[schwann]

This competition seems dead, but I already wrote it, so whatever.

Notes:The original draft was much longer until I realized it exceeded 8000 words. Personally, I liked that one better. In order to chop it down to scale, I had to delete a couple of minor scenes, and replace a big scene with something much shorter.

This story is about 3400-3500 words, which is about 6 and a half pages single spaced in MS Word. There's a lot of dialogue, so it isn't a full 6 and a half pages, but if you have the attention span of a goldfish, you have been warned.

But anyways, here it is:

Title: A Gambler's Law

By: alias Schwann, © 2009. (Yes, I made a physical copyright of this; I do this for anything I show to the public.)

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The city of Old Eve was rotten to its concrete bones. It was the sort of place where you didn’t look too closely in the garbage bins unless you wanted to find the decomposing remains of some poor fool who had run through his luck. Murder happened on a whim, and the women were as likely to greet you with a smile as a bullet. It was a place where those who had abandoned all pretenses at human decency came to scrape a living from their next victim’s blood.

Jack Landers strode through the dark streets, enjoying the night. It had been a year to this very day since he had left Old Eve. When he left, he had vowed never to return, but the outside world had been too simple, too law-abiding, too boring, and now he found himself back. The putrid odors and depraved sights filled him with nostalgia; the rubbish rotting in the gutters and the stains of blood, puke and semen on the walls, barely visible in the polluted light, gave him a serene sense of certainty. A hooker was smoking dope and taking a piss on the sidewalk. The sights never failed to impress.

Living in Old Eve had been a rough ride, Jack had to admit. But the thrills and pleasures this degenerate city offered could be had nowhere else. Here a man could make a fortune at the card tables, enough to live like a king. It could also mean an early grave. That was what crooned to Jack. He savored risk like a sommelier savored wine, and Jack Landers was nothing if not a gambler.

Not even pausing at the sight of a hand sticking out of a pile of rubbish, Jack rounded a corner and found the place he had been looking for, exactly as he remembered it. Above the dark mouth of a lowered staircase, a blue neon sign flickered in self-deprecating irony: Heaven’s Grace. The last time this bar had seen the grace of heaven was when Saint Peter opened the Pearly Gates to let his dog take a shit. Even among the scum of the earth, only the lowest bottom-feeders frequented this pisshole. Lowly thugs and small-time crooks were this establishment’s most common clientele. They were all dangerous, but in a more honest way compared to the true professionals and crime bosses of Old Eve. These people would only shoot you behind your back.

Jack walked down the stairway and threw open the door. Dozens of eyes swung in his direction, and a second later, a dozen hands lowered from concealed weapons. Soft murmurs picked up again.
Oily smoke hung toxic in the air, and greasy yellow light coming from the few lamps along the wall gave the place an appropriate darkness. There were many shadowy niches here and there, suited for customer needs. Bullet holes riddled the walls. The owners had long since stopped caring about the décor, and their clients never had.

Jack took his own sweet time scanning the customers. Careless or confident men didn’t live long in places like Heaven’s Grace. Most of the customers were men, with a few temptresses here and there, pure as poison and beautiful as lust. Jack recognized one of them, a voluptuous red-head named Scarlet. She had been here five years ago, the first time Jack stepped into this cesspit.

She spotted Jack and glided over to him, hips swaying, making sure to stick out her long milky legs. She had a head of thick fire, flawless emerald eyes, and full, parted lips that looked on the verge of a pout. In a white, skin tight dress that emphasized the important parts, she was a damn fine sight, whatever else she was. The smoky smile she gave him promised everything, and Jack smiled back, but even he wouldn’t gamble on her.

“It’s been a long time Jack,” Scarlet lightly laid her fingertips on his arm. “We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed this place too,” said Jack, doffing his hat.

“Because of me?”

“Life isn’t as much fun when you’re not around,” Jack admitted, proffering her an arm.

Hand in arm, they strode deeper into the gloom, Loki and Lilith, dimensions apart, but seeking shared pleasures. They found an empty table and sat down.

“So what are you doing back in these parts Jack? I heard Shark Silverton put a price on your head.”

“That’s cleared up now. We made a bet.”

“And you won?”

“I always do in the end, baby.”

Scarlet gave him one of her special smiles that she gave to every man that had something she wanted. She pulled a cigarette out of her cleavage and offered it to Jack.

He declined.

“I quit.”

“Jack,” Scarlet exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in a while and you’ve already lost your bad habits. The next thing I know you’re going to be a fine and upright gentleman!”

“That’ll never happen with you around. You’ll keep corrupting me,” Jack winked at her. He offered her a light.

Scarlet gave a throaty chuckle, rich and sultry. She lit up and took a long draw.

“You’re in town on business?”

“To see you baby,” Jack lied.

“I’m delighted to hear that. But there are some strange rumors going around, how you’ve made bets the size Louisa’s ass.”

Louisa was only two tables away, and heard. She glared in their direction but Scarlet simply stared back, her smile never wavering. After a while Louisa looked away.

“Every bet is like that,” Jack grinned. “You just have to be good at winning.”

Scarlet still looked amused, but there was now a hint of inquisitiveness to her gaze. His smile must not have been convincing enough.

“Come now Jack, how long have we known each other?” Scarlet waited, but Jack didn’t answer. “I know everything that goes on in this town, from killings to the last whore that spread her legs for the mayor. You know that even if you won, Shark isn’t going to just let you walk loose. You must know. That means you have some sort of plan.”

“Shark won’t trouble me no more,” Jack said airily. “Besides, wealth or death, they’re both about as certain until the next sunrise.”

“Always the philosopher,” Scarlet studied him through lazy long-lashed eyes, her cigarette forgotten. “You never were quite the same as the rest of us. You feel like you can flirt with dirt like us and then dart out when you feel like it. Leave us hanging.”

“That hurts baby.”