Disclaimer: I'm sure you can work out that most of the people in this
belong to Marvel, the rest to me. I am making no profit and intending no
harm (except possibly the subversion of young minds <g>).


Dealing With The Devil
Amanda Sichter

So this was Hell.

Gambit looked around with interest. It appeared the priests had been
telling the truth when they'd thundered down their sermons of fire and
brimstone, the whiff of sulphur and the screams of the damned souls. And
he'd always expected that, if it existed, he'd end up here.

Still, he wasn't sure he necessarily wanted to stay here. If he remembered
correctly, he was sure there was a loophole.

Casting his eye over the demons that wielded the whips, keeping the newly
arrived souls in line, he made his choice. Slowly the line moved upwards
until he was next to the demoness he had picked out.

'Excusez moi,' he said, and offered his most winning smile. 'What does
Gambit have to do to get an appointment wit' de Devil?'

* * * * *

'LeBeau!' The demon smashed open the door to the chamber - Gambit had
learned that knocking had never become popular in Hell. Still, he had
learned not to let it cramp his style.

'Dat's me,' he said, looking up at demon.

'The Lord of Flies is ready to see you,' grumped the demon. 'Get a move
on.'

Gambit smiled down into the eyes of the demoness and kissed her lips with
more than a hint of regret. 'Gambit is sorry, Lilith, but he must go.'

The demoness shrugged, the movement causing her voluptuous form to shiver
against Remy's in a way that deepened his regret. 'When Beelzebub calls .
.' she said and brushed her lips against his forehead. She concentrated and
Remy's clothes re-formed around him. He stood up and smiled at the demon in
the doorway. 'Lead on,' he said. He had time to think a final, parting
thought to Lilith and then the world dissolved around him.

* * * * *

'Chateau d'Yquem 1954,' said Remy, raising the crystal glass so he could
see more clearly the red fire that burned in its heart - a red fire that
had nothing to do with Hell. 'Gambit did not t'ink such luxuries were part
of Hell.'

The Devil laughed, something old and writhing and evil underlying the
mirthful sound. 'I am the Devil,' he said. 'They think to tempt me with
their wares when they come to Hell. They think I can be swayed. They do not
know that I can rip the wares from their soul and leave them bleeding. But
I do so enjoy it when a soul who has appreciated the finer things in life
comes to Hell.' He grinned at Remy, who wondered whether it was polite to
point out to the Devil that his nostrils were smoking. Probably not, he
decided.

Gambit tilted his head slightly. 'Den Gambit does not appear to be
bargaining from a position of strengt', non?'

'No,' replied Beelzebub and his voice was acid over gravel. 'Especially not
when you have had the temerity to be enjoying Lilith for the last few
months. This is supposed to be a place of punishment, not a pick-up joint.'

Gambit shrugged apologetically. 'Lilith liked de look of me,' he said. 'And
when she offered . . . well, Gambit is sure you aware dat he's not very
good at resisting temptation. Otherwise, I not end up here, non?'

The devil smiled and his eyes reflected fire - at least Gambit hoped it was
a reflection. 'Did you enjoy her?' he asked.

Gambit smiled in recollection. 'She was - magnifique,' he whispered, and
his voice made his sincerity clear.

'I always thought so,' replied the Devil and for a heart-beat his
expression mirrored Remy's. In a moment of communion, both lifted their
glasses and silently toasted the phenomenal prowess of Lilith.

'Anyway, LeBeau,' said the Devil after he had drained his glass. 'What did
you want to see me for?'

Gambit fidgetted with his gloves for a moment and then sighed and set down
his glass. 'I have come to see if I can strike a deal wit' you,' he said.
He reached for his glass, but it was gone. Like all luxuries in Hell, it
was ephemeral. Only the torment was eternal.

With a frown, the Devil re-formed the glass in Remy's hand. 'And why would
I strike a deal with you?' he asked. 'I own you - I own your soul. What
could I get out of any deal?'

Gambit smiled, his charm almost blinding. 'But I'm sure dose were de
rules,' he said. 'Whenever anyone offers to play you in a game of chance
for deir soul, you must accept, neh?'

Satan frowned and twitched his tail lightly. 'I've always regretted that
clause,' he said. 'But it was that or having to give up Pandemonium. A
capital city seems a bit too much to give up for the odd soul who can beat
me.' He looked up at Remy. 'Alright,' he said. 'A game of chance for your
soul. But remember,' and his smile was so malicious that Remy paled, 'I
have the luck of the Devil.'

Remy smiled back, a little wanly. 'But I have the luck of a t'ief,' he
responded.

'What game?' asked Satan. 'Marbles, chess, Monopoly, craps, poker,
blackjack, roulette -'

'Blackjack,' said Remy, hurriedly.

