Cuphead and Mugman in "Fate Will Find You"

The Contract

David laid waste to the lands far and wide. News quickly started to spread of the furry menace known as the Devil. Kettle did his best to follow him around and warn people before he actually arrived to their homelands. Despite his protests, Ceramica joined him on many of his endeavors. Over time, David seemed to grow more powerful, unlocking even more of his potential. Some crumpled under his iron rule, others desired to join him. Those that proved their worth joined his army of the undead, transforming into the most ugly and strong beasts the world had ever seen.

Years passed and Kettle realized that none of his efforts seemed to make a difference. Something just had to be done! All of this suffering and bloodshed had to stop! So the brown kettle approached the black creature with a proposal one day.

"David! We need to talk!" Kettle called to the former faun that was nowhere to be seen. The glass person stood in the middle of a recently destroyed village. Smoke and sizzling noises still emanated from the wooden structures. A ghostly mist swirled and hovered just above the ground. It was all quiet. The only sound that penetrated the deserted town was Kettle's own breathing. He stood in that one spot and turned around, expecting the dark creature to emerge at any moment. For it is said that the Devil can hear you even if he is far away. The dark spirit knows when it is being summoned. It is how it greets you that everyone fears. The Devil chose to appear differently to each person based on their fears.

"Kettle! Over here! I need help!" Came a familiar voice. But it was not the Devil's, at least not directly. The dark spirit used a memory of Ceramica's voice to throw at its victim. Her voice echoed throughout the silent kingdom of dust and ash. But Kettle didn't flinch. For he knew that it was a trick. If he were to chase the sound of the voice, he would surely come across a sight that he wished he didn't.

"You're not real." Kettle said in a stern but sad voice. It called for him again, but he still didn't move from that spot. Upon no reaction from the kettle, David made his presence known.

"Ugh! You're no fun!" He spat. The brown kettle watched as the creature dragged himself up from the mist. For the Devil had flattened himself like a bear rug to crawl under the wispy covering to avoid detection. All of the bones seemed to pop back into his body all at once.

"What do you want? I'm very busy." The black creature said in annoyance. It broke off a small piece of wood from a dilapidated structure and dipped it down into the mist. When it came back up, it had transformed into a cigar. Two clawed fingers popped it into his mouth. The end of it burned red as he took in a puff.

"I want to make a deal." The kettle said shortly. For David was so shocked at this comment that he spit out the cigar. It fell into the mist only to disappear.

"You....want to make a deal? Why?" Glaring eyes narrowed at the mortal. "No one just gives up their soul willingly to me."

"David, please, hear me out." Kettle said, staying calm. The creature's fur ruffled in anger at the name it was just called.

"I do not answer to that name!" It hissed. A gray paw then entered the mist as he felt around for his lost cigar. The brown kettle grumbled in frustration but ultimately adjusted his wording.

"Come now, Mr. Devil. You wouldn't refuse someone so willing to give himself up?"

David finally grasped onto the smoking stick and popped it back into his mouth without a thought.

"Anyone that willing must have the balls to ask something outrageous of me!" The Devil scoffed, still seeming unwilling to go through with such an agreement. "In fact, I don't think I will take your soul. I think it's better for you to suffer at the hands of life's gifts....if you can call it that." His yellow eyes rolled back into his head. What gift had life ever given him? Only darkness and despair. If he couldn't have happiness, then why should anyone else?

Kettle's heart almost stopped. If David wasn't going to take his soul, then what could he possibly offer? He knew that souls had to go somewhere when the person passed away. And David certainly had a place for them that only demons could access. Perhaps being bound to that place, or even the Devil's side, after death would pacify the demon.

"Okay, so you won't take my soul. But how about owning my soul once I die?" He suggested. This confused the black creature. Everyone he had met wanted their energy to reside somewhere where it was among others. Kettle, however, was suggesting that it never be put to rest.

"Hmm? You wish for your soul not to be passed on?"

"Think about it, we'll be together forever and be friends like we used to be. It's what you want, right?" The glassware explained. But the satanic creature knew that there was still a "but" to be had in the clause.

"So what's the ballsy shit you want from me?"

"You must stay on Inkwell for the rest of your reign." He stated. The Devil was so shocked that he spit out his cigar yet again.

"That really is a load of shit! Why would I agree to staying in our godforsaken hometown?" The fur on his back bristled at the thought of staying put for the rest of his life. "What could you possibly gain from that?"

"The comfort of knowing that the rest of the world is safe your tyranny." Kettle explained without showing any emotion. He watched as the creature's tail flicked back and forth as it contemplated his proposal.

"If the stupid world really means that much to you – which I don't know why it would – we can discuss a contract." As much as he despised the thought of being confined to a single island, he would not deny himself the soul of his former best friend in the afterlife.

"Thank you, David! Yes! This is exactly what I want!" Kettle beamed in the thought of getting his way over the demonic creature that thought himself lord of the underworld. With that, a long piece of paper appeared in the Devil's hand. It stretched out to show the kettle its contents. The end of it curled up a bit as it hit the ground. David watched as the glassware started to scan through its writing.

"Any other ridiculous demands I should know about?" Yellow eyes rolled, awaiting any other terms and conditions to be added to it. Kettle tenderly grabbed the end of the paper and thought about it.

"No." He ultimately said. "But I would like you to have a nice place for yourself though. How about the east end of Inkwell?" Kettle knew that the very easterly end of the island was big enough to distance the creature from its other residents.

"Very well." The Devil grumbled. Kettle watched as the contract magically wrote itself and added these details. "When you're done adding shit to it, just sign next to the big X." Gray toes tapped on the ground in impatience. The brown kettle ultimately let go of the parchment with his left hand when he realized he needed something to sign it with.

"Do you have a pen I could use?" Kettle asked. As quick as lightning, the tip of the furry creature's tail pricked his finger. "Ow!" He exclaimed.

"Pens are for noobs! All of my contracts are blood pacts. Just press your finger anywhere above the line and it will sign for you."

Kettle pressed his finger down, feeling that the deal was complete. He was confident that he was doing the right thing. Protecting the world from war and bloodshed was his goal. The kettle watched as his blood came to life and arranged itself in the form of his name. It then stained the paper all the way through. The deal had been sealed. And there was no going back.

Just like that, the Devil rolled up the parchment and went to drag his belongings, both items and people, to his new lair on Inkwell. Even Kettle went back to his hometown to build a place for himself. He felt obligated to stay on the island just like the faun had to. The kettle still took vacations off island, but, for the most part, resided in a spot on the opposite end of the island from the Devil. He often went to say hi to his old friend when he saw him out and about throughout the streets of Inkwell. Other than that, the two did not have much to do with one another. David had his group of tortured souls to concede with while Kettle met all of the colorful new faces that had moved to Inkwell during their years of travel. Each one of them had their place on the island. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?