A Paladin Goes Gambling with a Prince

Here's a funny story: 

We had the idea to do a piece of short fiction this week with the help of a writing prompt generator we found online. One of us (me) tried the thing and when the first random story idea was "A Paladin Goes Gambling with a Prince" that person (still me) passed the link to the website over to their partner (him) to choose. I was thinking "I'm glad he's doing that, I don't know what I'd write with that prompt." and I didn't tell him any of that. 

He chose, it came up with the same idea, and here we are. He's learning that this is what happened as he's reading this now, right along with you. 

We wrote whatever came to us, one of us (me again) cheated a little. We both hope you enjoy them though. 

Her Take:

Obviously, it was the worst night of her life.

The five-dollar-bill her mom had given her was creased and sweaty from being clamped in Chelsie’s angry palm and wouldn’t unfold as she tried to hand it to stupid Mrs. Sullivan across the lunch room table. She fumbled with the bill, picking at the folded corner, snagged her pinky nail on the shiny plastic table cloth, and left a small, jagged hole there. Her attention was torn between the forced smile plastered across Jackie Sullivan’s dumb mom’s face and the tiny damage she had inflicted.

“Okey dokey, ma’am, what can I do you for?”

Ugh. She hated the way people in her town talked. She hated living in the midwest and being so boring, and she really hated Mrs. Sullivan pretending that she was a cashier at a fancy casino or something. She was a dumpy mom in a Cleveland Cougars sweatshirt and a ridiculous feathered headband and no matter how friendly she tried to act, she knew she was judging her, and everyone else in the room.

So stupid.

“Uh… I guess give me however many chips or whatever I can get for that?”

“Oh, suresuresure, comin’ right up!”

Mrs. Sullivan dropped ten shiny plastic coins in her palm and Chelsie stared at them, pink and blue and green.

“And how can I help you, sir?” Mrs. Sullivan said as she turned her attention to Rory, who waited slightly behind Chelsie. Close enough that she could tell he was there, calmly watching her whole exchange. It should have been a relief that as much of an insanely tragic spaz as she was being he was being so cool.

Rory was cool. The coolest guy she had ever known, and this was supposed to be the best night of her life so far but her stupid sister ruined it, just like she ruined everything.

Chelsie couldn’t even enjoy watching Rory absentmindedly rake the swoop of his hair back and release the full and devastating power of his charm on Dumby Mrs. Sullivan, she was too caught up in playing the moment her almost-developing social life had been crushed over in her head.

For the first time in her 17 years she had looked her too-smart-too-perfect-too-good twin in the eye and told her No.

‘Uh, yeah, I’m not coming to your casino night thing, I have plans with my friends.”

Hands shaking, mouth dry she had picked up her copy of The Silmarillion and tried to read as Cassie stomped out of the room and down the hall.

“DAY-YAD!!!!”, Cassie screamed across the house to their father, “Chelsie says she isn’t coming to my fundraiser!! She says she has PLANS!!! Tell her she HAS TO GO!!”

Ugh. If only people could see how Little-Miss-Perfect-Straight-A-College-Bound-Overachiever turned into a four-year-old having a hissy fit when she didn’t get her way, she wouldn’t be the most popular in their grade.

Well, second most popular.

Rory who was just collecting his plastic coins and giving Useless Mrs. Sullivan one last flirty wink, was Chelsie’s vote for most popular by a mile. A lot of people agreed, even though he was new to their school.

“You ready to do this, Chels?”

Even with the unspeakable tragedy of being forced to spend her Friday night at a fundraiser her sister, annoying wretch and president of the French Club, had christened “An Evening In Monte Carlo”, Chelsie couldn’t believe how lucky she was that Rory agreed join her. She couldn’t really believe she had found the nerve to ask.

This hadn’t been the plan at all. Somebody had gotten a hot tip that Rory was reading The Return of the King during study hall and her friends in the LARPing Club had decided they should invite him. It was a long shot but, from a strictly practical standpoint, Rory was a great get for them. Everyone in their grade respected him, having him on their side would change the dynamics possibly all the way to graduation.

Chelsie, as both the president of the club and their resident Paladin, was the obvious choice. Or so she was told. Any other time she might have resisted but she assumed he would pass on the chance to hang out with the nerdiest group in the school, continue on with his amazingly cool life, and she’d be able to shrug it off.

