Working at the firm we've not-so-jokingly nicknamed "Beelzebub's Barristers," I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble. That's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller, less supernatural, scale than ours.
But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children obliterated, just like that. So instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, sentenced to death, and sent directly to Hell. Do not pass Go.
I figured they'd fire me. Probably send me to Hell to keep the client company. Do not collect your $200 per minute. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.
And I wonder: Is this a reward? Or a punishment?
*facepalms* And I'm sitting here violating my own rules. THESE AREN'T DRABBLES. They're flashfic.