In the deepest, most revolting depths of Hell, two figures sat playing poker at a charred round table. One was a handsome man seemingly in his 40s, while the other was an ancient creature with skin darker than blood and sharp horns growing out of its head.
The former wore a white shirt with the top two buttons undone. His dress pants looked ironed, and his black shoes were made of crocodile leather. On the side of his neck was a tattoo that read: 'L-24 4560532—Inmate Gene Conti.'
The latter, on the other hand, wore a blue dress suit and round glasses that gave him the appearance of a castellan. Attached to his suit was a gold nameplate. It read: 'Lucifer, Warden of Hell.'
"You know Charlene, right?" Lucifer said, looking charming as always. "The blondie being punished in the Seventh Circle."
Gene nodded in response but remained silent. His head was already in the game, and he wasn't about to let Lucifer's idle chatter distract him.
"She begged me today for forgiveness," continued Lucifer. "Asked to be let go. She promised to do anything if I only eased her punishment."
Gene lifted his head with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The story was getting fun, and Lucifer always provided when it came to entertainment.
"You aren't going to, are you?" Gene asked, grinning maliciously.
"Not in a million years, dearie!" laughed the warden cruelly. "I lied—I said I would release her if she promised that once reincarnated, she'd sacrifice a toddler in my name."
"Oh no, you didn't!"
"Oh yes, I did!"
The two laughed maniacally.
"And when she desperately clung to my feet—when she agreed—I added another seven years to her punishment, for being such a wretch." He banged his fists on the table in excitement, almost breaking it. "You should have seen her—she cried a river. She was such a mess!"
"You devil!"
"That, I am!"
The two laughed again, holding their stomachs and banging their heads. The misery of Charlene was as pleasing to them as the screams that emanated from the nine circles of Hell.
For a while, the two continued their game. Their bets were unusual. Sometimes, they went all in with their organs. Sometimes, they bickered over what to bet—viscera or brain matter. And sometimes, they promised years of servitude.
Even though his opponent was Lucifer himself, Gene won as much as he lost. And by the end, they owed nothing to each other. It had been the case for the last fifty years.
Lucifer glanced up at the large clock on the fiery walls of his inner chamber. "In a few minutes, it will be midnight and you will have been here for half a century. Are you not excited for your release?"
"Knowing your taste for humor, you won't make this straight and simple." Gene chuckled. "So, what have you in store for me?"
The devil flashed a hideous grin.
"You know me well, old friend."
He collected the pack of cards and threw it into the nearby pond filled with bubbling lava. It sizzled and burned. And after a minute of silence, its hot depths spit out a die carved out of bone.
Lucifer caught it effortlessly.
"Human bone," he boasted, holding it in front of his eye.
To that, Gene whistled.
The little trinket was nothing less than an item of luxury in Hell. It was more coveted than a piece of jewelry.
"We will use the die to determine your future."
"Wonderful." Gene grinned. "So, how does this work?"
"If it lands on either 1 or 4, I will allow you to rest for the rest of eternity."
Gene raised a brow. "No one will disturb my peace?"
"Not even the angels. You have my word." Lucifer continued his explanation, "If the die lands on 2 or 5, I will allow you to transmigrate. The nature of it will be decided by subsequent die rolls, of course."
Gene's eyes sharpened. He wanted to live again. Only after death did the allure of life seem impossible to resist, and no more could he wait. For the past fifty years, he had craved it like an addict. He wanted that feeling back. He wanted to be freed. He wanted to be alive. Oh, he imagined the things he would do if given another chance.
"But" — Lucifer grinned — "if the die lands on either of 3 or 6, I will keep you here for another five decades."
"Deal," uttered Gene fearlessly.
The excitement of a do-or-die wager was irresistible to him, and the pleasure coursing through his veins made him feel unbeatable. He loved this ecstatic jolt. After a gruesome death at the mere age of 46, only gambling could satiate his thirst for thrill.
Any denizen of Hell would agree these two creatures—Lucifer and Gene—were extremely similar despite the differences in their planes of existence. Wild yet sophisticated, both of them craved excitement.
At the precise moment the clock struck twelve, Lucifer threw the die. It rolled and rolled, coming to a halt at the edge of the table millimeters before it could fall off it. Both creatures grinned wide. Reflected in their eyes were five dots.
"Congratulations," the warden said. "You will be transmigrated."
"Where to?" Gene Asked.
Lucifer rolled the die again.
"A world similar to your own. Same countries and same races, but with a slightly altered history that will have differently influenced the cultures."
"What continent?"
Again, the die was rolled.
"Asia."
"Not ideal. I don't know much about Asia," Gene muttered. "East Asia? South Asia? Southeast Asia?"
The die was rolled again.
"East Asia."
As their degenerate gambling continued, hours passed. The die was cast a dozen times before they decided to stop.
"Satisfied?" asked the devil.
Gene nodded. "I keep my memories. Couldn't ask for more."
For a moment, in the fleeting silence, the two looked content.
Lucifer spun the die on the tip of his hideous nail. "This new world you will be visiting is far more advanced. Film industries are progressive, well-connected, and more open. The advent of technology and social reforms which you died too young to witness have existed here for decades."
Devil although he was, his voice was gentle.
"You died in 1976, but when you wake up, you will find yourself in 2027."
Gene smiled. "There is a lot to learn. A lot of films to watch."
"You will be acting again?"
Gene's eyelids were getting heavier by the second. He wanted to sleep—desperately, like when he was a child.
"If this new world is truly as exciting as you say it is, then yes, I will be acting. There is nothing more exciting and fulfilling than that. The challenge of a different culture is not daunting to me."
"The film industries of this world have progressed."
"That excites me."
And that excited Lucifer too. The man in front of him was an actor great enough that he was revered even in Hell. He was one of the first sex icons, responsible for heralding the sexual revolution at the beginning of the 1960s. His existence shaped the modern era. It helped form an open and progressive society. And the grand performances he delivered cemented his legacy as a legend.
'What would happen if such a man were to act in a vastly modern world?' Lucifer thought as his friend of fifty years closed his eyes.
"Sleep well, old friend," the Warden of Hell whispered. "You have nothing to fear; your brilliance can't be hidden even in Hell."
The devil chuckled.
"I will be watching your performances, so entertain us once again."