Deep within the confines of an asteroid retrofitted into an office building, the Grand Emissary gazed thoughtfully upon a floating video screen. "So, they're making another one of their supposed power moves..."

He casually shifted gestured with his finger and the footage onscreen warped to the top right corner while new footage appeared. "Ambitious really," he said.

The images onscreen showed him the antics of Scott and crew alongside the actions of their current opponent. As the head of the company, the Grand Emissary needed to bear personal witness to events of this magnitude. Several worlds might be unduly damaged if the nominal forces of good failed.

"So, will you finally show me what all of the fuss is about?" he asked while gazing intently at one man in particular.

"You're middle-of-the-road compared to many other champions, but your fan base is growing rapidly." He watched Scott go through the process of explaining a zip line to his stalwart companions.

"Well, that was moderately clever," he said after viewing the outcome. "Given the thought processes most mortals go through, I'm surprised that they did not simply power through the horde."

While the group raced across rooftops and platform hopped, the Grand Emissary brought up a menu screen that showed the overall statistics of the group. "Interesting, they should have no trouble with this mission... Comparatively, given the combined combat prowess of the hero roster their opponent is almost laughable. Yet, the system still proclaims the mission to be of a moderate difficulty rating for them."

He frowned slightly, "What am I missing?"

Following an aberrant train of thought, he decided to backtrack some of the recent footage to see what the antagonist of the mission did that led up to the current difficulty level. He bore witness to a humorous moment between the red robed villain and the princess of Ha' Ruul, and laughed slightly. "Ah, pop culture game princesses. So haughty, so constantly in need of rescue."

While musing about the kidnappability of video game princesses he noticed something curious in the background. "Ho, now... What's this?"

Curiosity piqued, he smiled in an affable manner while he reoriented his camera angle. It was nice to find little Easter eggs and bits of the story to review that others might miss. In a way it was like discovering a secret special edition of a game that only he knew about. Once the angle shifted properly, he focused his gaze on a table in the back of the room.

His smile began to slip even as his eyes narrowed. Quickly, he switched to an overhead view.

A slight sneer marred his preternaturally beautiful visage for a brief instant. Just as suddenly as the sneer appeared, it faded away and was replaced by an affable expression. His fingers lightly drummed on the table for a moment, and then he called out, "Perival would you come to my office, please."

A split-second later a professional looking man wearing a well-appointed business suit appeared in the center of the room. "I have come, my Grand Emissary. How may this humb—"

"There's no need for such formality. You've done so much recently that I feel we can speak in a more direct manner," said the Grand Emissary.

Perival's eyes lit up slightly and he smiled just a little. "I'm honored, sir."

The Grand Emissary offered him a bright smile of his own then gestured lightly with one hand. A comfortable chair and a small table appeared. On the tables there was a glass of milk and a clear glass jar with a single chocolate sandwich cookie, the kind with two cookies pieces that sandwiched a bit of cream between them, sitting at the bottom of it.

"You sir, deserve a cookie. Don't you think?" asked the emissary.

Perival reached down into the jar, took the cookie, and then dunked it in his glass of milk. "If you so sir, it must be true."

"Oh, you like dunking them in the milk, too?" asked the emissary.

"Yes, sir. It makes them even better."

"I agree. Cookies and milk are just the best..." said the emissary, his words trailing off while he watched his subordinate nibble on his treat.

Perival nodded happily, and munched on his cookie for a moment, before the emissary spoke again. "So, how long have you been with us now?"

The cookie muncher swallowed down the last of his well-earned snack, and two more appeared in the jar. "I believe it will be twenty-three years come next quarter, sir," said Perival before reaching into the jar and taking another cookie. He dunked it in the milk and began to nibble on that one as well.

"Such a short period of time, and you already landed a planetary emergency reconstruction account? You're a real go getter aren't you?" asked the emissary, in a warm and casual tone.

Perival finished off his latest cookie then reached for the second one. The moment it touched the milk, four more appeared in the jar. This time he stuffed the whole cookie into his mouth and tried to talk while eating it. "Yesh, shir. I undertook a lot of tough negoshiashionsh for our company."

Before the emissary could reply, Perival casually took out another cookie while he still chewed the previous one. When he did speak it was to say, "You really do love cookies, don't you?"

"Actually, shir, I ushually don't like them, but for shome reashon I can't get enough now," said Percival around a mouthful of cookies. In his hand he held two more at once, both dunked and ready. Eight more cookies appeared in the jar. "Thank you, sho much."

The emissary smiled softly and nodded his head. "It's good to see my employees happy. You have no idea what the sight of your hand in my cookie jar means to me."

