The Ace Of Spades

[Alex McCeol]

Day 2, 8:06 AM: Downtown Lucca, Backroom of "Ballante de Cavallo"[/u]

[]Theme Music[]

It was amazing what you could find in downtown Lucca.

For instance, with a little help from a little man who was selling objects of questionable legality (who was currently gibbering in fear of the large man with the glowing red eyes who could lift him with one hand, and the much smaller girl in the coat with the guitar who was with him) Alex and her guardian found the gambling den. The bouncer had allowed them in kindly (or at least had after a stern talking to by her partner), and they had settled in to the games.

Alex herself was sitting at one of the tables, trying her hand at poker. It was Texas Hold 'Em rules, which she supposed were simple enough, and the game itself relied just as much on skill and self control then on luck. This was good, as Alex had no luck to speak of. She just kept her face a mask, like she had a foul taste in her mouth, as she looked at her cards. King and Five. She then gazed at the flop as the dealer put it out. Two, Seven, and Four. Absolutely nothing. "God forbid the universe give me a break for once." she thought, allowing none of her thoughts to show on her face.

Alex was dressed in semi-formal wear. It was the most formal outfit she owned, and if she'd let herself acknowledge it, it made her look fairly pretty. She sighed and closed her eyes as the next hand came up, still with nothing she could use. She bet a high sum with a disgusted look on her face as her thoughts wondered off to other things. "God I could use a hot shower. Perhaps when I get back to my apartment. Oh wait, doofus blew it up." She looked over her shoulder at said doofus.

He was sitting there at a different table, laughing as he fleeced the other players. Alex almost envied how quickly he had picked up the game. She watched him for a while, his blue shirt stretched tightly against his well muscled chest, as his laughed resonated, a deep baritone with that was the sound chocolate would make if it had a voice. His eyes glittered like midnight, his hair reminding her of... "Okay, Alex, we get it. On some level, he is attractive to you. Don't let your hormones overtake your mind. Keep sharp girl." she thought to herself as she quickly looked back at the table.

Near everyone else had folded, leaving only her and the person across from her. The dealer put out the last card. King. Alex re-evaluated the table. Two, Seven, Four, Ten, King. Pair. Alex was almost excited. A pair was not a high combo, and indeed the other player almost definately had a better hand, but Alex felt confidence in her own hand for the first time since she had entered the room.

"Half In." she said, before moving around a hundred dollars into the center of the table. It was the first bold move she had made that night, and that seemed to make the other player uneasy. She looked toward her opponent, and with a bit of calculation, put a smile on her face. Not a real smile, an obviously fake one that would make a child cry. That, plus the way she tilted her head slightly to the side when she did so, gave a subtle aura of not right to her. There was a tense moment, a twitch between the two like nothing at all existed other then the two of them. The other player folded. The psych out had worked, and Alex collected the winnings. Six hundred dollars in total. Not bad work for a single hand. Alex nodded out, and walked behind her protector, unaware that the losers eyes followed her.

[]Note: Loser could be the other PC, or s/he could be just a random NPC[]

[Zack Smith]

[Note that this is before Zack summoned Ahwang, since this is during Day 2 in the morning.]

Why did he decide to go to a casino already? Especially on a Tuesday morn- Oh right. It might be because it was Tuesday that he went to such a place; the third day of the week was always considered lucky among his family. Sure, it might be a simple (and extremely troublesome) superstition, but for a superstition it sure was a fulfilling one. The family’s history began on a Tuesday, the founder was born under a Tuesday and if we follow that trail it might lead to another lucky Tuesday. That might be why even someone like Zack decided to test his luck, even if it was around eight in the morning.

Following the same schedule as every morning, which basically meant waking up at six, taking a shower, having breakfast and dressing up like some businessman who just got out of a one-night stand, Zack headed downtown to get out of the monotony he lived since he arrived in Lucca. Let’s not go into background details about how he is sent there to observe the war, okay? Repeating that is redundant.

If you ever ask a Smith how he or she feels about Tuesdays, your answer will probably be: “This is the luckiest day of the week.” For some reason, it is true; Tuesday is the luckiest day for a Smith and it is proven right. Lady Luck was Zack’s side this morning, letting him win pretty much every game on every table he sat on with a few exceptions. Of course, as he was a man with common sense, Zack never bet more than a fixed number, which was a very low one.

