Chapter Text
The little tea pot-shaped cottage on the edge of Inkwell Isle was once so full of life. Cuphead and Mugman would run around causing all sorts of mayhem as they played in the garden, but their beloved Elder Kettle would always be there to keep them out of trouble. The three of them would sit together every evening, spin their favourite records, tell each other jokes and funny stories— and every night, Elder Kettle would read them a bedtime story of brave heroes and their adventures.
But now, the cottage stood still. No more mayhem, no more jokes, no more stories.
Mugman sat on the old sofa across from the fireplace, absentmindedly staring at the sparks as they cracked and popped from the flames. Every now and then, his gaze would shift across the room to his brother. Cuphead had been sitting on the front step for hours, staring blankly across the garden, fidgeting with his fingers.
Mugman sighed as he stood, rubbing his tired eyes. “Come on, Cuphead. We should go to bed now.” He said as he approached.
“What's the point?” Cuphead muttered back, barely moving at all. “What's the point of anything anymore?”
Mugman rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “... I know you miss him, Cuphead, but we can’t–”
“I don't understand.” Cuphead interrupted, resting his porcelain head in his hands. “How can someone be here, alive and well, and then just…be gone? It doesn't make any sense.”
“You're right, it doesn't.” Mugman agreed, sitting down next to his brother, the setting sun slowly disappearing behind the trees. “I just– God, I don't know what to do.”
“There has to be something we can do.” Cuphead sniffled. “He couldn't just disappear from existence."
“Cuphead, he’s dead.” Mugman said, trying his best to fight back the tears. “I know it’s hard to believe but nobody on these isles has the power to bring him back. It’s impossible.”
The young cups sat in silence for a moment, both staring down at their feet. The death of their grandfather had hit Mugman hard, of course it did, but Cuphead was heartbroken. He never realised how much he would miss Elder Kettle’s rules and chores until it was all taken away in one night. If only someone did have the power to help them, someone with some sort of divine connection that would be willing to do it for the right price. Someone like—
“The Devil…” Cuphead whispered under his breath.
“What?” Mugman asked as he looked up once again.
“The Devil!” Cuphead smiled, jumping up to his feet. “He could bring Elder Kettle back! He is all powerful—well, sort of, but still!”
Mugman’s eyes widened. He couldn't possibly be serious? “Are you nuts, Cuphead! The Devil would destroy us on the spot if he even caught a glimpse of us again!”
“Mugman, think about it. The Devil would do anything for the right price. All we gotta do is go to the old casino, ask him to make a deal—”
“A deal?!” Mugman said, shaking his head immediately. “Cuphead, do I have to remind you of what happened the last time we did that? We nearly got our heads smashed!”
Mugman stood up, turning to walk back inside. “Now, I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same before you do something stupid.”
“Mugsy, wait!” Cuphead said, rushing after his brother.
“I’m sorry. We can't risk our lives for something we aren't sure will even work.” Mugman said as he walked up the stairs towards their shared bedroom.
“Elder Kettle would’ve done it for us!”
Mugman paused before his foot reached the final step, his fist clenching tightly at his side as he turned back to look down at the other.
“Elder Kettle would march straight into inkwell hell and fist fight the Devil himself to bring us home, how could we not do the same?” Cuphead said, determination radiating in his eyes. “Come on, Mugsy. Please?”
Mugman hesitated, staring down at his brother for any sign of doubt or nerves. But when he couldn't find any, he sighed, turning on his heel and descending down once again. “Okay Cuphead…let’s do it.”
Cuphead let out a cheer, pulling his twin into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He squealed, grabbing Mugman's wrist and rushing out the door of the cottage. “I promise Mugsy, nothing too bad will happen.”
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“You, put that slot machine with the others! And you, throw that broken bar stool in the back. I want this place absolutely spotless!” The Devil barked from the top of the duel staircase, watching as every miniature demon scrabbled to follow each command.
The casino needed to look perfect for their reopening, especially after the loss of their reputation after a certain cup-related incident a year prior. The Devil and King Dice had become the laughing stocks of Inkwell Isle ever since that day, and he was determined to regain his sense of pride.
“Where’s Dice?” He asked himself, looking around the room. “You! Have you seen Dice?”
The tiny demon stopped dead in tracks to think. “I believe I saw him in your office last, sire.”
The Devil sighed before gesturing to the demon to continue his work. What was he doing now? He thought before heading down the corridor. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice all the damage those puny cups had done. Bullet holes along his marble walls, rips and scrapes all along his beautiful portraits, burn marks along his wool, red carpets. He couldn't bear to think about their encounter for too long, the embarrassment was just too much to bear.
“Kingsley? Are you there?” He asked out as he entered his office, which was in the same state as the rest of his casino.
King Dice looked over his should at his boss, a smile appearing on his face. “Ah, darling. I was just about to go looking for you.” He said, meeting his husband half way.
“Mmhm, Why are you in my office?” The Devil asked, raising an eyebrow as Dice took his hand.
“Eh, just decorating.”
“Decorating? What do you mean dec—” The Devil stopped himself as his eyes caught on the large painting of their wedding day being held up by two struggling demons. It was so large, it nearly covered the entire wall.
“I forgot we had this. It was a gift from Asmodeus, remember? I found it when searching for spare roulette wheels.” Dice said, staring up at it quite proudly.
“Honey,” The Devil said, taking both of Dice’s hands to make him face him. “The casino will be opening in two days and our reputation is hanging by a thread. We want the people of Inkwell Isle to fear us, right?”
Dice nodded.
“Good. But, do you think that will happen if the first thing people see when they enter The Devil’s office is him kissing his husband in a velvet suit surrounded by roses?”
King Dice stared at his husband, his face twisting into a stern stare. “Sorry our love is too embarrassing for your ‘prince of darkness’ image.” He said, breaking away from The Devil's grip and turning away. “God, you never let me have anything in this place.”
“Come one baby, I didn't mean it like that.” Devil said chasing after the dice-headed man. “This is my office, and I just want people to respect me.”
“Oh, so people seeing you love your husband doesn't get you respect?”
“In this case, no. Unfortunately not.”
As the two continued to go back and forth, a demon entered the office with a nervous expression. “Um, excuse me, sirs?”
“Can't you see we're busy?” The Devil hissed.
“Of course sir, but I have urgent news.”
“Then spit it out already.” King Dice said, rolling his eyes. “We haven’t got all damn day.”
The demon gulped, his lip quivering slightly. “Those cups, the ones who destroyed the casino, they’re here!”
Both the Devil and Dice’s eyes grew wide as their gaze shifted back to each other’s. The both quickly took off down the hall, anger and vengeance filling their minds as they made their way to the entrance hall.