Double Or Nothing: A Coin Flip Away

Some Legends Never Die

Cynthia and Shrap stepped away from the missing Lord of Greed, their hearts racing. Although Shrap maintained a calm but wary stature toward the Demon royalty, Cynthia's glasses flashed with centuries of trauma. Lost families, aggravating ties and worst of all, seeing her brother alive after all of the chaos he had caused by leaving Greed to fend for itself. As was natural, the serpentine eyes of the snake oil salesman drifted toward Cynthia, of the two vigilantes. "Oh c'mon, don't act stunned," Beelzebub coughed, climbing to his feet, "you knew this was coming a long time before anyone else could see it."

Cynthia's sleeves dropped in awe. "You've been here this whole time?! And you've never bothered to contact us?!" Beelzebub reared from his broken disguise, pointing a taloned hand at Cynthia. "You wouldn't get it! None of you would, because of course, what good is complaining about something when you can just have everything you've ever wanted?!" Cynthia stepped forward, mounting the stairs to glare straight into Beelzebub's reflective crystal eyes. "When Hell needs its leaders the most, you hide under a mossy blanket. Why?"

Beelzebub scoffed, brushing dust off of his shoulders. His long, barbed tail swished back and forth while he gathered his robe from the freezing throne room's floor. "Hang on one sec," he grumbled, snapping his fingers. With friction, the air exploded with fire, blazing in every brazier surrounding the altars of the frozen leviathan's jaws. With the area warmed, Beelzebub rubbed his creased black eyelids with a groan. "I got bored of running Hell, okay? So sue me. You can't imagine the stuff I was forced to do for millennia before you vigilantes came along."

Cynthia took a step back while Shrap rose to the Demon's height, fastening his tie. "Money isn't the only reason you should be a ruler, Beelzebub. Look at me and my-" "Your company and your gleeful stimpak-running racket you've got in my city, yes I know, Shrap," the Lord of Greed snarled, poking a finger into the Sinner's chest, "and people who aren't like you are exactly the reason I left Greed." Shrap crossed his arms, his emotionless mask burning with irritance for the traitorous coward before him. "So you have a few people you hate. Who doesn't? You have nothing to complain about here, Beelezebub."

The Lord of Greed sighed, collapsing to the stairs. With the robes folded over his right arm, Beelzebub glanced up at a shaft of light shining down through the icy caves above. "It's not just that. It'd be one thing if we talked about Greed being irritating. That I won't deny, it's a crap show. But I'm talking about all of Hell now." Cynthia tapped her sneaker on a slippery patch of ice, shifting over to Beelzebub. "Oh right," she muttered, "you have to account for every soul that falls down here. Right." Beelzebub glared at his sister, but his expression deflated as he slumped. "And the things this new batch of Sinners have done? Makes me shudder."

Shrap's eyebrows raised from his mask. "That bad, huh?" he asked. Beelzebub threw his hands in the air with a laugh, kicking a chunk of ice down the stone brick stairs. "Like you've never known! All this generation knows is "me first!", and "I want it now!". Talk about one of the worst downgrades in the entirety of evolution!!" Beelzebub swung up from the stairs as his body rearranged itself to stretch and crack out any tough joints. "Oof! And worst of all, did you see all the wars in the Living World right now?" Shrap glanced at Cynthia with a puzzled shrug.

Beelzebub rubbed his forehead, wide eyes and a sarcastic smile setting the tone for his rant. "You really don't? Well, I'll spell it out this way. The Living World is now run by grouchy old guys in diapers, money controls more than politics, everybody's fighting some kind of war, and dear GOD Above, the social media trends," Beelzebub groaned, dragging his fingers down under his eyeballs, pulling the striped red eyes out with black strings attaching them back to his sockets. Shrap and Cynthia both stepped back in shock. Cynthia glanced at her hands, pondering if she could do the same.

Beelezbub snapped his eyeballs back into his head, grumbling. "Feels like every time I check the Living World Web those schmucks lose more brain cells. You Sinners only have heads for decorative value." Shrap shifted his mask to the floor. "Yeah, okay, you've got a point," he sighed. Beelzebub strode around the ice-shattered room, scratching his chin. "Look, guys, I'm sorry about all this. But if you're looking for a better answer than, 'People are getting too dumb to deal with', I'm afraid you'll be leaving empty handed." Cynthia, however, glared harder at Beelzebub.

"Okay, fine, I can admit that Sinners are stupid," she huffed, "but was it really worth abandoning your kingdom and hiding?" Beelzebub mumbled, holding the unfolded red hood up to his face. "It got bad, Doc. Real bad. So when that hothead Mammon rolled up and got salty about losing our game, I saw the perfect opportunity. Sure, it was uncalled for," Beelzebub sighed, wrapping the hood around his neck. Under the hood's void, two bright gold eyes blinked out at Cynthia and Shrap."But The Vizier was nice. It was quiet, for once."

Shrap dusted off his sleeves, coughing under the icy dust in the air. "That's nice and all, but we need you back Bubzy. Your kingdom's hurting. Mammon's causing a real trainwreck, your people need a sensible, if not snarky, leader." Beelzebub grimaced at the remark, but tossed his hood to the side with a swish of his ring-studded fingertips. "Oh, what the hell. Guess I was due for a return eventually." Cynthia and Shrap's faces brightened, to which Beelzebub flashed a sharp, fang-highlighted grin. "But if we're gonna take my throne back," he grinned, "I'm gonna need a good tailor and a shave." Shrap turned to Cynthia with the smiling half of his mask.

"That, sir," he grinned, "can be very easily arranged. Welcome back to Hell, Beelzebub."