Mister Money Man

The Shill Lass was a gross pub. That type of place anyone passing by would just glance at and immediately disregard it from their memory. But the locals of Brixton knew that place with fondness and care. Again, it wasn’t particularly good at anything, it had a relaxed atmosphere and the folks never got too riled up, even during a Chelsea game. Not even when Chelsea lost you wouldn’t hear them cheer. A little brown and worn out on the structure, the sign was a little faded, and the beer was… drinkable, to say the least. There wasn’t a lot to expect out of the Shill Lass, but it was probably for that reason people still went there.

Rory and the lads were sitting by the window as always, just catching up on the news. Jesse had to leave in a few because tomorrow his kid had a volleyball game early in the morning to go to, and he had no joy in spending the lazy Sunday that way. The man was as big as a skyscraper, but never even bothered with sports since he was also as thick as a cargo ship. Sideways wise. But in the meantime, the boys could still have a drink and dwell on these transitory things.

— Mate, I’ve been telling you since Christmas. — Herman said. — Call the boss, write the kids down, pay a quarter, send them to some fucking camp, and come spend the summer with the boys.

— To the boys. — Patrick toasted by himself.

— The wife wouldn’t like it. — Jesse muttered. — And what would she do in the meantime?

— She’s smart, isn’t she? She’ll figure it out. Right, Rory?

— You don’t have to yell. And give the man a break, let him spend time with his family.

— But the boys, Rory.

— To the boys. — Patrick toasted again.

And though Patrick and the hotheaded, cop-show enthusiast were getting pissed, off the charts, no one bothered in slowing them down. The group agreed to not intervene in one’s beer count. Not because they were struggling alcoholics but because they tried setting a limit last time. And it didn’t work.

Last time they said something about drinking alcohol-free brew because alcohol makes you aggressive. And it slurs your speech. A chair ended up flying out the window that night and they agreed to not talk about it again.

— Did you get to see the new bean guard around town? — Herman spoke after sipping some more.

— Please… She’s captain of the police. — Rory coped with a headache.

— She’s captain of my free will. I wouldn’t mind getting arrested by her, am I right lads?

— If you talk like that, you’ll definitely get arrested. — Jesse said.

— To the boys! — Patrick said.

— No one mentioned the boys.

— To the boys…

Watching the man down another pint, Rory scootches to the side, predicting the man’s next line.

— I gotta take a leak.

Rory sits back down and the three of them watch their rich buddy stumble and mumble his way to the bathroom. Patrick was the kind of guy you’d get a look at and wonder: “What the hell does he do for a living?”. Not because he was some kind of homeless-looking guy, it was just hard to place a career on that dumb face of his and say, “Yep, he definitely does that!”. They talked about it once and it seemed he worked on Big Pharma and the boys would jokingly blame the ‘Rona’ on him to the point he probably believes he was responsible for releasing the virus which one must not name.

— And how is Hilda doing?

— She’s fine. — Rory spoke. — Dealing with this thing much better than I thought she would.

— Alexis is a hooker. — Herman spouted.

— Herman! — Jesse condemned.

— I said it! Someone had to say it!

— Think of the girl’s mother.

— She’s not here, look at Rory, he knows, I know, we all know, I know he knows! She’s a damn hooker, cheated on a good lad, and cheated on her daughter. She betrayed her family and, you know what I love a hooker, I’m doing hookers a disservice by calling Alexis one.

— He’s wrong but I agree. I hope you win on court, mate. Hilda’s an angel.

— Thanks, Jess.

By the time Patrick could be heard coming back, the pub was already covered in darkness, and the lads were already the last few still hanging around. Jesse was getting carried away and even though he knew that he was ready to get talked down to his wife by coming in late. When Rory moves to the corner to let Patrick sit down, he vaguely realizes that whoever sat down, was probably not their friend.

— Ello lads.

— Patrick mate, tell the pizza monkey story again. — Herman demanded.

Jesse and Rory look over to the shadowy figure and between their bursts of sanity and meager sobriety, realized that, although they couldn’t see the man’s face, that it wasn’t Patrick. He was much taller, and his voice was also much more dragged and with a heavier accent. Rory, who was to the stranger’s left, noticed that his attire was also completely different. From what he could infer, it was a flashy blue suit, damped down by the weak, late-night lighting of the bar.

— Who are you?

— The name is on the card, my dear money-making friends.

