New Orleans was always hot in autumn-- in fact, the only time it wasn't hot was winter, and even then it was fairly warm. Nevertheless, it was a town full of life, music, and colors. It had strange people, normal people, and more than it's fair share of strange stories. In fact, it had many strange stories about Voodoo-- did I forget to mention that this story is almost completely centered around that? Yes, I suppose I did. Well, this story took place not too long ago, back in the swinging twenties; this story took place in New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz, and the birthplace of one of the most dangerous-- and pathetic-- men you'd probably ever meet. What was his name, you might ask? Well, he was best known as the Shadow Man. His real name was Francis Steven Facilier, and this is his story...

"Come one, come all, my friends! Come and try your luck in a game of skill and awareness! How about you, sir? You look to be a good looking, smart fellow!"

This was how Francis did it. He'd set up a small table at one of the busiest corners of New Orleans-- it changed from day to day, but ever since he started doing this he began to pick up the patterns of traffic-- and draw in people with his deep, smooth voice. He was very charismatic and witty, which is how he managed to attract attention. That, and he wasn't half bad looking either. He was very well dressed: He wore a black jacket, a purple vest over a white dress shirt, black slacks and black shoes, and a black top hat with a purple velvet band wrapped around it.

Youth, charisma, good looks, and a sharp dresser-- how could he not attract a crowd?

"Come come, my friend. Pick a card, any card. It doesn't matter which!"

He spread out a deck of playing cards before him, and the rather plump man picked one up. Francis flashed him a charming, but crooked, smile, and in one swift motion put all the cards back into a single pile. This was another way he attracted more onlookers- his swift dexterity easily drew attention, especially from the young ladies, but he cared little for that. There were really only two things he cared for.

"Excellent, now show me the card, good sir!"

The man flipped the card around-- King of Hearts, just as Francis had planned.

"Ah, it would seem we have royalty among us!" Francis exclaimed, giving a bow to the plump man.

The others couldn't help but laugh, and so did the man holding the card-- and his cheeks were clearly turning a rosy red. Facilier shuffled the deck, then cut it, and shuffled it again, and fanned the cards out in his hand once more.

"Now, put the card back in the deck, Your Highness," He mused.

The man laughed and nodded-- Francis had an uncanny talent for rendering people speechless. After the card was returned to its rightful place, Facilier shuffled the deck three times, cut the deck, and shuffled it once more. He knew exactly where the King would be-- right where the man had placed it. He has done this trick many times before, but never in succession. He had a system, after all. If you do the same trick too often, people get suspicious and won't play anymore. He knew how to play with a person's memory.

He spread the cards out on the table, and asked the man to find his card. The man picked a card from the very same place where he had put it, and gasped in surprise as he held up the King of Hearts. He smiled as the crowd Francis had drawn applauded this small feat, and Francis even joined in the applause himself. He held up his hands, as if to ask for silence.

The first thing he cared for was power over people. Drawing crowds; receiving their undying attention; toying with them. He loved being able to control people; it gave him a adrenaline rush. You could say it gave him a natural high, as a matter of fact. No one knows where this addiction began-- some say it began when he turned thirteen, when he started going to secondary school and became popular among his peers. But this is just a theory. In any event, besides power, there was one other thing he loved more than anything...

"Bravo, my friend, bravo," Facilier praised, clapping his hands slowly three times. "You surely have a a fine eye for detail, good sir."

"Well, thank you, my young friend," The plump man said, his cheeks turning rosy again. "But I must be off. I have some very important business matters to attend to."

"But sir!" Francis pleaded, running around the table and putting his arm around the man's shoulder. "Y'all can't be leaving yet! There is one last game that I have for you. Surely you could stick around just a little while longer?"

"Well," The plump man said thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip. "All right, I'll stay," His response was met with applause from the crowd, and a victorious smile from Francis. "But just one more game!"

"That's all I ask," Francis said with a bow as he returned to the table. It was time for a classic trick, and one of his favorites. He drew three cards from the deck-- one was a Joker, the other a Ace of Spades, and the last a King of Diamonds.

"Three cards," Facilier said, holding each one up for the man to see. He put them on the table face down, and then showed him the joker. "Find the joker three times, and you win. But, if you only find him twice, you lose. So, shall we play?"

