I hope you guys like Blackjack. XD

It took Blix the better part of 12 hours to track down his quarry. The butler's search, which had started by the river, brought him over docks, through showboats, and across the promenade, before finally leading him into the 10 block sector of the city that locals referred to as 'the sporting district'. And sporting it was – if gambling, hard liquor, and loose women fit your definition of recreational activities. All three of these vices abounded at the Santa Rosa Parlor, the grandest and sleaziest of all the establishments in the area. Inside, flattery and invective floated through air heavy with cigar smoke and cheap perfume; glasses clinked, men whistled, and doxies plied their trade.

Blix found Eddie at the Blackjack table. The gambler was ensconced in wads of cash, cufflinks, and pocket watches, and he tapped his finger absently as the dealer distributed the next hand. In general, the butler avoided observing things too closely – independent thought was not an asset in his line of work – but Eddie was the kind of guy who made a strong impression. He was young, no more than 15 or 16, with big brown eyes and a clean-shaven head. He wore his white shirt unbuttoned to the navel, an unusual choice for someone with no muscles, chest hair, or scars to exhibit. His adolescent physique was not his most striking feature, however. It was his voice that set him apart – it was harsh and deep, as if someone had replaced his vocal cords with those of a bad-tempered, barrel-chested chain smoker.

A buxom wench stopped to give Eddie a kiss, and Blix used the distraction to sidle up behind him on the left. The teenager's senses were evidently quite keen, because he noticed Blix despite the woman's attentions.

"Hey baldie," barked Eddie when his mouth was his again, "anyone ever tell you not to stand beside a man playing cards?"

The wench giggled drunkenly. "'Baldie'?" she hiccuped. "As I live 'n breathe, Eddie, you're balder 'n this old fogie, an' you're young 'nough to nurse off me."

Eddie nodded to the dealer. "Hit me." He picked up the new card – a 3 of Hearts – and added it to his hand before responding. "Apples and oranges, dollface. They don't call me 'Eddie the Baby' for nothing. Shaved head's my trademark, not like Wrinkles back there...his tacky comb-over's got worm chow written all over it. Hit me again." The dealer tossed another card his way – a Queen of Diamonds – and Eddie swore before folding.

"Tut tut," crooned the hussy, "I've gone 'n soured your luck, baby. I'll be off 'afore things take a permanent downturn...got business to conduct anyways. Man by the door's been starin' at my rack all night."

As soon as she was gone, Blix stooped and whispered into Eddie's ear. "Forgive my impertinence, Mein Herr, but I'm here on behalf of my employer, who requires your assistance in a business matter of utmost importance. You may remember me from last week, when I asked you to..."

"I don't know your ass from a hole in the ground, old timer," interrupted Eddie, tossing a cufflink into the center of the table. "Now get lost before I bring this conversation to the attention of my good friend Terry over there." Eddie nodded at the player across from him – a burly thug carrying a Spencer carbine and no less than two dozen knives.

Blix wisely decided to change his approach. "My apologies if we got off on the wrong foot," murmured the Butler, pulling a $20 bill from his jacket and slipping it to Eddie. "My employer is Rail Baron Eustace Strych, and he would like to speak to you about a very lucrative partnership opportunity."

"Strych?" muttered the teen. "I know that name. How do I know that name?"

"Well, sir –"

"Forget it, gramps. Men with my kinda brains don't need a lucrative partnership to make top dollar. Observe." He threw down a Jack and an Ace, and groans broke out around the table. The teenager reached into the center to collect his winnings.

Blix leaned closer. "Money is not the only recompense. As I understand it, Mein Herr, the proposed venture involves your cousin, James Neutron – were you aware that he recently relocated to Texas?"

For the first time since their conversation began, Eddie turned around to look at the butler. "Jimmy's in Texas? Christ Almighty. Wonder why he moved all the way out here...maybe thought he could ruin my life some more, the swell-headed prick."

"If you're curious about your cousin's current situation, then you're in luck. My employer would be more than happy to supply you with the full story, provided you listen to his offer. All you have to do is come to the Menger Hotel at 9 o'clock tomorrow morning... I will meet you in the lobby and escort you to a private meeting room for breakfast and an extended discussion."

"Hey stupid," said Eddie, sounding not unlike a petulant toddler, "let's get one thing straight. I take orders from nobody, got that? I don't meet with your employer; he meets with me. Sunday, 3 o'clock at the Menger, not a second earlier. Take it or leave it."

"3 o'clock it is," replied Blix, bowing at the waist. "I look forward to seeing you then."

Short, I know, but I felt like I needed to introduce 'Eddie the Baby' (named à la Billy the Kid) before throwing him together with Eustace. Eddie was very challenging to write...I don't think I've ever seen him in a fanfic before, and his dialogue style within the show is so crude that it was difficult to debase it even further without making every other word into an obscenity. I hope I did a decent job aging him up - it wasn't easy, seeing as his whole schtick revolves around being a baby.

Anyway, I promise that this is the last chapter where plot points are hinted at instead of explained. The story will become much clearer once Eustace and Eddie have their little chat.

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT

-The Santa Rosa Parlor = not a real place. San Antonio's red light district really was called 'the Sporting District', though - Texas history is replete with prostitution, excessive alcohol consumption, gambling, and violent crime, and these activities were (in city centers at least) usually confined to a particular 10+ block sector. Each had their own nickname - Galveston had "the Postoffice Street District", for example, while Fort Worth boasted "Hell's Half Acre". These centers of vice were something of a tourist attraction - San Antonio even issued a freaking pamphlet for the Sporting District, complete with brothel ratings to help guests get laid. I swear, you can't make this shit up.
-The origins of Blackjack are obscure, but according to the sources I found, the game has been with us in one form or another since at least the 1700s. If you don't know how to play, I recommend looking up the rules! It's easy and super fun!

Vocab:
-Spencer Carbine - a lever action, repeating rifle used during the Civil War, especially by the Union Army.
-Doxies = prostitutes