San Bellano was a quiet little island in the south-eastern reaches of the Melorian Archipelago, a collection of twenty two pieces of land that collectively form the Melorian Federation. The biggest settlement on San Bellano, and indeed one of the largest on the fractured continent, was called Sovega. It didn’t look like it at a glance, though. Despite its sprawling size and immense population, there was no garrison, castle, or any other visible forms of fortification. Furthermore, there were very few buildings more than two or three stories tall. Larger structures could, of course, be found towards the city centre and a few other, more industrious areas, but for the most part the sky and the horizon remained largely unobstructed by brick and concrete. The cobble-paved streets weaved into one another with seemingly little-to-no forethought or planning, as if someone had started building on a whim and then never stopped. If one were to look at a map of Sovega’s infrastructure, they would find a tangled mess of roads, pipes, and power lines that was akin to the aftermath of leaving a litter of kittens unattended with a hundred balls of yarn.

To summarize, San Bellano’s main settlement was nightmarishly confusing and needlessly expansive. The locals didn’t think this was a problem, of course. Though most of them would likely get lost the instant they ventured beyond their home neighborhood, the people that lived their whole lives in Sovega would never even dream of settling elsewhere. Indeed, once a visitor got accustomed to the place, it was easy to understand why. San Bellano was full of beauty, both natural and manufactured. The former was easily evident in the golden beaches and shimmering ocean that made up its shoreline, all of it unblemished by pollution. The latter was the city itself, with its sea of bright red tiled rooftops, potted flowers on the windowsills, and the varied and vibrant coloration of the houses. It was almost as if the city of Sovega itself had a soul, and most tourists barely lasted ten minutes before they fell in love with it.

Those that called this place home were, for the most part, just as warm and welcoming as the climate. As with the rest of the Melorian Archipelago, San Bellano was primarily populated by the feralian people. Their culture was one of passion and energy, with a focus on artistic expression and simple pleasures rather than science, efficiency, or profit. That was why they seemed to lag a few decades behind the rest of the world when it came to technology. There were very few automobiles or factories around, and the countless vessels that poured in and out of Sovega’s harbors were all sailing ships without a single steam boat or diesel engine in sight. As if to make up for this deficiency, their cuisine was nothing short of addictive. With easy access to bountiful fishing, fertile soil, international trade, and countless generations of vintners and chefs, Melorian food and drink were widely regarded as unmatched among the four continents.

However, as was often the case with any society, San Bellano had a darker side. While it seemed like heaven on earth, that was only from sunrise to sunset. Once night fell over it, Sovega turned into a dangerous and lawless place that no peace-loving individual would want to be in. It wasn’t because of muggers or thieves. Such elements were present, of course, but their impact on public safety paled in comparison to another, far more prevalent form of crime - corruption. It was an uncomfortable truth that it wasn’t the government, the police, or the military that ruled over Sovega. Officially they did, but in reality every position of power was constantly in the pocket of one of three influential families that had been around since the city’s founding. That wouldn’t necessarily be so bad if not for the deep-rooted hatred and feuds between these factions. Motivated by a mix of greed and honor, each organization constantly struggled for territory and control against the others. They usually kept things civil and quiet, away from the public eye and uninvolved civilians. Violence was resorted to frequently, of course, but very rarely did it escalate beyond a brawl or result in fatalities. Despite their numerous misgivings, the families all tacitly agreed that murdering each other just wasn’t good business.

However, that had started to change in recent years. An influx of dwarven firearms from Weisslicht threw the mafia into an arms race that threatened to boil over into full-scale war. It was inevitable that innocents would get caught in the crossfire if that were to happen. Guns were incredibly deadly for how simple they were to use, and the kind of thugs these criminal organizations employed were far from disciplined. Or subtle. To make matters worse, there had been four shootouts in the last month alone - more than the previous two years combined. For better or for worse, those incidents weren’t clashes between the three major factions in Sovega. They were, in fact, power plays made by a relatively minor group that had suddenly and violently started moving in on the Marcello family’s turf. Calling themselves the House of Cards, these upstarts threatened to upset the delicate balance of Sovega’s underworld. If left unchecked, they could easily serve as the spark that would ignite that powder keg the city was sleeping on. That was not something that any of the people in charge - officially or not - could allow.

