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Charlie, this is a horrible idea!” Morgan said for the millionth time. His younger brother, Charlie, sighed, adjusting his bright red hat so that it sat over his eyes. “It’ll be fine, Mo, just keep driving!”
Morgan shook his head, his own hat falling askew, but nevertheless he continued to drive the truck down the city street, the neon signs and flickering street lights illuminating the way. He’d thought several times throughout the drive about swerving off the path and turning back home, but despite the growing knot in his stomach, he couldn’t let Charlie, or their guardian, Elder Kettle, down. Those two were the only people he had, and if Charlie said it’d be worth it, it’d better be worth it.
Morgan's knuckles were turning white - whiter than they already were - as they gripped the steering wheel, carefully driving down the road. Charlie fidgeted in his seat next to him, which Morgan tried to ignore, instead keeping his eyes on the road. Charlie was a miniature, messier version of his brother, with the same white-blonde hair, same pale skin, and even a similar outfit. Morgan had tried to convince Charlie to wear a tie, but he had insisted it was “too tight” and was “strangling him” after he had discarded it on the floor. He at least had the decency to wear his least beat-up trousers, and to cover the nasty scabs on his arms with bandages. But his nose was still noticeably crooked from a recent break. Morgan himself had made his best attempt to dress formally, while not looking “too formal.” He felt himself, not for the first time, worrying about their plan. Sure, he knew he could handle this job easily, even if he didn’t want to, but Charlie? Charlie was prone to saying things he shouldn’t. Charlie was prone to picking fights. Charlie was prone to, quite plainly, stupid decisions.
“Can’t we go any faster?” Charlie sighed, glancing at the watch hanging loosely from his wrist. “No.” Morgan replied. “I’m going the speed limit!”
“Speed it up! We could be late!”
“No! If the cops pull us over, they’ll find the booze, and we’ll get arrested, Chuck! Do you want to be suspicious?”
Charlie slouched in his chair, pulling his hat lower over his eyes. He didn’t need to answer to tell Morgan he’d been right. Morgan’s anxiety prevented him from driving incorrectly every day, but today, it was in overdrive, making sure he signaled every turn, he stopped just shy of the intersection, and that he obeyed every sign to the letter. Which was what he was supposed to do regardless, but living on the Inkwell Isles taught him that barely anyone gave a flying fuck about the law. Including him, apparently.
Charlie had, of course, been the one to drag him into this mess. Morgan had been minding his own business, making a batch of Elder Kettle’s moonshine for himself. Alcohol had been illegal for about four years now, but with how commonly it was served on the Isles, you’d be forgiven for thinking it wasn’t. It used to worry Morgan every time he made some, but given he lived in the middle of nowhere and that Elder Kettle was one of the most respected men on the Isles, Morgan found his fear had slowly lessened. Until, of course, Charlie had rushed into the kitchen and asked Morgan to make “a bunch more batches.” As it turned out, Charlie had gotten involved with the Moonshine Mob, one of the many mob groups active on the island, and had promised them he would cover a delivery to - of all fucking places - the Devil’s Casino. Not only was the Devil’s Casino in the heart of the city - which was where all of the violence, crime, and mob activity were located - but it was owned by the Devil himself, the most feared man on the Inkwell Isles. The only thing worse than pissing off a mob boss was pissing off a man as powerful as the Devil, so Morgan had gotten to work. The Devil was known for his powerful magic, and for his deals. The Devil would do whatever you asked, as long as you signed a contract with him, and gave him something in return. This something was almost always your soul, the source of one’s life and their magic. And he was known for using whatever trickery he could to get what he wanted. Plus, the fact that he was literally the Devil didn’t make him any less feared. Morgan had done his best to make the recipe as intended, but he still remembered how his hands shook as he poured the liquid from the pot into the many glass bottles Charlie had provided. He reminded himself to hide those extra bottles so they wouldn’t have to explain it to Elder Kettle.
The lights of the casino became visible on the road, and Morgan felt his foot lift from the pedal a bit, causing the truck to slow. The large pillars lining the drive; the flashing, strobing lights; hell, he swore he could even hear some of the chatter from the casino from here. It was overwhelming. This was a bad idea. “Come on, come on!” Charlie’s legs bounced up and down. “We’re almost there! It’s almost nine! We can make it early!”
Morgan sighed shakily, feeling the knot twisting and churning in his stomach. The lights were beginning to drill their way into his skull, it felt, making his head throb. Still, he placed his foot on the pedal down, and pulled up to the casino. The large building was even gaudier up close, with the pillars appearing to be made from dice. Spotlights danced over the exterior of the large, almost palace-like building, illuminating the golden trim, making the light that much worse. A large, neon sign depicted four ace cards, with large, flashing letters over them reading “THE DEVIL’S CASINO.” Morgan kept his eyes off the bright, towering building, attempting to focus on the road and steadying his breathing. Just keep driving. All he tried to focus on was the road. The parking lot for visitors was full. People were parking on nearby streets, walking up the ramp he’d just driven up. So many people were here tonight-
“Morgan! Turn!”
Morgan heard the tires squeal as he turned, having narrowly missed the sign reading “Employee parking.” Though they weren’t employees (he hoped Charlie hadn’t taken it that far), it was where they’d been told to go and drop off their wares. Morgan searched for an empty spot, finding one nestled in between a beat up Ford and a car so sleek he couldn’t even name the brand. This only worried him more. He kept trying to prevent his breathing from coming in gasps.
“Hey, hey, Mo. Are you alright?” Charlie turned to his brother, the excitement of the trip wearing off.
“I- I- Of all the stupid things…” Morgan muttered, hands still glued to the wheel.
“Take a minute, ok. It’ll be fine, I promise! The booze’ll be good, and all we’re really here to do is drop it off! Sure, we might be invited in, but… you can always go home without me.”
Morgan let out a bitter laugh. Of course Charlie wouldn’t miss this opportunity. “I can’t leave you alone in the Devil’s fucking Casino, Cups.” He peppered in the childhood nickname venomously.
