Nine of Spades: 'Terror'
I never did see a card quite like that one, an' I've seen many. Everyone with a card tends to pass through this saloon at one time or another. It just comes with being the Crossroads. All the players pass by at one point or another, whether at the beginning or the end of their game. Hell, I think I mighta' seen the Dealer himself once, but that might just be the drink talking. Coulda just been some other sap that I mistook for the big man.
I'm rambling, stop me next time, won't you? And poor me another shot. No, it's fine, my damn heart'll keep tickin' another twenty years knowing my luck. Where was I? The Card! That's it. Right. Well, the person who carried was a young woman. Kinda short, with short hair and rather nice clothes.
Oh get your mind out of the gutter. She wasn't a goddess or anything, but I wouldn't mind a quick squeeze, if you know what I'm saying. That is, until I got good luck at the girl's face. One of her eyes was clawed out by something, probably some big cat. She covered it with a bandage, but it was hard to stop from staring. You never would guess how disturbing it is to see only one eye blinking at you. He mouth was all jagged too, a twisting little mess a flesh that her look like she was grinnin' at everything. Even still, neither of those were the worst part.
--
She didn't move too gently. I don't know, it's hard to describe. It seemed that at any moment she would claw out a man's eye. It didn't take long till something like that happened. In retrospect, I wasn't surprised that she had a Card. Some poor sucker who didn't know better started talking to her. Two minutes later, and the poor bastard had drawn a gun on her. He was a quick one, and he had a fine piece. He could have gone far if he weren't so headstrong. He had the courage that only the foolish get, and it was obvious. The woman sighed, and then smiled. It sent shivers down my spine, and I knew that something was up. It was like watchin' a mouse try to frighten a lion.
She drew slowly, a whopper of a gun. It could have been the size of her forearm. Unlike some of the cards, this one was sooty and dirty, and looking at it made me feel a bit uneasy. I saw a scratched on symbol of a 9, and the familiar mark of the spade. It was like looking at something from a scrapheap, and I felt as though it was gonna shoot me down, even though I was behind the woman.
The gun went off with a scream. Shut it, I know more about guns then you ever will, and I'll draw faster'n you in my coffin. This Card screamed. Everyone in the bar dropped. I kept my composure, and I wish I hadn't. The poor bastard that got shot was screaming and wailing like a baby. He kept wailing long after he should have, and his hair was white and snow. It took the poor boy's friends nearly three days to get him to speak in coherent sentences after that. The girl didn't even fire a bullet, to the best of my knowledge. The kid didn't even have a scratch on him.
--
As for the woman? Well, she stole the man's horse and simpley rode away the next day. Never did get a chance to see that hell-bitch after that day, and I'm kinda glad I didn't.
Oh? Damn me, I've had too many drinks. The gun was Terror, the Nine of Spades. Some guns'll kill yeah. That one won't, but I think it's worse 'cause of that.
Back to Wild Cards: Stories of the World
Back to Wild Cards