So, naturally, the police were ‘motivated’ to solve this problem. The only issue was that the House of Cards were remarkably elusive and thorough about covering their tracks. Nobody seemed to know how many of them there were, where their hideout was, or the identity of their leader. There were a number of witnesses to their attacks, but they were either unwilling or unable to provide any accurate descriptions. Apparently these newcomers went to great lengths to conceal their identity, wearing heavy coats, wide-brim hats, and red or black bandanas over their faces. The most unique aspect of their attire was that each of them had one face-up playing card sticking out of their headwear, like some kind of badge. It wasn’t much to go on, and as such the police’s attempts to find these guys hadn’t been all that successful. So far they had only managed to identify several locations that the gang might have used as hideouts or headquarters. They needed to know for sure before they made any raids, so they sent out a few people to each site to keep watch for any suspicious activity.

That was the long and short of how officers Dino Guerino and Lucio Bassi found themselves huddled up in the attic of an old, two-story house in the middle of the night. Both men were almost literally glued to the filthy window as they stared intently at the darkened windows of Papa Pepe’s Pizzeria across the street. The restaurant had been around for almost ten years, and had earned something of a reputation with its secret tomato sauce recipe. Dino and Lucio knew all about it. They’d practically grown up with Papa Pepe’s pepperoni, and both the man and the pizzeria held a special place in their hearts. That was also why they secretly hoped that they’d find absolutely nothing here. If the old man was indeed involved with those maniacs from the House of Cards, then things would end badly for him. It was not a pleasant thought, hence why both of the officers were so on edge despite the objectively dull assignment.

“Do you think he’s really helping those idiots?”

The first to voice his unease was Lucio. He was a tall and portly fellow barely in his twenties, with a bushy brown beard, hair to match, and a pair of stubby, round, and fuzzy ears poking out from the upper sides of his head. He was a literal man-bear, though not because of any druidic inclinations. Just a rare variation on the feralian race. His buddy was a much smaller, leaner, and more common type. He was sharp-eyed, bushy-tailed, and triangle-eared just like a gray wolf. His face was clean-shaven, which made him look much younger than his fuzzy partner even though they were born only a day apart. His canines were also much more pronounced than a human’s, and were currently on display due to his bad habit of baring his teeth whenever he felt uncomfortable or stressed.

“I don’t know, man,” Dino grumbled. “I mean, Pepe’s always done right by us, but…”

“But what?”

“But… he’s not, you know, one of us.”

“Wait, is this about him being human?”

“What? No!” Dino snapped. “Of course not. I meant he’s not from here. You remember his tales, right? About him being an explorer overseas before he came here to retire? His real name isn’t even Pepe, for god sake!”

“Oh. Right. So what about it?”

“Well, ever since the chief told us he’s a suspect, I got to thinking. Tourists, humans especially, don’t ‘get’ this place. Sometimes they find out how things work around here, and then they start getting mad. Or scared. But Pepe’s been here long enough. He knows all about it, and you can bet your tail he doesn’t like it. You know how he snapped last summer, maybe he’s still harboring that mean grudge and decided to try a… different approach.”

Lucio winced as he was reminded of that incident, but was catching on to what his friend was throwing around. The mafia, for the most part, ignored the regular folk and let them be. However, it was common for them to put the squeeze on independent business owners. Pepe was no exception, and if even half of his old adventure stories were true, then he wasn’t beyond doing something incredibly stupid if it meant getting some payback. Especially now that he was in his twilight years and, by his own admission, didn’t have much time left in this world.

“Pepe would definitely want to go out in a blaze of glory, huh?” Lucio remarked.

“Exactly. And we know for a fact he has a gun.”

“That old hunting shotgun mounted above the door? You think that rusty piece of junk still works?”

“Maybe, maybe not. That’s not what matters, though. Point is, he knows how to use one, and we both know it’s not hard for him to get one if he wants to. And if he does… I really wish I could say he knows better than to piss off Don Marcello, but that just isn’t true.”

Memories of last year’s ‘argument’ over ‘protection’ money flashed in Lucio’s head.

“… Yeah.”

