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Deuces Wild

2016-05-30T06:21:37Z

2601:1C0:4B00:7BEB:549:969C:F5F3:F7BB:

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You've heard about the Cards right? I mean who hasn't, tales of those Guns spread faster than wildfire. Tales of men who walk the world carrying weapons with insane power. Everyone's got their own tale of how they saw someone wield one of the Cards, but did you ever hear someone with two? Well you're about to find out...

I was heading down towards Texas, had reached a little town called Pilgrim's Point, apparently called 'cause a lot of people passed through there on their way to anywhere. The first thing I noticed when I got there was the place was COVERED in wanted posters, all with the same name on it: some bandit named "Deuces Wild". I figured it was just some cocky asshole with a grudge against the town, until I saw him roll into town a few days later.

The whole town seemed to hunker down like some cornered beast: windows were kept shut, doors were bolted, and every man woman and child seemed to have a gun drawn. The sheriff had apparently rounded up a bunch of men to take on Deuces Wild, a full dozen counting the sheriff. They waited in the middle of town, some of them looking more nervous than the townspeople.

Deuces Wild showed up at high noon on foot, walking straight towards the sheriff and his men as if they weren't even a threat, and he had this mad grin on his face, like he'd seen straight into the jaws of hell and liked what he saw. A full half dozen of the sheriff's men panicked and tried to rush him, and the cocky bastard just casually drew his Gun and gunned them down as if they were nothing. It was then that I saw which gun he had: a two of Spades was engraved on the handle, and the barrel had several stars of different sizes on it.

He stopped about 20 paces short of the sheriff and what men he had left, and everyone but the sheriff levelled their guns at him. However, Dueces still had that mad grin on his face, there wasn't the slightest sign of fear in him. Now that Gun of his was a six-shooter and was out of bullets, and any normal man would have been reaching for another gun, or at least should have been. The sheriff's men all fired at once, but I swear I heard 6 shots ring out, not 5, and something ringing out shortly after, like the sound of metal bouncing off metal. Deuces should have come out of that with 5 holes in his chest, but once the smoke cleared it was clear that he was intact.

"Well now, Mister Wild, it would appear that, even with your fancy Gun, you're still at a disadvantage, seeing as we outnumber you 6 to 1" the sheriff said in a rather prominant southern drawl. Then Deuces did something to even those odds in the blink of an eye: he shot the rest of the sheriff's men. It caught everyone offguard: in an instant he drew a Gun apparently from thin air and started firing, putting a bullet in each man bar the sheriff. He then holstered the Gun and it disappeared into thin air, but before it disappeared I got a clear look of it: it was another six-shooter, but smaller and less stylised than the Two of Spades, in fact it almost seemed plain and non-descript. The only thing unique about it was that had the Two of Diamonds engraved on the handle.

"And now we're even again, Sheriff...?"

"Yates. You'd best remember that name, as I'm gonna be the one that sends you straight to Hell, boy."

"Oh I'll remember it, I'll add it to the list of sheriffs I've killed! Now, do you want to face me with one bullet left, or do you want me to reload and face me at full power?"

"Oh I'd never let a man face me at anything less than full strength, Mister Wild, I am a man of honour, and I intend to remain that way."

"Doesn't matter to me either way, sheriff, because you know what they say..." He put on a pair of black tinted glasses before continuing, for a reason I still don't understand.
"Deuces Wild!!"

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The Old King

2016-05-30T06:19:51Z

2601:1C0:4B00:7BEB:549:969C:F5F3:F7BB:

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When my granpa heard about the rustlers gettin' their hands on an Ace, he didn't seem afraid or angry. He jus' seemed kinda, well, sad. the sherrif was scared, but he was gonna meet 'em in a show down anyways.

When we got home, granpa went upstairs while i told ma and dad what was happenin'. Grampa came downstairs with a box, and a gunbelt. funny thing was this gunbelt didn't have no places to put cartridges. Just a holster, and a couple of hooks.

When dad and ma saw that, they shooed all the little ones to bed, and I started to go to, 'cept granpa said, "Let 'im stay." Dad frowned, but nodded, and my mam didn't look none to happy, but I sat down and watched my granpa take out a gun from the box, and then a couple of jars and a little brass thing with a tube on it.

That gun was a little bit different than most I'd seen. Sleek and black, with a brass and wood handle. Except my granpa didn't break it in half to load it. He half-cocked it, and then set it between his legs so he could look down the barrel, and then he carefully wiped the chambers with wire and cloth. Well, I asked about it, and he said, "Gonna have to teach them rustlers what for, Jim." He was real careful about cleaning the chambers too, taking his time with each one.

"But 'pa, they've got an Ace!" And I admit, I was sayin' it like it was somethin' wonderful, even though they were gonna kill the sheriff and anyone who got in their way. Granpa glanced at me and nodded. "You can't win against an Ace, grampa!" I said, worried now.

Then he did something I'd never seen before. He put a little brass cap in one of the barrels, and then took that brass doohickey and screwed a little curved horn onto it. He turned it upside down and pulled a little trigger on the brass, and then put the tip of the horn in the chamber. I saw some black powder pouring into it. Just a little.

"That's an old gun, granpa! You can't win a gunfight with that!"

He took a deep breath and sighed. "You're young yet Jim. This here is an old colt Navy Revolver. But it's got another name too. You're right - most times, you can't win against an Ace. But the Ace ain't always the high card, Jim. when you play 'nuff card games, you learn that right quick. And there's only one other card you can have to make Twenty-One with an Ace out." He took out a goodly sized lead ball and set it in the chamber, careful and easy. Then he put in a little bit of paper, and swiped some grease over it.