“It’s my one chance to rub elbows with some of the rich cats in the area, and-”
“It’s your one chance to lose your soul like an IDIOT! To rub elbows with the mobster cats. You’re just here to get in more trouble. More trouble than SELLING MOONSHINE, WHICH ELDER KETTLE SPECIFICALLY TOLD US WASN’T MEANT FOR SELLING ANYMORE!”
Charlie was silent for a moment. Morgan could feel his throat tightening. He paused, controlling his breathing for a moment, slowly easing his hands from the wheel. Charlie didn’t deserve that. Of course he would want to do something exciting. Quiet life was never his style. They could go in, stay for an hour or even a half of one. Have some stupid fun. Everyone in the casino would be drunk. No one would even notice him. All those eyes would be fixed on the slot machines, the poker games-
But what if he won big? What if bringing the booze made him the center of attention? What if-
“Please tell me no one will notice us.” Morgan said. “You won’t make a scene.” His hands were gripping the wheel again.
“I’ll try.”
“No. You’ll swear it.”
“... I swear.”
Morgan let out a shaky breath, letting his hands fold into his lap. “We’ll drop this shit off, spend half an hour in the casino-”
“Half an-” Charlie began to argue, before remembering just how anxious his brother was right now. Still, not one to quit, he asked, “How’s leaving quarter of?”
“Sure.” Morgan sighed. “What time is it?”
“8:59, we’re right on time.” Charlie smiled.
This eased Morgan’s nerves, at least a bit. “Ok. Ok. Who am I looking for?”
“Casino’s manager, King Dice. All I know is he wears a purple suit. Sammy said I’d know him when I saw him.”
“Who the hell is Sammy? Not one of those moonshiners, I hope?”
Charlie knew he’d been caught. He had the worst poker face Morgan had ever seen, and Morgan played cards quite often. His eyes darted from Morgan’s, choosing to fixate on a spot over his shoulder. His face reddened slightly. His shoulders tensed. Morgan tried not to let this bother him. He’d known Charlie had been hanging around mobsters - this was a job for the mob, after all - and he negotiated with himself, before landing on, “We’ll talk about this later, Cups.”
Charlie just nodded. As Morgan opened his door, though, Charlie spoke up. “You want me to go out instead? You’ve been having a rough time, and I don’t want you to have to-”
“I’ll be fine, Chuck.” He felt convinced as he said it. “I could use the fresh air.”
Morgan stepped out of the truck, and took a deep breath. The air always smelled slightly of salt on the small isles, a refreshing scent that made Morgan feel more at ease. As he stood, collecting his thoughts, he was jarred to reality by a voice.
“Hey! You’re the new supplier?”
Morgan jumped, before turning to see a man waving at him from across the parking lot. He could immediately tell this was King Dice, even from this distance, as the man’s outfit was overwhelmingly purple. The man was smoking a cigarette, leaning casually against a decorative pillar that sat against the building. He seemed to wait for an answer, and Morgan remembered that answer was meant to come from him.
“Oh, uh, yeah!” He called back.
The man - King Dice - put the cigarette to his lips again, breathing in deeply, then blowing out smoke and throwing the cigarette on the ground. He walked around the pillar, seeming to disappear. Morgan considered following, but at the same time, he felt confused. King Dice hadn’t exactly said anything to him. So Morgan rapped on the window, getting his brother’s attention. Charlie was startled, before quickly exiting the truck, and circling over to his brother. “Yeah?”
“Uh, I found the King. He kinda just… vanished. Think we’re supposed to follow him…?”
“You’re overthinking this. If he wanted you to follow, he’d have said so!”
“Right, right. Unless he’s used to the old moonshiners knowing what to do, and he expects them to have told us what to do, and-” Morgan’s panic was washed away as King Dice returned, with a group of four men in tow. Up close, Morgan could note the impeccable tailoring of the King’s purple suit. King Dice wore a three-piece suit with a bright magenta bow tie, and sleek white gloves. He wore a large, inviting smile on his face, which brought out a thin scar that cut through his lips. He had light brown skin, and pitch black hair that seemed both slicked back and not at the same time. A thin mustache cut a line over his top lip. The men following him included a lanky man who looked ripped straight from a dime novel about cowboys; an older, broad-shouldered man with greying brown hair and intense dark eyes; a skeletally thin man with sunken eyes and a fierce scowl; and a man dressed in a sparkly suit who seemed to hop as he stepped. As they neared, Morgan realized just how tall King Dice was, towering over all of his subordinates and especially over the brothers, who were themselves quite short already. The strange group approached the truck, and the older man lifted the tarp from the bed of the truck. He knocked on the top of the crates inside, listening to the clattering of bottles against bottles as they shook within the crates. Morgan could hear him counting under his breath, which did nothing to help his nerves, feeling as though the rest of the groups’ eyes were on him.
“They’re missin’ two, Dicey.” The man said finally, in a gruffer voice than Morgan had anticipated.
“Oh- uh- those ones didn’t- they didn’t fit in the bed-” Morgan quickly stammered. He raced over to the truck door, revealing the crates shoved inside the back seat. “And- uh- there’s three here, instead of two- because- uh- I made too much. And- And we-”
He tensed as he heard a boisterous laugh. As he turned, he could see it was coming from the King. “Now, now! No need to be nervous!” The King smiled. “We ain’t here to shoot you!”
“Unless you give us a reason to.” The skeleton said.
“Phear!” The King snapped. The man - Phear - tensed. “Don’t be an ass. Take the crates in.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
“You know I can’t lift this shit.” Phear muttered.
“Then why even bother comin’ out?” The King shook his head, before approaching the brothers. “Sorry about him. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but he’s been nothin’ but a nuisance.” He held out a gloved hand to the two. “King Dice. But you probably already knew that.”
Morgan took his hand, giving it a firm shake. Charlie also accepted the hand shake, and Morgan noticed King Dice noticeably flinch. “Jeez, you’re supposed to shake it, not break it!”
