Prologue:

As this is just a silly backstory for a card game, the silliness of even bothering with a prologue is canceled out making it downright sensible.  Speaking of downright sensible, at this point I'd like to introduce the character that all the following stories will center around.  Please note that in no way is he the protagonist, just simply a very unlucky man who had what seems to be an inconceivable stroke of luck... the word inconceivable meaning not capable of being imagined or grasped mentally (in response to your sub-vocalized accusation directed towards me, your narrator).  Before I finally get on with it, I should also mention that the description of "downright sensible" was a misdirect; Jack Murphy is an idiot.

Jack Murphy, or "Sappy Jack" (which tested well with our target demographic), has lived a life of blissful lightheartedness.  Kind to one and all and super easy to approach, he would call anyone friend and offer a helping hand, donate to a cause, or co-sign a lease.  He would listen to every telemarketer and door-to-door salesman.  If there was a sucker born every minute, then he was born yesterday.  All that aside though, nothing could spoil his positive outlook, not even his tendency to misplace important things like his wallet.  Hell, he just bought enough backup wallets that if one pocket was empty the rest would have him covered!  It was that very specific habit that led to the most interesting circumstance.  

This unlucky fellow found himself wealthy.  I mean buried alive in wealth.  Being such a nice guy, of course he shared the news happily in response to the daily stream of rhetorical "howzitgoings".  So word spread quickly and suddenly he became a target.  Now I may have mentioned that Sappy Jack was unlucky.  Well, he wasn't just marked by two-bit purse-snatchers... it turns out there's this entire Thieves Guild full of charismatic, quirky sorts who couldn't resist the challenge of one target that needed to be robbed so many multiple times.  The challenge: can they steal it all, or will they exhaust their efforts before he exhausts his resources.  The twist: can even such a cheerful gentleman handle so many Jerks in one day or will it push him to change his ways and become the ultimate Jerk himself.  Time will tell.  Especially if I procrastinate with updates.


Shylock:

Different types can find themselves attracted to a similar circumstance and sometimes they need to sink from whatever level they come from.  They come down to my level for some advice and more often than not some assistance.  Seeing the opportunity to crawl my way at the cost of their misery seems a fine bargain to me.  That's how I found myself running with a higher class of no good.  Sure they still look down on my profession, and who am I to defend it?  My methods are confrontational on a good day... the bad days bring sore knuckles.  But I'm good at what I do, so good that even those aristo types respect my effectiveness.  They gave me first crack at the mark.

Flew in from Gatwick on Monday, it went down on Tuesday knew his address so following him was little trouble.  Never was one for plotting so first corner he turned he ran solid into me and stopped in his tracks.  If you saw me you wouldn't see a big man, tall maybe but that's it.  That's something else I'm good at, my clothes are over sized and the bulk of me is compressed in wrapping.  I don't get moved by anyone.  Next thing he hears is my regular pitch: "you owe ___ to ___, and he wants it or else ___".  Most of the kind of people I have these talks with actually do owe somebody so this little preamble gets me what I want more often than not.  I don't even want to tell you what he did... what an idiot.  Next thing I know he's upside down in my hand getting a right proper shake down.  I thought I got it all, I thought I taught him something of a lesson too.  Then I heard from the others.

Now I'm waiting for the next chance.  I thought he was an easy target.  Maybe I'm the idiot.

Billy

I've always been the black sheep of the lot, and being something of a drifter I find myself the black sheep of kinds of different lots depending on where the wind takes me.  Take this current lot; bunch of pretty skilled folks that share my greatest talent: taking what we want.  So what makes me stand out?  Well, superficially its like night and day.  Most of them sweat wealth and charisma.  Bunch of Honeypots and Arsene Lupin knockoffs.  I mean, there's also this clumsy guy without a hint of charm, but the rest are a bunch of little princesses.  I, on the other hand, give off vibes filled with expletives, my weathered clothes are worn threadbare, and my eyes are just a little bit fever-bright.  Not that the outsides are what matters, you know.  I mean, it's the insides that count and deep down even if we're all takers I do not take to keep or give.  I am a proud card-carrying member of the 0 percent, I have nothing and want the rest of the world to have nothing with me!  Nothing burns quite like money, all the hours that turn to lifetimes trying to hold onto it... hold a full wallet to a torch and everything you've strived for becomes meaningless.  When it was my turn to take on Sappy Jack I took things slow.

I followed him for a good week or so, learned his routine and habits, and watched for the perfect opportunity.  Throughout the week his unnerving cheerfulness kept getting worse; I knew something big was coming.  Maybe he had figured out about us, maybe he was trying to get away.  It was too late for that though.  One day he left his house in the early evening, far later than usual.  He looked a little bulkier too, I've heard he carried multiple wallets but this was insane.  Every pocket had over stuffed wallets bursting from them, there would never be a better chance.  I approached him head on, big friendly smile and all my feminine charm making him drop his guard.  Called him by name, much to his surprised delight.  Then I distracted him with my favourite misdirect ("look over there, a distraction!") and before he could stop me I made a pretty decent mound of wallets with a bit of left over everclear splashing down it.  Next part is my favourite.  Whooosh.  He was in tears, and I knew in that moment that I took is all.

I knew wrong.  Kicking at the remains I noticed the wallets didn't have money in them.  He was waiting all week to play in a trading card tournament of some kind, and I wrecked his evening.  I'm such a rebel.  I'm getting to old for this schtick