Perival swallowed the most recent mouthful of cookies then asked, "Sir?" There was something strange in his wording, despite the friendly tone that the emissary used.

The Grand Emissary placed his elbows on his desk then steepled his fingers. He leaned forward, lips lightly pressed to his upright index fingers for a moment, before he asked, "Perival, would you humor me for a moment?"

"Certainly, sir," said Perival before he shoved four cookies into his face.

The emissary took a deep breath, and then asked, "When you think about Team Devil as a whole, what do you see?"

"I love working here, shir," said Perival, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with a face full of acorns. His cookie obsession had grown to the point where some were tucked into his cheeks.

"Ah, I understand that..." said the emissary, "What I meant to ask was, 'What does this company look like inside your head? You know, if it were to look like one thing.'"

"One thing?" asked Perival.

"Yes. Pick one thing that symbolizes Team Devil to you," said the emissary.

For a brief moment, Perival stopped desiring cookies. He, instead, came to a conclusion and spoke his mind. "I see us as a phoenix rising up gloriously into the sky, sir. No matter what anyone in the divine city says we will always rise upward and be reborn anew in brilliant flames with each project that we start."

The Grand Emissary took in the sight of the younger deities shining eyes and surprisingly sincere seeming conviction. "That's a nice thing that you said, quite lovely, really. I agree with that sentiment fully."

Perival's smile widened significantly before he grabbed another handful of cookies and started to dunk them. Crumbs fell haphazardly down atop table and well-appointed suit alike. He stuffed several cookies in his mouth just before the emissary spoke once more.

"There you go, again with your cookie fetish. Oh, whatever should I do with such an employee," said the emissary in a friendly manner.

Perival looked down a little, but could not stop himself from eating another cookie. It was like his hands and mouth had a mind of their own.

"Ah well, it's not like this is the first time I saw you stick your hand in my cookie jar," said the emissary.

"Shir?" asked Perival around a mouthful of cookie.

The emissary laughed casually then leaned to the side and placed his cheek to his palm. "It's strange, though, the way that you said that you saw this company."

Perival blinked then looked up at his boss, cheeks puffed with cookie bits. "Shir? What do you mean?"

"Certainly, you don't really see it as a rising phoenix," said the emissary in a cheerful tone of voice. "Clearly, you see Team Devil as a big hairy asshole. Am I right?"

"Shir! No!" exclaimed Perival even as he tried to jump up. To his horrified surprise, he could not rise from his seat. His body refused to respond at all. Only his head and hands seemed to work. His hands and mouth worked busily to stuff cookies into his face.

"Really? If that's the case, why did you fuck us Perival?" asked the boss.

"Shir?" asked Perival, his eyes going wide. "I'd never..."

"Seriously, you didn't even use lube to make it go down easy," said the emissary. "That's just rude, you know."

Before Perival could respond, the emissary made a gesture and the images on his screen appeared before the junior executive. Perival stared at what he saw there, all color draining from his face in the process. Despite that fact, he continued to stuff cookies into his mouth.

"This is your system admin sigil, correct? That bit right there?" asked the emissary while highlighting a complicated symbol on the corner of a magical summoning circle.

"Shir..." said Perival, "I—"

"Now, now, there's no need for excuses. Eat another cookie, and think carefully," said the emissary in a clear and concise manner.

He then gestured with his hand and the onscreen image shifted to Dead Men Walking. "This was a great coup for us, as you know. We've mostly been acquiring boring worlds from retiring deities and retrofitting them after an appropriate time period."

The emissary shifted his position slightly, and looked down at Perival. "We needed to contract individually with the souls reincarnating in those settings. It's quite time consuming to convince them to accept a proper apocalypse, as you know."

Perival bit down on a cookie, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Why could he not stop eating them? Worse, he was fairly certain that the boss was angry.

"This world here, though, we acquired twenty-five percent ownership merely with the promise of aid in cleaning up in the aftermath of someone wrecking the planet," said the emissary.

"A world slated to become a sci-fantasy setting with far future technology and magic was shifted into a zombie apocalypse setting. The divinity in charge of that realm was even locked out of the system to a staggering degree. Even now he barely has control of basic systems."

"A brilliant stroke of luck for us, or so you led us to believe," said the emissary.

He sat up then leaned forward slightly. Eyes narrowed into a mask of anger he asked, "Why is it that I no longer believe it to be simply fortune favoring our company?"

Suddenly, the cookie cravings were gone. Perival could speak freely. "Sir, I thought that you'd be happy! We drastically increased our resources!"

"Happy..." said the emissary, "This is a good thing?"

