Cut Me Off

Enough

King Dice couldn’t remember what happened when he woke up.

Somehow, he had wound up unconscious, with his back against a wall and a throbbing pain in his head. King Dice lifted his head and glanced at his surroundings. When he saw the roulette table before him, the memories came rushing back.

Cuphead and Mugman.

Losing the bet.

“We’re gonna play a little game first!”

...shit.

Great move, Dice.

King Dice rose to his feet. The entire casino looked like a disaster area. Flipped tables, broken glass, cards and poker chips strewn everywhere; Damn, the boss is gonna be pissed, King Dice thought.

Boss!

Ignoring the pain in his head, King Dice staggered to his feet and ran as fast as he could to the back room. With the door shut, he knew that if the two porcelain headed idiots had gotten in there, they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Did they already get to him? Is he alright?

Of course he is.  The guy’s unbeatable. There’s a reason he runs this place.

King Dice pressed the side of his head against the door, hoping to hear the agonized groans of the two idiots as the Devil beat the hell out of them.

Instead, he heard… laughter.

What the hell?

“Well, well, well… look how far you’ve come!” the Devil growled. “Not only did you bust up my good-for-nothing lackey King Dice…”

What?

Maybe the migraine had gotten to him. Maybe the Devil was bluffing. Maybe he had heard him incorrectly.

But something within King Dice told him that all of those things were false. No, he’d said it clear as day.

Good-for-nothing lackey.

King Dice stepped back from the doorway. He felt his head reel with something other than pain. Confusion. Fear. Disgust.

Anger.

I can’t just be that to him. I’m more than that! I’m his casino’s manager, I’m his right hand man, I’m…

I’m nothing to him.

On the other side of the doorway, King Dice could hear the brothers dueling against the Devil, and eventually, he could hear the Devil practically howling in agony as the brothers somehow managed to pummel him to the dirt, and in his head, King Dice knew that if the Devil made it out in one piece, he’d have more than just a few strong words for his good-for-nothing lackey.

What the hell am I?

+ + + + +

“DIIIICE!!”

King Dice heard his boss’ familiar bellow ring in his head. He stood up and opened the door to the Devil’s office, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

The Devil was an absolute wreck. His teeth and horns looked chipped, he had his right arm in a sling, and his fur had fallen out in patches.

“You look like you just got dragged through Hell and back,” King Dice said. The Devil gave him what could only be described as the ultimate stink eye.

“You don’t look much different,” the Devil snorted, waving his wrapped up hand in Dice’s general direction.

The Devil slumped back in his throne and huffed, “Tell me, Dice, what the hell was that out there?”

“What do you think?” King Dice hissed between his teeth. “They beat the shit out of me.”

“You got knocked around by a couple of cups,” the Devil snarled. He rolled his eyes as King Dice said, “So did you, boss.”

“I thought you would fight better than that,” the Devil said. “I made you, of all people, the manager of this place for a reason. You know how to cheat your way out of anything. You should’ve cheated your way out of that damn fight!”

Normally, Dice would’ve retorted with some sharp tongued remark. But now, he felt too exhausted to say anything.

I really am good for nothing.

“Go get me a whiskey on the rocks,” the Devil ordered. “Maybe that might help.”

What King Dice said next was merely a spur of the moment decision, and it was one that he didn’t regret.

“Get it yourself.”

The Devil glared at King Dice and said, “I’m not in the mood for games. Whiskey on the rocks, Dice.”

“Get it yourself, if you want it that bad,” King Dice said. The Devil sat up straighter and growled at King Dice, who met the Devil’s eye fearlessly.

“Excuse me?” the Devil hissed.

“You heard me,” King Dice said, starting to take steps towards the demon before him. “Get. It. Yourself.”

“What’s gotten into you, Dice?” the Devil asked, dumbfounded.

“You mean, your good-for-nothing lackey?” King Dice snapped. He watched the color drain from the Devil’s face as he heard his own words spouted back at him.

“Is that all I am?” King Dice spat. “Just some lackey who’s here to follow your every whim? Do your bidding? Am I some slave to you? What do I get in return? Any respect? No! You know what, I’ve had enough. I’m not doing this anymore.”

King Dice turned on his heel and stormed to the door, ignoring the ringing in his head.

“Diiiice,” the Devil said warningly. “You’ll regret walkin’ out that door.”

King Dice stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to face his former boss.

“Get your damned whiskey yourself,” he grunted. Without a second thought, he left the Devil’s office, slamming the door as loud as he could just to spite him.

King Dice forced his way through the demolished casino, kicking over tables and shoving to the side anyone who got in his way. He felt everyone staring at him - Phear Lap, Pirouletta, the Tipsy Troop - but he didn’t care anymore.

He kicked the casino’s front door open and never looked back.

* * * * *

Yes, it is I, Hipster Cicero the Angstmeister, coming to spread my territory into the Cuphead fandom.

Basically, there's gonna be angst. Maybe a happy ending, I dunno.

Amō vos!

~Hipster Cicero