The 8 of Hearts: Karma

So… I want to ask… Why'd you want to know so much 'bout the Cards? You ain't lookin' for 'em, are ya? Huh, good; Those lookin' for the fabled "Lost Cards" are both stupid and wastin' their time. Like I said, last Gun left the world when I was 60 years old. None are left. I mean it. There ain't another in the world like the Dealer. I can tell. When you meet the Dealer, you always know where he is. I haven't felt 'is presence for years, so he must be gone.

An' if you are lyin' to me, an' are tryin' to get a Gun, I hope you take my stories as a word o' warnin'. All the Cards come at a price; be it physical, mental or spiritual, alright? Ok, good. Don't forget that…

Ok… Back to the stories! This is a weird one, I might add. For the life o' me, I still can't understand this one. The 8 o' Hearts. Karma.

I was still in Midway when this Slinger walked into town. He was very much an oddity amongst Midway's civilians. He wore these long colourful robes of satin and silk, reflecting light like silver. His head was covered by a large, well-prepared turban, which sat over his black hair perfectly. His eyes were a deep brown colour, and his skin took on a caramel complexion in the Vacuo sun, kinda like yours. He got all manner of looks when he wandered into the tavern. I nearly dropped the glass when he sat on a bar stool in front of me. I regained my composure and asked him for an order.

"Just some water, my friend." He replied. His voice was smooth like velvet, an' he spoke like a grandfather to an excited child. I poured out his glass of filtered water, an' asked him where he was from. All he said was "I have travelled far, and the journey has been tough, but I am now here in Vacuo. What more can be requested of a journey?"

Yeah, I noticed he dodged my question, but I didn't ask 'im again. My Knack told me not to. He HAD been through a grand and arduous journey, but he also carried a great weight on his heart. I know. My Semblance, while useful, is also a bit of a poet. Either way, I knew I shouldn't bother askin', so instead, I asked 'bout the journey.

He told me one of the most amazin' stories I've ever heard; stories of far flung Islands and places I'd never heard of, of sea monsters and dangers that no mortal could understand, and off treasure and hardships aplenty. I had to snap myself out of my amazement to remember I had a job to do. He finished his story, and said, "This journey has taken most of my life. It is a life, I am glad not to repeat." He smiled; showin' of a yellowed set of ivories, and drank his water.

That might have been the end of it, had poor little Eachann Smythe not spoken up. Eachann was a Faunus, fox ears pokin' out of his modified Stetson, and had been through a lot. His mother was one of the people killed by Merrick a few months back, and he'd lost his father young. His farm was strugglin' and the kid jus' didn't seem to have much luck on his side.

"You think your life's bad?" He shouts, silencing the whole bar. "You don't know shit, old man! I got no Mam or Dad, an' I'm only fuckin' 16! I can't make a single Lien on the sand out here, an' anythin' I do have is almost gone! You call that ba…"

Eachann had gone silent because of this elderly gentleman. This 'old man' had pulled a Card. It was an odd lookin' thing. The revolver was split down the barrel. One side was a piece of fine art, well preserved, and perfectly made. On the shaped Ivory grip was a large black H, on top of a red 8. On the other side was a dented, ruined piece of black metal that formed one half of the barrel. On the burnt, wooden appendage that formed the grip, was a bleedin' heart, with a angular 8 over the top.

When that Gun was pulled, I leapt into action, tryin' to calm the inevitable fight down. Eachann holds his hands up, tryin' to show peace. "Look, I-i-i-I didn't mean nothin' by it, sir. I jus' been ha-ha-havin' a bad time as of late! Heh heh… oh Gods don't shoot me!" But the wanderer was havin' none of it, an' I duck as he pulls the trigger.

Click. Nothin' happens. No blast, no smoke, no screams. Ev'rybody looks from the wanderer to Eachann, who looks like he'd jus' seen heaven an' hell all at once.

"Now tell me how you fell." Asked the wanderer, as he slipped the Gun back into its holster. Eachann is checkin' himself for bullet holes at this point. "Well…" He says hesitantly, "I'm not dead…" The wanderer furrows his brow and asks wit' more urgency, "How do you feel?" Then Eachann's eyes light up.

"I feel like I could do anythin'. Like nothin' can stop me! Haha… I feel… I feel lucky!" He grabs a jacket, and hugs the wanderer tightly, before rushin' out the bar. The wanderer goes back to his water, like nothin' happened. As for the rest of us… We're tryin' to figure out what the hell just happened!

We got our answer about 6 hours later, when Eachann came back with a briefcase of lien, that he'd won in an all out bet in the Palace Casino a while away. Then we'd clicked it. The Gun didn't kill; it gave people good luck. So now ev'ry Tom, Dick an' Harry wants to get shot in the face by this strange man's weapon. Word spread to towns nearby, and soon lines formed up damn Main Street to meet the man with the lucky Gun. But that all changed when Charlie Dufraine arrived in town.

I've mentioned Dufraine before. Bastard is one of the world's 4 major Dust Tycoons, alongside Schnee, Paul-Harris and McClair. What set Dufraine aside from his equals was his relentless search for money. Where the other Tycoons all at least took human an' faunus rights into consideration, Dufraine stomped all over them. He had Dust farms where only the owners were paid, an' people worked for 20 hours a day. Of all the bastards in the world, Dufraine was the worst.