Perival remained quiet while the emissary continued speaking. "What is the most important aspect of our business?"

"Sir, the most important aspect?" asked Perival.

"You're still new here. You should know the answer."

Perival bit his lower lip, "Making contracts for the purpose of building the gaming empire's resources."

"Is that what you think we do here?" asked the emissary.

"Isn't it, sir?" asked Perival.

"How many mortals lived on that world? Seven billion? Eight?" asked the emissary.

"Closer to eight billion, but it's not like they really matter..." said Perival.

"Right, they're only mortals," said the emissary calmly. "Who cares if uncontracted souls have their proper lives torn asunder by the rotting fangs of their former loved ones? They were going to die at some point, anyway."

"Sir, it brought in a lot of new viewers and boosted our name recognition significantly!" exclaimed Perival.

"Yes, and obviously that's what truly matters," said the emissary calmly. "The bottom line is what's most important. Good job, Perival."

"Sir..." said the confused employee. The boss seemed angry, but he'd thanked him. It was hard to understand what was happening at the moment. "Thank you."

The emissary's eyes closed briefly. "You know the best thing about this business?"

"Uhm..." said Perival. It was obvious that he did not know how to answer the question.

"It's the drama of it all, the stories that occur," said the emissary. He smiled gently while his eyes remained closed. "We contract with mortals who are willing to undergo terrible and ridiculous trials for the sake of bettering their own position, and even the positions of those around them."

He took a deep breath then sighed out softly. "Ah, the stories that arise! No matter how dire the situation, the scenario always has at least one method of completion that will allow the challenger to succeed completely. Always."

"Yes, sir. That's one of the reasons why a lot of people like to watch the footage. They know there's always a chance for the players to succeed no matter how bad things get," said Perival.

The emissary nodded lightly. "Yes. So long as there is a contract and the players are part of the system, scenarios will be discovered that are within the limits of their resources and abilities. Most still fail, but they could have succeeded. That's the key to a good story."

"I took that into account when I negotiated the contract, sir. Once the multi-dimensional group that I contacted used my system privileges to corrupt the world update, I made certain that the information granted would not allow for second or third tier undead to appear for several months," said Perival. "It was all neatly packaged into the plan."

"Ah, so when you decided to secure our partial ownership of that world by causing an apocalypse, you made sure it was survivable?" asked the emissary in a curious tone.

"Yes, of course!" said Perival with a slight smile. "We got a new world on our roster, and it came pre-loaded with unique souls. It was win-win."

"I see. Win... Win," said the emissary thoughtfully. "Not bad, Perival. You mostly thought it all out."

Perival started to thank the emissary once more but then stopped and asked, "Mostly, sir?"

"Oh, yes. Mostly," replied the emissary. He took a deep breath then said, "You forgot one important piece in your plan."

"I... Sir, what did I forg—" began Perival only for a horrible screech to rip outward from his throat a split-second before his body exploded into a cloud of gore and poor life choices.

"Your ethics, Perival..." said the emissary quietly after the gore stopped raining down.

From the various tidbits of Perival's ruination rose a misty cloud of energy. Lightning seemed to dance within the interior of the mist after a moment, and the bits of ephemeral fog started to flow toward the center of the room.

The mist flew into the cookie jar, and once all of it coalesced inside, a lid appeared to seal it tight. A moment later, the jar disappeared from the table and appeared on the emissary's desk.

"Oh Perival, what am I going to do with you?" asked the emissary thoughtfully. In response, the glowy mass of light shifted to a red color and began to undulate rapidly.

"Oh? You demand to see an arbiter, do you?" asked the emissary. He laughed affably then smiled at the divine soul sealed within the desktop cookie jar. "Does this look like the divine city to you? They've torn gods asunder and scattered their essence to the far corners of creation for less."

The jar began to vibrate wildly. The smile disappeared nigh-instantaneously as power began to blaze in the emissary's eyes. "You still demand an arbiter, and the mercy of a court trial?"

Energy crackled around the emissary's face as the jar rose into the air. A deep voice boomed through the air despite the fact that his lips did not move. "Remember your contract? Your arbiter's right here, and he's fresh out of mercy."

The vibrating jar went dead still and the cloud shrunk in on itself. It pattern shifted to a sickly green color and roiled quietly to itself.

It became clear that the recently exploded deity spoke again, when the energy radiating from the emissary died down. He smiled wryly and said, "Oh Perival, we both know that I didn't seal your soul in that jar. It's just a jar... You can't get out because you know better than to do so."

The soul in the jar expanded slightly and turned yellow. It seemingly tried to curl in upon itself.

