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Dagran looked around, glaring at all the reflections of himself that he could see.

Where in the world could the exit be? He had no idea how long he'd been in the Mirror Maze, and he had a feeling that he was definitely lost.

That was when he took a left, and bumped heads with a familiar man.

"Ow!"

"D-Dammit!" Dagran groaned, holding his head, taking a step back and leaning against a mirror. Looking up at who it was, he stared. "Wait..wait a sec. Count? What are you doing here?"

Count Arganan stared right back at him, his good eye wide and full of confusion. "I would...ask you the same question." He managed. "I'm glad I found you. I've been trying to look for this woman—" He looked around, "I was following her earlier, but I lost her."

A woman? Dagran tried to think. Wait a minute, that woman at the kissing booth—

"Count?"

"What?"

Dagran swallowed briefly. "Uh, did she have cracks on her face by any chance? Blonde hair, petite figure?"

Arganan nodded immediately. "Yes, she did—wait, you saw her didn't you? Doll?"

Dagran blinked. "That's her name? Doll?"

Arganan shrugged sheepishly. "I honestly don't know. She just looks like one, so I guess I just started calling her that only now."

"Well," Dagran managed, "I saw her too."

Arganan's good eye widened. "You did?"

He nodded. "Yes, I did." He shivered slightly—was it cold in this Mirror Maze or was he still feeling creeped out about where he was. "She was at a Kissing Booth. I kissed her so she'd give me the directions as of where the boss of this place is."

"Hell."

"What?"

Arganan cleared his throat before responding. "This place is Hell. That's what the Agent told me."

So this place really was Hell. "Who's the Agent?"

Arganan shrugged. "As far as I could guess, someone from Heaven who was sent here for negotiations with the ruler of Hell. Said ruler decided to keep him prisoner, and Doll made me stab Agent."

Dagran looked intrigued. "What did she do after you stabbed him?"

Arganan shuddered, a slight blush coming to his face. "She kissed me."

The former mercenary leader definitely could not help but stare at that. "What?"

Arganan blinked. "Did you kiss her, too?"

"Um, yeah." The younger man managed sheepishly. Both looked to each other quietly, unsure of what to say, falling into an awkward silence. Both had kissed each other once or twice, when they were back in Lazulis, and now they'd both kissed the same woman, too. Neither were sure how to properly handle that sort of situation, if it really needed handling.

"We should get out of here." Arganan suggested, and Dagran nodded quietly in return. They made their way through the Mirror Maze with each other, and brushed hands once.

Unfortunately, they were greeted by the sight of three strange women, with pistols and swords out.

"Heeyyaaa misterr," One of them crowed, winking. "Missed us?"

Dagran blinked. "What the—"

He felt Arganan drag him in the opposite direction. "RUN!"

Gunshots rang through the air, the cackling of wild women behind them growing as both men ran.

"Who the hell are they!?" Dagran managed to yell, panting. Looking behind him, he noticed said women catching up, and he shuddered. That could not be good.

"I don't know," He heard Arganan mutter, "But they were chasing me earlier. That can't ever be good."

Dagran had to think quickly. They could just keep running and try to hide. Or...

He let go of Arganan's hand. "Go without me."

Arganan turned to him. "What? I can't just leave you—"

"It'll be fine, I can handle them." He responded quickly. "Go ahead of me! I can try to slow them down."

"They look strong." The older man responded. "And you don't have any weapon on you, as far as I can see."

Dagran tried to stay calm—the Count was right, but—"I can still slow them down without one, Count. I don't want you to get hurt by them and me distracting them will give you a running headstart. You can't fight like this..."

Arganan took a deep breath, a hesitant nod coming from him. "I'm counting on you," He whispered, before he rushed away.

Dagran took a deep breath, turning to the three women approaching. He was unarmed, but he knew he could—

The next thing he knew, he was already down on the ground, a slash delivered to his chest. Dagran gasped, putting a hand to his chest, feeling the light slice through his skin. They're so fast!

He growled, quickly ducking out of the way of another swing of the sword, rushing to a nearby booth and tearing off part of it. There were nails sticking out of it, much to his relief, and maybe he could use it as a weap—

He heard a click and he looked u—

A lone gunshot rang through the air.

Arganan knew it. He just knew it.

Those damned women killed Dagran while Arganan simply turned tail and fled.

"D-damn it!"

Arganan rushed past a few tents, a few booths, unsure of where to go. What was he going to do? He just left Dagran to die and all he did was run.

He felt guilty for that. The two could have at least taken down one of those strange women but no, Dagran told him to escape, and instead of holding his ground Arganan ran away.