He'd arrived in Midway 'bout a week after the Miracle Man an' 'is magic Gun. A fuckin' procession of carriages bearin' "Dufraine Dust Enterprises" drove through the town, not carin' if people got in the way. He pushed to the front of the queue, past the blind and poor, backed up by his 2 bodyguards. He was a squat man, more like a bowlin' ball than a normal human. His face was scrunched up, like he perpetually smelt somethin' bad. Might have been him!

Anyways, he sidles up to the wanderer an' says, "Now sir… I hear you have the amazin' quality o' giftin' the needy luck. Now I think you'd agree when I say I'm the neediest here? So work your magic on me friend!"

The wander has this odd, slightly smug look on 'is face, but all the same, he drew his pistol an' held it out at arms length. This fucker Dufraine drags the barrel so it touched his forehead. "Wouldn't want you missin' now!" Dufraine cackled. He closed his eyes an' smiled. The wanderer pulled the trigger.

This time, it wasn't silent. The chatter of people in line stopped with the sound of a single gunshot. Dufraine's body fell to the ground, a neat hole now present in his forehead. The wanderer smiled, blowing smoke from the barrel of his revolver, as Dufraine's body began wetting the dirt beneath it with blood and grey matter.

A scream rang out, an' the people ran. They ran for their lives, but Dufraine's bodyguards surrounded the Wanderer, knocking him to the ground. They would kill him, an' the guy was only old. He couldn't shoot back reliably. I saw a need, an' I went to help. I drew my pistol and fired 3 times in quick succession. All three struck the bodyguard in front of me, but didn't kill. Now I had a pissed off bodyguard starin' at me, an' readyin' to throw a punch.

Then he died. A round blasted through his skull from the side, an' he dropped dead. The other guard looked over at his friend, an' he died 2, as a shot went through his chest. I looked over to my right an' saw none other than Eachann Smythe up on a balcony, shouldrin' a lever-action Buckingham rifle. He tipped his Stetson at me, an' went back inside his house, not sayin' a word. I picked the wanderer back up, who simply dusted himself off, asked him what the hell just happened. All he did was smile, an' begin walkin' outta town. At the town limits, he simply turns to me an' cracks the biggest smile I'd seen.

"Karma's a bitch…"

They found his body about 2 days out from Carrol, a week's travel from Midway. He'd apparently suffered a heart attack, an' the gun wasn't found in his possessions. All he had on him was a note, which had "The Dufraine family send their regards." His body was transported back to Midway to be buried. I requested that I could take a strip of his cloak to form a memorial in the bar. Nobody complained, so I took a small strip from near the neck.

I saw somethin' nobody else did. On the side of his neck were 3 faded heart tattoos, each one crossed out in black ink, and around his neck was rope burn. I didn't draw attention to it, an' kept it to myself. It made this whole thin' a whole lot messier. Someone had put a hit on that kind old man. Someone with ties to Dufraine. Someone who knew a Gunslinger.

I wouldn't find out which Gunslinger until much latter, but that's a story for another time… one for when I'm much drunker. I did a bit of diggin' around the wanderer, an' found he was called Siyavash Darya, an' he was a preacher who'd come across the Dealer in Menagerie. This was weird to me. I'd only heard of the Dealer appearin' in Vacuo up until now, but I guess he ain't attached to one place…

Alrighty then. Another? I got a good one for ya too. One that'll make you quiver in your boots! The 5 of Diamonds: Meatgrinder…

In The Palace Casino. After the death of Siyavash Darya

He stood face to face with the dealer he'd met a few weeks before, anger burning bright in his soul. Siyavash didn't deserve to die like he did. He only wanted to help those in need. And in all honesty, Dufraine deserved what he got. The dealer stood before him, shuffling a deck. "Ah... I remember you..." he said calmly, "The man who won with a Royal Flush. You were real lucky that day, young man..." He smiled, and laughed like a man about to kill an old enemy. He couldn't hold back now, and grabbed the dealer by the collar.

"YOU BASTARD!" He shouted, throwing the dealer back over the card table. "YOU LET HIM DIE! YOU SENT SOMEONE TO KILL HIM. YOU GAVE HIM THAT CARD..." The dealer straightened up at the sound of cards hitting the floor. "Alright, you crazy bastard... You want to avenge Siyavash? Then play a hand and draw your fate."

With those words, the casino around him died. Silence filled the room, and only he and the dealer were here. In a blink of the eye, the dealer changed from the kind old gentleman he'd met that week ago, to a man in black, with a wide brimmed Stetson that shielded his eyes. he wasn't the dealer anymore. Now he was the Dealer...

The Dealer sat down at the card table, and withdrew a half empty deck from his coat. He bade the boy to sit down across from him, and shuffled the deck slightly. The Dealer fanned the cards out across the table. He picked the middle card, and looked at it, showing the Jack of Clubs. The Dealer chuckled quietly. "Jack of Clubs: Judge. Play or fold." The boy took a long pause, and looked at the Dealer closely. "Play, if you tell me the name of the man holding the Card that killed Siyavash..."

The Dealer went quiet, then burst out in laughter... "Why the hell not. Siyavash's killer is called Jack Ketch. Good luck boy..."

And with that, the Dealer was gone, and the boy was left holding an old pistol, with a black handle. He dipped his Stetson low and began walking to the exit. He now had the means and the man. now he just needed the place. With Judge at his side, he wouldn't be stopped. He would kill the murderer of Siyavash. With the sun riding high, and a Card at his hip, Eachann would kill James Ketch. The man who held Hangman's Noose.