Chapter Text
The devil cried out in glee as the final grains trickled to the bottom of the glass. As the last one fell, Maverick heard a final crack of the whip, then a rumble as if of thunder. A cloud passed over the full December moon, momentarily enshrouding the defeated competitor.
“Well, Mr. Maverick, your hour is up and you have predictably failed to best me. Don’t feel bad. Few can meet the sudoku devil on his own terms.”
“So now … my soul is yours?”
“Your soul, yes, well. In time, when you pass on, perhaps. But, you see, the soul is more of an … abstract concept. We can hypothecate its existence, but in sudoku hell, we are creatures of rationality, of intellect. No, the contract specifies clearly that which is most precious to you. ” Phistomefel looked across the field.
“Surely you don’t mean … no, not that! But you don’t even need it! You have wings.”
“And you did not need a shiny gold pencil, and yet you would take it from me. Need has no place in hell, Mister Maverick. Only desire. And that is what I desire.”
Subdued, Maverick mumbled. “Then all is lost. What am I to do now?”
“Hmm … have you considered accountancy?”
They say the vanquished pilot’s wail that night could be heard as far away as Croydon.
The devil merely smiled as he extended his hand for the keys, waiting for Maverick to comply. “Bobbins?”
The imp popped up his head. “Yes, master?”
“Time to go. Do you know how to fly this thing?”
“How hard can it be, if he can do it?”
And with that, the pair walked off across the field, leaving Maverick to find his own way home. The last time he ever saw the Sudoku Devil, he was climbing into the pilot’s seat of the little two-seater, with his orange familiar seated behind him. Then he donned a pair of spectacles, pushed them up onto the bridge of his nose, and flew off into the moonlit midnight.