Passing a white business card to each of them, their blurry visions struggle, but read out: “Qel”.

— Keel? — Rory guessed the pronunciation.

— Kill? — So did Jesse, afraid of the double meaning.

— On the card. — Herman said, decisively.

— Q-E-L. As in “Nothing can quell, my thirst for money”.

— Qel, tell the pizza monkey story again. — Herman blurred.

— I’ll do you one better, my money-making friends.

Qel can be felt grabbing something from his suit. Coins are then placed on the table. They were small, smaller than most coins were, but thicker and with a golden shine that was akin to real, twenty-four carats gold. About twenty were released on the table.

— Let’s play a few, money-making games.

— Hell no, man. — Jesse said. — I don’t do betting games, they’re bad luck.

— Don’t worry gentleman, this is purely for our own amusement. You see, we will be using my own money.

— Your money? — Rory asked. — We’ll bet with your money?

— Yes.

— Do we get it if we win? — Herman asked.

— Yes.

— Do we have to pay you something if we lose? — Jesse asked.

— No.

The lads look at one another. In their eyes, that unspoken determination and knowledge to not give in to an obvious scam. If anything, the appearance of this stranger was their wake-up call to end the night, collect Patrick from the bathroom and go back home. They might be blasted drunk, but they are still responsible and mindful adults.

— Well shit, I’m in.

— You’re playing too right, Jesse?

— I suppose a few matches couldn’t hurt.

— Excellent choice, my money-making friends.

Rearranging themselves, Jesse, Rory, and Herman sit next to one another, facing Qel from across the table. As the businessman prepared the table, the boys discussed their strategy by whispering loudly, and Herman angrily explained to Jesse that absolutely nothing could go wrong since they were three and he was one. Rory mentioned the possibility of him being a cheater and even if that was the case, they wouldn’t lose their money anyways.

— Let’s start simple. How about a game of Blackjack?

Qel takes a sealed deck of cards from his suit and opens it by cutting the seal with his nails. Releasing the cards unto the table, he begins to shuffle them with magician-like precision. Something masterful, delicate, and completely unnecessary.

— You’re the type of prick who likes showing off tricks cause you’re boring as hell right?

— It’s more natural than it seems.

Qel finishes shuffling, his height pushed his semblance away from the lit table, the only lit table in the bar, and even though the boys could not see his face, they were sure he had a wide grin.

— But yes.

First a card for Jesse, then Rory, then Herman, then Qel. And once again, keeping everyone with two cards face down. In Blackjack, the winner is the one whose cards come the closest to the value of 21. One can be given cards that are uncannily close to that number or ask the dealer for more in the hopes of increasing their value should their cards be very low.

Rory had been handed a ten and an eight.

Jesse, a nine and a four.

And Herman, a pair of sixes.

— We’ll start with fifty euros for each, how does that sound?

Placing his signature golden coins on the table, he stacks them and provides each player with their own stack of five coins. Those weren’t the money the boys were looking forward to, but Qel explained that they would function as chips, to keep track of the cash. Of course, Qel had a credit card that was ready to be bled dry.

— Lads? — Rory asked.

— Give me one. — Jesse said.

— Me too! — Herman said.

Jesse and Herman are given a three and a ten respectively. Causing the short one to scream obscenities and forcing Rory to hold down the man before he could flip the table.

— It seems one of you has gone bust.

— Rory mate?

— I’m staying. — He nodded decisively.

Seeing as everyone was comfortable with their cards, Qel tells them to show. Jesse had sixteen, Rory had eighteen and Qel had seventeen. Making Rory the winner of the round. The boys celebrate and chant “That is embarrassing!” as if in a football game. In the meantime, Qel passes on his coins to Rory and reminds the other players to do the same. Herman tells Rory to die in a ditch for stealing the money that, wasn’t actually his, and Jesse is mind numbed to remind Herman that only one of them has to win every game, so the money can be split in the end.

Four more rounds go by, with Qel matching the amount of cash every new round and losing subsequentially. By the fifth game the money, which totaled 51,200 euros, was in Jesse’s possession. And it might not come as surprising, but the boys continued to drink without a care, for the alcohol not only made them giddier but in no way dampened their ability to best Qel.

— You are all too good at this. How about a different game, double the winnings?

— If I see another card, I’m shitting myself…

— We can’t lose anything! Qel, give us a new game!