The plump man considered it for a moment, then he smiled and nodded his head. Facilier responded with a rather sly smile of his own.

He began moving the cards around at an average speed. He moved them around in a detectable pattern, easy enough for anyone to recognize. When he stopped, he held his arms out at his sides to show he had nothing to hide.

"So, where's the Joker?"

The man picked up the center card, and showed it to Francis. It was indeed the Joker.

"Very good!" Francis remarked, taking the card back and placing it back on the table. "Now, since you're in a hurry, as I can see from the way you're checking your pocket watch-- which is very nice, by the way-- I'll speed it up a little bit. Just try to keep your eyes on the Joker," He said with a wink.

He started moving the cards around again, quickly, but still in a detectable pattern. Again, the plump man found the Joker, and he was met with applause by everyone-- even Francis gave him a mock congratulations. The card was put back in its place, but before Facilier started up again, he put up one finger, signaling for them to wait.

"Now, since y'all are doing so well, what do you say we make this a little more interesting?" Facilier asked. Before the man could respond, he cut him off. "I'd say that watch you have there is worth twenty, maybe thirty dollars? I can see you are quite the wealthy man, as am I. So, what do you say we share our wealth with each other? If you win, I will give you the exact amount of what you paid for that watch. But, if you lose, I get the watch. Does it sound like a deal?" He asked politely, holding out his hand for the man to shake. The plump man hesitated for a moment, but he took Francis' hand and shook it.

"Excellent!" Facilier exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Now, please place your watch on the table," The man did as he was asked. "Good! Now, I'll place thirty dollars on the table, and we shall get on our way, yes?"

He placed the money on the table, then go to working his magic. He had gone easy on the man up until now. This time he moved the cards quickly, this time without a detectable pattern. Despite all this, there was still a chance that the plump man might find the card. However, Francis had an ace up his sleeve-- an Ace of Spades, to be more exact. At the very last second, with a slip of his hand, an Ace of Spades fell out of his sleeve and underneath the Joker-- Francis was so practiced at doing this that it would take a miracle-- or another master of deception-- for anyone to notice. When he was finished, he held his arms out open wide, and waited for the man to pick the card. He pointed at the Joker, and it appeared as if he were struggling to keep from smiling.

"Are you sure that's the Joker?" Facilier asked, putting on his best nervous face. The plump man nodded, this time smiling confidently. Francis shrugged, and turned the card over. "Well, it looks like-- Oh, wait! Looks like you picked the Ace of Spades, my friend."

The man's face became sunken and defeated, and his shoulders slumped as his mouth fell open. Facilier couldn't help but chuckle as he reached over the table and put a hand under his chin, and forced his mouth closed.

"Careful, you'll attract flies," He said with a smirk as he put away both his money and his new pocket watch. "Have a nice day now!" The man grumbled and walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Better luck next time! Now, who wants to-"

"Francis Steven Facilier!" A shrill voice cried from the crowd.

Oh swamp rats... Francis thought angrily. Not mother...

A fair skinned, dark haired woman stepped out of the crowd and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at the eighteen year old Facilier.

"I told you not to be going around cheatin' people out of their money!" She snapped. "What do y'all have to say for yourself?" She demanded.

Francis growled under his breath and blushed as the crowd started to giggle and disperse. He could almost hear them mocking him right now...laughing at him. Scorning him for still living under his mother's thumb. He could not wait to move out, then he could have these people in the palm of his hand-- no, not just the people, but their money too.

Facilier shrugged, trying his best to smile shyly at his mother.

"I'm sorry, mother. But I was bored, and saw a good opportunity to have some fun. Surely you understand?"

"Oh, I understand just fine, Francis!" She snapped, snatching up the deck of cards and snappishly putting them in her purse. "And let me tell you somethin', son, I may not have brought you into this world, but I can definitely take you out of it! Now, I suggest you go give that watch back to that nice man right now and apologize!"

"B-But mother," He said, taking a step back and holding his hands up sheepishly, as if he were pleading with her. "I do not know where he went. And besides, a deal's a deal after all."

"You know what direction he went?" She demanded.

"Yes, but--"

"Then go in that direction and find him!" She screamed. "And come straight home afterwards! Your father will want to have a word with you!"

He groaned and walked off in the direction his victim went off in, his shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets. As he walked off, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath:

"Foster father, you mean..."