DXD: All In: A Gambler’s Game

In a cramped, dimly lit bar on the outskirts of a forgotten town in Russia, four figures gathered around a weathered wooden table, their shadows stretching far across the cracked floor. The air was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale vodka.

To the left sat a rotund man, his bald head speckled with a thin layer of hair on the sides. His clothes were worn and faded, and a cigarette dangled loosely from his lips as he stared at his cards with a heavy sigh. The man's breath was slow and labored, as if each decision were a monumental task.

In the center, a tall, thin man, gaunt and seemingly malnourished, nervously glanced between the others. His large nose, unkempt facial hair, and ragged bonnet gave him a disheveled look, and the shakiness of his hands betrayed his anxiety. With a deep breath, he pushed his watch into the center of the table, regretting it the moment it left his fingers.

On the opposite side, a younger man, far better looking than his companions, leaned back in his chair. He wasn't too thin or too heavy, clean-shaven with a permanent frown etched onto his features. His hair was short and neatly combed, giving him an air of controlled confidence. He took a long drag from his cigarette, tapping it lightly before meeting the gazes of the others.

"All in," he muttered, his voice low but assertive, almost daring them to oppose him.

"You're insane, Alexey!" Dmitri, the thin man in the middle, squeaked. "That's a month's rent, you fool! Your wife will kill you if you lose." His eyes darted nervously from Alexey to the others.

"Shut up, Dmitri," Alexey chuckled, taking another drag. "I know what I'm doing. By the end of tonight, my wife will be on her knees thanking me for this," he said with a sly grin, a smirk creeping up on his lips.

"You better hope you're right, you cocky bastard," Ivan, the burly man on the right, growled, his gaze piercing into Alexey with a sense of barely contained rage.

Alexey leaned back in his chair, laughing boisterously. "What's the matter, Ivan? If you wanted to give me your money that badly, you should've just asked."

The raucous laughter drew the attention of the entire bar, but none more so than a woman in the corner, dressed in a maid's uniform. She stood silently, her gaze fixed on the young boy sitting across from the trio.

Dmitri, shaking slightly, grabbed his glass of vodka, downing it in one go. His face contorted as the burn hit his throat, but he said nothing. Instead, he dropped his wedding ring—a glint of gold in the dim light—into the pot.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Alexey's friends laughed. "Why not just fold? You could've kept your fortune. Instead, you're betting your father's watch and your wedding ring! Ha!" They guffawed loudly, relishing his misfortune.

The boy, no older than thirteen, sat quietly, studying his hand. His white hair, pale as the Russian snow, seemed to glow under the dim light of the bar. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention—deep, dark pools of mystery, like the night sky on a cloudless evening.

Alexey sneered, eyeing the boy across from him. "Kid, you're out of your depth here. You've gotten lucky the last two rounds, but this round is mine. You can't win again."

The boy met Alexey's gaze with a smile that sent a shiver down the older man's spine. "Luck, huh? No… I'm Lady Luck's son. This game is mine already," he teased, his voice dripping with playful arrogance.

The trio exchanged uneasy glances. The boy's reputation had preceded him—he was infamous for winning. Earlier, he'd taken over a hundred dollars from them, a small fortune in this rundown town. That was why they were gambling everything now—jewelry, watches, personal possessions—anything to try and win back what they'd lost.

"Well then," the boy mused, inspecting his hand, "let's see. This will be tough, but I trust in my hand." He flashed a smile that sent a thrill through the table. "After all, if I can't trust my own hand, whose hand can I trust?"

He took a moment to look at the growing pile in the center, his gaze lingering on the watch, the wedding ring, and the money. "Quite the haul," he muttered, rubbing his chin as if appraising treasure. "Alright, I'll raise the stakes. Let's make this interesting."

With a smirk, he slapped down a pile of money—$103 in cash—from the previous round. The men's eyes widened as the tension in the room thickened. The bartender, wiping a glass in the corner, couldn't tear his gaze away from the table.

"Alright, alright. It's getting serious now," Dmitri murmured under his breath, staring at the boy's face, trying to make sense of the confident grin.

Ivan and Dmitri shared a look, but neither of them had the nerve to back down now. The money was already on the table, and pride kept them from folding. They had to win back their losses, or they'd be ruined.

Ivan cracked his knuckles. "Alright then, let's do this. Time to show you how it's really done." He threw down his cards slowly.

"Two pair. Jacks and Sixes," Ivan muttered, pushing his chips to the center.

Dmitri, the most nervous of the bunch, swallowed hard, his face pale. "Ace-high…" His voice was shaky, almost apologetic. He lowered his eyes, embarrassed by the weak hand he had left.

