Cowol Jarr Wan just casually sat on the other side of the table that Vincent was at. His demeanor was one of confidence and swagger, not any different than when Vincent first met him. However, there was also a more sinister vibe to the smile that curled across his face.

“Well that’s an awfully rude thing to say off the bat,” he said.

“I heard you’re taking freedom away from people,” Vincent stated, biting his lip. “What’s up with that? I thought you were cool.”

Cowol blinked his eyes and his face recoiled back a bit in surprise. “Straight and to the point, I see.”

“So it’s true, huh,” Vincent replied, clenching his fist.

“Now before you start blindly accusing me of whatever you’re clearly angry about,” Cowol defensively said, throwing his hands in the air, “I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific.”

“You’re making people servants or whatever the hell you call them, like that girl’s brother.”

“Girl’s brother?” Cowol asked, putting his hand on his chin in a very exaggerated thinking manner. “Ah yes, I remember now,” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “How could I forget? It only just happened yesterday.”

Vincent then slammed his fist on the table in anger. The moment he heard Cowol confirm what he thought, in his mind, all bets were off; he was free to do what he had to.

“I’m going to fuckin—” Vincent started, raising his fist in the air. But before he finished, he felt someone grab his arm and yell “Vincent!” Looking back, he saw that it was Eliot.

With fury in his eyes, like a wild animal who found its prey, he shouted, “Give me one reason why I can’t beat the shit out of him!”

“I don’t want you to get shot!” Eliot yelled back with tears starting to form in his eyes.

That kind of force and power in his voice, Vincent didn’t expect, and it threw him off for a second. That second was enough to bring him back to a partial reality in which he could think some things through.

“You know what happens if you break the rules, and I don’t want that to happen. That’s what Zander and I are afraid of you doing, and that’s why I’m here,” Eliot continued.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Vincent replied, biting his tongue. His anger subsided a little, getting him to the point where he could think a little before acting, but his thoughts were still guided by his still-burning hatred.

He then slammed his body down into a chair across from Cowol and wordlessly glared at him

“What were you going to do?” Cowol asked, reiterating Vincent’s previous statement.

With a huff, Vincent replied, “I’m going to get that brother back.”

“Oh ho ho, you are? We’ll see about that—you’ll have to play my game after all.”

“I don’t care whose game I gotta play, I’m still gonna beat your ass.”

Cowol then laughed a bit to himself and then took out a sack of dice. As the sack plopped onto the table, the multicolored dice within it spilled out. “I always saw you more of a fighter than a gambler, but I see your confidence hasn’t changed. Let’s see if your fate hasn’t, too.”

He then picked up two silver-gray 6-sided dice and finessed them between each of his fingers, much like how people spin pencils between their fingers. “Let’s play Fate’s Dice.”

Dumping out the rest of the dice in the sack, he began to explain the rules of the game. “This game is a rather simple one,” he began. “You first start with rolling 2 dice, and after rolling them, you get the option to reroll them one time each. We then compare the combined total of each of our dice, with the person whose total is higher being the winner.”

Cowol then rolled his two silver dice, which landed on two 6s. “In the case of a tie, we simply disregard the round and begin again with another round.” Smiling directly at Vincent, he added “It is a simple game chance, one that you would find right up your alley.”

“You’re not wrong,” Vincent replied, “but I gotta warn you: I never lose in a game of luck.”

Cowol laughed and responded by throwing Vincent two black dice. “Well then, I suppose the wager is my newly acquired servant and...” he asked, insinuating that Vincent had to offer up something of equal value.

Without hesitation, Vincent stated, “Myself.”

Visually taken a bit back, Cowol then seemed to ponder about something for a second after hearing Vincent’s proposal. He then motioned for a casino guard that was nearby and whispered something in their ear. The guard then whispered a response in his ear and left. After the guard left, Cowol simply smiled back and replied, “I believe that that will work, although I will have to let you know that you are worth far more than that boy—this will be an uneven wager. Is that alright?”

“Whatever,” Vincent responded. He didn’t really care about money, worth, or anything of the sort.

“I’ll take that as confirmation. So then, let’s settle on the last issue at hand: how many rounds are we playing? How many rounds would you like to propose that we play? How many wins does one of us have to accrue in order to win the entire game?”

Vincent didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t that he was trying to think of a strategically good number to pick, quite the opposite, he was trying to think of a reason not to pick the number that he already decided on. That being said, his thought process only lasted for a few seconds before he gave up on thinking and went back to his reliable tactic of going with his instincts.

“One,” Vincent confidently answered.

After a quick, but subtle break in his demeanor, Cowol responded, “One? I don’t think that’s a very good idea—we should play a little more than that.”

“Why?” Vincent countered. “You said it’s a game of luck, so what does it matter if we play one game or a thousand?”

“Well, yes I did say that, but there are some str—”

“And besides,” Vincent interrupted, “one is my lucky number, now.”

Chewing on his fingernails, Cowol seemed to be at a loss for words. After a few seconds of deliberation in his head, he asked, “Then how about eleven rounds? It’s like the number 1, but there’s two of them—twice as good!”

“Even better,” Vincent responded, not thinking about the logic in the slightest.

“Then we’ll play until one of us wins 6 rounds?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s begin!”