'Blackjack it is,' said the Devil. The chamber around him hazed out and
re-formed into a casino, with demons as waiters and damned souls chained to
poker machines, endlessly watching the wheels turn. They were seated at a
blackjack table and dressed, somewhat incongrously in the Devil's case, in
a tuxedo. 'But we need a croupier.'

A succession of people flickered behind the table, a blur of faces, some
which Gambit thought he recognised. Finally, the flicker resolved into a
tall, blond woman, whose green eyes were icy cold as they glared at Remy.

'Belle?' he said, shock in his voice. His ex-wife glared at him, but did
not reply.

'She's been here for some years,' replied the Devil.

'But - but - she doesn' deserve it,' responded Remy.

The Devil raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. 'She was the leader of the
Assassins,' he said. 'She tried to kill you - and Rogue - and quite a few
other people. Of course she should be here.'

'But she was - her memories were stolen, she was changed, manipulated -
Belle was good at heart,' Gambit cried.

'Circumstances,' replied Satan, dismissively. 'Besides she was weighed as
evil - so here she is. A few thousand more years of punishment and she may
be allowed to move on. But for now, she is our croupier. She will be
honest,' he said, and grinned. 'She hates you enough to make up for any
sympathy a damned soul would have for you, but she has no affection for
me.' His smile was truly evil. 'Deal!' he said shortly and Belle dealt, her
face a mask.

* * * * *

'Twenty-one,' said Gambit, as his cards were turned over.

Satan stared down in dismay at his hand. He said a swear-word in a language
Gambit had never heard and hoped not to again. It made his ears hurt.

'I told you not to draw on seventeen,' said Gambit and grinned a little as
the Devil's tail twitched and smoke poured from under his collar.

The Devil snarled at him. 'Pack your things,' he said. 'You can go - I'll
get Lilith to take you up in the Hellevator. She's got special dispensation
- Gabriel likes her as well.'

Gambit looked down at the cards in his hand and sighed. 'How 'bout,' he
said, barely believing he was doing this, 'how 'bout another hand?'

Satan turned a disbelieving face on him. 'You've won,' he snarled and his
voice was a land-slide on a dark night. 'You're going to Heaven. And you
want to play another hand?'

'Oui,' Gambit sighed. 'Another hand. And if I win - I get to take Belle
wit' me.'

Satan's laugh rolled over him, almost painful in its malicious hate. 'For
her?' he said, and his laugh deepened. 'She hates you. She tried to kill
you when you were alive. And you'll play for her?'

'Oui,' repeated Gambit. 'She deserves better dan dis.'

'If you lose, you stay in Hell,' said the Devil. 'And no Lilith, this
time.'

Gambit nodded his agreement. Satan nodded at Belle. 'You can't be
croupier,' he said. 'You are now the prize. Stand behind him.'

Belle shook herself and moved from around the table. She paused as she
passed the Devil. 'I don' hate him,' she said, and her voice was soft and
rusty with disuse. 'One day, Lord of Flies, you may learn why Remy's women
do not hate him even after he leaves dem. I would watch over Lilith if I
were you.'

Satan's roar was enough to bring down Hell, but Belle stood unmoved before
him. With quiet defiance she faced him until she finally turned and walked
behind Remy, standing at his shoulder. Remy glanced at her and smiled, but
she did not return it.

'Another croupier,' hissed the Devil, and Remy wondered whether it would be
polite to tell him that his tuxedo had burst into flames and vanished,
leaving him naked. Probably not, he thought, and tried to think how to
concentrate with a naked Satan beside him.

But the new croupier focussed his attention sufficiently - for it was
Candra. Remy gasped, startled. Candra was supposed to be immortal. But it
was definitely her.

'Not immortal,' said the Devil, answering Remy's thoughts. 'You stole her
last vial of elixir. She faded then, until she died and came to me. This is
one of your women who does hate you,' he finished, and Candra's glare did
not bely his words.

'Deal!'

* * * * *

The Devil did not take losing well. Some poor demon had been obliterated
and a worker crew was scraping the bits off the casino walls.

'Go! Go!' screamed the Devil, at Remy and Belle.

Gambit sighed and looked into Candra's eyes, harsh hatred glaring from
them, her every movement a song of hate at him. But underneath he could see
the drowning despair and horror and need for salvation.

His women never hated him. Belle knew why, Candra knew why, Remy knew why.
Even when he left them, they knew he would sell his soul to save them if
they needed it.

And so he held out the deck to the Devil once more.

'Double or not'ing?'


The End


Amanda
wolf@ozdocs.net.au

'All that glitters is a high refractive index'