#zankaxreadersmut

Chapter 1 (2.4k words)

Two years ago...

"Yo dealer, can I get a hand in?"

You were born and raised in a gambling town, you never got around to actually learning the name of it though. It didn't matter to you. You were playing Blackjack with some randos in a back alley, you could never afford to go to a casino, too expensive. You had to have some really expensive trash in order to get in the casinos.

In your town, it was almost like they worshipped trash. Almost. They treated trash like it was valuable, but only the trash that's seen as treasure. Items that can be repaired, are still usable, or look cool hold the most value. Like a deer antler, or wire, or scrap metal. Those are worth it. Especially anything that was from a Sphereite, like clothing, jewelry, now that is the stuff people will kill to get their hands on.

The trash that was smelly, ruined, or had no real use on the Ground was worthless. No need to explain what that looks like. It is worthless after all.

You hosted blackjack games all the time; everyone knew who you were, and they knew where to find you. The same old alley under the same old overpass. And you were always the dealer, no questions asked.

"Dealerrrr.."

Your grandpa played cards with you using the same deck since you were four years old, and he passed them on to you before he passed away right in front of you. You cherished that deck. Anytime they were bent, you fixed them. Anytime they were stained, you cleaned them. They're the last reminder you have of him. That's why you never let anyone touch them or be the dealer.

That deck was your Jinki. Royal Hand you called it. You were almost killed in an alley by a dirty lady. A bitchy one too. Your Jinki activated on its own and protected you. How it protected you, that's another story for another day. (ask this question later for the story). But you had to spend a lot of time figuring it out; it's pretty complex.

Royal Hand works like a game of Blackjack, and you have to play your hand like you're playing the game itself. Your total cards drawn should equal or be close to 21. Go over, you bust. Standing (blackjack term for not being dealt more cards) is good too, but only if you have 15 or more points that are less than 21. If you get 21 points from only 2 drawn cards, congrats. Your cards become super powerful. If you get to 21 with any number of dealt cards, and one of them is an ace, the ace turns into whatever power you need. You need a masseuse, pow. A gunslinger, botta bot boom pow.

That's another rule. Every card dealt to you becomes a weapon.

Face cards are the most powerful. Your kings become warriors, tanks per say, dealing heavy damage to your opponent. Queens are your healers; they can heal you or any allies within a 50-yard radius. Jacks are mages, working with magic, really cool shit happens with them. Your jokers don't really count in standard blackjack, but you're the dealer. With your rules, jokers make any hand equal 21 points, and they're your assassins, dealing with knife combat and toxins. Only one of each card comes out, even non-face cards.

Non face cards with a value of 2-4 points are your knights, dressed like medieval times. For example, if you have a 2, only one knight comes out. You had to be nerfed somehow otherwise you would be too powerful. Cards worth 5-7 points are your archers, and cards worth 8-10 points are your bombers.

Seems like a cool power right? No downsides. That's what you thought at first. If you bust, your power turns off for 30 seconds. If you bust 3 times, your power is gone and can't be used again for 24 hours. And you can only go through the whole deck once. Once all 52 are done, your power is drained. So you have to beat your enemy before they run out. Also, no shuffling. That's cheating. Your power pretty much is all about probabilities and counting cards to ensure you win. And time management is key too.

"DEALER!"

Your head snaps up, forgetting you've been shuffling for how long?

"Yes?"

"Can I get a hand in? For the fifteenth time. I started to think you were deaf, I almost said somethin' offensive." said the man standing over you.

"Oh yes, sorry, what will you be playing with?"

"Huh? You mean I have to buy in? Fuck... uhhh, I have this."

The man pulled out a wooden staff with some white, sweat stained cloth wrapped around one end of it like a grip. Other strips of cloth wrapped around all over in random spots, almost like he attempted to bandage the staff somehow, to heal it in a way. The other end looked like it was a slingshot. And overall, it looked worthless. Everyone around you started cackling as all of the players processed what exactly had been offered to bet with. 

"What in the world is that? Ha ha haaaa..."

"Looks like a giant used it as back scratcher."

"Nahhh… It looks like a trash beast's dildo."

You couldn't help but hold in a laugh, it looked absolutely worthless.

"Sir, if you could show why your item is so valuable, and if it actually shows its value, I can let you join. But with its current condition, I can't let you join.

The man was looking down at his weapon and started to laugh, chuckling with a grin cracking along his face. He lifted his head up and looked right at you, as if he could see your thoughts. His grin more visible now, but his eyes.

They were glowing. Bright blue, with navy rings along the outside of his iris'. Like an electric guitar coming to life, sparks soared between the two of you. They shone right at you. Bright, direct, and piercing. And the corners of his eyes were crinkling, showing just how funny he thought the situation was.

"Oh I have to prove it?" he asked, still chuckling to himself. He finally caught his breath and sighed to himself, eyes closed and head tilted down so his hair covered the majority of his face.

You thought you imagined it at first, the eyes glowing thing, but then he looked right at you, and you weren't hallucinating at all. His eyes were peaking out between the strands of his hair, and god were they beautiful. They looked like those things that sometimes came out at night, stars, you think they were called. 

"Watch me."

