Ace of Cards

Chapter 1: What is your name?

You cannot fathom the unfathomable, just as the dead are not to rise ever once again after they fall.

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A dark figure scurries in the night, heading for the kitchen, then the living room. And then.. a large grey door catches the figure's attention. As quiet as they can, they creep towards the large door, before the figure can reach for the knob, it slams open, effectively hitting the figure in the face.

Someone, with white hair and a bright blue ombre, stumbles out of the room. They spot the figure on the floor, holding their nose as if they had a nosebleed. “Oh, I didn't expect you to be up so early.” they murmured. The figure shakes its head, “Who are you? Why am I here?” The child inquired hastily, regaining composure as quickly as they could.

“My name is Alison, I'm a scientist.” “Scientist?!” The child screeches, staggering back, a defensive stance held up should Alison choose to attack. “What are you planning to do?! Are you going to experiment on me?!” Alison deadpans, “Geez, that piece of shit really knows how to pick 'em.” She sighs, “No, I'm not planning on experimenting on you, child experimentation was banned in Achlys years ago.”

The child still stays on the defensive. Alison feels the energy drain from her, “Look, kid. I don't care who or what you are, just don't interrupt my work. So go to your room.” Alison returns through the iron door and slams it closed. The child finally drops the defensiveness, a sigh escapes them as they head towards a comfortable looking couch.

It's been a while since they've been in a house, they scan the room, oddly fascinated by the decor. Everything is so.. ordinary. They pass a mirror, and are now acutely aware of how.. clean they look. Of course, the bandages aren't that nice to look at, but other than that, they basically look like a normal kid again.

The child takes note that their eyes aren't the familiar red most would have seen, but rather, a bright blue that looks awfully close to what they originally looked like. Their red hair no longer matted and dirty, the black streaks inherited from their parents a stark contrast from the bright red. The moon shone quite brightly through the glass pane. It made the mirror look almost animated, unreal.

The most off-putting part about the house was likely the cellar. The cellar reeked of rot, the type that would make you gag upon smelling it. It smelled like rotten fruit, and rotten meat. The child cringes at what might be underneath the door.

The front door creaks open, its hinges making a rather unpleasant sound, the child hides as quickly as they can. A figure wanders in, the mask they wore obscure their entire face. It was a drama-like smiling mask, one side of the mask was white with black highlights and the other was black with white highlights. Their hair long and brown, white strikes across their bangs in a peculiar manner, or at least thats what the child thinks. Their hair slightly fades into a strange white at the front, yet unseen in the back. Dyed, perhaps.

Alison steps out of the iron door and the child holds their breath as they talk.

“What took you so long, you prick?” She hisses, “Calm down, I simply lost track of time while disposing of some units.” the mask shook with the figure's words, moving as it followed the figure's jaw.

“The kid you brought in woke up just a bit ago.” The figure hums, and the child trembles in fear. “That's good to hear.” Is all they respond with before they walk away and towards the steps. “Wh-! Hey! Get back here!” Alison yells. The figure doesn't respond and only continues to ascend the steps, much to her annoyance.

Alison curses at the figure with no hesitation or any signs of stopping, or at least that's what it sounds like. Unfortunately, it doesn't sound like any language that is familiar.

The redhead slowly creeps away from the couch, the white haired woman groans. “Why are you down here? I told you to go to your room.” Alison taps her foot impatiently, the child shudders. “I-I.. got distracted….” they respond. Alison sighs, “Go to bed, kid.” the child nods and hesitantly heads up the stairs.

“Oh, so you were downstairs.” the figure notes, the child yelps. The figure shushes them. “My name is Ace, what's yours, little one?” Ace kneels before the child. “I.. I don't want to tell you.” Ace hums, eventually fully squatted on the floor. “That's fine. All is in due course, or however that saying goes.”

There's an awkward silence as the child studies Ace's features, the mask they wore was rather daunting upfront. There's subtle scratches in the mask, seemingly made of porcelain yet no cracks are visible. the black half of the mask has a strange scent, it's smells like a fruity cocktail had been spilled upon it. Or perhaps, the scent wasn't one of a cocktail...

Regardless of their guess, it doesn't merit much just staring at a porcelain face. “Does the mask bother you?” Ace inquires, strangely polite. Most from these parts are rather brash and unruly, they must come from wealth, or at least came from a different city. Estellefall isn't known for peace and love. No, In fact, this city was built on corpses, killers, and monstrosities.

Nothing about this... thing... screamed 'I am from Estellefall'. “No, it doesn't.” The child responds. Ace tilts their head, “Do you wish for me to remove it?” Strange. No one from Estellefall speaks like that either. “You're not from here.” The child makes an educated guess, Ace seems taken aback, albeit amused. “I am not. How did you know?” The child almost rolls their eyes, “Your speech gives you away. Posture too.. Prim and proper like a prince.” Ace hums, “Would you believe me if I said I was?” “No.” Ace lets out a giggle, “Why is that?” “No prince would ever run from their palace.” Ace hums.

“You have a point. Although, the princes I've met happen to hate being princes.” Ace comments, the red head perks their head, “You know a prince ?” They ask. “Two, in fact. Though I've lost contact with one.” Ace answers honestly.

“Why do the princes wanna run away? They have all the money they need, don't they?” Ace hums and motions for the child to follow them. “Money is one thing, but responsibilities are another.” “Re..s...ponsi...bibities?” The child repeats, “Res-pon-si-bil-e-tees” Ace corrects, “Responsibilities?”

“Yes, responsibilities. I've seen what princes have to do to become a king.” “What do they do?” “Well for starters, they have to read..” “Reading's easy!” “Oh? You can read? Well, the prince I grew up with had to read 50 books, each with at least 500 pages every week.” “Eh?! That's not possible!” “It is very possible, I'd help him study too.” “You studied with a prince?” “I did, in fact, he also wanted to marry me.” “Ew.” “Not a fan of romance?” “Nope! Not a chance! I don't like girls! They have cooties!”

Ace lets out a laugh, “Cooties?” “Mhm! They spread when you kiss a girl!” Ace hums, “What about boys?” “No way! They're all ugly!” The child gags just thinking about it, Ace chuckles at the dramatique. “...What about a sibling?” “Huh? Isn't that bad?” “Its bad if its romantic, but it's good if its familial.”

The child grows quiet. “I found out what happened to your family from the neighbourhood I found you in.” The child grips the sleeves of their hoodie. “...I don't need your pity.” Quiet sniffles slowly morph into sobbing, Ace kneels next to the sobbing child. “Vega, do you want to live?” The crying stops for a moment, tears continue to stream down the child's face as they stare into Ace's grey eyes.

When faced with mortality as a child, what do you do?

When your parents died in front of you, watching as your siblings pleaded for mercy upon you.. what do you do?

What can you do in that situation?

The answer is nothing. You're nothing but a child, a bystander, you can't fight back without the risk of immediate consequence. Yet here they stood, in a quiet hallway, adorn with ordinary photos of ordinary people.

With a question, most would quiver to answer. The child does not hesitate. “I don't.”

Every ballad has an ending, and perhaps, the writer has chosen to cut the writing.