Alexey let out a scoffing noise. He exhaled, smoke curling into the air as he put down his cards. "Three of a kind. Sixes," he said with a confident smirk. He leaned back, his arms folding across his chest. "This is a strong hand… might just be enough to win."

Ivan gave him a tight-lipped frown. "Tch. That's better than my two pair…"

Both Ivan and Dmitri scowled, but their attention, along with Alexey's, shifted to the boy across from them. It was clear now—this was the moment. Would the kid win yet again?

The boy hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the table. Alexey stared at him, certain the kid would fold. The boy wasn't foolish—he'd already won more than enough, right?

The kid laid down his cards with a sly grin. "Full house. Queens over Sixes."

The table went completely silent. Alexey stared at the cards, blinking in disbelief. He exhaled sharply, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers.

"Looks like Lady Fortune still favors me," the boy said, gathering the winnings into his hands, his grin never fading. The three older men could do nothing but stare, their faces a mix of frustration, regret, and a simmering, growing hatred.

"You better get up," Alexey muttered, his voice cold as he motioned for the others. "We're leaving."

Without a word, Ivan and Dmitri nodded, their movements stiff with defeat. As they rose, the boy laughed, the sound light and mocking. "You sure you don't want to double or nothing?" he called out. "I'd love to take more of your money."

With a final chuckle, he slid the gold wedding ring onto his finger, admiring it. "Does this mean I'm married now?" he laughed to himself. The amusement in his voice was unmistakable.

The bar was now eerily quiet. The trio, heads low in shame, hurried toward the door.

The boy remained seated, glancing around at the silent patrons. He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and stood, grabbing the remaining winnings. "Anyone got a lighter?" he called out, his voice just loud enough to reach the bartender.

But no one responded. The girl in the corner remained silent, watching him with an unreadable expression as he made his way out the door and onto the cold, bleak streets.

"Nearly two hundred bucks," the boy muttered to himself with satisfaction. "Not bad at all." He eyed the rundown motel down the street. "Where will I stay tonight?" he wondered aloud. As his eyes traveled further down the street, he found himself heading toward the darker parts of town—the brothels, the shady businesses, and the dark alleys.

"I wonder how much I can pawn these for," he mused, inspecting the jewelry. As his fingers traced the gold ring, a sudden hand clasped around his mouth, dragging him into an alleyway.

"You little bastard," Dmitri hissed, his face twisted with fury, the meekness gone. "You were going to sell my jewelry?"

The kid's eyes widened as the massive hands of Ivan closed around his face, pinning him in place.

"Search his pockets, Dmitri," Alexey urged, his voice low, almost gleeful. "Hurry. Before someone sees."

Dmitri quickly rifled through the boy's pockets, pulling out the stolen belongings, and Alexey smiled, satisfaction curling in his chest. "We've got it all. Money, jewelry… it's all here."

With the boy pinned down, Alexey lowered himself to his level. "You're a cheat," he spat, eyes narrowing. "How else could you always win?"

"You're a little shit," Ivan growled, stepping closer. "You think just because you're a kid, you're untouchable?"

A punch landed square in the kid's gut, knocking the wind out of him. Ivan sneered, watching as the boy gasped for air.

"Where's that cocky attitude now, huh?" Dmitri taunted, landing another kick to his ribs.

They continued, beating him savagely, their anger and frustration pouring out in each punch and kick. Yet through it all, the boy kept laughing.

"I'm still alive," he muttered weakly between labored breaths. 

"What the hell are you laughing at, kid?" Alexey sneered, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"What are the odds I survive five more hits?" he asked, his smile unsettling them.

Another kick landed, this one to his face, sending the boy sprawling to the ground.

Still, the boy chuckled, blood staining his lips. "Only four more to go," he said softly, his voice filled with an eerie calm.

The beating continued, each blow more violent than the last. But with every strike, the boy's smirk remained, even as his vision blurred and his body weakened.

Then, a realization hit the three men like a freight train.

They'd gone too far.

The boy's laughter grew quieter, but he kept it up—despite everything, despite the blood pouring from his nose, despite the broken ribs. "I won," he whispered, his voice filled with quiet triumph.

The men froze.

He was still alive.

"Shit," Dmitri muttered, his voice shaking with disbelief.

"We killed him," Ivan growled, his expression changing from fury to panic. "We've been here too long. We need to go."

"We leave," Alexey said, his tone cold. "Now."

They turned, running from the alley with haste. But as they disappeared into the night, one person had seen it all—the woman from the bar, hidden in the shadows, eyes wide as she watched the boy collapse.

The boy remained where he lay, weak but still laughing, his breath shallow, a twisted, bloody grin on his face.

"Lady Luck never lets me down," he murmured, his laugh barely audible as he drifted into unconsciousness.