Ace

“There will be crime on your hands, and treachery on your heels. A cruel, cruel world on your shoulders, and no flowers on your grave. And the joke, well...unfortunately, bless your heart, the joke will be on you. Only you. For there is a presence of hostility whose fangs are sunk deep into your future. There are gnashing teeth on your heels and around every bend. There is a price on your destiny. The bounty hunters among the angels will be after you. There is no stealth, Lady Spade. There is only running. So I suggest you run.” If she had been so lucky, Ace might have received just such a warning. But the entirety of the point, here, is that she's not. She has been chronically hapless from the web of the womb, cursed with relentless, ruthless misfortune. Her very own entourage of bad luck. Its signature everywhere, its shadow widespread and swift. The only compensation for this forsaken fate, destiny's sole remedy: the fact that she is gifted and lucky at cards. Grossly lucky. But survival is far from sympathetic. And not all games are as easy as cards on a table.