He did the same thing for the next chamber, always careful and thoughtful. He paused at the fifth chamber, and added a little more powder to that one than the rest. He caught me watchin', and he smiled. "You can't load 'em all heavy, Jim. You do that, and He'll shake himself apart in time." I remember that especially. Called it 'Him'. most times, gunslingers don't call 'em 'him', only 'her' or 'it'.

He finished and slipped the gun into the holster. I could see the mark on the bottom - a K and a heart, plain as day. "This here's a different Card. This card ain't like the others. It's the only card a Dealer will pick up before the owner's dead, Jim. That's 'cause it's the last gun you'll ever fire, and it's the last six bullets you'll ever shoot. One way or another, you'll never pick up and shoot a gun the rest of your life." I swallowed, and nodded. He was so serious, I didn't have it in me to try and argue.

He stood up and put on that old belt. He always stood straight and tall, but I could see that gun weighed heavy on him. "Most gunslingers don't do too much thinking, Jim," he said as he put away his tools and the gun supplies. "They're apt to let their gun do the thinkin' for them, or they're too hot to do any thinkin' themselves. Ain't the same thing - that's another thing you'll learn when you get older." I just sat and listened, 'cause I was thinkin' that these would be the last words i heard him say.

"You don't see to many young'uns with the Kings. That's 'cause to use a King, you gotta have your wits about you, and know what to do with one. That's what makes a king different. You can beat an Ace with a King, if you play the Cards right." He dusted himself off, and he glanced at me.

"Now, you mind your ma' and da' while I'm gone." But as he said it, there was a smile on his face, jus' a little one, like he knew what i was gonna do. I didn't plan on it though; I didn't even think about followin' him right then. I didn't want to see my granpa gunned down by a buncha thieves and rustlers.

I followed, though, even though my mam and da' told me to go to the room and read to my brothers and sisters. I snuck out, and followed my granpa to town.

Well, they were there all right, waitin' for the sheriff and the few men who would dare to stand up to them. Weren't any, of course - just the sheriff. And then my grampa walked up, calm and easy as you please. He had the gun out already, up on his shoulder, where he couldn't get it down fast enough to beat a draw if he'd wanted to. The rustlers laughed about that, I tell you, and it made me sore, hearin' them like that. And then I thought, why didn't they sober up? Couldn't they see my granpa had a Card too?

They did sober up a little, as the church bell rang. On the third ring the sheriff drew down and was dead faster than he could even draw his gun. The one with the Ace just shot him dead before he could even move. But the others tried to gun down my granpa. And, I mean tried, 'cause not one of them could lay a shot in him. He just stood there, plain as day, not movin', and they couldn't hit him. Or, maybe they DID hit him, and it was like my granpa was a ghost.

He just lowered that old gun, and took aim, and shot them dead, one by one. Took his sweet time. Didn't rush, didn't hurry, didn't worry about them runnin' off - and two of them tried to. They didn't die easy, either - the took the bullets and fell over, moanin' and cryin' about bein' shot.

The last one, the one with the Ace, he was lookin' at my granpa kinda peculiar like, and my granpa pointed the King of Hearts at him and waited. It was that fifth shot too, the one he'd put extra powder into.

"That there a Card, old man?"

"Reckon so," my granpa said, his hand not waverin' at all.

"Ain't an Ace, though."

"Nope."

"You think you can win?"

"Nope."

That bastard pulled the trigger on my granpa, and there was a dry click. That rustler's eyes went wide and my granpa put a bullet right between his eyes, and he dropped like a stone. Only then did my granpa lower the gun, and wait for a few minutes. Sure enough, a man i ain't never seen in town before walked up and took that Ace from the rustler's hands, and shuffled the Card back into his deck.

"You still got your one shot left, ol' pa," he said. My granpa nodded, and the dealer nodded right back, before he walked into the saloon. My granpa waited and I knew he knew i was there. I walked out, and watched him put the Card back in His holster. He looked sown at me and ruffled my hair.

I smelled gunsmoke and blood, and dust, and I felt a little older right then. "Like I said, Jim, you can't always win with an Ace." I nodded and we walked back home. He didn't take his gunbelt off; he wore it every day after too. Like the dealer said, he had one shot left.

I ain't gonna ask him what it's for. But sometimes I stay up late, and I can see as he looks into the fire that he knows what it's for. And that scares me, a little.

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Six of Clubs: 'Anguish'

2016-05-30T06:18:23Z

2601:1C0:4B00:7BEB:549:969C:F5F3:F7BB:

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I tensed as the card I drew fell to the table. The six of clubs. "You got some explaining to do, partn..."

I trailed off as I followed the man's gaze to the table, to a rifle black as pitch. The cards were gone. No, the card was a Card- but not the card I knew.

"What're you trying to pull?" I shouted, grabbing the dealer's collar. "This ain't my brother's Gun!"

Smug bastard, he just chuckled at me. "The man what killed poor Jacob already had a pair of 8's. That makes bust, friend. Jacob's Ebony done went out of play; this here's a new deal."

Now that caught me off guard. I must've let the bastard go- next thing I remember I'm alone, holding a gun three times the size of the Six of Clubs my brother carried, a rifle heavy with despair. Loaded with pain.

The name came a day later. "Anguish..."

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