Asmodeus

Two huge brutes pick me up by my armpits and drag me towards a large, empty blackjack table. Savagely, they... Er, with savageness? Nope, that's not it. With great savagery (there we go!), they throw me onto a chair, then place their hands – which are literally the size of bicycle wheels – on my shoulders. By the way, I'm not exaggerating: They're the actual size of actual bike wheels. I turn to one of them, and he eyeballs me with a grimace that reveals his teeth and canines while his nostrils snort threateningly. Brutes, I tell you. Definitely, literally, brutes. But that's not what worries me the most. That's just setting the scene. OK, I admit I maybe tried to cheat a bit. And fine, I admit I screwed up a bit in all the rush. What worries me the most is the blood-red mist welling up in the air like cotton wool in front of me.

If it had been strawberry and raspberry cotton candy, I would have been quite keen to try some. But this smells of iron and everything. Then, in an ominous conflagration, Asmodeus appears. He's immense, his wings spread to the ceiling, his horns are as gigantic as elephant tusks, his macabre laughter echoes throughout the casino, and on the flaming crown that floats above his head, two sparkling blood-red rubies shine... Huh, what's this? In front of me, a red-skinned boy is waving at me, trying to get my attention. He gives me a look that's somehow both inquiring and a bit bored at the same time. One of the brutes hands him the loaded dice I was using. He examines them and then bursts into laughter. I start to laugh with him as the brutes look on, stone-faced. Then, once he stops laughing, he clasps his hands together conspiratorially. Ah, this is the part where we bargain and strike a deal. Less fun but, well... What is it they say? We have to give the devil his due?