He was currently sitting at one of the tables playing Texas Hold ‘Em, a game of poker he liked to play once in a while. The game itself was pretty simple, and actually relied on skill instead of luck. Keeping a bored look on his face, the redheaded enforcer merely played along with a couple of other players, with one of them dressed like some fashion slave of some sort. It also seemed that said person was trying her best to keep a stoic face, and he had to admit that she succeeded a lot. Indeed, unlike the other players who showed quite the emotions on their face that one was hard to read even if she, according to some of her hands during the game, was quite unlucky. She also looked like that one woman who, with some large man, held up some drug dealer earlier. Narrowing his eyes and replacing the goggles on his forehead at said fashion slave, the redhead realized that she was, indeed, that woman.

Some of his hands were winners, some hands were losers; all Zack knew was that he was not among those troublesome losers who kept betting higher and higher. He kept betting the same amount of money, whenever he had a good or a bad hand. He looked at his hand, which promptly gave him one of his cocky smirks. Straight. Not too shabby. Everyone else had folded with the exception of Miss Fashion Slave. The redhead swore that he saw a glint of near-excitement in her eyes, showing confidence.

She moved a hundred dollars into the center of the table. It was quite the bold move, for someone who lost so often at a game of cards. Did she have a better hand than him? Ugh. Troublesome. It didn’t help that she had that smile; one that obviously promised murder with all that fake emotion she had. Something was not right... Should he just go ahead and do the same as she did? Or should he fold not to receive that promise? He sighed.

“Troublesome. All right, I fold.”

He decided to fold and let that girl win with, apparently, just a single pair. He chided himself for falling for such a trick as he followed her movements, watching her take around six hundred dollars. His bored eyes still followed her figure as she nodded out and left the table. He wasted for a few seconds before getting up from the table and taking his winnings with him.

“I’m also out. Thanks for the game.”

For a Tuesday, he didn’t win that much. Sure, it was quite the decent amount, but it was not the kind of amount he remembered his father bring back home. He patted his right pants’ pocket to feel his good luck charm; a mirror shard of some sort was residing there for years now. You did your best. You still failed anyway- Ow! Apparently this mirror shard was not round enough and decided to take its revenge against Zack’s complaining, scratching his finger a little. Annoying mirrors... I should take care of those edges tonight. So...

What now?

With this question in mind, Zack followed Miss Fashion Slave for some reason. Maybe it was to congratulate her for her winnings? From the looks of it, Miss Fashion Slave was following some extremely tall and, from the looks of it, extremely fit man. So she has a bodyguard. The real reason he followed the girl was, in fact, because she was coincidentally heading to where his bike was. Unfortunately, Zack parked his bike very far away from the casino, meaning that from a certain point of view he might look like a stalker. He put a cigarette to his lips in thought, lighting it unconsciously. Maybe I'll congratulate her on the way then.

With that thought he accelerated a little from his slow pace.

[Spartacus]

"Hit me." Spartacus grinned as the dealer slided over a 5 making it 21 for the twelth time in a row. Raking in more chips to join his already large pile he glanced over at his anchor. He had noticed the gambling dens of this era were different from his own but he had known some of his men to get a little too excited when throwing the dice. If her reactions so far were any indicator Alex would be all but biting any objectors. His concern was well founded seeing as she was currently giving out yet another death glare to her gambling partners begging them to start something. Thankfully for both of them the remaining player graciously decided to back out before anchor came across the table. Did she want to get them kicked out before they could collect on their winnings?

Turning back to the game 'Black jack that's what Alex had called it,' Spartacus scooped up his winnings and left the table. Best to leave now before Anchor started a scene. He had gone with a game relying more on luck before bothering to learn every last detail about a card game. They were here to earn funds not play around. Spartacus motioned for Alex to join him as he made his way to the exchange counter.

Back at the ruins of her last base she had easily gotten riled at the mention of her poverty and went on to say his mind was in the gutter. He had to choke back a laugh at this as he searched for something cheap to wear. Did she honestly believe he was going to think like that about a kid? He had picked out a plain blue shirt and what the store owner had called jeans after Spartacus persuaded him to overlook his armor. If they were low on funds they only needed raise more which is why he had suggested they find a gambling den. He was going to have to have the talk a talk with Alex if she was going to get riled over every little thing. In a fight losing your composure was equal to dying a quick and useless death.

