Chapter Text
The little tea-pot shaped cottage that sat on the edge of Inkwell Isle was once so full of life.
Cuphead and Mugman would spend their days running around the garden once they had completed their morning chores, conjuring up make-belief games of pirates and princes until the sky turned amber.
In the evening, they would sit by the fireplace as Elder Kettle spun one of their favourite records, laughing and joking over stories of what had happened throughout that day.
And once night grew dark and the stars began to twinkle, Elder Kettle would bring the boys to bed, reading one final story from their small collection of books before tucking them in and kissing them goodnight.
But now, everything was quiet. No more games, no more laughing, no more stories. All that was left were ghosts of the fond, happy memories, casually haunting the brothers as they sat in the silence.
Mugman’s head rested against the arm of the 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 by now, staring blankly at somewhere beyond the evening-lit garden.
Mugman had never seen his brother in such a way before. So quiet, so unmotivated, so depressed. He could only imagine the things circling through his mind based on what was echoing through his own. The image of their grandfather’s lifeless body, the sound of the coffin’s wheels as the undertaker dragged it away, the feeling of fear as both brothers wondered what would happen now that nobody was around to look after them.
“Cuphead?” He said weakly as he sat up, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “We should go to bed. It’s getting late.”
“What's the point?” Cuphead muttered, barely moving at all. Mugman gulped, slowly approaching his brother before cautiously taking a seat next to him on the doorstep. “What's the point of anything anymore?”
“I know you miss him Cups, but we can't just–”
“I don't understand it.” The older twin interrupted without much care, resting his porcelain head in his gloved palms. “How can someone be here one minute and then just…vanish?”
Mugman bit his lip as he continued to look down at his brother, unsure of how to comfort him.
Mugman missed his grandfather terribly, of course he did, but it was a different kind of heartbreak for Cuphead. He always was the first to complain about the chores Elder Kettle set out for them or point out when rules about curfew and sweet treats weren't fair, but now, after it was all taken away from him in one night, he realised how much he needed them and he would do anything to get it all back.
“And what will happen to us?” Cuphead continued on, turning to face Mugman with red, puffed out eyes. “What if we’re sent away to an orphanage or something?”
“I don't know…” Mugman hesitantly spoke, shrugging his shoulders slowly. His fingers twisted around each other against his lap, his mind racing in search of ways to try to remain optimistic. “Maybe it won't be that bad?”
Cuphead shook his head, standing to his feet in a sudden rush.
“Mugsy, do you know what happens to kids like us in those places?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing dramatically downwards.
“They get separated. Lost. Ignored. And before you know it, we’ll be adults. We'll get kicked out and forced to fend for ourselves with nothing but the damn clothes on our backs. We’re eleven, for God’s sake. Who would want us?”
“Well, what choice do we have?” Mugman argued as he too stood up, now at a perfect eye level with his twin. “It’s either go there and get looked after in some way or stay here and have to fend for ourselves at an even younger age.”
Cuphead attempted to come up with an argument, but as painful as it was, he knew Mugman was right. How could they look after themselves? They were just two kids with no jobs, no money, no food, nothing. It would be impossible.
But Cuphead refused to believe going to some orphanage was the solution. He had to think of something. Some way to make things right again.
“I just wish we could see him again.” He whispered quietly as tears began to well up in his eyes once again.
Mugman sighed sadly and nodded, reaching forward and taking his brother's hands into his own.
“I know. I do too.” He said softly, his eyes drifting towards the ground.
“Surely there must be someone out there who can help?” Cuphead cried as he desperately squeezed his twin’s hands a little tighter for some sort of resolution. “He couldn't have just disappeared from existence, right?”
“Cups, he’s dead.” Mugman spoke bluntly, the words agonizingly stabbing into his heart. “No one on these isles has the power to bring him back, and even if there was, why would they help us?”
Cuphead pulled from his brother’s grasp in a sniffle, arms folding tightly across his chest.
He refused to believe nobody could help them. His mind twisted and churned as he ran through every name he knew. Surely there was someone out there with some sort of divine connection. Someone who would be willing to do it for the right price if they offered. Someone like…
“...The Devil.” Cuphead whispered under his breath, his head shooting up and his eyes widened with realisation.
“What?” Mugman cocked an eyebrow at his twin’s sudden movements
“The Devil!” Cuphead repeated cheerfully, a bright smile appearing on his face. “He can bring him back! All we gotta do is go to the old casino, offer him a deal and boom, Elder Kettle will be alive again!”
“Cuphead, are you nuts?!” The younger of the two cried, gripping his brother's shoulders to try to pull him back to reality. “Don't you remember what happened the last time we made a deal with him? He would mash our heads in if he even caught a glance of us again!"
“Mugman. Relax, will ya?” Cuphead said as he shoved away Mugman’s arms. “You know we can handle him if anything goes wrong. Plus it's a better shot than being locked up in a goddamn orphanage, watching every other kid get adopted but us.”
“You don't even know if he can bring people back from the dead.” Mugman snapped back, turning on his heel and heading inside the cottage. “And I won't risk my life for something we don't even know will work.”
“Mugman, wait!” Cuphead called after him as he followed him to the bottom of the staircase, watching as he began to climb up them.
Mugman sighed as he paused half-way up, staring down at his brother with a sting of guilt. “I’m sorry Cuphead, but it’s just too dangerous.”