An awkward silence settled in the cramped space around the two officers as they continued watching the pizzeria. The attic they occupied and the house underneath weren’t theirs, of course. It belonged to Lucio’s cousin, who let them ‘crash for a few nights while their places were being fumigated for termites.’ It was a blatant, bare-faced lie that was painfully transparent, but the cousin played along with it. He wasn’t an idiot, and knew better than to question why two police officers required the use of his attic. He probably would have refused the request altogether if Lucio wasn’t family. That bond ran deep in Melorian culture, often more valued than one’s own life and wellbeing. If Pepe was actually related to either of the officers, they would not have hesitated to turn a blind eye to any questionable activity around his place of business even though their necks were on the line. Blood looked out for blood, after all.

Unfortunately, there was no such relation, and so the pair could not simply ignore the shadowy figure that approached Pepe’s place from a side alley. It was so dark down there that they wouldn’t have seen him at all if he didn’t trip and stumble, making a bunch of noise he probably didn’t intend to. Once they had eyes on him, they watched closely as he approached the restaurant’s side entrance, the one marked ‘Employees Only,’ and gave it a quiet knock. Nothing happened for about a minute before he knocked again. A little while later he raised his hand to do it a third time when the door slowly swung open. The officers couldn’t see who was on the inside from their vantage point, but the light that fell out of the interior gave them a better look at the visitor. He wore a long and heavy coat with a red bandana under a wide hat with something that looked like a face-up playing card sticking out of its ribbon.

“Shit. Shit!” Dino cursed. “That idiot!”

“Not so loud!” Lucio quickly cautioned.

The man shut his trap. His friend was right. Even though they were behind a dusty old window, shrouded in darkness, across the street, and two stories up, their voices could still easily carry down there. After all, this part of the city was usually dead silent at this ungodly hour, and tonight was no exception. Well, it was drizzling a little bit, but it was barely noticeable. Thankfully the policemen remained unnoticed as they continued to watch the Card member talk with someone just inside the doorway that they could only assume was Pepe. The old man never married and he didn’t have a habit of keeping employees around this late. However, when the person inside stepped out for a moment, he definitely wasn’t the pizzeria’s owner. They couldn’t see his face since he had the same concealing outfit as the other guy, but he was far too thin and tall to be Pepe. The suspects continued chatting for a few minutes before the second one went back inside, shutting the door behind him. Now alone, the first Card slinked off in the direction of the short alley behind the restaurant, out of the officers’ view.

“What do we do?” Lucio looked to Dino.

“I don’t know. Look, maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Maybe they’re using the place without the old man knowing. Or maybe he knows but didn’t agree to it.”

“But I saw him just last Sepday. He looked fine. His usual self.”

“Maybe it’s recent, then. Maybe they got spooked by some of the other stake-outs and decided to move into the old man’s place. Either way, we need to find out.”

“Shit. Alright.”

The thought hadn’t really occurred to the sharp-eared officer before this moment, but what if Pepe had been forced, coerced, or even ignorant of this whole affair? Then he was not an accomplice, but a victim of the Cards - someone that officers Guerino and Bassi could actually help without being told to pretend nothing happened. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but the notion that their old friend might actually be in danger suppred the two on. They ran down the stairs and into the open as quickly as they could, though perhaps not as quietly. The soft pitter-patter of rain drops on their uniforms’ dark blue coats was drowned out by the splashing of their boots against the puddle-riddled cobblestone pavement. About ten steps later Dino realized that caution was perhaps a better idea than haste. These Cards were known to be armed and dangerous, so they couldn’t just rush in blindly lest one of them caught a bullet. So, he slowed his pace to a much quieter one and drew his weapon, ready to return fire should the need arise. Lucio followed his lead and did the same, though it was much more difficult for the heavier man to conceal his presence.

The officers pushed into the alleway, only briefly stopping at the ‘Employee Only’ entrance to Pepe’s. Lights were still pouring out from the cracks around it, and Dino thought he heard the floor tiles squeak - the really worn ones just in front of the pizza oven. Should he check inside? Perhaps the old man was inside, tied up in the basement? But what if the entire gang was in there, too? A few quick looks between him and Lucio was all the pair needed before they silently agreed to focus on the lone Card they knew for sure was up ahead. After all, that alley was a dead end, one of countless random stops in the city’s mangled infrastructure. It wasn’t as if the suspect couldn’t escape, but that would require breaking and entering into someone’s home, which was bound to make a whole lot of noise. Either that or clambering over that old brick wall that led into the backyard of Gueseppe the butcher. That would turn out even worse for the card since that mean bastard’s equally nasty dogs would probably rip him to shreds.