Was he always such a coward? Arganan could barely remember a time where he stayed on the battlefield to fight, back when he was soldier, back before he lost his limbs and then later became Count. There was a time when he wasn't a coward.

And he'd bring it back—he'd bring it back. He wouldn't—couldn't—didn't want to be the coward the hung back when the battle started. He felt fire in his veins and he growled, looking around. He barely remembered feeling this way on the battlefield long ago, but it came back at full force and ordered him to focus and find Doll. She could help him, she could, she liked him—

"Psst! Hey!"

The somewhat hoarse voice dragged Arganan out of his thoughts, and he turned to see a younger man seated in a cage, about the Agent's age or maybe a little younger. He had some black, oily-looking pompadour on his head, his leather jacket covered with a noticeable amount of spikes.

"Yeah, you." The younger man spoke, making eye contact with him. Even from the short distance away from the younger man, Arganan could tell that the man's skin was a pasty white. "I, uh, need your help, if you don't mind."

The older man frowned, crossing his arms. "Should I bother asking why or how you got caged up in here?" He spoke, raising an eyebrow.

"They call me Scorpion," The younger man responded, and he rattled the bars once. Arganan noticed a big padlock about the door of the cage. "Yeah, uh...some mean guys locked me in here. See that dagger near you? Just give it to me and I can get out. All I was doing was lookin' for Dolly, and—"

"Dolly?" Arganan blinked. Did this Scorpion mean by Doll? "Does this same 'Dolly' you speak of have cracks on her face?"

Scorpion looked slightly surprised, but nodded. "Uh, yeah. Her name's Painted Doll, by the way, and she's mine. Thought I'd make it clear." He responded smoothly.

Arganan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I was under the impression that she was interested in me last time I met her. I did not notice your presence with her."

Judging by the strange name, Arganan took a guess. Took a guess that Scorpion was someone that worked here in Hell like the Painted Doll. Maybe he could outwit the younger man and make it clear that Doll was his (because she didn't belong with someone like Scorpion, she belonged with Arganan and Arganan already swore that he could do something right and protect her from people like Agent).

"Yeah right!" Scorpion had to laugh, had to stupidly laugh. "Damn, old man, are you that stupid? She may go around kissing everyone but she always comes back to me."

Arganan picked up the dagger on the ground, looking at it, and then to Scorpion. "Only if I let you out." He responded. "I could keep you caged in here."

He saw the younger man's eyes widen. "Hey, hey, don't—you can't just leave me here!"

Arganan found himself chuckling slightly as he gripped the dagger firmly in his hand. "I'll stab Agent for you next time I see him with it, promise." He drawled, turning on his heel. He had enough of dealing with the stupid Scorpion—and he really wanted to find Doll. Maybe she'd be pleased with what he did with him.

Walking in the opposite direction, Arganan ignored the yelled protests and rattling of cage bars from the jacket-wearing carnie.

Dagran couldn't help but groan as he woke up.

What happened? Why couldn't he move his arms right now? He was in a chair—how did he get in a chair in the first place? He'd been trying to fight his way out of the Rosy Bayonettes' reach, tore some wood with nails poking out from a booth and—

Didn't they shoot him? He wanted to put a hand to his chest to check for the wound, but couldn't as his arms were restrained. He should have died by now of blood loss if not instantly from the shot alone. So why was he still breathing?

"Ah," A deep voice spoke, prickling with some amusement, "I see you're awake."

The former mercenary leader looked up to see a man, with horns protruding from his head, incredibly odd white and black makeup on his face that constrasted so much, too much, with the red paint (or at least Dagran figured it had to be red paint) covering the rest of his skin that was visible. He wore a black robe, black pants and black boots, but they were anything but plain in appearance.

But something about this man (other than the fact that he was dressed in a weird way like the Twin and the other woman from earlier) felt commanding, demanded attention, respect. Dagran knew who this man had to be.

"You—" Dagran was surprised by how hoarse he sounded, "You're the guy ruling this place, aren't you?"

The other man merely smiled. "You're correct, Dagran. They call me Lucifer, The Devil, Satan...though I'd prefer Lucifer." He chuckled a bit, a book in his hands. Opening it up, he couldn't help but grin as he flipped a few pages. "Dagran, Dagran, Dagran...you've had quite the life despite it being so short. Years of manipulating others—"

Zael and the others came to mind. Dagran winced as he felt the memory surge through. That he'd used them as pawns for his own plans. For his own twisted plans.

"Murder included—"

The sight of Asthar's dying face came to mind, after Dagran went and stabbed him. How Asthar's eyes were wide, barely any sound escaping him other than pain as he realized that he'd been betrayed.