At the entrance to the parking lot Spartacus gave Alex a small nudge. Seems some things didn't change regardless of what time you were in. "It appears you made a fan back the gambling den. The sleazy guy from earlier looks like he wants another of your smiles anchor."

[Alex McCeol]

With their not-insubstantial winnings in tow, the unlikely pair made their way outside. Unsurprisingly, Spartacus had won more then her, but all things considered, the fact Alex had gained money despite the universe spiting her at every chance it got was something of an accomplishment by itself. "We should have enough to rent somewhere until the end of the month. After that, it really shouldn't matter... One way or the other. It was a mildly depressing thought, which was quickly sent via ejector seat out of the Austin Martin DB5 of her brain when Spartacus leaned toward her and gave her a light tap.

"It appears you made a fan back the gambling den. The sleazy guy from earlier looks like he wants another of your smiles anchor." said her companion. Alex turned her head the slightest bit to see the red haired man from the poker establishment, walking at a pace which meant either he had a purpose, or was cold in the brisk morning air. Noting that she could see her breath, probably both.

"Wonderful" said Alex almost inaudibly, though perceptive ears might hear it as more then an outward breath, before turning towards her guardian. In a quiet voice, though still louder then her prior remark, she asked "Magus? If so, plan?" she said, before turning, towards the man, who was almost upon them. The soon-to-be familiar face of Alex McCeol's default emotion stared upon the man.

"What do you want?" she asked, her tone matching the crease of her brow and the curvature of her lip. Or, to say it another way, her tone matching one that a person might have if their local tax collector showed up at the place they were eating with some forms for them to sign.

[Zack Smith]

It seems that the two of them have noticed him; the tall guy was the first one. Nudging and leaning to his partner, the bodyguard was apparently talking to her, and it probably was about the redhead that was coincidentally following them. It certainly helped that conclusion that the blonde turned her head so she could see him. They were not slowing down either, which was incredibly annoying despite the fact that Zack had no business with the duo.

That was until he heard a word that sounded like ‘Magus’ in her vocabulary. Thank the Lord that he had his full attention on her when she talked, or else he wouldn’t have heard such a word. That was, of course, the only one he heard before she suddenly turned around to meet him with a face that showed annoyance. Said annoyance was not to the level of ‘troublesome’; it was more at the level of ‘Do you really want to piss me off?’

It seems he had found one very troublesome woman, indeed. However, such a face was not enough to unnerve an Enforcer like himself as his relaxed and lazy smile never left his face.

He threw his cigarette away, letting it land on the ground as he looked between the two strangers for half a second before turning his gaze toward the girl who was demanding his intentions. The tone was reminiscing to the sound of annoyed people when an annoying neighbour comes to see you for, let’s say, nothing else but bother you. Sure, she might have sounded intimidating to other people, but this was Zack Smith, the guy who rarely took anything seriously.

So instead of running with his tail between his legs, the redhead only guided his hands toward his pants’ pockets and partly put them inside. It was the closest place to his weapon that he could put his hands to, as obviously reaching to it immediately would only attract suspicion from the little lady and her muscleman.

“That current face of yours certainly fits you more than the other one back there, huh.” He started. “Just here to congratulate you on your winnings earlier.”

Upon finishing his sentence, Zack slid his left hand out of its respective pocket and offered it for a handshake to either of those two strangers. “The name’s Smith. Zack Smith.”

Now that he thought of it, he really should’ve thought about using another name during this job. But even then, what use would it have except making him sound fishier, especially with his... originality with names. He would hold that ‘Magus’ question for later, as for now there was quite a few people that could overhear the conversation.

[Alex McCeol]

Alex narrowed her eyes at the stranger as he commented on her face. Of course, narrowing her eyes further then they already were gave the distinct impression of slits, not helped by her nose instinctually flaring. "Calm down girl. He didn't mean anything by it, he's just joking around" the more rational side of her brain said, managing to slip through to the overbrain which her emotional side was currently taking on a joy ride.

"Hmm. Must be the lack of sleep" she thought as she sighed internally, feeling a bit of paranoia slip off of her. She hadn't slept at all since Ireland. That was over 36 hours ago. It was obviously affecting her more then she realised. Making her distracted. "Like right now" she thought, realising the man had held his hand out for quite some time now as she had been spacing.

