The Bondsman (a King Dice x Reader story)

Chapter Eighteen: Facing Your Demons

Song: Save my Soul by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

     Your gun felt foreign against your waist. It had never been taken from you before –not by force or trickery– and to have it back now felt wrong; like you didn't deserve it. There was a lump forming in your throat as a sense of dread began to creep up your spine, the rush and chaos of the casino's luxuries fading into background noise as you led the boys down the hallway.

     You were about to fight the Devil.

     It had never properly struck you up until now, but as you grew closer to the crimson door at the end of the hall, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the little voice in your head telling you to turn and run.

     You glanced down at the cups, each of them on either side of you, clutching onto your coat for dear life. They were scared too. Hell, they were probably more terrified than you were, seeing as they were just kids. Fearless? Sure...but still, they were just kids. The walk seemed to stretch on and on as you passed by different rooms, the light fixtures on the walls casting an eerie orange glow across your shoulders. You felt the boys slow down a little as you drew closer, practically pulling you backwards as you approached the Devil's office. The door was only a few feet away, and you decided that now was likely the best time to give them a pep talk.

     "Hey," you murmured, taking them each by a shoulder and crouching down to meet their eyes. "We've got this. I'll be right there with you, and I know you'll have my back too. No matter what happens, I'll do everything within my power to protect you boys. Y'a got that?"

     Your voice was soft and comforting, putting the two at ease before they nodded at you, determination evident in their expressions. You gave each of them a quick pat on the back before rising back to your feet, unholstering your revolver for what you hoped was the last time in a while. You'd take a break after this...get some sleep like Mugsy had suggested. All you had to do was survive, right?

     No big deal.

     You gave each of the cups a glance, nodding as they stepped back while you braced to turn the knob, gun raised to your chest. You'd need to act quickly if you were going to get the drop on Scratch.

     'On three,' you mouthed, resting your weight onto your back leg as you set yourself to lunge.

     One.

     Two.

     Three.

     The door flew open, the three of you pouncing inside with a holler as you set to fire at...nothing. No one. Your heart sunk into your stomach as an empty desk chair stared back at you, looming over the desk like its own entity. Empty.

     Scratch isn't here.

     "Uh...surprise?" Cuphead asked into the air, confusion twisted on his face as he threw a few glances around the room. You copied his actions, observing the desk, the carpet, the chair, the walls. There was a darkly colored safe off to one side, the dial winking gold as the black paint gleamed back at you ; no Devil. There was a silvery chandelier hanging from the ceiling, candles dancing against the surrounding darkness; no Devil. A fiddle hung against one of the walls, polished black and sleek as it flickered in the chandelier's candlelight. The strings were thickly caked in dust from years of disuse... the Devil hadn't touched it since that time down in Georgia.

     And yet, the Devil himself was nowhere to be found.

     "He gave us the slip, boys," you seethed, shoving your revolver back into its holster with an angry huff. "Shoulda known...that scheming-"