Good for nothing lackey, that's what he called me. After everything I did, everything I scarified for him, that's how he repays me. I don't know why I expected anything else, him being the Devil and all, I should have known being his right hand man wouldn't mean a damn thing in the end. That's just how he is.

And now I'm laying here in the casino, staring at the ceiling. It's blurry, and all the gold stuck up there is blinding me right now, but I can't do anything about it. I can't feel anything except the pain in my head, like my skull cracked when I went down.

I can still hear everything, though, part of the deal I signed away my soul for. I run this place for the Devil, make sure he never runs out of souls to snatch up, and I never have to go through what my father did. What I didn't know was that it would leave me with a door in my head, one the Hell man can open whenever he damn well pleases.

I try to laugh at the irony, how not wanting to wither away in a wheelchair ended up being the very thing that killed me, but all I can do is cough. I taste blood, and it takes everything I have just to turn my head. The doors to the place are wide open, and I can hear the fight going down. The Devil's losing something bad, and all I can think is 'good riddance', even with knowing exactly what it means.

I cough again, I can't even tell if I'm still breathing or not. It doesn't matter now, I guess, seeing as I'm done for either way. Things are getting fainter, like the door is closing, and for the first time in a long while, I'm feeling scared. But even that's starting to drain away, and I know it won't be long now. The pain's going away, and things are getting dark, I wish he'd just listened to me.

Sigh, but the stubborn jackass was never very good at that. I suppose it's only right he's been brought down by the last two suckers he tried to trick, and it's something to hear him bawling like a baby, though I won't get to enjoy it for long.

My eyes are getting heavy, things are going silent. I don't have anything left to fight with, all I can do is watch my last card drop, and wait to start burning.

I groan, wondering how the hell I'm still breathing. Last I remember, I was on the brink of it, ready to fall, but it doesn't feel like that happened. I wake up, going cold when I realize I'm back in my room, the same four walls I've seen for the past decade. Was all that crap…just a dream?

I try to sit up, expecting some kind of pain, but there's nothing, like I wasn't shot through the gut at all. I yank back the blanket, not even a scar. I rub my head, no chips or cracks, nothing. What's going on?

There's a card on the nightstand, covered in his ugly writing, I'm surprised it only took one to get everything down.

'My office when you come to, things have changed.'

I look at the front, the ace of clubs. What the hell is he playing at? I toss the card aside and go for my suit, only to find a black shirt and pants in its place. I never wear black, did he leave these here? I push the thought aside and change, there's no point in keeping him waiting. I know this place like the back of my hand by now, but something seems different as I make my way through the halls.

They're filled with gold chandeliers, black carpets and scarlet drapes like always, but it all seems more vibrant than usual, like it's glowing or something. It's not quite as silent back here, either, I can make out the noise from the main floor of the place—games, conversation, drunk shenanigans, all of it. What the heck happened while I was out?

The door is open when I get there, and he's slumped over his desk like always. I stop dead when I realize what he's doing, the smell in the air hitting me like a freight train.

"Boss?" I step inside—it reeks of smoke, blood and cheap whisky—and shut the door. "You wanted to see me?"

He lifts his head, wipes his eyes, stares at me like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"Dice!"

He stands so fast the chair topples over; he clears his throat and picks it back up. There's something off about the way he's moving, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"You took your time waking up," he tells me, trying to sound like his eyes aren't still leaking. I scoff.

"Sorry, but I wasn't expecting to wake up at all, Boss," I return shortly, watching him sit back down. There's a lot more I want to say, but I can't put any of it into words. He stares at me again, then sighs.

"That's what I had to talk to you about, Dice," he rubs the back of his neck, then sniffles. "You were all but dead when I found you in the casino, and I wasn't expecting what came over me."

