The deal was made. Little Fatty returned to Little Skinny's side, and they hugged tightly. The former's eyes were filled with gratitude, but his face showed no expression.
They were like dolls, like tools. Tools were not supposed to have emotions. Perhaps that, too, was a sin.
But Little Skinny still pinched Little Fatty's cheek, trying to make his friend smile as well. Yet there was simply too much flesh to control, and in the end, all he managed was an expression that looked more like crying.
"The box is yours. As long as you take us to the Underworld, once we return, I can teach you how to get promoted and earn more, become a chief supervisor, rise to Seraphim, and reach the pinnacle of angel life."
Su Ming could not stand watching the two angels perform their gay little silent drama. Though this victory had been expected, it did not bring him any joy at all.
But there was often no choice. That was just how this world was.
"How can those things be achieved?" Little Skinny turned around and began pulling at the corners of his own mouth with his hands, humbly asking the man who called himself Deathstroke for guidance.
Though they stood far apart, as if the other party found them distasteful.
"I know how to help you take Genesis from Jesse, and I know where your missing God is. Are those merits enough?" Su Ming removed his mask, took out a cigarette, and lit it. He tossed one to Bobo as well.
The gorilla had been sticking out his tongue the whole time. The wild beast had a weak stomach and was still hit by waves of nausea.
"That's enough. We'll go to the Underworld now. I'll be your hostage." Little Skinny agreed at