"Thank you for your kindness, ladies and gentlemen!" Remy said, bowing low before the small crowd of spectators. His hat was nearly full with coins and bills — today had been a particularly good day so far. "Just for that, I'll show you something extra-special," he grinned.
"During my travels, I happened to stumble on the legendary Dragon's Nest. The dragons there were very friendly, and in exchange for my pledge to keep their location secret, they imparted to me the secret of breathing fire!"
He took a swig from the flask in his hand. He'd originally been taught this trick with whiskey, but paraffin was much
safer, even if it wasn't quite as pleasant to taste. As the crowd watched he snapped his fingers, spitting the fuel in a clear arc towards the ocean as he did so. The flint and steel he'd held in his fingers sparked together, igniting the paraffin into a strong jet of flame.
The crowd shouted in delight as Remy extinguished the flame. It was a simple trick, really, but people always enjoyed it. And happy people gave lots of money. "Thank you, thank you all!" he bowed again. "I hope to perform for you all again at a later time."
The performance over, the crowd began wandering off. Remy collected his hat, looking at the money within. It was small fry compared to the earnings he'd had when performing while on tour, but right now it was enough to pay for another day's food and lodging. Soon, though, he'd have to move on...
He put his hat back on and set off down the street towards his lodgings. It didn't take him long to notice he was being followed — two thuggish-looking men with probably only a single brain between them. Curious, he slowed his walk to allow them to catch up. There wasn't likely to be any trouble he couldn't handle, after all.
"Alright, magic man, hand over the money," one of them growled, grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Money?" Remy asked innocently. "I don't know what you mean." He considered going for his sword, but the last thing he wanted was to make a scene in the middle of town.
"Don't be stupid," the second man said, grabbing his hat. "We saw all that money in...your...hat?" He trailed off in confusion as he looked inside the empty hat.
"As you can see," Remy said, "You really must be mistaken. I'm just a poor street performer." He noticed someone familiar coming down the street and smiled slightly. This would be fun.
The first man growled and shook him. "Don't give us that! We know you've got money, and we—"
"Hello, Mister Masterson!" Remy said cheerfully, causing both men to jump. "It's very good to see you again! How is Miss Carol?"
The former Marine grinned widely. "She's doing just fine. Still talks about the show you did for her birthday." He looked at the two thugs. "You having some trouble?"
"No trouble," Remy said. "These fine gentlemen wanted directions to the execution platform. It's such a historic place, everyone's got to see it, you know?"
"Yes," Masterson gave the two men a measured look. "They do seem bound for the scaffold, I'll admit." He raised his arm and both thugs flinched. "You go straight down this street, turn left at the tavern on the end, and from there it's a straight shot to the platform." Neither man needed to be told twice, almost tripping over themselves in the rush to get past the famous bounty hunter. Remy smiled — perhaps they had some brains after all.
"Glad I found you, by the way," Masterson said casually. Something in his tone caused Remy to tense. "I got a new bounty poster this morning. Not a government bounty, this one, but it offered a pretty big reward. Required the target alive, but didn't say what he'd done. I thought it was pretty strange, myself."
"I see," Remy said neutrally, weighing his options. Daddy Masterson was a legend with pistols, but if he was fast, perhaps he could throw Masterson off balance and disappear.
And perhaps pigs could fly, too. "I...wish you luck, then. I'm sure Carol will get several new dresses out of it."
"Oh, I'm not planning to take on this hunt," Masterson said. Remy blinked. "See, I found the issuer's name at the bottom of the bounty, and, well, I just can't work for a Gambino. They're scum, the lot of them."
"I applaud your stance on the matter," Remy murmured. "But why—"
"I thought you'd be interested," Daddy Masterson shrugged. He turned to walk away. "I'll be seeing you around, Remy Le Grande
Remy watched him go, a small shiver running down his spine. Yes, it's time to be leaving town,
he thought. He changed his course, heading towards the nearest tavern. If he was lucky, he'd find a crew that needed a capable carpenter or swordsman. Oh well,
he thought, glancing down at the wallets he'd stolen from those two thugs, at least money won't be much of an issue.