InsaneJournal

"Stacked Deck," 0-10/21, assorted cast
Title: "Stacked Deck"
Parts: 0 through 10 of 21
Author: Laylah
Characters: assorted
Rating: worksafe
Word Count: 9x100 and 1x200, 1100 words overall
A/N the first: Credit goes to puella_nerdii for the concept! She mentioned Claire being the Chariot, and I couldn't get the idea of a Baccano! Major Arcana series out of my head.
A/N the second: The Tarot deck I'm most familiar with is the Thoth, which has a few significant differences from the more common Rider-Waite both in name and order of the cards. I've used the Thoth order and names for this set.


Stacked Deck

The Fool

Every morning when Firo wakes up he remembers how blessed he is. He stretches, and rolls out of bed not a day older, not a day slower than he was a year ago. It's going to be another beautiful day, and New York is -- America is -- one huge array of possible adventures, laid in front of him.

He opens his door, looks down the hall. "Ennis?" She's usually awake before he is.

She looks out from the kitchen. "Yes?"

"Let's head down to the train station today," Firo says. "I think it would be fun to travel for a while."


The Magus

The art of managing a territory, particularly a small one like this, is misdirection as much as muscle, slight of hand as much as show of force. The police, the other families, the news agency -- all of them are elements in the balance, pressures that dampen each other so the Gandors have room to breathe in between.

"The addicts might be a problem," Luck says when his men have reported. "Track them down. I want to know who sells those drugs before the police do." He smiles faintly. "So perhaps we should leave the delinquents alone. They draw attention enough."


The High Priestess

Nothing that the man in white says surprises Chane. Of course the Lemures resent her; they've worked so hard, and risked so much, without any assurance that they will ever mean even as much to her father as she does. They will turn on her, as weak men do.

But she does not fear them, and they are fools if they think she will be defeated easily. She raises her knives as the man in white aims his gun at her. Let her blades say what needs to be said. She has faith enough in her own power for that.


The Emperor/The Empress

"Ah! Say, Isaac!"

"What's that, Miria!"

"The sun's coming up, Isaac!"

"Right you are, Miria!"

The sun is indeed coming up, fiery on the horizon, which is to say, blazing orange in the east.

"Isaac, does that mean --"

"It certainly does, Miria! Rail Tracer is defeated!"

They clasp hands, triumphant for the one hundred seventeenth time in their acquaintance, and smile at the poor frightened child they've rescued.

"You see, Czeslaw, you have no reason to worry!" Miria declares. "You can trust Isaac to make it better!"

"Absolutely, Miria!" Isaac promises. "Everything will be fine now!"

Czeslaw looks tired, that is to say, he looks as though he's had a very long night! He looks as though he still needs cheering up.

"Say, Miria!" Isaac ventures.

"What is it, Isaac!"

Isaac leans close, like a conspirator, like someone telling secrets. "Did we ever find a souvenir for Ennis?"

"Ah!" Miria clasps her hands over her heart. "We didn't! You don't mean --!"

"I certainly do! This way he can have a family! And she can have a little brother!"

"And everyone will be happy, Isaac!"

"Everyone!"

Czeslaw is crying when they help him up, but surely they're tears of joy.


The Heirophant

His little girl watches him with wide, serious eyes. She is speechless before him, and attentive; there is nothing of her mother in her. Huey made sure of it. He's had practice at shaping people, and his homunculi give him far less raw material to work with than this.

"My little Chane," he says, resting his hand on her head. "You're going to be my good daughter always, aren't you?"

Her thoughts are a tangle, young and half-formed as she still is, but he can hear her desire to earn his approval.

"Good girl," Huey says. "Never forget that."


The Lovers

"When you kissed me --"

"I'm sorry!" Jacuzzi says, frantic, and for a second Nice thinks he might cry, even now, when everything is -- finally -- fine.

"Don't say sorry," she says, shaking her head. She reaches out slowly, gently, and traces the line of his tattoo -- his brow, his temple, his cheek. "I wasn't going to reproach you for it." He cries so she won't have to, just like he got the tattoo so she wouldn't have to be brave alone.

Nice leans in close for their second kiss, because he shouldn't have to do all the tough things, either.


The Chariot

Claire is sixteen when he discovers how easy it is to kill a man. There's an argument over something stupid, whether Claire had any business looking at a pretty girl, that turns into a fight -- and it's simple to avoid the guy's punches, simpler to get him off balance, and natural as breathing to snap his neck at the apex of a flip.

The girl's already fleeing by the time Claire's feet touch the ground, but that's fine. She can't have been the one for him.

More importantly -- he looks at his hands, and triumph hums in his veins -- he's invincible.


Adjustment

They get back to the office too late. Mike and the night crew are dead, shot with tommy guns. It looks like Mike was going for the phone when they got him in the back.

"Those bastards!" Berga says, his hands curling into fists. It still smells like gunpowder. The attack must have just happened. "We'll kill them!" Luck and Keith don't look pissed enough. "Right? All of them!"

"We don't know who did it," Luck says.

Berga opens his mouth to argue, and Keith says, "We'll find out."

"Right." Berga smiles, cracks his knuckles. "And we'll make them pay."


The Hermit

"Impressive," Don Martillo says, "really impressive, that a young man like you should have so many talents."

Maiza has been a young man for so long it pains him to remember. "Thank you," he says, and smiles. "I'm happy to lend whatever skills I have to your organization.

Don Martillo nods; that's a formality and they both know it. "You looked untouchable out there," he says, gesturing to the fighting ring.

"You flatter me," Maiza says. He's practiced that for decades: if he gets cut, he'll have to explain why he heals. To hide, he takes no injury at all.


Fortune

He cheats, of course. They all do. They're mafia men, and who ever heard of a mafia man playing fair?

It goes along with the rest of what they are, what they do. You don't get anywhere in a business like this unless you make your own luck.

His brothers admire his skill at it, and that's the real good fortune. They know each other's strengths and play to them -- Keith slips the last card he needs from his sleeve -- instead of resenting them.

"Call," Luck says, smiling in anticipation.

Keith lays down his aces, and picks up his cigar.