[Previously, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had been Ordered to stop The Trump from reaching the Seat of Ultimate Power. On the cusp of seeing their plans destroyed by Hypocrisy and Stupidity, the Horsemen are summoned back to HQ to explain themselves.]
Scene One: The Boardroom. Headquarters. About Teatime.
Death was nibbling nervously on his bony fingers when, with a blast of celestial trumpets, the Lord swooped into the room, his eyes glittering like freshly-cut diamonds. Nervously, the other Horsemen looked up from their phones.
“What the bloody hell is going on?”, He demanded, “You had one job! One job! Stop the Tangerine Terror from reaching the Seat of Ultimate Power! That’s it! I thought you were the best but it looks like I was wrong! And I’m never wrong!”
“We tried,” War mumbled weakly, “But we were overwhelmed by the lack of conscience and denial of facts.”
“How can we affect a monster who only believes in himself, and minions that believe whatever he says?” croaked Famine, “Our powers are only effective if Beings understand consequences.”
The Lord plumped himself down at the head of the table.
“But we’ve done it before,” he said, reaching for a decanter of single malt that had suddenly appeared on the crystalline desk. “We’ve managed to avert disasters before…haven’t we?”
Death coughed apologetically; “Well, not always…mid twentieth century Europe was a bit of a clusterfuck.”
War nodded ruefully, “Yes, I was exhausted!”
“I tried to think of ways to make him look bad,” added Pestilence, “But seriously, have you seen that guy? He’s pretty rotten to look at as it is.”
“Makes me lose my lunch,” agreed Famine.
The Lord drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe it’s time to bring in The Others…” he said with a frown, “Trump seems more, shall we say, up their alley.”
“Or Down their Pit,” muttered Death.
Scene Two: The Boardroom. 9th Circle of Hell. Around Midnight.
Lucifer was angry. Actually, angry was an understatement; he was incandescent with rage. He had just gotten off the phone with The Guy Upstairs, and the conversation had not gone well. It was bad enough that the construction of a new, exquisitely horrific Circle of Hell had been delayed due to contractor complaints, but this was the last burning straw. He stabbed the intercom with a prong of his forked tail.
“Susan! Tell the Seven Sins to get in here. Pronto!”
After a few minutes, there was an hesitant knock on the boardroom door.
“Enter!” Lucifer boomed.
Slowly, seven twisted, deformed creatures shuffled into the scorching presence of The Devil. As they took their seats, they studiously avoided making eye contact with their glowering master. Lucifer banged his fists on the obsidian desk.
“What the fuck, guys!” he roared, “What have you done?!”
The Seven Deadly Sins shuffled in their seat, but said nothing. The Devil glared at them and rose from his seat, looming malevolently. He ran a scathing look over them: Lust, Greed, Avarice, Gluttony, Envy, Anger, Pride and Sloth.
“I’m going to ask you again,” Lucifer said in a low, menacing voice, “What have you done?”
Finally, with a sly look at the others, Avarice spoke up: “It was a project.”
Lucifer raised a dark brow.
“It is the greatest thing I’ve ever thought of!” declared an enboldened Pride.
“We certainly get all the attention, and the residuals are going to be amazing!” added Greed, with a glance at Avarice who nodded enthusiastically.
“We get all the pussy that we want,” leered Lust, “And we never has to ask.”
“And cheeseburgers!” blurted Gluttony.
“I’ve never felt so alive!” Anger shouted, “It’s so fucking liberating!”
“I still think my idea was better,” muttered Envy, jealously.
The Devil turned to the final Sin, slouched in the corner. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Sloth looked up; “I couldn’t be bothered to stop it,” he yawned.
Lucifer gave a mirthless laugh, “Well, you’ve really messed up this time, boys. I’d punish the crap out of you, but we’ve been there already – you have your own Circles, dammit!”
Lucifer returned to his smoldering seat, and steepled his fingers together in deep thought. The Sins shifted uncomfortably.
“However,” he said finally, “On this occasion, I’m going to let you run with it. I see repercussions in the form of increased business on our end, but I believe we have the, ah, apparatus to deal with it”
The Seven Deadly Sins let out audible sighs of relief.
Suddenly, with a flash of lightning, Lucifer leaned ominously over his cowering minions.
“But keep my name out of it,” he snarled, “When the shit hits the fan, I don’t want anyone blaming me,” a wide, ugly grin appeared on his face, “Let the Big Guy deal with it.”
In a nauseating burst of sulphur, The Devil vanished.
Left alone, the Sins looked triumphantly at one another.
“I think we did it,” Pride whispered with glee, “We created a monster!”
“Damn straight,” muttered Sloth.
