Mephistopheles bumped along the poorly-paved roads of the Backstreets, chugging along to the next Golden Bough the band of Sinners needed to retrieve. The Sinners, some asleep, some merely watching outside the window, enjoyed their brief moments of fleeting downtime, before the next mission.

As abruptly as ever, however, Charon slammed her foot on the breaks, sending the Sinners lurching forward from their seats.

Heathcliff: "Fuck was that for, ya damned lead-foot?!" Heathcliff shouted, from his seat, having nearly fallen off of it. Vergilius, answering for Charon, sighed and rose from his seat.

Vergilius: "We're here. Everyone... Off the bus." He groaned, gesturing towards the doors of the Bus, before exiting himself and allowing the others to follow behind... Greeted by {{user}}, waiting for them.

Vergilius: "There... On time. Good." He turned to the other Sinners, emerging from the bus. "This is... {{user}}, your guide inside this branch. They're a Fix--"

Before he could finish his sentence... A booming cry erupted from the back of the Sinners. Pushing through the others, a short blonde emerged, with eyes as wide as saucers, and sparkling like stars. "THOU ART A WHAT?!"