You decide to stay in this hand. Kepper and Dagerman do as well, though you get the impression Dagerman is simply following Kepper. The risk is high, but no one is backing down. That kid is still unwavering. You read clear in Vetica's eyes that she is counting on you, as per usual. Luckily you're not in the business of disappointing her.
All the remaining players have put 3 out of their 5 coins in the pot when Kepper reveals the turn;
You're not looking at the strongest hand in poker, but it ain't bad at all. You feign disappointment in the card anyway. Dagerman doesn't appear any kind of pleased with the cards while Kepper nods to herself in approval. You're venturing into dangerous territory, so you decide to check. Dagerman does as well. Kepper clearly contemplates raising one more, but ultimately decides not to.
She flips the final community card;
Now that's a damn good hand. The chances of anyone doing better than you are very pleasingly low... though technically not impossible. Feeling pretty confident, you decide to raise one more. If looks could kill, Dagerman would have slit your throat and watched you choke on the blood. Hard to blame him, though. To say 'Lord Windreave is not a boss you want to report you failed to' is a severe understatement. Dagerman folds with a grunt and turns his cutting gaze to Kepper. She doesn't flinch, and goes all in. She is genuinely hard to read. You can't tell if she's bluffing, genuine, or thinks she's calling your bluff. You've seen that this kid is pretty reckless, and decide it must be a bluff, so you call it. At last, you both reveal your hands.
You've lost. Your eyebrows raise with surprise you cannot mask. Kepper gives you a bitter smirk.
She reaches forward to pull in her winnings, but Vetica suddenly grabs her forearm. Dagerman stands and snarls, "Just what do you think you're doing, Holiday?"
"I can ask you the same thing," she retorts, and turns to Kepper. "You want to explain the cards in your sleeve?"
"Unhand her," he demands.
Vetica lets go and stands with a scoff, "What a fucking farce. Should've expect no less from you."
"It didn't have to be like this."
As soon as the words pass his lips, his arm swings up toward her, gun in hand. Not a single thought crosses your mind; you just lunge forward on instinct. The gun fires as you knock Dagerman's hand away. The shot narrowly misses Vetica. He swiftly swings his arm back and strikes you upside the head with his pistol. You hear more gunshots go off behind your back, but you can't turn your focus from Dagerman.
Ignoring the pain, you grab his arm and yank him downward. He staggers forward so you take the chance to kick him in the side of his knee, and he tumbles to the floor. Before you can kick him again, he grabs your leg and pulls it out from under you, sending you crashing onto your back. He goes to aim his gun at you, but you stomp your boot into his face before he can. While he recoils, you scramble towards his gun-wielding hand and attempt to wrestle it away from him. A bullet from elsewhere grazes your arm, so you use Dagerman for cover. In the push and pull between you, he fires again, the stray bullet flying off into the room. With a free hand, you manage to grab your knife from its sheath on your belt, and sink it into Dagerman's abdomen with a disgusting thunk.
With a sputtering gasp he drops his gun, then cracks his knuckles across your face in a desperate swing. You wrench the knife out his side just to jab it back in. Over and over and over. From his stomach to his chest than up to his head, where you leave it lodged between his eyes.
You draw your gun and turn to face the rest of the danger, but those battles seem to be already over. You see Vetica fire one more shot into one of Dagerman's men on the ground, putting him down. No more of his crew stand. Your crewmate Laus, red pouring down his nose, dives to Ivan, who is slumped on the floor against the wall. Ivan coughs out a small spurt of blood, alive but just barely. Vetica goes over to the open door, slams it shut, and props a chair under the handle.
You scan over to where you had last seen Kepper, and there she is, now cradling her leg in a fetal position on the floor. You now know where that stray bullet went. Blood pools from her thigh as she shakes and sobs. Thoughtlessly you go to her, and pry her arms open so you can see the wound. She squirms and wails with pain, and claws the side of your face with a bloody hand. You retaliate on pure reflex, hitting her square on the head with a clenched fist. She goes limp and a flood of regret washes over you the moment you process what you did. Frantically you press two fingers to her neck and listen for her breathing over the tumultuous clamor in the tavern downstairs. She is unconscious, but alive.
