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-"

     "Uh...(Y/n)?"

     "-money hoarding-"

     "Ms. Straightway?"

     "-no good, son of a-"

     "Ms. Straightway!!!"

     Mugman's voice startled you out of your aggravated trance, your glare breaking for a moment as you glanced down at the little cup in blue. He wasn't looking at you, though. Instead, he was poking his head out into the hall, peeking around the edge of the frame on his tiptoes.

     "What, Mug?" You asked, propping your hands on your hips as you exchanged glances with his brother.

     "Does the Devil have disappearing doors?" He asked. You quirked a brow.

     "Uh...what?" you asked, taking Cup by the hand as you meandered over to where Mugman stood.

     "Disappearing doors," he clarified, jabbing a finger out into the hallway, "because those definitely weren't there ten seconds ago."

     You cocked your head to the side, stepping around him and out of the office as you looked to where he had pointed. A new pair of doors had appeared, set into the left wall as if they'd been there for centuries. You had never seen them before, and you shuttered at their alarmingly deep obsidian color; the wood appearing to have been charred and blackened due to years of flame and abuse. The handles flashed silver, a stark contrast to the golden accents that littered the rest of the casino. You felt a presence next to you as the cups met your side, gawking at the doors just as you were.

     "That's...those are new," you said, breathless as you instinctually took a step forward and reached for one of the handles. Cuphead swiftly slapped your hand away, much to your own disgruntlement.

     "Whadda ya think you're doing?!" he hissed. "This is obviously a trap!"

     Oh...it was most definitely a trap...but you didn't really have much of a choice right now, did you...

     "It doesn't matter where we fight him," you said, reaching for the handle again. It was cool beneath your touch; unsettling. In a place like this, you'd expect it to burn you. "All that matters is we take him out and get our contracts back."

     You didn't give them any more time to argue as you twisted the handle. It took nearly all of your strength to heave one of the doors open, as if they were meant to stay closed. This world wasn't meant to cross into the one on the other side. Nobody was...not until death, and you gasped slightly as the door swung completely ajar, giving you a clear view of the room it had so expertly locked away. You took a step inside.

     A throne room sprawled before you, rectangular in shape as it seemed to stretch on for at least a couple hundred yards. There were no set walls here, the room seemingly carved into the cave itself as the ceiling was supported by tall, blood-red pillars. The walkway was elevated, leading from the door down to a cryptic red throne placed neatly at the other end. Fire engulfed the trenches created to either side, causing the pillars to glisten and your shadows to lengthen against the floor.

     They stopped at the hall. No matter how close you were to the door, your shadow seemed to abruptly end as it met the entrance back into the casino; your only tether to the Inkwell Isles. You cast your eyes to the throne at the other end of the room, a shiver running down your spine as you spotted your opponent, slouching into the seat with a cheeky grin on his face.

     Speak of the Devil.

     "Ms. Straightway," Scratch smiled, welcoming you like you were an old friend, "what a pleasant surprise! I didn't doubt you for a second."

     Your finger tightened on the trigger of your gun.

     "I mean, after all," he continued, "you've never failed me before! You've always been so good at delivering me what I'm owed. You're truly a blessing in disgui-"

     "What are you playin' at, Scratch," you seethed, uncomfortable at how he had said the word blessing. His smile widened.

     "Playing? Now, why would I be playing? You've upheld your end of the bargain, if anything I should be celebrating. All that hard work you went to...it really paid off in the end, huh? Y'a really are the best in the business, (Y/n)."

     Oh.

     You glanced down at the cups, then back up the beast.

     "I'm not here to give them to you, Scratch," you stated, eyes flashing as his face remained the same: painfully cheerful. He shifted for a moment before crossing his legs with a flourish.

     "No?" He asked. It sounded rhetorical, like this was all some joke. "Well, that's a shame. Expected, but a shame. And after everything we've been through together...all the souls you've ripped away. All the lives you've ruined. All of them; just for me. You've worked your ass off, Straightway...and now you're tellin' me you don't wanna follow through?"

     He's toying with you.

     "Yes," you said, "that's exactly what I'm tellin' you."

     The Devil chuckled at your response, shaking his head and admiring his claws for a moment. While he was distracting himself, you slowly inched forward, gun at the ready as the cups trailed close behind. You made it a few feet before his gaze drifted back up to yours, a snarky smirk on his lips.

