Demon here. Welcome to Tailspin! It moves quicker than a jet plane and will knock you flat on your ass if you don't read carefully, so…yeah. I'll try and update quickly, so don't expect monster chapters or anything. Just, read, evaluate, and respond in some way.

Disclaimer: I don't own Adventure Time.


A young woman stood in a filthy pub, her long black hair tangled and wild, tumbling loose to her knees. Her clothes were old and torn; a too-small T-shirt, a too-big pair of dark denim jeans, just right combat boots that were falling apart. Green eyes sparked with some trace of life as the dice left her small, pale hand. She was playing a rather crude game with some rough men, trying to win enough money to pay off her debt to the local gang.

But first the dice had to stop at nine or above.

The game they were playing was simple enough; highest roll takes all. It was pure chance, just the woman's type of game. She held her breath as one die stopped on a five. The other kept rolling. She chewed on her lip nervously.

Come on...come on...

Her entire future, her present, and indeed her very life itself were on that die. If it stopped at four or above, she would have to keep up the gamble, but she'd be able to. If it didn't…well, she was a dead woman walking. The gang would come after her. The woman's lip began to bleed sweet crimson beads as the die came to rest on a two.


"Haha, hand over the bills little lady!" the largest and roughest of the men roared. The woman whimpered and drew a wad of money from her pocket; it was all she had left. She pushed it to the center of the table and let her hands fall to her sides, arms limp as her fingers curled into fists. This wasn't happening, not to her! She couldn't have a death sentence! Tears stung her eyes, and she fought them as hard as she could, resisting the urge to reach up and brush them away before they started.

Weak. You're weak.

With trembling hands, she slipped off the ring she wore on her left middle finger; the only thing she had left of her deceased mother. Shaking, she held it up. One of the men shook his head.

"No. We won't take your jewelry," he said gruffly. The woman silently thanked the world and pressed the ring back onto her finger. Trembling again, she lifted the guitar she had made from her family's medieval ax; her most prized possession.

"We won't take that either," said another man. The woman's bottom lip trembled as she walked out with her guitar. She was penniless now. She had been homeless for a while, but penniless...this was a new feeling.

Blinking away tears, the woman started to play as she walked; something mournful and still angry. It wasn't her fault she was in debt; it was his. All his, always his. A rough hand seized her shoulder, and she turned around, terrified. Terrified that it was him, come back for her.

"Marceline Abadeer," snarled the man, thankfully a stranger to her eyes. His straggly, patchy chestnut hair was strange to her, his bloodshot brown eyes were a mystery, and his disheveled appearance was new. His tall height intimidated her, though, interrupting her train of relief and derailing it. "You owe us something," his rather large hand curled into a fist. The old Marceline would have punched him and run off, but this new one could do no such thing. This penniless woman was now timid and afraid; her emotional state was fractured.

"I...I'll get your money!" she stammered fearfully, terrified of the consequences.

"I hope so," the man snarled, basking in her obvious terror. "Because I came here to warn you; in one month, if you don't have the thirty thousand cash, you're dead," he flicked his coat, just enough for her to see the pistol concealed there. Marceline whimpered. "You got to the end of the month. Then..." he made a throat-slashing motion and faded into the crowd. Marceline shivered violently.

It was the first of November.

She had until the thirtieth.

A thousand dollars a day.

And her clock was ticking.

There's a first time for everything, just like there has to be a first alert, favorite, and review. So get to it...or I'll steal your soul.