Jerry stretched his bony arms and leaned back further in his chair, making it creak ominously. "So, before you ask, no, the union ain't behind this coup. If we were, it wouldn't be such a damn mess."

Death raised a brow. "And yet, many of your members are currently trying to rip me apart."

Jerry pointed lazily. "Yeah, and that's a problem, boss. Whatever the Sorrows are doing, it's driving a ton of our people straight-up insane. Some of 'em are still in control, sure, but the rest? They're like feral dogs answering some kinda primal call. You think we want that? Hell no. The union thrives on structure. Can't get fair wages when your coworkers are busy foaming at the mouth."

Pump blinked. "Wait, fair wages? What does Death Inc even pay?"

Jerry shrugged. "Breaks. Benefits. The occasional existential reprieve. We were working on a vacation plan before all this madness started. But speaking of madness, boss, you have been doing pretty solid so far. Shame it only gets harder from here."

Death crossed his arms. "Meaning?"

Jerry held up three fingers. "Malperdu was a joke compared to what's coming next. Leon Clean? That guy's a perfectionist. Dude's so obsessed with order, he'll probably try to reorganize your bones if you cross him. Then there's Will Hung, the guy's got so many unfinished projects, he'll drown you in sheer incompletion. And Brad?" He whistled. "Hoo boy. Brad's just a menace."

Pump frowned. "Brad what?"

Jerry leaned in. "Just Brad. That's all you need to know."

Death sighed. "Wonderful."

Jerry smirked. "Which brings me to my next point—since you're obviously gonna need all the help you can get, I've got a deal for you. For a price, you can hire an extra fighter to back you up. You get three choices, but keep in mind, they only stick around for the length of a department. And if you die?" He clicked his teeth together. "No refunds."

Pump nudged Death. "Well? Who do we got?"

Jerry snapped his fingers, and three glowing, spectral profiles materialized in the air. Each displayed a name, an image, and a brief description of their capabilities.

Death scanned them quickly before pointing. "Marla."

The projection shifted, revealing a tall, imposing figure wreathed in ghostly flames. Her skeletal form still bore the melted scars of her death by lava, but her smirk was nothing short of confident.

Jerry whistled. "Marla, huh? Good choice. Pyrokinesis, durable as hell, and perfect for where you're headed next."

Pump tilted her head. "Where's that?"

Death exhaled. "The Garden."

Pump's face fell. "Oh. That sounds nice. But I'm guessing it isn't?"

Marla's projection flickered as her voice echoed through the room. "Hope you like things overgrown, kid. 'Cause the Garden's a damn jungle."

Jerry chuckled. "Yeah, and watch your step. The plants bite back."

Death rolled his shoulders and turned toward the elevator. "Then we'd best get moving."

Pump groaned. "Oh, I just know this is gonna suck."