However, there was no angry barking, startled yelling, breaking of windows, or creaking of doors. Splashing footsteps and hushed voices were equally absent. As the officers approached the last corner before the alley ended, there was not a single audible clue that a person was around it. The policemen pressed themselves against the wall, and Dino risked a quick peek. His eyes confirmed what his ears didn’t hear - there was nobody there. At least, not at a glance. The suspect most likely realized he was being followed, so he was likely hiding in a corner, or behind some garbage bins, ready to strike. The wolf-man gathered his courage and steeled his nerves for a few moments before he took another gamble. He stepped into the open, weapon drawn with one hand, flashlight blazing in the other, and voice loud.

“This is the police! Surrender and you will not be harmed!”

A brave and foolhardy move to be sure, but Lucio backed him up all the same. The bear-man showed himself as well, taking up a similar position shoulder-to-shoulder as he stood ready to fire at any suspicious movement. Fortunately, there was no ambush. Unfortunately, there was no surrender, either. The alley seemed just as devoid of life as it had been seconds ago. There was no sound aside from the policemen’s rapid breathing and the soft tapping of the sparse raindrops upon the roof tiles. Scanning the area with their torches didn’t uncover anything, either.

“I don’t get it,” Dino lowered his weapon. “Where did he disappear to?”

“Maybe they hid in Maria’s basement,” his friend pointed at some stairs leading down to an old rusted door. “You know she never locks it.”

“I would’ve heard it. Those hinges creak like a calf giving birth.”

“Well said, my friend!”

That voice made both men’s hearts leap into their respective throats. It was a strange tone, clearly foreign yet also dangerously sweet, like an imported vice. What made it so terrifying was that it came from just behind and between the two officers. They would have sworn that the words appeared literally out of nothing if not for the arms that were flung casually around each of their shoulders. Caught so completely off-guard, they could do nothing but freeze and shiver for several long moments. Dino glanced down at the stranger’s hand over his shoulder, noting the white-gloved hand and the wide sleeve above it. Given the coat’s color and the circumstances, this was definitely the Card they had initially spotted. This only made his internal panic more severe as he realized just how much he had screwed up. But, while the canine feralian continued to be paralyzed with fear and indecision, his ursine comrade made a move. Lucio grabbed the other arm and tried to force its owner to the ground. ‘Tried’ being the operative word, as the suspect instantly slipped out of his formidable grip and hopped back, away from the policemen. This sudden development injected some life into Dino as he spun around alongside his companion, weapons raised and pointed directly at the stranger.

“Come now, be reasonable,” the man said calmly, arms stretched out wide. “We can discuss this like gentlemen, yes?”

“You’re under arrest!” Lucio bellowed.

“Y-yeah! Down on the ground, creep!” Dino backed him up.

“And if I refuse?” the stranger gleefully asked.

“We’ll use force!”

“Lethal force!”

The Card tilted his head, as if he didn’t understand. That motion made the officers realize that his hat was sitting at a very awkward angle, as if it was about to slip off the side of his head any moment now. That and he was wearing what seemed to be a rather formal suit under that trench coat, though the blood-red bandana covering his nose and jaw distracted from it. They couldn’t catch a glimpse of his eyes, either, as the tilted brim of his hat obfuscated the rest of his face. After a moment of tense silence, the Card made a lightning-fast motion. By the time Dino reacted, his hand had slipped under his coat and was about to pull something out. Acting on pure reflex and instinct, the officer pulled his trigger at that moment.

*Click*

To his dismay, the only thing that came out of his service revolver was the disappointing noise of a firearm attempting to discharge a round that wasn’t there.

“… Wha?”

He and Lucio both pulled their triggers a few times before they realized their five-shooters were indeed wholly devoid of ammunition.

“Looking for these?”

The suspect finished pulling his hand out of his coat pocket, revealing it to be full of exactly ten unfired bullets. He dramatically spilled nine of them onto the soggy ground while rolling the last one between his damp knuckles. Lucio looked at Dino for a split second. ‘When did he get those?’ his eyes seemed to ask. The bigger man then turned to the front and was about to charge and tackle the bastard, but froze as soon as he saw the Card was now holding a gun of his own, and pointing it squarely at him. Those strange parlor tricks were one thing, but this? Neither of the policemen were brave or stupid enough to contest such a clear and direct threat, especially when they were effectively disarmed.