She quickly snapped back into focus, her tone switching from pissed off to bored. "Alex" she said, not bothering to take his still waiting hand. That would have revealed that she had not been paying attention, rather then coldly debating whether or not to return the gesture.

"Just Alex" she continued, the growl returning to her voice, though more from past irritation then any current one. Alex was the type who took any offense, such as being called Alexandra, or Alexis, or any other name other then Alex as a personal insult to her, as deeply cutting as a knife wound. Any name she would be called would be of her own choosing.

After she said her words though, her attention was grabbed by the spectacle acrossed the street. It was a gun fair, set to be opened from tomorrow to the rest of the month. "Will have to check that out later" she thought, before turning her attention back to the man.

"So why were you following us?" she asked bluntly. Subtlety was never Alex's strong suit.

[Spartacus]

"Magus? If so plan?" was all he got from her before she turned to their new acquaintance with her trademark grump. 'A plan? Obviously it's to keep a low profile until we have some kind of safe haven to fall back on.' Which would have been a nice plan to go on had the red head not appeared to pick up on Aelx's words. Which shot down what would have been a rather solid strategy. Assuming that they managed to get a safe house before being killed Spartacus was going to have a good deal to say to his prana anchor. He had a feeling the list of things he would have to say to her was only going to increase as well but pushed it down as the man introduced himself.

“That current face of yours certainly fits you more than the other one back there, huh. Just here to congratulate you on your winnings earlier. The name’s Smith. Zack Smith.”

Personally Spartacus felt that Alex's most suitable expression would be wearing a paper bag given her recent variety of faces. Giving a brief nod to Zack, he checked the limits of his senses. A lone magus from this time wouldn't pose any kind of a threat to him but that was the problem. Assuming he was a magus the possibility existed that he was a part of this war. The fact Zack hadn't let his hand move from the edge of his pocket wasn't alleviating him of suspicion in Spartacus's mind either.

Supposedly Magi could use their command spells to detect one another but his anchor was proving to be either unaware or...dead tired. Not a great leap in logic to assume the latter with her completely spacing out. So she had summoned him not only unprepared but while already being tired. 'Check another topic off then for the eventual you fucked up speech.' Spartacus let a mental eye roll accompany this thought having to keep focused on Zack. A real pity since he could really use on right about now.

After picking up nothing Spartacus didn't let his guard drop. The tall buildings surrounding them made the probability of an Archer rather low but that still left Caster and Assassin open to suspicion. If that were the case they would already be marked and trailed by some unseen stalker all the way to their new home. Wonderful.

"So why were you following us?" Such a wonderfully constructed question anchor. One that could be answered any way this (probable) magus Zack wanted. The best way to end this was by making Zack want to leave. Which was a bit of a pity since Zack hadn't done anything to deserve it yet but better the red head getting upset than Spartacus being followed.

"Still asleep there Alex? Zack already said he was here to congratulate you." Spartacus pushed her hat down over her eyes as he put a sarcastic emphasis on her name. Not because he was annoyed at her. Nope no way. "Even if you are upset about the bed don't take it out on strangers. You aren't a kid despite your height." Now all that was left was hoping Anchor's rage would come in handy in driving Zack off.

[Zack Smith]

That girl had quite the feisty appearance if we went by appearance – or rather, facial appearance. She seemed more like a beast than anything; a person that was easily manipulated when guided by rash emotions. In short, where Zack was the weapon manipulated by a relaxed wielder, the blonde girl was the weapon held by one stressed person with a hair trigger temper. They were quite the opposite people. Zack also found that girl extremely fun for some reason.

This girl, Alex, did not return the handshake he had offered her. Either it was because she was too angry to even notice the hand, or it was because she was not paying attention. The redhead deduced that it was the latter, considering the black circles under the blonde’s eyes. As for the other person, that unnamed bodyguard, the enforcer was merely answered by a nod of acknowledgement.

“Then Alex it is.”

So she was not from around here. The fact that she also had some sort of accent on her Italian didn’t help her case either. If he went according to the schedule, this Alex girl was either a random tourist with a bodyguard, a random Magus with a bodyguard or a Master with a Servant participating in the war. By now, the first guess was out as he clearly heard the word Magus from her mouth, leaving the two other guesses. Either way, she was not a normal person, or considering that the other did not react much about the Magus word, it meant that he was either a Magus or he was the Servant. ’You’re thinking too much... They're probably some kind of duo like I was back then...’