Charlie shrugged. “I’m told if you have a firm handshake, no one’ll fuck with you.”
“But if it’s too firm, you might get whacked in the face. But you seem to already know a bit about that, hm?” The King had to lean down slightly to tap Charlie on his crooked nose.
“Well, so do you, scar-face!” Charlie shot back. Morgan could feel his heart skip a beat. What if they just pissed of King Dice!?! The manager of The Devil’s Casino!?! Would he kill them? Take their souls? Would he-
Laugh? He laughed. “Touche…” He trailed off, waiting for a name.
“Charlie. Some call me Chuck, some call me Cups.” Charlie said proudly. “And this here’s my brother, Morgan.”
Morgan felt the anxious wave dissipating as he nodded.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You two are with the Moonshine Mob?”
“He is.” Morgan sighed. “I think. I- uh- I don’t like getting involved with that.” His worries strayed from getting murdered by King Dice to now disappointing him or insulting him. The King was beginning to grow on him.
“Oh, absolutely. We only take our booze from them because, well, it’s kinda their thing. Here in the casino, it’s neutral ground, so don’t worry about any gang drama. But also don’t piss off the wrong people.”
“Already knew that.” Charlie said.
“And yet you do piss them off.” Morgan found himself saying. King Dice laughed again.
“They pissed me off first!” Charlie grouched. The King laughed again, his smile wide. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Want one? This might take a bit.” He gestured to the men hefting the heavy crates, taking them into the casino as Phear directed them. Charlie eagerly took a cigarette from the box, before nodding to Morgan. “He doesn’t smoke.” Again, Morgan felt a bit nervous at saying no, but at the same time, he reminded himself that it was better than becoming some sort of addict.
“Alright then.” King Dice lit his own cigarette, before lighting Charlie’s. Morgan walked over to the truck bed, looking over the progress being made. He considered attempting to help, but remembering how much he and Charlie struggled to fill the truck, he decided against it, and instead climbed his way to the top of the truck. The cowboy returned to the truck, grunting as he lifted another box. “Why did you need so much, anyways?” Morgan asked.
“Oh, we always order in bulk!” The man replied. “Makes sure we don’t get the cops on our ass! Hell, we’re not even outta the stuff we got last time! It might be a few more weeks before we gotta tap into this shit!”
“Of course,” The man in the sparkly suit walked over next to the cowboy. Morgan noted his posh British accent. “We will need to confiscate a box.”
“Of course, of course. For research purposes.”
“Gotta do it for science!” The other man cackled, before they both walked away. Morgan watched them walk away, before seeing Charlie and King Dice walking over to him. “We’re heading in!” Charlie said, eyes filled with wonder. Morgan slid off the roof of the truck, joining the men as they walked towards the door. “We’ll have to go through the kitchen, but it beats having to deal with the crowds at the front, trust me.” King Dice informed them. The group walked down a tiled hall, the chatter of the casino muffled behind the walls. They zig-zagged through the kitchen, chefs bustling around here and there. Morgan made sure to follow King Dice closely, to avoid getting run into. As they walked through, King Dice asked, “You two have never been here, right?”
Morgan hesitated.
“No shame in it. This place is a ‘den of sin,’ after all.” He said dramatically.
Morgan chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what we’ve been told. I think it just made Cups more excited to come here, though.”
“Mhm. That brother of yours sure is something.”
“Hey!” Charlie said, not even bothering to whisper. Several heads turned. “I can hear you, you know!”
King Dice merely smiled, the scar tugging upwards. He turned back to Morgan. “Prepare yourself for the absolute mayhem of this casino.”
Morgan took a deep breath, attempting to do his best. He remembered the packed parking lot, the people running up the ramp, desperate to get inside. But now, he was with probably the most respected man in the casino, which made the situation both better and worse. “Where- um- where are we headed?”
“Table in the back corner, if you get lost, find the ‘no smoking’ sign.”
And with that, the doors were flung open, and the noise cascaded over the group. Charlie had to yell over the noise to be heard as he said, “I’ll catch you in a bit, Mo!”
“Wait!” Morgan yelled, freezing his brother in his tracks. Morgan quickly snatched his brother’s wallet from his pocket, and took out all but twenty dollars. “You are NOT losing all your money in one go!” He said, handing it back.
“Make sure to watch your pockets!” King Dice called as Charlie rushed off to a slot machine. “That goes for you too, Mo.”
Morgan shoved his hands in his pockets. He followed King Dice as they traversed through the casino, the bright lights dying them both shades of every color of the rainbow as they passed. The rooms were filled with slot machines, with several poker tables sprinkled in. More tables could be seen on a balcony above the two, with people filling nearly every one. All around, people were packed into the spaces, waiting for slot machines, taking drinks from waiters stationed around the room like guards, and heading into other rooms of the casino, which were just filled with more of the same vices. Morgan watched King Dice carefully, but his height and his suit made him very hard to lose, even in this massive crowd. He seemed to dance as he walked through the room, gracefully bobbing this way and that, waving at old friends. He raised a hand to wave, before turning and shaking the hand of a newcomer in the same breath. “Hey-a, Kingsley!” someone in the crowd called. King Dice turned over and waved, before spinning around, whispering to Morgan, “That’s not my name,” and turning back around again, never once losing their path in the mayhem. “Rumor! Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” “Oh, you old so-and-so!” “I’ll find you later, I swear!” After a few more greetings and snatches of conversation, Morgan felt himself dizzying, so he instead glanced around for the telltale sign that they were almost there. He was so caught up in looking, that he accidentally ran into a tall, strong woman covered in tattoos and piercings. “Watch it!” She yelled.
“Ah- sorry!” Morgan stumbled back. King Dice was quickly at his side. “So sorry! He’s a bit lost.”
“Friend of yours?” She scowled.
“So what if he is?” Before things could get ugly (as Morgan worried they would), Dice’s hand was on his back, leading him away as he called, “Always a pleasure!”
