The Deal

Click…click..click Jonathan Marque looked down at his pocket watch, gazing at the large hand marking each moment passing by. His emerald-green eyes flicked to the playing cards, shoulders tightening a bit. “C’mon already Hustous. I am not getting any younger you know.” the voice of irritation came from one of the figures sitting across from him; the brisk British tone was filled with mockery. The owner was a tall man garbed in raggedy party dress, the sleeves and edges unwoven by time, the bowtie eaten by moths. His dark hair was combed back around the nape of his neck. Around his neck was metal color with a flashing light, an explosive device unexploded, a criminal punishment. If this man stepped out of the city limits his head would be blown from his shoulders. Xerxes Talbot blew out smoke through parted lips, his sculpted wooden prosthetic hand holding the cigarette aloft. Criminals in The City were punished depending on their crime. Xerxes had once been one of the greatest known actor of his times, but jealousy and ego drove him to attempt to short cut the system and try to rob the Complex, where the greatest treasures are held. As a flight risk to the Northern Isles he was fitting with the collar. No one knows how he lost his hand. It wasn’t like he was going to tell them the truth anyway. “You’re going to wait!” Hustous Denvers cried across the table. The portly former mayor slid his hand along the front of his shirt, preening at the gold buttons on his shirt, glowering at the tuxedo clad man. Denvers had been the mayor of The City until rumors started to spread about missing prostitutes’ in the Red District. None of these claims could be verified, but it was enough to throw him out of office. The two men staring each other down were criminals in their own ways; one punished and one not. It showed the corruption that lay under the surface. “I will remind you that we only have till midnight before the game are void. I will admit that my cards are very good. The prize will be mine.” Another voice spoke with a confidence and cultured. “We all know why we are here and what the stakes are.” This man was unfamiliar to Jonathan, but from the educated sound of his words it told him that he was someone important in The City. The dark skinned man only used the name Fox was dressed in a crisp business suit down to his shoes that had been shined that morning. What he said was very true. Everyone in the room wanted to win the prize. It wasn’t as simple as chips that would equate to monetary value, but their greatest desire. The only person who’s overall was the Dealer who sat half shadowed. Jonathan had been invited to this game after finding a three by four inch card placed under his door of his apartment. Unlike his present company he was not well dressed, and had absolutely no education. His father had been a someone in The City, but they had a very corrosive relationship that in the end left him out of the will. The only course of action was to enlist and become a solider, but the war left him bitter and disillusioned. It led to a downward spiral of gambling and drinking…it cost him everything. This card game, this last hand would be the only way to get the most precious thing he has back. Click..click…click “Okay, okay you British tart” Hustous cried and nodded to the dealer to deal him cards for his hand. The Dealer dressed in all black wearing a long brim hat, and coat slid three cards over the table as if levitating off the green felt. “So quiet Johnny boy. I am starting to think you lost your ability to speak.” Xerxes commenting, his dark