Author: Merula
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Violence, death.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine.
Look! I finished a fic I promised! (Finally!) Sorry it took so long! Merith asked for a poker fic where the Dead Man's Hand made an appearance. The DMH, is 2 aces and 2 eights- both from the black suites and a fifth card that no one can agree on. Wild Bill had it in his hand when he was shot and killed in the middle of a poker game. He was shot in the back since he had ignored his usual rule of sitting with his back to the wall.
Dead Man's Hand
Heero studied the sign swinging above the door of the saloon for a moment. This was it. He pushed his hat back a bit on his forehead, reminding himself to look harmless. No need to make the pigeon fly the coop too early.
He walked into the saloon, scanning the tables automatically, looking for what he'd come to find. He caught the eye of the bartender, a black-haired Chinese man, and nodded. The bartender inclined his head to the side and Heero let his gaze travel in the direction that the bartender had indicated.
There were several games of poker going on in that corner, and even as Heero turned to look, an altercation broke out at one of them.
"Goddamn it! You dealt me the worse hand yet!" The player yelled, tossing his cards into the face of the dealer. "I'm not playing with you cheating bastards!" The man turned and shoved his way through the tables.
Well, that was almost like divine intervention.
Heero moved towards the table with the empty seat. The players saw him coming, looking at him warily.
"Mind if I join you gentlemen?" Heero asked as he let his eyes rest on each one of the other players.
A blond man with short hair and big blue eyes, too innocent looking for someone living in this town.
A brunette with his hair partially concealing his face, useful trick there.
Another blond, this one with a long ponytail of hair, his hat pulled low, shading his face.
And the last, who grinned at him, flipping a long braid of chestnut colored hair over his shoulder, a priest's collar around his neck. "I don't mind," he answered, shuffling the cards in his long white fingers.
The other three nodded, and Heero sat down.
"Do you have a name?" The one with the ponytail- his target- asked.
"Yuy," Heero said and saw the other stiffen. He leaned back a little in his seat and hid a smile.
"Barton," the brunette grunted.
"Winner," said the blond with a smile.
"Maxwell," the padre winked.
Heero looked at the last, watched as his lips pulled back from his teeth in a death's head smile. "Merquise." He gave Heero a look that indicated he expected the other to react, and then was surprised when Heero only smiled.
"So gentlemen," Maxwell smiled. "Let's get started. Five card draw. Ante up."
Coins were tossed into the center pot.
Maxwell dealt the cards and each player pulled his hand close, studying the cards intently.
"So, let's get started," said Winner and tossed a few coins in the center of the table. "10 dollars."
Barton simply nodded and tossed the coins in.
Heero smiled. "I see your ten and raise you five."
Winner grinned and added his money; so did Barton.
Merquise lifted an eyebrow, but merely added his fifteen.
Maxwell tossed in his and then picked up the deck. "Draw?"
Heero studied his hand again, pulling out one card.
"Three."
"Two."
"One." Heero accepted the card from Maxwell and looked at it. Good. He made sure his face stayed blank.
"One," Merquise took a card from Maxwell. "Goddamn it," he swore and the other four blinked.
"Please," Maxwell touched his collar. "Not in front of a man of the cloth." He pulled two cards out for himself. "Any calls, gentlemen?"
"Ten," said Winner and tossed the money in the center.
Barton shook his head. "I fold." He placed the cards down in front of him.
Heero tossed the required amount of coins in the center.
Merquise did the same.
Maxwell grinned. "I fold," he said and placed his cards down in front of him. "Any more bets gentlemen?"
Heero could feel Merquise's cold blue gaze on him and instinctively placed one of his hands under the table, closer to his gun.
Maxwell lifted an eyebrow at Winner.
Winner smiled and placed his cards down in front of him. "Pair of aces."
Heero shrugged and put his cards down. "Two Queens."
Merquise was smiling now, and Heero tensed. "I do believe I win gentlemen." He placed his cards down one at a time on the table. A black ace, then another, then two black eights and the queen of hearts.
"Aces over eights," said Merquise with satisfaction.
"The Dead Man's Hand," the preacher breathed. "Now that's not a good omen."
"No, it isn't." Merquise pushed himself back from the table and yanked out his gun, pointing it straight at Heero. "At least not for you, Marshall." A hush fell over the saloon. Card games stopped, the piano player froze, everyone's eyes were on their table.
Heero's hand clenched his gun, and he cursed. Damn it. That was sloppy of him!
"You'll have to pardon me, gentlemen, but this man's been on my trail for a long time. I don't mean any harm to the rest of you."
"Oh no?" Maxwell said cheerfully. "Well, we won't hold it against you."
Merquise blinked. The other three players were holding guns on him. Where the hell had the preacher been hiding that rifle?
"What?"
"Oh sorry," drawled Winner and he lifted the lapel of his coat displaying the small silver badge. "Yuy's not the only marshal on your trail. We set you up."
Merquise's finger tightened on the trigger. "I'll still take him with me!" He snarled.
A crack echoed through the saloon. Merquise looked at his gun, he hadn't fired it... so where...?
He looked down, surprised to see his vest growing slick with blood.
Falling to his knees he looked over his shoulder. The bartender was leaning over the counter, his Winchester still pointed at Merquise.
"You... were all in on it?"
"Did you think I was the only survivor?" Heero shook his head at him.
Merquise grunted, blood bubbling up at the corners of his mouth before he fell over slowly.
Heero got to his feet and prodded the corpse with a toe. "Dead."
"I already sent for the undertakers," the bartender smiled as he stowed his gun back under the bar.
Around them, things began to go back to normal. The piano player started up again, people started chatting, games resumed. Heero sat back down at the table. Maxwell shook his head.
"Sloppy."
"I know. I know."
Maxwell shook his head. "Not you- him. He should've learned to always sit against a wall."
Winner shook his head. "Let's be thankful he didn't."
"Soooo," Maxwell picked up the cards again. "Now that we've finished with business, what do you guys say to another round? We need to make sure someone wins the pot after all..."
Heero scooted his chair back up to the table and Barton laughed.
"Give me the cards preacher-man."
Maxwell gave Barton a wide-eyed look. "Don't you trust me?"
"Now that we're playing for real? No."
OWARI
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