Still having that smirk plastered on his face, Zack did not show any emotion other than total laziness. “Quite the attentive bodyguard you have there, Alex.” He stated as he pointed with his chin the tall man. “Not only that, but my vehicle is exactly the way you were headed. Quite the coincidence, right?” Zack chuckled a little as he spoke.

He would not leave her alone yet; she was too suspicious for her own good considering that she mentionned a word that no normal people should know. The other reason was obviously because she was too fun to leave alone. With a temper like that, Zack could make miracles happen with it.

His hand still hadn't budged from its spot in his pants' pocket yet.

[Alex McCeol]

Alex's eyes narrowed, though this time not for any malice. She needed sleep goddamn it, this hazy cloud over her head was affecting her decision making, and making her paranoid (Well, more paranoid then usual). Why can't he just let me be. I'm stuck with smartass over here already! passed through her mind as she attempted to rub the sleep from her eyes. It wasn't doing much good.

"I'll tell you what," she began, as cordially as a sleep deprived person who wasn't very good at being cordial can. "I ... apologise for my outrage..." there was a pause there, as if that apology had taken out a lot from her, which it had. "But I really need to be somewhere, so if you're going to job on, let's at least keep walking until we reach either your car or a convenient place for us to go our seperate ways." And they say diplomacy is dead. Much like disco, or the Playstation V.

Alex had found, once or twice, that being with a person who you didn't trust meant that you had to keep options open. However, if she broke out into a run here, then it would be slightly suspicious to everyone watching. Not to mention the fact she had no plan on where to go, and though she didn't doubt that there was somewhere she could hole up in (After all, this was Europe. For two thousand years or more people had been building ruins on top of ruins, and there was always somewhere that got forgotten by time), she didn't like that option. So she would play along (or come as close to playing along as possible) until she had better options available to her.

Plus, the guy was in a suit. She didn't trust suits, the only people which wore them these days when not at a party were government men or insurance salesmen, and she didn't like either option, especially the latter. "And what were the goggles for? Seriously! Who wears goggles for no other reason then to wear them?" To Alex, it seemed as if that the man thought he were some sort of insurance salesman biker, and had added garb (or hair, she hadn't forgot the hair) from each profession at random. The ridiculous get up just bothered her, even in her slightly addled sleep deprived state. Plus her intuition told her that he was at very least hiding something, and probably a magus. Paranoia is never a good thing, but sometimes there really is a squid monster trying to puke eggs down your throat via alien wing wong.

[Spartacus]

Anchor's total number of redemption points just rose by one in his book. Rather than snapping she had managed to use her head and give diplomacy a try. Either she didn't have the energy to get mad, or she finally got what he had been previously trying to get through since she brought him back. The more likely option was the former, but he wanted to be optimistic in this case.

The walk back was predictably dull as was the conversation. Sleaze suit peppered anchor with small talk and inane questions. Anchor's responses were lifeless and to the point, cutting off any further chances of speech. As for himself, he had his attention split between looking out for an enemy and the suit. No telling if he had one hand wrapped around a weapon or his family jewels.

In the end it didn't matter which it was, the problem wasn't the man himself. Spartacus could bisect him before his arm got two millimeters out of his pocket and be defending anchor. The problem was what he represented and their ability to respond to that right now. If Zack were a master and his spirit nearby their options boiled down to just three. The battle, the spirit's strength, and what type he might be facing were minor concerns. If it were a single battle there was no doubt in his mind he would mulch whatever showed it's face.

What worried him was it wasn't just one or two duels but a successive war of attrition. One fight could attract attention they didn't need right now. From what little he had been tuning in on Zack had a little too much interest in anchor, and the girl in question had too little bite behind her barking by now.

The customary "This is my horse", and the bragging that followed didn't have a chance to be issued. Before Zack had fully stopped and thought of turning, Spartacus went into action. The steeds of this time were strange, but that was all they were. He was a Rider, and no steed was untameable to him. The instant he lowered himself and the near comatose anchor into the saddle, it bent to his will. Roaring to life it gleefully kicked beneath his hands spewing out small gouts of flame and a curtain of debris from it's heels. Then they were gone charging off down the ancient Roman streets in the early morning.

(OOC: No Zack he did not jack your bike. He hotwired the one beside it and bailed in the time it took you to turn to your left. Showering you in dirt, pebbles, and other delightful debris in a sight blinding curtain rising into the air.)