Draped like a shadow against canvas, Azmot loomed harmlessly in the alleyway. Smoke billowed and swirled into esoteric shapes, which coupled with the night created a screen of anonymity. Faces appeared like ghosts in this ethereal haze, voices being the empty chattering of the void.

The young mage observed the approach of Erebus. A raised eyebrow folded his pale skin in a judgmental fashion. Azmot had just finished his dealings with Felipe, his first contact with the Red Hades. A specialized haul - eyeballs of all different sizes and colors. Kind of wasteful, but it paid decently enough. And here was a newcomer, approaching the abode of the underbelly. Azmot's face appeared from the haze as he stepped closer, casting a cautionary glare at Erebus.

"Lost? It's dangerous around here, fella." He said plainly. The truth. Though it was sort of obvious that Azmot was more out of place than the newcomer, he ignored this thought. It was more interesting this way. Plus, he was nosy, and this guy had a sort of assuming aura that just rubbed him the wrong way.

The chattering fell into a hush as the cockroaches froze. Eyes peeled away from their dealings to watch the two, if only for a moment.

The streets began to murmur at the mention of the mafioso's name. Thoughts of inquisition and exploitation rose like stinky fog, and settled in the air unpleasantly. Now, the atmosphere had changed - the cockroaches were cautious, faces hidden beneath the fog, but they were alert. It might come time to bolt any minute.

"Hey, hey!" Azmot said, waving his hand in front of his face. "Be a bit more discrete. We can talk over here." He sighed, closing his eyes and turning. He wasn't worried about it, but there was a sense of impending doom. Gangsters were all weird about nomenclature - saying someone's name in the wrong manner or situation could prove fatally disrespectful.

But he wasn't worried about it.

Over his shoulder, the berserker continued. "Azmot. Just a guy." Worry still refused him, but if he had the capacity, he might have thought twice about how loud he said his name. But he didn't, so he didn't.

Finally, they approached a vacant alleyway, and at the end of it stood an unassuming metal door. Azmot looked at Erebus.

"Well, go ahead. Knock."

Erebus cared not for the word games gangsters played, but whatever. He followed the man to the door, and then heard him start playing a word game. Kind of ironic. After the very witty and secretive exchange, Azmot was finally met with reprieve when they completed the dance. Then Erebus checked him out - weird, but understandable. After all, the berserker was a total smokeshow.

The entered a rather dull room, laden with the same smokey pleasure, except now it was more obnoxious, odious, and obfuscating. The ashy wind mingled impolitely with Azmot's sense of smell, leaving him somewhat disoriented and nauseous. The unnatural burn made his stomach churn, the heat of heavy breathing in such a closed off space only adding to the discomfort.

Five bodies subtracting Erebus and Azmot respectively. Too much for the room. Felipe was still in his game, the specialized haul rotting behind him. What was Red Hades' thing with hating refrigerated products? Whatever - they were salted somewhat to preserve them, but not enough to completely shrivel the eyes. There was some sort of transcribing device relaying the information of the game to an outside party.

There were outside bets going on, interesting. Felipe was down on his chips, and the two other gentleman seemed to be more focused on picking him off than battling eachother out. A consorted effort? Azmot sensed a scheme much larger than himself at play.

Felipe's face was scrunched in distaste. He turned to the pair, eyeing Azmot and muttering a bit.

"You again?" The gangster grunted, slamming his cards down in a "fold". The other men chuckled and lazily fought over the pot. The cards flipped.

Felipe's pig, man A with a pair, and man B with a straight. Absolutely terrible luck. If it was that.

Fine! Azmot decided he couldn't help but bite.

He squatted at the table, for a lack of a nearby chair.

"Felipe! Don't have guests over and decline us a spot at your table. How rude." A line that could probably get him killed normally, but Azmot wagered that he was more than inclined to have them enter the fray, for his own benefit.

Hades was watching the game. There was probably some terrible price to whoever lost - he wondered if the chips even represented money. With them, it could be anything - limbs, pints of blood, years of service, etc.

Azmot awaited his response, wondering how Erebus would take his sudden tone shift.

The hands were dealt shortly after Erebus announced his interest in the game. How wonderfully bold, Azmot thought, calmly separating the stack of jewels into two equal piles before they were transferred into chips. After all, they both needed to bet, right?

Azmot also ignored the obvious mistake of Erebus raising before the pot was even established. A rookie? Or a showboat. Maybe even....

a HUSTLER?!?!

The anime background music began to intensify as tension became palpable. Suddenly, it seemed the two other men seemed to identify Erebus as the table's cardshark just as soon as Azmot did. Now he was going to be forced to bet and call defensively with those two in mind, unless...

Alright, one game! Winner take all, huh?" Looks of confusion were passed around as the cards were dealt. Azmot looked at his hand - a three and an ace with zero shared qualities: garbage, but with a high. He shoved all of his chips zealously into the pile.

The cards went into Flop.



"Alright, NOW you can bet..." Felipe grunted through his stinky cigar, his voice heavy with mucus and worry. He shuffled about his cards for a moment, smiled, and then shoved his chips in the middle.

"You two... whats the game your playing, exactly?" He twirled around curiously. "Business, you say? What business could you be referring to?"

Man A and B both looked at eachother with some sort of communicative glance, and decided that they could go in. Chances were, one of them would still win over any other single person. That was the advantage of a partner.