Dice handed Morgan his wallet, which he hadn’t even realized had vanished. “I hate that woman.” He muttered. “But she always has some good accessories.” He took his hand off of Morgan, striding ahead while quickly putting on some earrings that looked like fuzzy dice. “We’re almost there.” He assured Morgan, before seamlessly returning to his dance of greetings.
After what felt like forever, they reached a quieter spot in the casino, with dining tables lining the walls. Most of these tables were empty, except for one, where three older people sat, one of which was the man who’d helped unpack the boxes. “Hey, Theo, get your ass over here!” He called. “We’re crackin’ open one of these new boxes!”
King Dice waved over at them, confidently walking over. Morgan followed, but couldn’t help his curiosity. As they slid into the booth, he simply asked, “Theo?”
“That’s my name. King is just a title.”
“What about the ‘Dice’ bit?”
“Also my name. Theodore Reginald Dice.”
“Reginald isn’t your middle name! You said it was Ferdinand!” Hissed one of the people in the booth. King Dice - Theo - merely grinned. “Did I?”
The people in the booth looked to be around Elder Kettle’s age. One of them was a short, balding man with a droopy mustache that gave him the look of a sad, wet dog. His face was red from drinking, Morgan inferred from the many empty glasses on the table. His tie was loose and his gaze was unfocused. Next to him sat an elegant older woman whose hair had fully greyed. She was dressed in a form-fitting dress the color of champagne, and had on a headdress that reminded Morgan of the flappers he had seen hanging around Porkrind’s Grill (which everyone knew was a speakeasy). She seemed to be nursing a fancy cocktail, the glass half empty with lipstick stains on the rim. King Dice pointed at them all. “Ginette” - she waved with her free hand- “Rumulus” - the mustached man hiccuped - “and Ol’ Ethan.” - He simply grunted and nodded. “And this is Morgan.” Morgan waved awkwardly. “These three all work for me.” Dice continued. “They practically live here.”
Ethan chuckled. “Damn right. We’re waiting on some of the others. We said if they ain’t here by ten, we crack it open without ‘em.”
“And by the others, you mean everyone, or everyone but Phear and Pachi?”
The group chuckled. “Now, now!” Ginette said, a faint southern drawl in her voice. “Be reasonable! Pachi’s growing on us!”
“So that’s an ‘everybody.’” The King clarified. “Good.” He turned to Morgan. “You get to meet the whole gang.”
“Great.” Morgan did not feel great. “How many people is that?”
“Twelve, if you’re counting the twins as one person.” Ginette said.
“What?”
“They’re conjoined twins.” Ol’ Ethan replied.
“I see double whenever they’re around.” Romulus hiccuped.
“Ignore him.” Ethan sighed. “He’s a fucking idiot, even when he’s sober.”
“By ‘everyone’ we mean the most important people who work here.” King Dice added. “Don’t worry. We’re not making you meet every waiter or dealer.”
Morgan nodded. The table went quiet for a second, before Ginette piped up. “Were you wearing those earlier today, Theo?”
The King played with his earrings. “What, these?”
“Yes, those.”
“What, are you implying I…” He gasped dramatically, which made Morgan giggle. “STOLE THEM!?!”
“No, I’m fucking saying you did.”
“Wasn’t that bitch, Hanna wearing them?” Ethan shook his head.
“She tried to rob Morgan. An eye for an eye. Plus, they look better on me, anyways!”
Morgan did have to agree with that. A waiter walked over to the table nervously. “Uh, Mr. King Dice, sir. Um, can I take- um, can I get you anything?”
“I dunno, can you?” Romulus slurred. The other two laughed.
“Um…” He turned to Morgan. “Want anythin’?”
“Sure. Um…” Morgan realized he didn’t have a menu. He panicked for a moment, thinking it’d be awkward to ask for a menu and make the group wait for him. So, he went with what he thought was a confident answer: “I’ll have whatever’s best.”
“Good choice. We’ll take two of the pasta bowls.”
“The pasta bowl is shit.” Rumulus laughed.
“Shut up.” King Dice quickly shot back.
The waiter scurried off, after the three older patrons ordered refills, disappearing in the crowded room. He was quickly replaced with the appearance of Charlie from the crowd, racing towards the table. “Mo! Mo! Look!!!” He held out a handful of fifty dollar bills. Morgan quickly counted them in his head, realizing his brother had made “FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS!?!”
“FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS!” Charlie beamed. “I CAN’T LOSE!” He slid into the booth next to his brother. “Who’re the geezers?”
“Rude.” Ethan shot back.
After the group had been formally introduced, the waiter returned, almost breathless, with the group’s food. Morgan got an extra fork from the waiter so he could share his food with Charlie.
“Fast service here, huh?” Charlie commented.
“No, they just know Dice’ll kick their ass if they’re not quick.” Ginette shrugged, sipping at her drink.
“They think I’ll kick their ass.” King Dice rolled his eyes. “I’m not heartless.”
“You can be when you want to.” Ginette added between sips.
King Dice sighed, before turning to his food. “You three are insufferable sometimes, you know that?”
“Come on, Theo! You know you love us!”
“Your name is Theo?” Charlie butted in.
“No, it’s just a nickname.” King Dice said sarcastically.
Charlie didn’t seem to notice. “For what?”
“For Theodore.”
“Oh. I thought your name was King Dice!”
“You thought my name was King?”
“Yeah! What kind of a dumb title is ‘King Dice’ anyways?”
The other three laughed, Romulus nearly spitting out his drink. Morgan was beginning to dislike those three.
“It’s-” King Dice sighed, exasperated. “King is my title. Theo is my name. Dice is my last name. Make sense?”
“No. Why the hell is your name Dice?”
“Do you really expect me to have an answer to that?”
Charlie seemed to think for a moment, before shaking his head. “I’m sorry about him.” Morgan apologized.
“It’s fine, really. I think he’s still a bit high from his big win.”
Morgan laughed. “Probably. He can be a bit… much sometimes.”
Charlie shot him a death glare, but said nothing as he shoveled pasta in his mouth.