"Now, now. There's no need to be afraid. In fact, I think we should hang out a little so that you know that there are no hard feelings," said the emissary.

He gestured at the screens and the emergency mission appeared onscreen once more. "Let's see how this part of your little fuck up plays out..."

A moment later, the jar floated down to the desk. It then wobbled a little. The emissary chuckled lightly then said, "Oh, you really want to know my plans for you that badly?"

The emissary placed his elbows to his desk once more, and then propped his chin up on his clasped hands. "You should be interested in how this emergency mission on my view screen turns out. It will decide your future, you know."

The amorphous soul mass expanded slightly and then shifted into the shape of a question mark. Perival did not like the sound of that even one bit, but needed to know more.

"Ah, it's simple. If the nominal forces of good and right defeat the red robed villain, and complete this mission successfully as well, you'll be given a chance to try to make right what you made go so terribly wrong," said the emissary.

Perival's soul mass turned yellow and shook a little. It was obvious that he did not like the odds.

"Hmm? What happens if the heroes lose?" asked the emissary.

"Ah, see that's simple," he said before making another simple gesture. A bright red double-sided dildo appeared on the desk. It was covered in ridges and bumps and was of excellent girth. "You fucked over an outside deity. You fucked another eight billion innocent souls. Most of all, you have fucked the reputation of Team Devil. The first two were already unforgiveable, but that last thing is personally frustrating on levels I cannot even express in words."

The emissary gripped the dildo in one hand and made it wobble around in the air. "If my champion loses, this will be your home-within-a-home for a while."

"How long? What do I mean home-within-a-home?" the emissary asked Perival, after the soul mass made his fears known.

"Ah, I figure one year for every life you screwed over would be a good amount of time," said the emissary. "At least by then, those poor mortal souls will have potentially gotten over what you did. They do hold grudges you know."

"Admittedly, I'm less inclined to forget," said the boss.

"As for the rest of what you asked," he said before he raised his hand and gestured yet again.

Where once stood a chair and a table, there appeared two hugely fat and thoroughly rotten zombies. They were both bent over, their rotting booties facing each other. Their stench would overpower any mortal creature, and their slime coated exteriors would cause most people to vomit uncontrollably upon viewing them.

"You recently showed an exquisite love of sandwich cookies..." said the emissary before glancing down at the jar, "Guess who gets to be the creamy double-sided center of that bit of cookie goodness?"

The zombies turned their heads toward the jar and moaned cutely like excited high school girls experiencing adult-themed love for the first time. "Ahhhnnn!"

"Please be gentle!" they cried out in girlish voices, despite the fact that they were hugely fat and rotting men.

The jar hopped up and down on the table while shaking violently. The cookies still inside the jar popped up and down all the while.

"Hey, now. Not all is lost. The champion on deck just needs to defeat the current antagonist and the system admin function he's partially accessing..." said the emissary.

The jar rattled lightly and the soul of Perival drooped downward. His thoughts on the matter were obvious.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," said the emissary lightly. A warbling sound echoed from the jar in response.

Amused slightly, the emissary said, "Yes, I did just quote one of the greatest humanitarians in human pop-culture history."

Perival warbled again, and this time the emissary laughed loudly. "Of course he is! Darth Vader isn't even the only one, you know. The empire placed many great humanitarians in places of leadership. It was the other races that they couldn't stand. Even then, what did the empire even do to deserve a rebel uprising, really?"

Perival warbled a counter-argument that made the boss laugh once more. The emissary replied, "Alderaan? Oh please, they blew up one little planet and killed everyone living there..."

"I mean, who hasn't done that? Am I right?" continued the emissary.

"Seriously, in this room right now... Who hasn't indiscriminately slaughtered countless innocents by destroying a planet without consent all for the sake of convenience and a slightly improved profit margin?" asked the emissary. He waited a few seconds then gazed down at Perival's jar while he slowly raised his hand.

Silence reigned for a brief moment as the emissary's words sank into the mental landscape of Perival's mind. The amorphous soul mass could not rightfully raise his hand, even if he wanted to do so.

The quiet was not broken until the emissary grinned broadly. He leaned slightly to the side then playfully said, "He-eey buddy. Look at you making inroads at work. You get to spend the day hanging out watching reality TV with the boss."

"That's just super cool, am I right?" asked the emissary lightly.

The grin shifted to an eerily affable smile. "And it doesn't get much more real than this show, does it, Perival?" he asked cheerfully. "We should count our blessings for today, right?"

The fat zombies each placed their rotting hands to their cheeks then made girlish giggling sounds. Perival's soul whimpered quietly in its jar. Yes, he was quite the fortunate soul.