But he didn’t say no. He said yes.

In fact he said: “Yeah, that’s great. I haven’t even unpacked my cosplay stuff yet since we moved. I didn’t know there was a club, that’s awesome. Let me know when!”

It took everything she had in her to nod, smile, and get away around the corner to have a panic attack. Once she stopped sweating, a couple of days later, she also agreed to give Rory a ride to park that was their usual meeting place.

She thought about Friday a lot after that. Sometime during that week she read the phrase “a copse of trees” in a book and made a mental note to use that to describe where they meet because she thought that would impress Rory. She cleaned and mended her costume and replaced the spray painted sheets of craft foam armor that had worn out. She did everything she could possibly think of to make Friday night amazing.

Until Cassie threw a fit.

Until her dad had said, “C’mon, hun, this means a lot to your sister. Do this for Cassie.”

Until her mom had pressed the five-dollar bill in her hand with a look that made it clear she was spending her  Friday Evening in Monte Carlo.

She waited until the last second, almost until it was time to pick him up, to text Rory and tell him about the change in plans.

:( Rly sry but can’t go 2nite. Have 2 go to the French Club thing @ school. Mom & Dad say.

But then he replied:

No prob, sounds good. Pick me up at 7?

So there they were, in the cafeteria, plastic coins in their fists, with Rory looking at her expectantly.

“Yeah”, Chelsie said, only blushing a little, “Let’s party in Monte Carlo.”

His Take: 

Paul Dennis had only been the mercenary superhero called Paladin for a short time. Since he took began his new “job”, he had kept busier than he thought he would as a rookie in the world of heroes. He had been chasing the Purple Man for the last six months, but Daredevil kept getting in his way, even though the two men had teamed up on a number of occasions. Despite the distractions from the Man Without Fear, Paladin had picked up the trail of the Purple Man and he had followed it to the most unlikely of places, the Timely Hotel in Casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. 

Changing into regular clothes, Dennis made his way down to the casino, if the Purple Man was there, that’s where his emotion altering powers would do the most good. Well, good for him, not so good for whomever he decided to pick as his victims. He found an open seat at a blackjack table and sat down. Twenty minutes later, he was up three grand and getting very dirty looks from security guards. He knew that several cameras were on him and he hoped that they drew attention to someone other than the casino boss. 

The giant glass doors in the front of the building opened slowly, grabbing Dennis’ attention, and he immediately knew that he had hit the jackpot. In walked a young man, short in stature but oozing confidence and charm. He wore dark glasses to hide his eyes, but Dennis suspected that he was looking right at him. It was the Purple Man, but something was different. Normally, the Purple Man had snow-white hair and a purplish tint to his skin, hence his colorful name. This man had jet black hair, piled high on the top of his head and wrapped in a scarf. He wore a dark purple suit with bright gold trim. No matter how he disguised himself, Dennis knew he had his man. He loosened the top button on his shirt, preparing to pull his mask on and to ditch his “regular clothes” in favor of his costume in which all his weapons were stored. 

Instead, he stopped. The purple man walked right to him and sat down in the chair next to him and the dealer dealt him in. Dennis tried to make some casual conversation.

“Hey, I’m Paul. What’s your name, fella?”

“Just call me Prince” The wheels starting turning faster in Dennis’ mind. The Purple Man used a handful of aliases, but royalty was not one of them. Before he knew it, an hour had passed. Both men were up significantly, and the tension between the two was high, but the same talk had kept going, each one refusing to stop, as if the chatting was intimidating the other player.

The set of double doors closest to both men opened and a blast of warm air rushed in and surrounded the table they were at. Acting strictly our of instinct, both men turned around to see what had caused the wind. What they saw was a stunning woman, dressed head to toe in silver.

“Wow” was all Dennis could say, “look at that.”

“Yeah,” the Purple Man replied “you got that right. Plus, I think she just walked in through the out door. Wait, something’s really out of place. Is she wearing a beret?”

“I think she is. It’s a raspberry beret”

“Looks like the kind you’d find at a second hand store”

“I think if it was a little warmer out, she wouldn’t wear much more”

TO BE CONTINUED…………….