He turned back towards their shared bedroom at the top of the stairs and continued to walk up the steps, the old, weathered wood creaking under his weight. “Now I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same before you do something stupid.”
“Elder Kettle would've done it for us!”
Mugman paused, his whole body tensing as his foot hovered over the final step.
Cuphead swung himself around the banister of the stairs, looking up at his brother from the bottom step with pleading eyes.
“Elder Kettle would march straight to the Devil's office, grab him by the ear and demand him to bring us back to life. So how the hell can you expect us not to do the same?” Cuphead continued on, determination radiating from him like heat from a fire. “Come on, Mugman. We have to at least try.”
Mugman's grip on the staircase tightened. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. There was probably nothing stupider they could do.
But what kind of grandson would he be if he didn't take the opportunity to get his grandfather, the man who raised them all on his own from when they were only days old, back? It was a risk, a horribly dangerous risk. But it had to be taken. For Elder Kettle.
He let out a sigh, turning to his brother. He hesitated for one more second before slowly nodding his head.
“Okay Cups. Let's do it.”
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“You! Move those slot machines over there. And you! Throw that broken table with the others.” The Devil's voice bellowed from the top of the duel stair at the back of the games room, watching with sharp eyes as his miniature demons skittered around to follow his every command.
The Casino needed to look perfect for their grand-reopening. Their reputation was at an all-time low after a certain cup-related incident a year prior and the Devil refused to let it get any worse.
He and King Dice became the laughing-stocks of Inkwell Isle once the word that they had gotten their asses handed to them by children got out and ever since then, he knew he would never let his image be ruined again. No matter what.
“Where’s King? He should be managing this mess.” He whispered to himself, his eyes flicking over the games room, finding no signs of him. He turned his head to the side, spotting a lone little demon carrying a crate of freshly cleaned wine glasses, just about to descend down the right side of the stairs.
“You.” He said, pointing a threatening-claw towards him. "Where's Dice?”
The demon jumped at the sudden question, stuttering nervously as he turned towards his boss. “I-I believe I saw him going into your office, sire.”
The Demon huffed irritatedly before gesturing to the demon to continue his work.
“What the hell is he doing in there?” He grunted as he started to walk down the hall.
As he made his way, he couldn't help but notice all the damage those puny cups had done. Bullet holes along his magnificent marble walls, rips and scrapes through all his priceless portraits and painting, rumble and debris dusting his beautiful, red carpets.
Everything around him was a constant reminder of that terrible day, no matter where he went. He couldn't even look at his own reflection in the mirror to escape the memory, the stump where his left horn used to be being the cruelest reminder of all.
“King? Are you there?” He called out as he entered his office, or rather the remains of it.
King Dice looked over his shoulder at the demon from the centre of the room, a smile appearing on his face.
“Ah. Lucifer. I was just about to go looking for you.” He said as he approached his boss.
“Mmhm. Why are you in my office?” The Devil asked, cocking an eyebrow as King Dice pressed a kissing on his cheek.
“Eh, just decorating.”
“Decorating? What do you mean dec—” The Devil stopped himself as his eyes caught on the large painting depicting his and Dice's wedding day in a detailed, golden frame, being held up against the wall by two struggling demons who fought endlessly to not drop it.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it.” Dice said, gazing at the Devil's bewildered face with a knowing expression. “I forgot we had it until I found it in one of the storage rooms…gathering dust.”
The Devil remained silent for a moment longer before letting out a nervous chuckle, grabbing his husband's hands and making him face him.
“Honey, 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 again, right?”
Dice slowly nodded, his eyes squinting suspiciously.
“Good. But do you really think that will happen if the first thing people see when entering the Devil's office is a massive painting of him kissing his husband in a velvet suit while surrounded by candles and roses?”
“Oh for fuck sake, Lucifer.” Dice groaned as he yanked his hands from the Devil's, turning away from him. “Why do you always treat our marriage like it’s the most embarrassing thing in the world?”
“Come on baby, I didn't mean it like that.” The Devil said as he chased after the die-headed man. “It’s just this is my office and I want people to fear and respect me. You know how the people who come here can be.”
“No, actually, I don't.” Dice spat back, refusing to look at his husband no matter what way he tried to hold him. “Because you never introduce me to any of them. Ever. I just get stuck dealing with the drunks and trouble-makers every night.”
As the two continued to go back and forth on the matter, another miniature demon slipped through the office’s doors, cautiously approaching his bosses with fear written across his face.
“Um, excuse me, sirs?”
“What?” King Dice hissed as he shot him a glance with his piercing green eyes.
“Can't you see we’re busy?” The Devil added.
“O-of course, your wickedness.” The demon whimpered as he shrunk into himself. “But this is urgent.”
“Then spit it out already.” King Dice said, rolling his eyes at the pathetic sight. “We haven’t got all damn day.”
The demon gulped, his eyes flicking between the two as his lip quivered. “The Cup brothers, the ones who destroyed the casino, they're here!”
Both King Dice and the Devil froze at the words, their gazes slowly meeting. Why would they come here after all this time? What could they possibly want? Neither of them had a clue. All that they knew was that revenge was now in order, and they weren't going to waste the opportunity.
“Come on.” The Devil said as he took Dice’s hand, rushing out of the office and towards the Casino's entrance, where the two tiny mug-headed boys awaited them.