The conversation died down once more as the group turned to their food and drinks. After a few minutes, Morgan noticed another group approaching the tables. The group consisted of four people, each talking quietly amongst themselves. Striding ahead of the group was a man, holding his round stomach as he laughed. He was dressed in a black suit and a matching bowler hat, and had an abnormally large smile. Next to him, the teller of the joke, was a familiar face. It was the man in the sequin suit, walking with what Morgan now identified as a hop-like limp next to the other man. The man’s suit had changed, although the new blue suit was no less sparkly, brightening his lanky frame. He also wore a matching top hat, and seemed to carry a magic wand in his pale hands. Behind these two walked a tall, wiry woman. She was adorned head to toe with golden accessories, which Morgan was shocked nobody had stolen yet. She had an air of perfection about her, with her hair tied into a perfect bun; her sharp facial features; and even her perfect posture. She seemed very controlled, hardly even cracking a smile as the others laughed. The last of the group was a short, scrawny man, who smiled lopsidedly with the others. His copper skin was stained with what appeared to be oil, the substance coating his fingertips and even smeared on his cheek. Surprisingly, his uniform, which consisted of a blue vest over a white dress shirt, was clean. His eyes seemed to flit to every slot machine the group passed, seeming to be desperate to play. As this colorful crew approached the tables, the man in the black suit held out his hands, before shushing the group. He slowly began to sneak towards the group on his tiptoes, before noticing Morgan’s gaze. He held a finger to his lips, before pointing to King Dice. He then mimed scaring the King, first miming jumping out at him before miming the King’s scared reaction. Morgan quickly weighed his options, before turning back to the exquisite pasta bowl, deciding he’d pretend not to have noticed the man. He was a bit worried about allowing the others to be scared, but he reasoned it was just a prank. Unless it wasn’t. What if that guy intended to kill King Dice? Assassinate King Dice? Would that count as an assassination!?! Would he be guilty of assisting in-
“BAH!”
“Ah!” Morgan jumped, dropping his fork. King Dice jumped in his seat as well, before quickly calming down. Charlie, on the other hand, chose fight instead of flight. Charlie whirled around, blue energy coursing around two of his fingers as he formed a finger gun. A blast of energy, like a bullet, shot from Charlie’s fingers at the prankster, but before it could hit, the man in the sequin suit, cursing loudly, formed a small disc in front of his friend, blocking the shot. Ethan, Ginette and Rumulus seemed in awe, which was a bit strange to Morgan. Soul magic such as that was quite common. Anyone could easily figure out how to draw on the energy inside of them and form it. This energy could easily be used for simple tasks, such as grabbing an object on a high shelf, making a spark without a lighter, healing small cuts and bruises, or even creating small defensive “spells” (as Charlie had done). Magic like this was used nearly every day on the Isles. You’d read about its part in gang wars, or some good citizen using it to save someone in danger. However, the more Morgan thought about it, the more he realized he hadn’t seen anyone using magic in the casino.
“Holy shit!” The man laughed. “Goddamn! Hocus, you’re a lifesaver!”
The other man - Hocus - bowed deeply. “Thank you, thank you.”
“What the hell was that!?!” Charlie scolded. “You scared me half to death!”
“That,” King Dice said, regaining his composure. “Is Mangosteen. He’s our resident- uh- jokester, let’s say. You’re somewhat familiar with Hocus, but these two are Pirouletta, our head of gaming, and Pachi, our new mechanic.”
Pirouletta nodded curtly at the group, while Pachi waved, flashing the same crooked grin as before. “Sorry about that.” Mangosteen shook his head. “Just thought I’d take this chance to finally get to prank the King of the Casino himself. Didn’t know there was anyone here with a soul still.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “You guys- you don’t have-”
“Calm down, calm down! We still have our souls!” Mangosteen said.
“Technically.” Hocus added, “The Devil owns them, but they’re still in our bodies.”
“So we can’t exactly use our magic freely.”
“Except me, of course, but that’s my job.” Hocus waved his wand, shooting sparks of colored light from it. This was met with scattered applause from the group. The newcomers sat down in the nearest empty booth, Hocus turning around in his seat to look at the brothers. Getting a closer look, Morgan noticed just how pale he really was, rivaling his own, as Charlie dubbed it, “translucent skin.” He also had bags under his eyes and a bit of a strain in his smile, making him appear as if he hadn’t slept well in weeks. Morgan wondered if that happened when one lost their soul. Glancing around the table proved a bit futile, as all three of the older drinkers looked just as rough as Hocus, but that could be chalked up to their old age, or even their excessive drinking. King Dice, however, displayed no signs of stress, just the scar on his lip. “So, who are you two?” Hocus asked.
“Charlie! Feel free to call me Chuck or Cups, though! And this here’s my brother, Morgan! Feel free to call him Mo!”
“Actually, don’t do that.” Morgan sighed. “Cups is the only one that does it, and only because I can’t stop him.”
“I will choose to ignore that, Mo!” Hocus flashed a toothy grin. Morgan let out an exasperated sigh.
“Anywho, we’re the new bootleggers for the place!” Charlie returned the smile. “And, technically, the new moonshiners. Mo did make the booze.”
“Well, I did, didn’t I?” Morgan began to argue, but quickly gave up.
“Ah! So you’re the one who made the new stuff! Can’t wait to try it!” Morgan felt like a rabbit before wolves. “Who are we still waiting on?”
“Well, there’s Wheezy-” King Dice began to list, before Hocus cut him off.
“Wheezy’ll never come over here! No smoking signs are the bane of his existence!”
King Dice waited a moment, before continuing. “As I was saying, we’re waiting for Wheezy, Chips, Pip and Dot, Phear, and Chimes.”
“Did you not invite the boss?”
“He’s too-”
Hocus cut him off yet again. “Isn’t he pissed at you for something?”
“Mind your damn business.” King Dice snapped. “But no. He told me outright, and I quote, ‘I’m too busy for that bullshit. If it’s any good, I’ll grab some later.’”
“Damn.” Mangosteen snapped his fingers. “We’ll have to catch him next time!”