— I was hoping we could diverge from the cards.

— So, what do we play?

— You don’t need cards to bet on something, nor to make money.

Qel places four small papers on the table. And from his suit takes four, very fancy pens to place next to each note. This pair was passed to each player. Qel then instructed everyone to write down the most precious they each had in their lives and to not disclose that information and to keep the note faced down. After they all wrote their answers, Qel explained the rules.

— Now we take turns guessing the other’s answers. After everyone gets to guess all the other answers, we reveal our own. The one with the most accurate guesses is the winner.

— Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go. — Herman slurred. — Rory, you probably put down that fucking car of yours, you prick.

— Oh my God, mate…

— You! You are so evil, you fucking love that hunk of copper, it smells like a dying dog. And you make us drive around with you on that funeral home!!

— It was my dad’s car, why don’t you get a car for yourself inste—instead of complaining like Alexis?

— Alexis? — Qel asked.

— His ex-wife. — Jesse answered. — Keep up, mate.

— And you know what Jesse? You probably wrote a fucking burger or something cause you’re fat. You’re fat as shit, Jesse.

— What did you write down? A gun?

— The M1 Garand is not a gun, is a work of art, mate.

Groaning in pain, the boys turn to ask Qel what he wrote down. He reminded them that they needed to guess first, which made them whine and complain even harder. Rory guesses coins, Herman guesses hookers and cocaine, and Jesse guesses money. Qel then asks them to reveal their papers. Herman had the lads, while the other two had their children. Stumped and senseless, the boys don’t even question their own answers, even though that was simply not what they wrote down. Not to mention the pens Qel gave them had also disappeared.

— No guesses then?

— Qel?

Revealing his paper, Qel had written down “Souls”. Leaning forward and revealing his face to the dim light was a blonde man with a goatee and a frowned mouth. A little bit of a deformity that pushed the right corner down. But more interestingly than that, was that his eyes were two simple golden coins, inexpressive on their own, but his large eyebrows did the rest of the job.

— It seems you boys got it twisted.

The boys take turns in cursing at each other for their poor deduction skills. Leaving the interdimensional being known as Qel to wonder if he was even heard. Cleaning his throat, Qel demands attention.

— Oi, look at this chub. — Jesse said. — He got money stuck in his face.

— OI QEL! — Herman. — YOU GOT COINS IN YER EYES!!

— Take it off, mate. — Rory gathered the papers and threw them away. — Next!

— …Next? — Qel wondered.

— Next game! — They yell.

Qel scorns himself internally, knowing that it was his own fault for considering three absolute drunkards an easy source of income. Thought, the man was used to dealing with people who to tried to outsmart him or, in this case, people who were too stupid to outsmart him. He had his fill, now it was time for the final game.

— Very well.

Qel displays six, six-sided dice that magically appeared between his fingers. It was time to end the job and harvest the boys' souls. And for that, he needed to wipe out the competition with a game, he knew, with certainty, the boys would not be able to follow.

— Oh, I love me some dice.

— How’s this game played Qel?

— It’s a simple numbers game. — Qel grinned. — Allow me to explain…

There are three pairs of two unique dice.

Two had two X Symbols, two Triangle Symbols, and two Circle Symbols. Two other dice had Colored sides, Two Reds, two Blues, and two Greens. The last two had two Dull Sides, two Pristine Sides, and two Shiny Sides.

One must roll the six dice with two chances of three outcomes.

Fuse the outcomes adequately to learn the point result.

[Sides] Dull — Pristine — Shiny = [Divide] Negative 3/Flip Value 2/Positive 1

[Colors] Red — Blue — Green = [Multiply] Negative 1/Flip Value 1/Positive 3

[Symbols] X — Circle — Triangle = [Add] Negative 1/Flip Value 2/Positive 3

The one to reach Positive 128, wins.

Those who reach Negative 64, become the Roach.

Once a Roach has been established all die have double the value, and if someone gathers a negative value lower than the Roach’s current negative value, they will now become the Roach. If the Roach manages to reach Positive 44, they no longer function as a Roach.

There are also Special Rolls that happen when a certain combination is done. A “Headshot” is when two Dull Red X are rolled, and the point value is halved. “Diamond Eyes” is when two Pristine Blue Circles are rolled, and the player can swap Points with another player. “Big Money” is when a player lands on two Shiny Green Triangles and their point value is made positive and doubled.