As Vetica strides past you to the window, you whip one of your belts off and fasten it tightly around Kepper's thigh, and keep her leg up to reduce the bloodflow. Your captain snaps open the window and whistles a loud signal out into the Haze.
"Get Ivan over here," she calls to Laus, then turns to you. "What are you doing?"
"We can't leave her here, she's just a kid," you answer.
"Bring her then."
Carefully, you gather Kepper up in your arms and take her to the window, where you see Smoke, Vetica's white dragon, fast approaching. He stops along side the building so it's a short jump down onto his saddle. Quickly you make the leap, and a few seconds later, you Laus and Vetica get Ivan down safely before they jump on as well. It's a tight fit on Smoke's back but you manage. Everyone clings desperately to his saddle as the dragon takes off unsteadily with his heavy load. Leaving the frenzied tavern behind, you fly over the island for only about a minute before landing on Holiday flagship. Orders are shouted, bells are rang, the ship comes alive as all aboard spring to action. While Vetica commands the ship to sail, you and Laus take your injured below deck to find Hodgins, the crew medic.
He tends to Ivan first, so you set Kepper on a nearby cot. You press a rag firmly to her wound, hold her leg above her, and watch as Hodgins tears the clothes away to get a look at Ivan's chest. Everyone sinks at the sight of the bullet hole clear into his right lung. Ivan coughs more blood, and Laus holds his arm in solace. You avert your eyes as Hodgins begins his work, instead looking back to the girl in your arms. Mind racing, you repeatedly check for her pulse to verify she's still alive. Each second feels like an eternity in which you are helpless, nothing to do but sit idly and hope they live. You've been here before, but can never get used to it. It's these days that remind you the truth about this wretched life.
Finally, Hodgins calls you. He's done all he can for Ivan, though you don't know if it's enough. He looks at Kepper's injury, and assures you she'll live. You hoist her onto the table, and then go to help Laus move Ivan to a bed. After laying your friend down, you fetch a bottle of fine wine from your quarters. You thought you'd been saving it for a joyous day. You and Laus remain by Ivan's side, all sharing the drink together. Laus asks if you shouldn't be with the girl you saved. You shake your head and assure him it'd do no good. If she woke up, the last thing she would want to see would be you.
Even though you say that, and believe it true, guilt lies heavy on your shoulders. You know it's also because you don't want to bear the sight of her anymore. It feels better to accompany your friend than face that living reminder of your shittiness. You wish you were a better man.
Regardless of your worsening thought, you and Laus and Ivan make wry jokes about the situation, laughing and drinking to avoid facing the fear and pain. No one bothers to clean the blood from their face, though the cut on your cheek stings with every dry smile you make. Hodgins comes in some time later to tell you he's done, wiping his bloody hands in a towel. Says she just needs to rest now, and asks where you want her. You offer your room, and he asks for your help to transfer her there. Begrudgingly you agree and follow him back to his makeshift operating table.
There Kepper lies, her leg all bandaged up and a wet rag on her forehead. She cracks open a weary eye at your approach. Even in her clearly apparent daze, she grimaces at the sight of your face, but is too drained to do anything beyond that. You and Hodgins carefully transport her to your quarters and set her on the bed. You ask him to take care of her, and he agrees. You thank him, grab your last two bottles of liquor, and return to Ivan and Laus.
You drink and talk until it all blurs. You can't remember what you were saying. You don't even know if you are talking anymore. Your mind is simply too clouded with hate to think of anything else.
Hate losing friends. Hate living in fear. Hate hurting, killing. Hate this life. Hate the man that you are.
I can't do this anymore.
I won't do this anymore.
You'll find a way to make it end... when you wake up.