“Tut-tut! Did your mother never teach you any manners?” the Card said, his tone still whimsical. “You really should listen to what people have to say. Don’t you see? If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already.”

The man then abruptly pulled his weapon back, tucking it somewhere inside his sleeve with a soft click. Dino and Lucio didn’t know what to think of this, but the stranger had made his point. The big one clearly wanted to try for another grab, but a quick shake of the wolf’s head told him not to even try. Whoever this Card was, he was clearly far above their pay grade. A chat was hardly the worst thing that could happen to them.

“Just one question,” Dino spoke first. “Did you do anything to Ol’ Pepe?”

“Oh? And why do you care?”

“He’s a friend,” Lucio growled.

“Ah. I see. That is unfortunate.”

“What are you saying?!”

The big man was starting to get angry. It wasn’t easy to rile him up to this extent, and things always got ugly when he got mad. That was why his canine companion usually did his best to keep him level-headed, but that same calming element was quite pissed himself at this moment.

“Ol’ Pepe has entered a contract with me, you see.”

“C-contract?” Lucio muttered, confused.

“Indeed. He wanted to be free of the Marcello family’s oppression. I promised him a way to do that, for the right price. However… my services do not come cheap.”

If this was true, then the old man was indeed collaborating with the Cards. Worse, he was actually employing them, and perhaps had even been the one to bring them to San Bellano in the first place. However, though those were some damning implications, Dino couldn’t care about any of it. A strange feeling in his gut told him there was another, far more immediate concern.

“What sort of price?!” he howled.

The stranger finally stopped twirling that bullet in his grip and looked straight at the riled-up wolf. It was the first time they’d made eye contact, and only now did the officer realize there was something unearthly about that gaze. His irises seemed to glow with an eerie yellow light, like two tiny suns swimming in a sea of blackness. He then lifted his hat, revealing the cause of its askew resting angle were a pair of black, bullish horns that jutted out of the sides of his head, through his slicked black hair and just above his pointed ears. The red bandana was pulled down, allowing both feralians to witness the devilish, pointy-toothed grin underneath, and the bizarre sky-blue hue of the surrounding skin. Last but not least, a lithe, narrow, and leathery tail fell from under his coat, dangling playfully just behind his legs. This visage was unlike anything either of the two had seen. There was no feralian, human, dwarf, gnome, or elf that looked even remotely like this. And yet, it wasn’t a completely foreign spectacle. There was something… familiar about this freak. Something that all Melorian children were taught and shown, yet very few actually believed in. It was pure superstition, just religious nonsense… right?

“He paid with his soul!”

Those words, and the uncanny thunder that carried them made it clear that this was exactly who they thought he was.

“D-d-diavolo!” Dino muttered.

“Monster! Why?!” Lucio backed off, shivering like never before.

And then, what seemed like the personification of mortal sin smiled. Not a wicked grin, but the sad, remorseful smile of a guy doing the wrong things for the right reasons.

“Because he was desperate.”

The soft tone of those words and the expression that matched it made the last few seconds seem like an illusion. All of a sudden, the officers were no longer standing at the gates of hell with the devil himself holding the door open. Now they were just three losers soaking in the rain in a smelly back alley.

“That’s why I’m helping him,” the dark one continued. “Nobody should suffer to the point that they feel it necessary to give up their immortal soul for a chance at salvation. That sort of cruelty just won’t do. At least, not unless I’m the one inflicting it! He-he-he-ha-hah.”

It took the two fur-ears a few moments to soak this in as the unnatural stranger chuckled dryly to himself.

“So… you’re helping the old man... “ Dino muttered.

“Because the Marcellos stole your gig?” Lucio finished his thought.

“Among other things,” the devil’s smile vanished. “There are many souls at stake, you know, and I intend to make off like a bandit, so to speak.”

The men gulped nervously.

“Oh, don’t worry. My services have been paid for, and I will not be collecting what I am owed for a very long while. Good investments take time to grow and, he-he-hah, ripen,” he chuckled once more, then put on a frighteningly reassuring smile. “In the meantime, I could always use more minions. What do you say, want to cause a bit of chaos with me?”