— We all begin with ten points. How’s that sound?

The boys die of excess information but are able to utter a single:

— Fucking ’ell…

Before Qel hands them the dice. Jesse rolls first, followed by Qel, Herman, and Rory. And the rolls go as follow. Jesse gets a Shiny Blue X and a Dull Green Triangle taking his point value to Negative 15. Herman rolls a Pristine Green Circle and Dull Red X taking his value to Negative 4.

Qel rolls, with his magic fingers, Pristine Red Circle which takes him to Negative 24. And his next roll was a Shiny Green Triangle, taking him to Positive 75. Finishing the first round, Rory lands with a Shiny Green X and a Pristine Blue Circle, taking him to Positive 15.

— Good! Very good, boys! — Qel claps.

— Rory, do you know what’s happening? — Jesse mutters.

— Yes? — Rory speaks incoherently.

The next round will end it. That was Qel’s thought. After all, the hardest part about this game was gathering points off of the basic ten. Most of the time, you land in a position similar to any of the boys, where your total is still small and not far off of the initial amount. But it is quite easy to use the multiplicative outcomes of the dice to double and triple your point value. Meaning that landing a high value like Qel’s 75 was an extremely potent play.

He had all the odds in his head, and as a supernatural being that has existed since always, Qel has unnaturally sharp control over his movement. He can release the dice in any outcome he wants while making it seem entirely natural. Though, a monster by nature, he was still honorable. And would only consume the lives of his victims should they lose to him in a game that was agreed upon.

The boys were completely unaware that they would die in a few moments.

— Let’s roll the second round.

And the rolls were exactly as Qel had predicted. Jesse and Herman go to Positive 18 and Negative 72. A mild surprise to Qel who did not expect a Roach to be summoned into the game. And even though the presence of a Roach just changed some outcomes, Qel could still get a win in one roll.

Though he did stop to explain that Herman was now the Roach, he gave up halfway, because the boys were too focused on the spiraling dimension outside the bar. They weren’t actually outside the universe it was just an illusion cast by Qel to prevent them from asking for help. Qel goes for the roll, but the boys wander outside.

— Lads? I —oh who cares anymore…

Opening the doors and leaving the Shill Lass, they see a giant violet spiral that was the size of the entire sky. The bar had only an eight-meter radius of surroundings before the ground collapsed and dusted off into the lilac cyclone.

— Where the fuck are we? Rory mate?! — Herman asked.

— Wut?! Idroveustodafackinpubdidn’tI?

— Oi Qel mate?! Fuck is this purple bullshit?! — Jesse asked.

— Does it matter?

Qel followed them outside.

— Let’s finish our game.

The odds were, realistically, one in twenty-seven for any given result of triples. Fifty-two in 729 for any Specific Triple. And one in 729 for a Pair of Specific Triples, this being what a single player needed to win the game.

And for Qel that was about one in one chance. Or in other words, a 100% Chance.

— It seems I’ve won lads.

And a Pair of Shiny Green Triangles was rolled. A “Big Money” if you will. Taking him from Positive 75 to Positive 150. And with Herman being the Roach, the values were doubled, once more, taking him to Positive 300 and sealing the game.

— What?

— With my point value of Positive 300, I —

— What?!

— With my point value of —

— WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! — The boys razz him.

Qel’s eyes roll to the back of his skull. From his mouth, a bloodshot eye takes place to witness the death of his victims, and his eye sockets become two open mouths. Double the voice that could utter and deflect the boys’ demise and suffering. The transformation was so intense on his face that even his finely combed hair became messy and disheveled.

— I win. And my prize is your tasteful souls.

— What’s he talking about?

— You will become just another coin for me to use in my gambles! And whenever I feel like it, I’ll swallow you at my own vengeful will.

— Swallowing coins?

— I have no fucking clue…

Qel takes a handful of coins from within his now loose suit and throws them at the wind. Grips that contained dozens of souls, outsmarted, and destroyed by Qel in the past. Become a golden wind that flows around the freakish Qel before they are consumed by the vortex in the sky. With a snap, chains made of golden fingers erupted from the floor, taking each of the lads by their hands and pulling them to their knees.

— Oi! Don’t I get to roll?

— Yeah, Rory still hasn’t done it.

— You still can’t win idiot! You can’t get enough points!