     "Somethin' tells me I could convince you otherwise," he purred, yellowed fangs gleaming at you as he sneered. You took a staggering step backwards as he rose, stalking down the walkway at a surprisingly brisk speed. You recoiled further as he grew closer, instinctively pushing the cups backwards as you made sure to place yourself between them and the monster in front of you. Scratch stopped a few inches away, not paying the boys any mind as he smoothly wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Let's walk and talk, yes?" he asked, leading you back toward the throne at the other end of the room. You swiftly pulled away from him, hatred in your eyes as you ripped yourself from his grip with a glare. "Oh, come now Ms. Straightway," he sighed, "don't start fights you can't finish. At least listen to what I've got to say. It'll interest you...I promise."

     Oh yes...that's definitely a promise you were willing to trust. Still, you had always been a curious creature; always investigating and poking your nose into places it didn't belong. You tossed a glance over your shoulder to check up on the boys, frowning as they frantically waved their arms and shook their heads 'no.'

     The fact that you debated it for a moment made you feel sick to your stomach.

     "No," you spat, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't want anything to do with whatever you've got to offer."

     Scratch raised an unimpressed brow, rolling his eyes with a shrug as he held out a palm. "I suppose you won't be wanting this, then?" he asked. There was a flash of red and orange, the heat of the room rising significantly as he summoned up a role of parchment in a blaze of fire and smoke. Your eyes settled onto the crimson-colored ribbon, and a shiver ran through you. You didn't need to open it to know what it was.

     It was your contract...and it was right there. Right. There.

     You instinctively brought a hand out to reach for it, Scratch tutting at you as he snatched it away.

     "Not so fast, Ms. Straightway," he scolded, "you're forgetting a teeny tiny detail." His eyes flicked behind you, landing on the boys before looking back at your own. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you began to quiver.

     "No," you muttered, looking away from the parchment in his hand and down to the floor. "I can't."

     "Oh, but you can," he jeered. "They're right there, just a few feet away from y'a. I don't imagine they'd fight you too much, what with the look of betrayal on their faces and all." You swiftly turned to face the boys, frowning as they stared back at you teary-eyed and slack-jawed. Your heart twinged at the sight, and you turned to face the Devil once more.

     "There's not gonna be a betrayal," you spat, making sure the boys could hear you loud and clear. "I said no. We're not here to make deals, Scratch. We're here to-"

     "He loves you."

     The world stopped spinning as your breath was knocked out of your lungs. Your hands shook ever so slightly. The Devil only smirked to himself; he'd snared you.

     "What?" you whispered.

     Scratch beamed at you, a knowing look in his eyes as he turned away and retreated back to his throne. You followed behind him on instinct, the cups' incessant warnings and shouts of caution being drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears.

     "Dice," the Devil clarified. "Oooh, (Y/n)...he's got it bad. I've never seen a fella so worked up over a dame before, and I've been around for a long time."

     "You're lying, Scratch."

     "Oh please," he scoffed. "You think he'd risk his hide to try and protect you from me multiple times for the fun of it? Dice can be a fool, but he's not that stupid. Lovestruck is more like it. You should hear the way he thinks about you. Hell, some of it's enough to make me blush..."

     You felt the kiss of warmth sprouting on your cheeks. It was no secret that Scratch could go digging through peoples' heads. He had done it to you once or twice, which you were never particularly fond of, but to hear him mention the thoughts of somebody else...somebody you knew...

     You fought your curiosity away, taking a moment to breathe and use your brain. Scratch was willing to do whatever it takes to win; that's who he is, and who he'd always be. You couldn't trust anything he said, even if a part of you wanted to. He was the Devil...his sole purpose was to tempt you, break you, and leave you for dead. You weren't going to let him do that to you. Not again.

     "I don't care. I'm not giving them to you," you stated, hand drifting to the gun beneath your coat. Scratch's eyes widened in surprise, his smile fading into an agitated sneer.

     "I suggest you reconsider, (Y/n). I'm offering you everything you could ever want: freedom, love, a life outside of all this." You flinched as he gestured to the rest of the room, each flame seeming to grow increasingly warmer beneath his gaze. "Don't be a fool."