"Framing others for said murder—"

Busting Zael out, getting Jirall in prison by forging a couple of things, putting things perfectly in place so the ex-fiance of Calista couldn't get out of it—

"And you even used your own natural skills to sweet talk higher-ups into completely trusting you."

Dagran remembered seeing the variety of scars that laced the whole left side of the Count. How Dagran had kissed him, talked to him, tried to sympathize with him for the sake of getting on his good side. "Dagran..."

Dagran gritted his teeth, nearly growling as he glared up at Lucifer. "I get it!" He snapped. "I'm not that stupid to not know that I'm stuck in Hell for shit like that."

He then took it back silently. Shit. Was he thinking? Pissing off someone who ruled Hell probably wasn't in his best interest. Then again, he was more compulsive than he thought himself to be.

To his surprise, Lucifer simply laughed. "You're like Scorpion," He remarked, "A bit of a rebel, aren't you? Well..." He looked into Dagran's eyes. "I suppose you were expecting some great punishment, some...horrific torture of sorts. But the way you're acting—I see your frustration. Your reaction is similar in a way to Lucius Arganan."

Dagran could not help but stare.

"Arganan was here?" The words escaped him immediately.

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, no, he never passed by my office. I just happened to observe him from the shadows a little bit while he was with my darling daughter, Painted Doll."

"Wait, your daughter?" Dagran couldn't help but wince at that. "You're her father, then?"

"Hell no!" The Devil burst into a brief fit of laughter. "Y-you believe that I'd have such a beautiful girl as her from my loins? Though I have taken a shine to her, and dote on her. I admit that."

"Getting back to what I wished to address," Lucifer continued, "I've taken a good observation of you other than just your sins and I believe you might be useful enough."

Dagran blinked. "Useful?" He repeated. "For what?"

Lucifer merely smiled at him. "For taking down that divine pretender up in Heaven. I'm talking about going up there and defeating God. And you—and your Count friend—might just be perfect for what I need to taken down the forces of Heaven."

Was there a war between Heaven and Hell? Dagran figured that must be so.

And he couldn't help but be interested in this little opportunity.

"Go ahead and tell me everything about this. I think I might consider taking it on and I could probably persuade the Count to do that, too."

"Doll? Doll!"

Arganan passed another empty booth, keeping his right hand busy by twirling the dagger he stole from Scorpion. Why were all the booths and tents empty around here (other than the one he found Doll and Agent in of course)? Where was Painted Doll?

At least he'd got past those three strange women from earlier, but at the cost of Dagran's life. He winced at that. He didn't quite like having to sacrifice a lover for that. If he could call himself and Dagran lovers of course. The Count admitted to himself that yes, he might have quite the liking to Dagran (why else would he find Dagran attractive in some way) and that yes, they slept together. But did what they have make them lovers, then? He wasn't quite sure.

He looked up to see the slender, petite womanly figure he knew from before.

Painted Doll!

He did his best to run after her, knowing that he was limping from his lack of a cane with him.

He managed to catch up, much to his relief, and she turned to see him, smiling, beaming at him so beautifully.

"I..." He had to take a breath. He was never good at running so much. "I'm sorry," He managed, looking right into her different-coloured eyes. "I lost you earlier. Had to look all around for you..."

Painted Doll simply shook her head, still smiling, as if indicating that she forgave him. Grabbing him by the scarf, she pulled him right towards her, kissing him. It was rough but sweet and—

A deep laugh escaped him as he pulled back, cracks, porcelain skin and all fading away to reveal the snake-skinned man Dagran told Arganan about not too long ago.

"So naive, like the last onnnnneee." Twin purred as Arganan recoiled, gasping. "Do you evverrrr learrrrnnnn...?"

The former Count glared at him, crossing his arms. "It wasn't funny," He hissed, "And I'm leaving. I'll find the real her, and I'm not playing your stupid game. I heard about you and I'm not going to fall for your shit." Turning on his heel, he started walking in the opposite direction.

"Waaiiittt..." He felt the Twin grab him gently by the wrist and Arganan tried to shake his grip off.

"No, I'm not—"

"Shee'ssss cominggg."

Arganan turned towards him. "She?" He repeated.

The Twin had a strange smile on his face, nodding. "Yessss." He responded. "In thirtttyyy minutesssss. Weeee play a gaameee. Passss the time until sheeee comessss." He let go of him, removing his own hat and pulling a deck of cards out, grinning. "Youuuu wissshhhh to plaaaayyy?"

Arganan tried to think. He could decline this strange man's offer, or risk the game with him and hope that he was telling his truth.

He decided to take the risk, nodding.

"Fine. Let's play."