know anything else. I didn't kill him—I wanted my money back.
— Yeah, I've heard that line from Greed too… Besides you, there's no one else who could take down a Deadly Sin. One of you has to be the killer.
Gluttony plunged her claws into the pasta, shoved a large bite into her mouth, and chewed with sharp teeth.
— If I had to guess, I'd say either you or Lucifer killed him. None of us would've harmed that idiot. In my own way, I even liked our little brother—and I'd rip the fucking heart out of whoever did this to him.
— You're all saying the same thing. None of you are much help. I didn't kill him, and Lucifer would have no reason to hide the body under an illusion. — he stood up. — Let's go, Tilith.
— Leaving already? Tilith could at least stay for dinner.
— Thank you, that's a generous offer, but I believe solving this matter is more important right now. — Tilith replied, still a bit flustered.
Wrath and Tilith made their way through the club, grim faces watching them, the guards ready to strike if necessary.
Once outside, one of the guards on the ground was being helped up by his partner.
They glared at Wrath, but neither dared act. They could feel that Wrath had held back a great deal of strength with that blow.
As they walked down the street, Wrath lit a cigarette, lost in thought.
— Tilith. You mentioned angelic weapons.
— Yes. We raided a smuggler gang just yesterday.
— So someone was trading with Angels, right?
— I don't think so. You know it's impossible to send messages from Hell to Heaven.
— Then where did they get angelic weapons?
— Probably leftovers from some old battle. Still illegal, of course.
— What if Envy succeeded? What if three million skulls were enough to mine a massive amount of chaos and open a portal to Heaven?
— Why would he do that? The Angels would've impaled him the moment he set foot in their territory.
— Maybe the Angels killed him. We know that once such a powerful portal is opened, it can't be destroyed—it remains. The Angels killed him so no one else would learn about the portal. Through that portal, Lucifer himself could return to Heaven and take revenge on his father for banishing him here.
— That makes sense, but do you really think he could have gathered that much chaos? And opened a portal specifically to Heaven?
— I can't see any other explanation. I don't think any of my brothers would've wanted to kill Envy.
— Okay. So what now? Going back to Pride?
— No. He won't talk anyway. Let's see what Skortch managed to find on his own—maybe he got something useful.