“I don’t think we will.” Pirouletta said with a notable Russian accent. “He has better things to do. We all do.”
“If you don’t want to be here, we can always do it without you.” King Dice smirked.
“I’m here to make sure that our resident Tipsy Troop doesn’t down it all.”
“Damn it!” Mangosteen yelled. Pachi silently pumped his fist in the air in a seeming victory. Morgan watched in confusion as Pachi was handed a twenty dollar bill. Apparently, everyone else was just as confused, as Mangosteen felt the need to explain. “After Chips gave ‘em that nickname, we bet twenty bucks that Pirouletta would be the only one of us not to use it. As you can see, I lost.”
“Wait, Pachi finally talked?” Rumulus laughed.
“No. We’ve been over this. Pachi DOES NOT talk. He never will.” Pachi nodded aggressively in agreement. Romulus seemed to start saying something, but instead he let out an enormous burp and took another gulp of his beer. Charlie was quick to change the subject. “So, uh, how’s the whole soul-selling thing work?”
“Charlie.” Morgan warned, but Charlie quickly brushed it off.
“Relax! I don’t plan on sellin’ mine! Just curious! It’s not like anyone’s been willin’ to tell me jack shit about it.”
“It is quite the taboo subject to you ‘law abiding’ citizens, isn’t it?” King Dice rolled his green eyes. “But I’d be happy to explain it to you. It works differently depending on who owns your soul, bear in mind. This is only what happens if your soul goes to the Devil.”
“It’s not too different if someone else gets their hands on it, as far as I’ve seen.” Hocus shrugged. “Just the method of taking it, and the sign.”
“The sign?” The brothers asked as one. In unison, the group rolled down sleeves or pulled off gloves to reveal a large, uniform scar encircling the entirety of their exposed wrist, like some kind of messed up bracelet.
“When someone owns your soul, it leaves a physical mark.” King Dice explained, gesturing at the exposed brown skin.
“It changes depending on the person who owns it, and the method of control.” Hocus explained, examining his own white scar.
“By which he means physical control. If someone owns your soul, they can puppet you if desired. For the Devil, this control comes in the form of chains he can pull you by. Usually just around the wrists, but from what I know, they can appear anywhere he desires.”
“He nearly choked me to death once by putting one around my throat!” Hocus said, in a more cheerful tone than the subject matter deserved.
“That’s HORRIBLE!” Morgan cried. “Why would- why would anyone-”
“Why would anyone choose to sell their soul?” Hocus finished. “Well, lots of reasons. Either you’re desperate enough, greedy enough, or what you want is just so out of reach, you couldn’t get it otherwise! For example, I sold my soul to become the most powerful magic user on the whole of the first Isle, and here I sit, powerful as all hell.”
Morgan nodded. “Still, there seems to be a lot of downsides to this deal.”
“Indeed there are.” King Dice continued. “Because not only can he physically control you, he can also control you… legally.” This statement was met with a chorus of booing. “You are familiar with the Devil’s contracts, yes?”
“Yes. You sign your soul to him in exchange for… whatever you want.” Morgan replied.
“Yes, but depending on the phrasing, you might need to do more for him.”
“For example, I’m required to work for him!” Mangosteen piped up. “Or Hocus! He has to do a show at the casino at least once a week! But Theo’s got it the-”
“They get it.”
“No, no!” Charlie piped up. “What’s your contract say?”
“None of your business.”
“He has to do whatever the Devil says.” Mangosteen shrugged. Pirouletta looked over at the man. “No! I thought he had to kill anyone who broke their contract!”
“I thought he was married to the Devil, and their vows were the contract.” Rumulus chimed in. This earned him a few confused glances.
“It lets the Devil possess him at will!” Hocus insisted.
“He needs to serve the Devil ‘til he dies!” Ginette fought back.
“Like I said!” King Dice stood. “It’s none of your goddamn business!”
The arguing hushed.
“What’s none of our goddamn business?” A new voice called. The speaker had a thick southern accent, and sounded like they were laughing a bit.
“Perfect timing.” King Dice sat down. He sighed deeply, as if to regain his composure. Morgan considered asking about the contract, but decided to leave that itch for knowledge unscratched. He wanted to stay on the King’s good side, after all, as he had grown to really like him.
The cowboy from earlier was approaching the group. His sleeves were now rolled up, revealing pale arms coated in freckles and scars, including the telltale rings around his wrists. He had long dirty blonde hair tied back into a long ponytail that swung behind him as he approached. “And I brought the rest of the gang!” He smiled, revealing a golden tooth.
Behind him trailed “the rest of the gang.” Directly behind him was a grouchy looking older man, whose teeth were noticeably yellow in his scowl. He had wrinkled brown skin, and hair that seemed to be five different shades of grey. He wore a large burgundy smoking jacket, and threw a cigarette on the ground before crossing the threshold. Next to him were Pip and Dot, the twins Ginette had mentioned. The twins were dressed in matching outfits - a matching outfit? The two seemed to literally be connected at the hip. As they were attached, their vests had to be sewn together to accommodate how they were attached to each other. Similarly, their trousers had to be sewn to fit their three legs. The twins appeared almost identical, save one’s shorter haircut and top hat as opposed to the other’s long hair and bow. The twins approached the next table over and began to argue over who got to sit on the open side. The last two members of the group were Phear, the skeletal man from before; and another man in a similar blue vest as Pachi. This man, however, had mousy brown hair, most of which was hidden underneath a straw boater hat. The man had distinctly dark eyes, which looked to Morgan like two empty voids. Aside from that he seemed inviting, however, with a large smile on his face and a bit of a skip in his step.
Pip and Dot had finally ended their argument by flipping a coin, with the short-haired twin laughing triumphantly as they maneuvered into the booth. The others joined them, save the cowboy, who approached the brothers. “Hey, y’all! I’m Chips Bettagan! Glad to properly meet ya.” He held out a hand, which Charlie eagerly took. Charlie’s grip tightened, seeming to have learned nothing from Dice’s warning. Chips noticed this and began to squeeze back, both men now gazing intensely at one another as they attempted to one-up the other. King Dice noticed this, and shook his head disapprovingly. “I knew you two would… hit it off.”