     You bit your lip, scarlet lipstick staining your teeth like blood as the cool metal of your revolver nipped at your fingertips. The cups' voices had managed to break through now, hollering and scolding you to just snap out of it and remember what we came here for. You squeezed your eyes shut in silent irritation, battling yourself. It would be so easy to just hand them over to him. It would be so easy to snatch them both up by the handles and toss them at his feet...but you couldn't. You cared about those boys, and they cared about you. You glanced at your contract one last time, the parchment still held fast in the Devil's palm, taunting you, before reaching your final decision. You swiftly brought your revolver into view, leveling it with his head.

     "I became a fool the day I made my deal with you," you spat.

     The bullet exploded from the barrel with a loud bang, hitting the air with such ferocity it almost sent you stumbling backwards. Scratch didn't flinch; he didn't move; he didn't even blink. The bullet simply disappeared as it neared him, melting down into nothing like steel set to fire. The metallic ooze that remained dripped to the floor, a few inches from his feet, and your stomach dropped.

     You were going to die here.

     Without warning, the cups shoved past you, calling for you to hurry up and come on over their shoulder as they approached him, magic at the ready. The ground shook as Scratch settled back into his throne, placing your contract on the arm of his chair before he seemed to grow in size. The cave snapped and crackled to accommodate him, heat intensifying as he propped his chin on his fist to glower down at you. It felt like the world had gone tumbling at your feet, shattering beneath you as you struggled to keep upright.

     Spires of stone began plummeting to the floor as you brought your arms up to cover your head, silently muttering profanities as you tried to keep a lock on the cups amidst the chaos. There was a fight going on, but you couldn't see it; your head was too busy spinning, and the boys were hard to keep up with. The adrenaline mixed with your own racing thoughts made it difficult to focus as a deep roar shook the cave, the floor finally crumbling beneath your feet and sending you tumbling.

     The air was ripped from your lungs, a scream getting caught in your throat from the sudden lack of oxygen. Your ears rang as you braced yourself to hit the...ground? Were you going to hit the ground? Or would you simply plummet forever?

     No...you definitely hit some form of floor. Not solid earth, though; a platform. Your scream managed to escape as you crumpled to your knees, wrists and legs aching from the impact. Looking upward, you could see where the floor had given way, about fifteen feet above you.

     You were lucky nothing snapped upon impact.

     You were in a chasm; a seemingly bottomless pit of stone and fire as Scratch loomed over you, the platform you were standing on unsteady as you glared back up at him. The cups were nearby, balancing on their own platforms as they focused on taking their opponent down. There was a throb in your skull as you forced yourself to your feet, the familiar sound of the boys jeering and firing off shots reminding you that you were here to help them. You shook your head, clearing your vision and ignoring the throb in your legs and arms as you shakily raised your revolver to the sky, firing off a round.

     You knew where you wanted it to go. You knew where it needed to hit; and the bullet knew it too.

     Your lips, now stained red by blood and lipstick alike, pulled back into a smirk as you hit your mark; just between the Devil's eyes. It wouldn't kill him...it would only make him angry...but it felt amazing.

     You heard Cuphead cheering at you from somewhere off to your left, obviously enjoying himself to some degree amongst the wreckage and deafening noise. The increase in temperature was intense, the collar of your coat clinging to your neck with sweat. You continued anyway, firing off a few more rounds as you tried to work your way across a row of platforms and toward the boys.

     "How're you fellas holding up?" you called, ducking to avoid a spout of flame that had erupted a few feet to your right as you fired off another shot. They both gave you their own, strained versions of an "okay" as the cave shook again, causing you to nearly stumble and fall as your ears began to ring.

     You were way in over your head here.

     "Duck!" one of the cups called, causing you to instinctively drop down to your knees. Whatever magic they'd been given was no joke; you'd seen what it does to the other debtors, and you weren't in the mood to lose your head. You slammed your eyes shut as that familiar ray of light erupted above you, seemingly striking Scratch head on judging by his frustrated roar. He brought a hand down to reach for the boys, swiping at them and just barely missing.

     You stumbled to your feet, clutching at your revolver with every bit of force you had as you fired a shot at Scratch's hand, trying to keep him distracted long enough for the cups to move out of the way. Fire licked at the pit below you, sending up billows of smoke