The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

What Did I Miss?

In a small town in Germany, with blossoming trees and beautiful spring chirping along the breeze of warm air, a tall, thin gentleman rode along a dusty gravel trail through the mountains, humming a soft and wistful tune to himself. The man was thin for a German, but he was altogether fair and cheery. In the town where he lived, Grienvit, a village in the mountains with some Baron's castle atop the spire to the West, the man was regarded as gentle, kind and reliable to all. The man rode through the cobbled street past a fountain with icy blue water flowing from the ancient systems again, the bike wheels bumping easily along the road.

The bike rolled to the curb and stopped beside a bakery, the smell of fresh baked bread and sesame seeds wafting out of the windows. The thin man brushed a leg over the bike seat, stepping off onto the sidewalk to enter through a large, dark oak door. Upon closing his hand on the knob and twisting, the door swung into a lively scene, like something from a fantasy story. A roaring oven spewed dragon's tears behind the counter while shelves upon shelves of rolls, loaves, pretzels, everything yeast and dough could possibly muster adorned the walls of the bakery.

Beneath the counter sat rows of delicious sweets and marvelous pastries, no one exactly the same as another. There were swirls of chocolate, dollops of cream and butter, powdered sugar and flaking salt, strawberries and blackberries and beautiful ginger root to spice the edges of the delectable desserts. As a younger fellow, the man would have thought himself in awe from the magnificent display of treasures and riches, immeasurable against a king's fortune. "Ah, good morning!" The man called into the room. As the baker emerged from the shelves, a smaller, rounded man with a white apron and brown gloves, the men shook hands, laughing as they did.

"Good morning, Theater Man!" The baker greeted, translated from German. The thin man smiled, dusting off his gloves as he removed them from his suit. "Of course, good sir. Always a pleasure to ride in the morning. Spring is lovely in Germany." The baker laughed, setting his cap on the edge of the counter. "So," the baker sighed, "what can I do for you today, sir?" And the thin man responded with his best German, although a thick New Orleans accent shone through. "I've been eyeing one of your Strawberry Crepe Cakes for a few days now. It looks simply marvelous. I'll take two, please."

The baker smiled and nodded, preparing gloves to retrieve the pastries from beneath the shelf. "Ah, a fine choice! Strawberries are the crown jewel of spring for bakers like me. And one for the missus, I presume?" The thin man shook his head, dusting the top of his top hat. "Oh no, I remain single. But I am a happy man nonetheless." The baker smiled, packaging the pastries carefully in a paper bag. "Will there be anything else, sir?" The baker asked. The thin man shook his head, smiling with both halves of his face. "No, that will be all. Thank you kindly, sir." Coins were exchanged and the pastries were cradled in a box when the men waved goodbye to one another.

For the first time in weeks, Shrap felt a certain sigh of relief exit his body, relieving him of tension from years past. It had been about three years to date since Shrap had been granted new life, escaping by the skin of his well-trimmed teeth to the Living World, righting himself and becoming a fantastic real estate agent and businessman in all things scenic and splendid. Shrap set the box down in a small cradle on the front of his bicycle, setting the kickstand up while he gently pushed toward the open road and the rest of Grienvit.

Shrap rolled through the mountains and past homes and cabins, tucked in a decorated labyrinth of pine and maple trees toward his own lovely little cabin. It was a quaint cottage, with circular windows and a stone brick chimney crawling up the right side of the house. Wooden beams supported a porch with an overhanging space above, lanterns adorning the underside of the roof. Shrap rolled his bicycle to a stop beside the porch, kicking the stand down while he stepped up the porch, setting himself down while he entered the house, keeping the pastries safe in his box.

Once the businessman entered the house, he let out a deep sigh of relief, hanging his hat upon the wall. "It feels good to speak English again, but German will forever be my second family." Shrap set the box of pastries on the table in the kitchen, moving to the porch lights to switch them off as the sun streamed through the windows, breaking the clouds over the horizon. As Shrap inhaled deeply, feeling the cool German breeze waft through his senses, his phone buzzed twice, shaking his pocket. "Eh? What's this now?" Shrap asked, reaching for his pocket.

As the businessman swiped for the notification, he nearly dropped his phone in shock. "Missus Liana Winters has passed away? What a shame. I heard she was a good lawyer." Shrap turned away from the railing, scratching his chin. "Wait a second. Liana...wasn't there a Liana who was..." Shrap tapped his forehead, struggling to connect the dots. "That name is familiar. So where have I heard it before?" Shrap paced back and forth, talking to himself as a businessman would, offering his services and information while simultaneously trying to smooth talk the information out of himself.

"Wait! Wait wait wait, hold the phone!" He screeched to a stop, rigid with shock. "Missus indicates she was married, and there's only one guy I know who was married to a Liana." Shrap raced for the hat rack indoors, seizing his scarf and his top hat with care as he raced around the house, reaching for things to pack. "Ooh man, if my best bud's wife passed away, that's good and bad. Bad because, well, death is never fun. I should know, too. But good by all accounts, since I now know where to find my friend!" Shrap finished by scarfing down one of the delicious Crepe Cakes on his desk, then paused, reaching under the oak table for the grooves of a polished mask.

When Shrap had escaped from Hell, not only had he returned to the very place he had died and been buried at(hence the odd occurrence of disturbing an old lady's flower bed in Germany), but Shrap had also repaired his horrifying theater mask, now fixed without stitches and patches. A beautiful, pearl white mask, with blacked in slots on a smiling half, eye and crooked grin, and the sad half, eye and mouth twisted downward in solemn fashion. Shrap held the mask at eye level, recalling the time he spent as a truly hideous monster of a man. "Better late than never, I always say. Down the hatch!"

Shrap clipped the mask behind his top hat, hiking his scarf over his shoulders while he slammed his suitcase shut. "Everything is packed. But now I need to get to New York as quickly as possible. Wait! HA HA, Shrap, you son of a bitch! Oh, I just KNEW you'd come in handy!" Shrap reached for the folds of his suit and tie, extracting a solid gold card with an eye engraved into the signature and the words, "Stimpak Society" carved into the back. Shrap pumped his fist, breathing a sigh of relief. "Great, magnificent, utterly, indescribably amazing!! Now, let's cross our fingers and pray that this still works."

Shrap took the edge of a carving knife, gently pricking the tip of his finger. The pain was momentary, but ded when Shrap held his finger over the card, squeezing tight. Blood pooled and spilled along the creases of the gold eye on the card, and without any warning, a hole tore open the floor behind Shrap. As the businessman turned to face the card, he watched as pools of murky, bloody red rippled, reflecting a taller, sickly, and far more monstrous Sinner peered back at the man. Shrap gritted his teeth, staring at his hands in trembling silence. "Am I really ready to go back now? No, I have to. I just gotta! Jack's counting on me!"

Shrap grabbed his suitcase and put a hand on his hat, grabbing the gold card in his mouth. "Bon voyage, Germany! I will be back soon!" And with not another word in German, Shrap leapt through the puddle, splashing magical goo across the floor as the puddle sealed fast behind him, leaving a single Strawberry Crepe Cake to its defenses on the wooden table in the silent cabin on the hill.