Finally, Charlie pulled away, defeated. Both men waved their hands, as if to physically brush away the pain.
“I respect your efforts…”
“Cups.” Charlie proudly introduced himself with his nickname.
“And that’s Mo!” Hocus pointed excitedly.
“Morgan.” The older brother sighed. “I hate you, Chuck.”
His brother smiled at him sheepishly.
“Right! Well, these here are Pip ‘n Dot-” The twins both waved. “Chimes-” The man tipped his hat. “And of course, Phear!” Phear didn’t even acknowledge Chips.
“Which one’s Pip and which one’s Dot?” Charlie asked.
“No one knows.” Chips smiled, before squatting down to open the box under the table. Charlie slid out of the booth to help him. Morgan felt the need to help as well, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his seat, as the pit in his stomach returned. He had nearly forgotten what they were here for - to try out their drinks. No, his drinks. The drink he had made, himself, all alone. If nobody liked them, it was on him. The two men began to pass bottles around the tables, Morgan’s dread spiking as bottles passed into hands. He was glad that Charlie didn’t even offer him one, as he didn’t know if he had the strength to say, “No thank you. I’m driving.”
“What are we toasting to?” Mangosteen asked, as he popped the cap off his bottle.
“Well-” King Dice began, before Charlie cut him off with a shout of, “TO EARNING A FORTUNE!”
Morgan usually rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics, however, the pit was growing. What if everyone hated the drinks!?! What if they got thrown out!?! What if he embarrassed himself in front of everyone!?! In front of King Dice!?! The group all raised their drinks, with murmurs of, “Here, here!” or “I’ll toast to that!”
Charlie glanced over at his frozen brother, leaning in and whispering, “Don’t worry about it, Mo! This is the best batch yet!”
“You’re just saying that.” Morgan choked out.
“No, I-”
“This!” King Dice slammed down his drink. “This is some good shit, boys!”
Charlie gave Morgan a smug look, before clinking his bottle against the King’s. Similar compliments were thrown from the other tables, which helped replace Morgan’s dread with embarrassment. He wondered whether his fear had been visible.
The only three who hadn’t drank were the Tipsy Troop, who’d been busying themselves examining the bottles. Ginette had even wafted her hand over the opening, smelling the booze.
“You of all people should know that’s for drinking, Gin.” Mangosteen called, before taking a large swig. “Like this!” He punctuated his sentence with a hearty belch.
“Piss off!” Ginette rolled her eyes. “We are connoisseurs of booze! It’s my job specifically to know whether this really is… ‘the shit.’”
The dread in Morgan’s stomach was returning.
The three older workers clinked their bottles, and simultaneously took a sip. Both Ethan and Ginette quickly pulled the bottle from their lips, staring in what appeared to be shock. Romulus, however, downed his entire drink, without stopping. Ginette stared from her bottle to the brothers. Morgan was beginning to feel sick.
“You- you’re the Cuppington kids, aren’t you!”
“Wh- what?” Morgan was shocked momentarily, before answering. “Uh- yeah. Why?”
“I shoulda known!” Ginette took another sip. “Oh! How I missed this drink!”
“Kettle, that old bastard!” Ethan laughed. “After he quit the mob life I was sure I’d never get a drop of this shit ever again!”
King Dice took a swig from his own bottle again. “So this is the famous Kettle Brew? Lives up to the legend.”
Morgan still had no idea what was happening, and as he glanced at his brother, he could tell he didn’t either. However, Charlie seemed more awed than shocked. “You’re sayin’- you’re sayin’ Elder Kettle was in the mob!?!”
“Course he was!” Romulus hiccuped. “One ‘o the best in the bidness!”
“We worked out of a brewery - illegally, of course - but we sold all sorts of things! Counterfeits, forgeries, drugs, weapons! And of course, we sold Kettle Brew.” There seemed to be a light behind Ginette’s eyes - behind all of the Troops eyes - as they reminisced about their times with Elder Kettle in the mob. Morgan was shocked by every story they told - Elder Kettle staring down the barrel of a gun, not flinching - Elder Kettle threatening to gut someone “like a fish” for poking into their business - Elder Kettle driving getaway cars time and time again. This version of Elder Kettle was like a totally different person to Morgan, and he couldn’t comprehend that these weren’t tall tales, make believe or even straight-up lies.
“Wow. This Elder Kettle guy sounds like a badass.” Mangosteen shook his head in disbelief. “What made ‘im stop?”
“I think it was when Callie got bumped off. Ya know, cause she left kids behind.” Ginette gestured at the brothers.
Morgan had never told anyone - not even Charlie - but he did have vague memories of his mother. He remembered her golden hair, her dimpled smile, snippets of her voice reading bedtime stories. But the most concrete of these memories made him sure that Ginette was right. It was a memories of his mother shouting at Elder Kettle, practically hysterical. “Don’t you see!?!” She shrieked. “We could finally have answers to the biggest questions in the world! In the universe, even!”
“Chalice, have you lost your mind? You can’t go pursuing this- this pipe dream! Think of your family! Think of you children!”
“Don’t you dare bring my boys into this! They’ll be proud of me when this is over!”
“No… you can’t keep leaving them alone like this!”
“Please!” There was a pause after that. “All I’m asking is that you watch them for a week. Maybe two at the most.”
Elder Kettle had agreed, and the memory ended with him finding Morgan eavesdropping and carrying him back to bed. He’d never seen his mom again after that.
The group was occupied with their drinks for just a moment longer, until Chips piped up. “Hey, anyone up fer some poker?”
“Ooh! Me! I am!” Charlie enthusiastically chimed.
Mangosteen, Hocus and Chimes all shouted out similarly, whereas Pachi simply nodded.