Qel’s mouths speak indistinctly from one another, whilst the points are slowly consumed by the finger chains. And with their current position, it’s not like Rory could roll the dice.

— And what do you want from me? Want me to put it in ya mouth?!

Angry, Qel slams the six dice into Rory’s mouth.

— Spill’em when you’re ready! Spill to roll! Spill to roll!

Herman says that Rory needed to spit the dice with passion, as to guarantee a lucky roll. While Jesse was trying to say that he knew about the special rolls and that he needed to land one like Qel did, so they could win. But even if he rolled the same as Qel, which was statistically near impossible for a human to do with his mouth, his point value would not surpass Qel’s, and he would still be considered the winner.

Rory spits the dice. One die lands Pristine. The other lands on Blue. And the shape lands on a circle. It just so happened that it was doubled result. Two Pristine Blue Circles. A special roll, known as Diamond Eyes.

— EYY!!! — The boys cheer.

And it just so happened that this combination allowed players to exchange points.

Blistered with wrath, Qel closes his mouth, smashing the eye into a bloody paste. And from the mouths in the eyes, came another pair of coin eyes, and mouths opened on his cheeks, vertically. Like tears streaming down his face. And though, Qel’s rage with the universe was tremendous, there was still something interesting taking place.

— What now? — Rory asked.

Not that they knew that entirely well. And Qel knew that the next words of the players' mouths would be vital to decide the game. He only needed to say one name, and the points would be swapped. His code would not allow him to kill the boys if Rory said the right thing. But…

— Pick me, Rory! — Herman said.

— What?

— I don’t want to be the roach man. Shit sucks…

— Rory! Pick me mate! — Jesse says. — I got no points!

Qel’s eyes had difficulty keeping track of the two drunkards and the absolute stupidity that emanated from their mouths. He’d rather be deaf.

— We need points to win!

— Swap with me since you got more points!

— BRUV WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, WE NEED POINTS!

— I’M TRYING TO GET THEM MATE! RORY JUST NEEDS TO SWAP WITH ME.

Qel shrugs and joins in.

— YES, RORY PICK ONE OF THEM! GIVE THEM YOUR POINTS!!!

Kneeling in front of them, the interdimensional gambler yells with excitement. He never had a game resolve itself in such a stupid manner. Part of his rage was due to the fact that Rory actually landed a one-in-729 roll, which could also, despite the circumstances, win him the game.

And in Rory’s mind, things started to become a bit clearer. The games were fun, and they had no chance of losing anything since they played with Qel’s “money.” And despite being pissed drunk, he was nice enough to explain the games and guide them through it. And even though some really questionable events were taking place right now, and the fact that Qel was so ugly even his reflection would walk away… Rory still knew Qel was a good fella.

He didn’t understand why everyone was yelling and he was tired of the games.

So, Rory decided to call it a day.

— You know, you’ve been really good Qel, mate. I’m gonna give you, my points.

— WHAT DID YOU SAAAAAAAAAY?! — All his mouths shriek.

— I’m giving you, my points mate. Don’t gotta yell.

— You’re right… Qel’s our mate. — Herman says.

— Yeah, you can have the points Qel! — Jesse says.

Qel stared fervently.

— Ye-AUGH. — He burped.

The Money Man stepped away, in utter betrayal. And took a deep breath. The type of inhale that could make you feel your bones. And screamed an anger-filled, reality-shattering scream.

Making him and his warped space disappear.

The game was done, and the gambler could no longer mess with them. Not that they had the current mental power to process anything in regard to the last 70 minutes. But they were now back at the bar. Sitting in their favorite spot by the windows as they always do. Feeling the drowsy effects of their creeping hangover.

— I’m not gonna miss him. — Jesse admits.

— He was kind of twat wasn’t he. — Rory admits.

— Absolute clown. — Herman admits.

— My boys!!

Coming back from his quick visit to the bathroom, Patrick cheers, causing the boys to cheer, which caused Patrick to do a little dance while approaching, which caused the boys also dance in their own seats.

— Where the fuck were you? — Herman asked with a laugh.

— I just left. To piss.

— That was a long piss, mate. — Rory laughs.

— You’re not talking about me, are you?

— Nah, you should have seen that clown. — Jesse says.

— I don’t care about no clown! Listen, boys, how about another round?

— ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! — They yell.

The four of them packed their shit and called it a day.