We open on Nox standing in his workshop, where a man is panicking inside a sealed test cell.
“Ah, forgive me. I forgot to give you the proper welcome tour. Over here is my workbench, where you are is an ad-hock test cell constructed out of some plexiglass and sealant…”
Nox moves over to a device that gives off the appearance of a large cannon with several cylinders attached to it and the business end pointing into the cell.
“And this is a game that you’ve been drafted into, call it Arcadian Roulette.”
The Chemist pulls out a canister of gas and drops it into one of the cylinders before spinning all of them until one is aligned with the business end of the ‘cannon’. Pulling out a button as he deposits a pile of credits on the table in front of the test chamber. The trapped man inside the chamber’s eyes grows wide.
“I will press this button three times and this will spin these six cylinders a fifty-fifty chance you either walk out here with a stack of credits or a jabbering buffoon. You have a family to provide for, right?”
The man in the chamber nods profusely.
“Glad to hear it’s a gamble you’re willing to take.”
*CLICK!*
Nox pushes the button and the cylinders spin rapidly as the first one stops, there’s the sound of a mechanism opening and closing… then silence. The man in his cage bows his head and appears to start muttering something.
“Go ahead and pray, pray to whatever deity you believe in. Because I know something that you and every other religious fanatic doesn’t. Your prayers are nothing but calling on probability to intercede on your behalf. If your prayers are answered, your God has given you a gift. If they fall upon deaf ears, then it’s God’s will. No matter how brutal the consequences.”
*CLICK!*
Once again, the cylinders spin, stop, the sound of a mechanical trapdoor, then… silence.
“Ah, your… ‘God’ must be working overtime to protect just little ole you. You must feel so good as if God is smiling upon you.”
For the final time, The Chemist presses the button, the cylinders spin, and we hear the door… a rattling as the canister falls into the chamber a blue gas hissing out of it.
“This is something that you and Mr. Graves should remember. This room, that ring, it’s all my house, and in it I am God, I am the fucking house! When you gamble with me the house always wins! So, you can think some supernatural bugaboo is protecting you and guiding your fates but when your path crosses mine it will end the same way as it always does…”
The man in the chamber begins crying and slamming his head off the plexiglass until blood begins to splatter off the clear surface.
“With you meeting your fate, and me observing. Because while you throw your religious bullshit at the wall to see what sticks, science is precise as I.”