After the battle

The Devil glared down at the figure in front of him, his nose filled with the stench of blood and burning. Dice's suit was ripped and torn, his head chipped and cracked, his eyes glazed over. He should have known better than to expect so much from a mortal, even an exceptional one like Robert Kingsley Dicewood. The man had been able to train himself in the ways of magic, using his collection of tricks to con and cheat people out of their money, the only way of life he'd ever known.

And now he'd been bested by two children, all thanks to some damned potion. Devil scoffed, serves the man right, to die like this in the aftermath of his failure.

He turned to walk away, only for a sharp pang to spread from his gut, his fur standing on end as he moved back to the prone body of his former lackey. It was then he heard it, the faintest tremble of Dice's heart, saw the last vestiges of life in those vibrant green irises. The very same he'd found himself getting inadvertently lost in so many times. Was he really about to lose that forever?

No, he couldn't, he wouldn't!

Hardly knowing what he was doing, he found himself kneeling by Dice, gripping the man's gloved hand firmly in his own.

"You're not getting to Hell that easily, Dice," he heard himself saying, almost as though he weren't in control. He was amazed he remembered the spell that slipped past his lips, one he hadn't thought about in millennia, the murmured words bringing forth the most powerful magic he possessed. It drained him, even more than he thought it would, but he was greeted with the renewed vigor of Dice's breathing, as the light began to come back to his eyes. It was different now, though, darker and harsher, suitable for the man's new role, should he come to accept it.

The Devil was surprised to find himself terrified of any other outcome, as much as these new feelings confused him. Or, had they always been there, locked behind a door he hadn't dared to let himself think about, much less try to open? It took the last of his power to summon his most loyal imps, to order them to carry Dice back to his room. The process wouldn't be easy, or even guaranteed to work, but it was the only option he had left, and he wasn't about to let it, or Dice, go without a fight.

The present

I stared at my boss in disbelief. It was all I could do, after a story like that. He looked blankly back at me, like he was waiting for me to start asking questions, so that was exactly what I gave him.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

He drummed his claws on his desk, then sighed again, looking like he'd rather be doing anything else.

"I made you my equal, Dice," he said simply, after a long silence. "Or as close as I could."

I shook my head.

"I got that much from your little story just now," I said, feeling something rise in me as I got more agitated. "What I want to know is why. You used all that power on someone who failed you, someone you were ready to watch die."

He groaned, scrubbed his face with his hands.

"I've had days to think about it and I still don't get it," he complained, almost under his breath. "I just…couldn't stand the idea of losing you all of a sudden."

I stopped. Did I really just hear that right? He pushed back his chair and dragged himself to his feet; he looked exhausted, like he hadn't moved from there since casting his spell. I stood my ground as he tramped toward me, ready for whatever he decided to throw at me, or so I thought.

"B-Boss?"

I couldn't believe he even knew what a hug was, much less that he was actually giving me one. Even crazier, it sounded like he was crying again.

"I thought I was past feeling like this," he started. "But when I turned away from you in the casino, I was suddenly terrified, I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

He pulled back, and at first I didn't know what to think, but just like him, it hit me fast. I started working for him because I had to, but it didn't take long to start enjoying it; of course, I never expected to start falling for him. I kept it buried deep, though, knowing it wouldn't get me anywhere, and not wanting the Devil to have a new way to torture me if I failed. He looked down at me, his face impassive besides the tears in his eyes.

"I won't force you into anything, Dice," he stated. "What you do with this power is your choice."

He let go and started back to his desk; before I could think twice, I grabbed his wrist.

"I already made my choice," I told him. "If you'll let me do one thing first."

He turned, seemed to know what was coming, but he still fell flat on his ass when I threw an uppercut to his chin. He groaned, holding his face.

"Consider us even, you hairy prick," I held out a hand. "In more ways than one."

I didn't think he knew what a sincere smile was, but that was exactly what I got when I hauled him to his feet. He looked nervous then, like he didn't know what to do. I shook my head.

"You'd be a complete mess without me, you know that?"

I stepped in and kissed him, feeling alive for the first time in my life. And I knew this was just the beginning.