The offer took the policemen completely by surprise. Of all the things they thought would happen by chasing the Card, getting recruited certainly wasn’t one of them. And it wasn’t an entirely unappealing prospect. They had no love for the mafia. Especially after what they did to Pepe last year. Nobody talked about it, but everybody knew why he suddenly started limping so bad that he needed a cane. He’d tried to stand up to those extortionists demanding ‘protection money,’ and they nearly crippled him in return. They would have gone after his family too, if he had any of them left. That was also what made these two hesitate. They would have joined in a heartbeat were they not worried for their own flesh and blood getting targeted because of their hot-blooded choices. Then again, perhaps that was exactly why the Cards were so secretive. If they could punish their animals while avoiding retribution, then wasn’t this a big chance to really stick it to those assholes?

Except that, realistically, what could a handful of thugs do against an almost literal army in the long run?

“D-do you really think we have a chance against Don Marcello?” Lucio voiced his concerns.

“There is no chance in this. It is already a foregone conclusion,” the trickster boasted.

“But he owns the entire west side of Sovega!” Dino exclaimed. “And you shooting up his casinos is only making him step up security! Have you seen the size of those guns his goons have?”

“Of course, I have. Do you think me a fool?” the devil’s tone grew more severe. “I know full well the odds are against us. These parasites have dug deep. Worse still, they deal in naught but fear, loss, and violence. They have convinced you people that they are in control, that they hold all the cards. And yes, their hand is indeed formidable, but it is not invincible. It can be beat, and I know just how to make it happen.”

“How’s that?” the bear-man asked warily.

The horned one raised a hand and snapped his fingers loudly, wet gloves be damned. Mere moments later, every window on every house surrounding the dead-end alley flung open. Light poured into the night, accompanied by dozens of hands. Young and old, male and not, every last one of them stretched out, presenting a single playing card. The pair of policemen were shocked to see Gueseppe’s mangled digits were mixed in there, and relieved to find that Pepe’s generous mitts were also present.

“We stack the deck,” the blue man smiled widely.

And then, with a clap of his hands, the windows closed, and the night was once more reclaimed by darkness and silence. Dino and Lucio could only stare in awe. This one stranger - a total outsider, no less - had somehow managed to unite the entire neighborhood against the Marcellos. Truly, only god or the devil could accomplish such a feat, and there was no halo in sight. It all fed into the illusion that this man before them truly was the living embodiment of sin, here to uproot those that challenged his position as the ultimate evil. But, it was ultimately just that - an illusion. Smoke and mirrors. Dino and Lucio had seen their fair of magicians on stage, and knew better than to take any of this at face value. And yet, they decided to play along and allowed themselves to be fooled by these theatrics. They were already living in a lie to begin with. At least this ‘devil’ promised them a happy ending, of sorts.

“So, what say you, Signor Guerino and Signor Bassi? Shall I deal you in?”

Two cards appeared in his gloved hands, seemingly out of thin air. A seven of hearts in his left, and a seven of diamonds in his right. He held them up, waiting patiently for the youngsters to make their decision. Or at least that had been his intent, but Dino snatched that piece of pressed paper almost immediately. Lucio did the same a few seconds later, albeit with a lot more reservation in his eyes and motions. The big guy still wasn’t convinced this House of Cards thing was a good idea, and somewhat worried that their ‘benefactor’ might have ulterior motives. In fact, that was practically guaranteed. There was no such thing as a free lunch, at least in San Bellamo. However, despite his suspicions, Lucio had never hesitated to back up his brother from another mother. He trusted Dino’s gut instincts, and he wasn’t about to start doubting him now.

“Excellent. Glad to have you gentlemen on board,” the horned one smiled widely. “Now, why don’t you go see your friend Pepe? I believe he will have much to share with you.”

“Alright. Let’s go, Lucio.”

“Just one thing before we go,” the bear-man insisted. “What’s your name?”

The stranger smiled coyly and put his fedora on, his horns forcing it to rest askew atop his scalp once more. He then lightly tapped the face-up card tucked into its ribbon.

“Ace, is it?”

A wink and a playful click of the tongue was all the confirmation Lucio got. It was good enough. He and his buddy then wordlessly walked off, going into the ‘Employee Only’ door they’d passed just moments before. They were not all that surprised to find the cousin whose place they were borrowing was waiting for them. It certainly explained how Ace was so well prepared to put on that show for their benefit. Pepe was also there, with his balding head, huge belly, limp foot, and moustache-covered smile. The four of them briefly hugged it out before the retired explorer showed them into the basement, which now served as the House of Cards’ war room.