All of the sudden, his eyes shone even brighter. An electric blue aura formed and condensed all around his body, but mainly around his item. It started to evolve in a sense, changing form, growing in size and power. You could feel the power surge, and the vibe in your little alleyway shifted from silliness and sarcasm to regret. Regret that anyone had decided to laugh at this man. This change in energy, you had felt it before. It was familiar, just like that time you had to deal with that lady.

"Does this meet your criteria, dealer?" the man asked, grin still prevalent.

You look down again, and the staff wasn't how it was 5 seconds ago. It was almost an entirely new item. You had no idea what to make of the situation. This man, he was like you in a way. Hiding a power from everyone until it needs to be shown.

"Uh- yes. Yes, it does," you stutter. "You may have a seat."

"Thank you, dealer," the man says.

"You're welcome. Now everyone, place your bets."

Everyone in the game places their bets. Nobody is going all in except for one person: the man who just joined. Definitely because he doesn't want to lose his staff.

You hand out two face up cards to everyone, and 1 face up and 1 face down to yourself.

A jack... you think to yourself. Probably a card higher than a seven is under there.

As everyone playing looks at their cards, the man looks at his. A nine and a three, pretty shitty hand. But you knew better than to assume. The man with the staff got an 9, and had a total of 21 points. Guess luck was on his side after all.

"Blackjack!" you exclaim. "Congrats sir!" You think of an equivalent amount of loot to give him and settle on a stuffed bunny and a comic book. He immediately examines them, seeing if they are worth the equivalent of his staff. He comes to the conclusion that no, no they are not. He doesn't really care though; he knows someone else who would love them.

One after another, players either bust, or they stand, and they're awaiting your play. You flip over the other card. And it's an ace. 

"House wins!" you exclaim as you grab your winnings from the remaining players and stretch your sleeves to show there are no cards you could be cheating with.

"You gotta be kidding me!"

One of the other players, a man with weird boots, stands up and refuses to give his ante to you. You've seen him before, he comes into town every once in a while and gambles to gain some trash. You never knew what he used it for, though. And the girl that's normally with him wasn't here today.

"Is there a problem sir?" you ask.

"You think? I just lost all my money to you, you bitch!"

All of a sudden this assholes eyes start to glow and so do his boots, but in an ugly orange color. They lit up like the guy with the staff. Interesting.

"Really? Today? I did my hair all nice and everything just to ruin it."

The man starts to lunge over the table at you and you feel your cards starting to vibrate when you-

"Wait just a second!" The man with the staff looks around and realizes he cut the tension completely.

"How about you guys play one more hand, just between the two of you? That way you, sir, can be certain about if she's cheatin', and you, ma'am, can earn your reward if you win?" the man proposed.

"That's fine by me, sir," you smile coyly. "And what about you? Are you down for one last hand?"

"I want your loot if I win, you skank." says the boots man, eyeing your stash like an lion stalking its prey.

"That's all? Why but of course, that's only fair," you say. "Now are you willing to play?"

The man with the boots pauses, his thoughts conflicted, before he finally agrees and settles down. You wanted to say thank you to the man with the baton, but you had more annoying matters at hand. Like dealing with this dickless swine.

You deal the cards once again; the boots man gets dealt a ten and a 5, not too shabby. You get dealt two 3's. It's pretty crappy.

"Hit me," the boots man says, and you oblige, giving him a four and now he has 19. He might actually have a shot, but you can count cards; you know you're gonna be fine.

You deal yourself once again and now have an eight, making a total of fourteen. Then you add a six on top of it, and now you have 20 points. Yippie.

"Sorry sir, house wins again." You declare, holding your hands up to prove no cheating, and are about to grab your loot when the boots man decides to go feral.

He jumps across the table at you, about to punch you, and you close your eyes when you feel that familiar response kick in. That power, the one with the lady, it was starting to take over. With the cards still out, they started to glow, and they started to transform. You opened your eyes again, and you were being pulled back by two of your knights (they came out from the two 3 cards, fyi). They were glowing a beautiful silver, clad in armor, their helmets covering their faces, holding their shields and swords ready to be drawn.

Your bomber (from the 8 card) knelt down, glowing a deep orange and black, and its face was actually a nuke. One of its hands was on the man's neck, and the other was on its own neck where there was a little silver pin. Whenever he releases that pin, it's like a firework set off in a toy house. He can do other cool shit too, but he instinctively goes for his neck at any scenario.

Your archer (from the 6 card) shone a brilliant forest green, his bow locked in on the man's skull, awaiting your command.

You walked up to the man and you couldn't help but laugh. He was so pathetic. He was crying, gasping for any ounce of oxygen he could, and trying to break free. The glow from his eyes and boots diminished. The glow from your eyes and your soldiers were the only sources of light illuminating the alleyway now. 

"Sir, do you see why we don't attack the dealer?" You ask calmly, eyes still glowing red with black flames around the edges of your iris'.

The boots man nodded frantically, still looking for a way to escape.

"Do you think you can apologize, and promise to never come here again?" you ask in a sing-songy voice, humiliating the man and causing every other player to hold in their chuckles.

Your bomber loosens his grip a little on the man, letting him speak. "Yes, I promise—I—I won't ever come back. I—I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"