As Chips led the small group to another part of the casino, Charlie slapped half of his earnings into Morgan’s hands, before sprinting off. Morgan sighed and shook his head as he watched his brother disappear to lose all - half - of his earnings. Checking his watch, Morgan saw that it was 9:38, so he turned to King Dice. “Hey, uh, me an’ Cups have to be going soon- we, um, didn’t mean to stay for too long.”
“Oh, of course, of course.” The King smiled. “I mean, we’ve all best be getting back to work, too.”
This statement was met with mixed reception. Wheezy and Phear groaned, Pip and Dot shook their heads sadly, Pirouletta immediately stood and left, and Rumulus burped loudly before passing out on the table. Morgan jumped at the latter, whereas the others simply laughed. “Yeah, that’s our sign to be leaving.” Ginette smiled, before downing the rest of her drink. “It’s been a pleasure, Cuppington.” She and Ol’Ethan stood, the other man towering over her, and as they walked away, Ginette pulled out a cigarette holder.
As the group slowly dispersed, King Dice turned his bright green eyes to Morgan. “Anything else you’d like to see before you leave? I realize I didn’t give you the proper tour. That’ll have to happen next time, I suppose.”
Morgan was opening his mouth to inform King Dice that there would be no “next time,” but froze as he saw the King’s white glove plunge into his pocket and pull out a large stack of dollar bills. Counting under his breath, he produced a sizable section and handed it off to Morgan. “Here. For the booze. This is what we pay our other suppliers, but I’m open to negotiation.”
Morgan counted the money as he spoke. 100, 200, 300, 500, 1000, 1300 dollars in total. 1300 dollars!
“Th- this is- uh- this is more than enough.” Morgan kicked himself internally for how shocked he sounded, but in reality, he wasn’t used to this kind of money!
“Very well then. I hope we’ll be seeing you for our next order?”
“Oh- uh- well- um-” Morgan wanted to say no. He really, truely did not think being at the Devil’s Casino now, much less regularly visiting, was a good idea! But as he stared from the money to King Dice, he felt like he was seeing clearer. He noticed how helpful 1300 dollars every few months could truely be. He noticed how safe the casino seemed while they stuck with the employees. He noticed that King Dice had freckles coating his cheeks, which made him somehow feel more human. He noticed how happy Charlie seemed in here. He noticed how happy he was in here. How exciting it was to be in the Devil’s Casino and feel at ease. But… he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a part of the Devil’s trickery. So, he landed on, “I’ll have to talk it over with Chuck.”
“Oh, of course! Of course! It’s always best to consult your partner before making a big decision.” Morgan could swear there was a twinge of bitterness in that statement, but King Dice’s happy demenor quickly resurfaced. “Well, then, shall I see you off, or do you think you can remember the way?”
“I don’t remember at all. Heh.” Lying to King Dice seemed foolish, but the alternative of walking back through hoards of mobsters and thieves unprotected seemed more foolish.
“Very well then. Grab your brother.” The King stood and began to walk away. Morgan hopped up too, and approached the poker game.
Charlie’s brow was intensely furrowed as he glared down at his hand. Morgan could tell that it was a bad hand by how tense his shoulders were. His misery seemed to be shared by Chimes, who squinted in disbelief at his cards, frowning. Mangosteen kept his familiar grin, however, and Hocus wore a long smirk. Morgan wanted to tell them that they all had horrible poker faces, except for the final player, Pachi, who’s expression was completely blank. Coincidentally - or not - he seemed to be the one winning.
“Cups, finish up this hand. We gotta bounce.”
“Damn it! Fine.” Charlie threw his cards down, and handed money to both Hocus and Pachi. “I swear, I’ll win it back next time!”
“I have faith in you, kid!” Mangosteen smiled.
“I don’t, but I look forward to it!” Hocus smiled, counting the bills.
Morgan led Charlie to where King Dice stood, waiting, and together, they walked out of the casino. The King was back to his familiar dance of smiles and waves, which amazed Morgan just as much as when they’d first arrived. Charlie seemed taken by it as well, as he asked, “Gee. How do you know so many people?”
“Years of running a casino. Although, I don’t know these people personally, of course.”
“How do you remember so many names?”
“I wrote most of their contracts.” He said it as casually as someone would comment on the weather.
“O-oh.” Charlie was silent after that. Glancing at his brother, Morgan could tell, thankfully, that his brother had simply been taken aback. He was glad to see that Charlie wasn’t overthinking that comment, like he was. Wasn’t reading it as a veiled threat. He convinced himself that Charlie was correct here, and that it wasn’t anything to worry about yet.
“Here we are! Lovely meeting you two. I’ll be checking in on you when we start running low! Don’t let that stop you from popping by!”
“Do you know where to send them?” Morgan asked.
“No, but the boss is very good at finding people.”
“Ah.” That, too, seemed mildly threatening.
“Well, then, good night, and have a nice drive home.” With that, the King disappeared into the kitchen. No, not disappeared. With such a bright suit and tall frame, Morgan was certain the man could never completely vanish.
“Whoo!” Morgan jumped as his brother pumped his fist. “What a night! What a night!!! How much’d we make, Mo? Aside from my 400-”
“200 now, I suppose.”
“No, no! It’s more like… uh… 250.” Charlie smiled sheepishly, revealing his missing tooth.
Morgan sighed, but smiled back. “I’d usually be pretty pissed, but we just made a thousand bucks off this, so-”
“A THOUSAND BUCKS!?!”
“Thousand three hundred, to be exact.” Morgan smiled at Charlie’s dropped jaw. His brother raced up and embraced him, letting out a giddy laugh.
“Mo, Mo, we’re loaded now!!! We need to do this shit again sometime!”
“I don’t know, Cups-”
“Dicey boy said he’d be knockin’ on our door some time soon!” Charlie began to lead Morgan back to the truck. Morgan felt a bit of anxiety jolt through him at the thought of returning, but it was also mixed, he’d never admit it, with intrigue. He’d found the casino, mainly those who resided in it, fascinating, and the thought of returning regularly… excited him.
Still, Morgan pushed those thoughts away for the time being, putting all of his energy towards driving his brother safely home.