Back in the alley, ‘Ace’ let out a series of sighs and groans as he leaned heavily against the wall to Gueseppe’s yard.

“By the nine hells, that’s exhausting,” he complained quietly to nobody in particular, his words in an altogether different language. “Seriously, what in Ignar’s holy nutsack was I thinking? House of Cards? Ace? Revolution? Ah, I forgot to make that part of the speech. Whatever, they probably got it.”

The man slumped to the ground, caring little for the mud he was tracking all over his expensive coat. He’d just clean that up with his magic anyway. Though he wasn’t the devil, he was technically part devil, and that lineage gave him a modicum of power that he could still call on despite the nonmagical nature of this world. Doing so took a toll on him, however, both physically and mentally, but it was worth it. The spell called Devil’s Tongue allowed him to speak the local language without having to actually learn it, for about half an hour at a time. That was superbly convenient since he had neither the smarts nor the time to study Melorian words and letters. At least, not while these people were being oppressed by the same sort of villainous scum that had plagued the devilkin’s own childhood. Almost exactly the same, actually. This ‘mafia’ in San Bellano operated in a manner very similar to the cartels that made the devilkin’s childhood oh-so-colorful. Was it coincidence, or was villainy simply a universal language? A mix of both, most likely. Regardless, he knew how his enemy operated, and what he had to do to bring them down.

“Alright, then. Up and attem, Happy,” he picked himself up, turning to face his murky reflection in a dark window. “You’ve got three criminal empires to topple, three estranged party members to find, and one mad mini-lich to stop. All before Cassie finds out you’ve been hitting the booze again. But I mean, come on. She can’t be mad. I’m under a lot of stress, alright? Yeah. Stress. Definitely not desperation. Or crushing loneliness. Nope. Not Happy. Because that’s me, and it’s also my name. Okay, it’s actually Xerxes McMaddenladd, but we don’t talk about it. I mean, come on. Seriously. Who names their kid something so blatantly evil like Xerxes? And then pairs it with that silly surname to boot. Well, I don’t know who it was, but rhetorical questions are stupid like that. I’m rambling. Back in character, then.”

It was a bad habit of his, running his mouth like that. It was how he dealt with shitty situations. Probably not the healthiest coping method, but it was all he had at the moment. Well, that and that seafood spaghetti special with cream sauce from the restaurant a few blocks down. That dish was so good it should have been illegal. He was rambling again, inwardly this time. Happy reigned in his errant thoughts and buried them in the back of his head, allowing his new persona as ‘Ace of Spades, Dealer of the House of Cards’ to take over once more. He retreated into Maria’s basement, where his right-hand man was waiting for him. His name was Marco, and he was a lot like Happy himself - sneaky, sleazy, and witty, though not very bright. The guy said a few encouraging words that the devilkin didn’t fully understand, but grasped the general meaning of ‘Good work, boss.’ He nodded to show his thanks and pointed at the cot in the corner, signaling that he needed to get some rest. Marco chuckled lightly and said something along the lines of ‘Sure thing, good night’ before he went out to catch some shut-eye of his own.

The next thing Happy knew, it was the next morning, and his second-in-command was shaking him awake. He was talking so fast that the devilkin, drowsy as he was, had no idea what he was trying to say. Thankfully, the Melorian language was equal parts spoken and gesticulated, and the fervent pointing at the morning newspaper’s front page was enough of a hint. Employing the ‘grunt and nod’ method of faking understanding, Happy grabbed that paper and squinted at it. Yep, just as he expected, he couldn’t read squat. He looked to Marco with a raised eyebrow, prompting the young man to resume frantically speaking and pointing, this time to the image dominating the center of the page.

Happy nearly swallowed his tongue in shock when he realized what he was looking at.

Ozzy?! he screamed internally. What. The. HELL! Why are you in the news?! And what’s with that smug look! And that huge diamond! And those cute girls! ARRGH! THAT BASTARD HAS ALL THE LUCK! HOLY FUCK! I AM SO GLAD YOU’RE ALRIGHT!

For better or for worse, it would be a while before he realized that his new protege’s urgency was caused by the cat-eared gunslinger in the corner of the picture.