The Piece of Eight

The Piece of Eight:

Given as a gift to a nameless gunman by a benefactor whose name has been lost to time.  At the time, the gunman idolized the piece, always ready to point out it's supreme accuracy and reliability allowing him to go undefeated in over a hundred battles and as many duels.  

But, it was only after the first few years that the gunman found out that accepting a gift from strangers can lead to it's own set of troubles.  The Piece of Eight has has upon it, a curse that whosoever wields it should know a life of no rest and that any man capable of wielding it shall seek the owner out and attempt to take it from them.  

 The Piece of Eight has known many wielders, swapping hands from gunman to gunman until finally it landed in the hands... of a small urchin girl; barely a child in the grand scheme of things.   Suffering from severe paranoia, the previous wielder tried to kill the girl who had approached him to ask for a few pittances of money.  Not entirely defenseless, the girl used a small derringer that she had stolen a few nights before to kill the man point blank and relieve him of his mythical weapon.  Not knowing what she had, the girl continued to steal and thieve  as much as she could, unknowing to the dangers t hat lurked around her.   One day, she approached a wealthy man whom looked like a decent target.  She watched him, stalked him, and when it was time to make her move, she pounced.   Unfortunately, the man turned out to be a minor official with the government and in the ensuing struggle was killed by a stray shot from the Piece of Eight.

Horrified by what she had done and the countless witnesses around her watching the spectacle; the girl fled, running as far as her short legs could take her. 


 Marker for murder the child would grow quickly or die as she was beset on all sides by men seeking her bounty and the mythical Piece of Eight she was rumored to hold.  It was during this time that the girl became a woman and then made a name for herself.

Eighth Round Eve is what they called her, owing to the fact that she never needed the eighth round of her pistol to finish her assailants; such was her skill as a marksman, no matter how many battles she survived, she always had at least one bullet left in the chamber.   For years she honed her craft, becoming a national, then world acclaimed criminal and gunman until her name would forever be synonymous with crime.

But then, time had finally caught up with her as a band bounty hunters; roughly 21 in all, cornered her in the mountains outside of a small rural town.  The bounty hunters had pulled along a small boy from the town to lead them up the trail to the cabin that she was using.  What followed was a short but fierce gunfight as the hunters peppered the cabin with gunfire, hitting Eve several times in the process.  But in return, every single one of Eve's shots hit their mark, the bullets somehow killing men three at a time until finally... only the boy remained; surviving the last shot by tripping and falling right before the bullet would have pierced his skull, though it left a long angry gash across his forehead.

Limping out of the cabin, Eve started when she noticed a small child, barely old enough to hold the gun that he held shakily in his hands; taken from the body of one of the hunters she had just killed seconds before.

Eve smirked then, a stream of blood falling from her lips as she felt the fatal wounds she had been hit with.   She looked down at the boy then, whose shaking fingers held the trigger with a grip barely even able to lift the heavy piece.  With a cry the boy unloaded all of the rounds into her body... and yet she remained standing.   Horrified, the boy fell back onto his rear, pistol all but forgotten as Eve stumbled forward, her infamous Piece of Eight held in weakening fingers.

"Look at me boy"  She whispered.  "Look into the eyes of the woman you killed."  Her smile widened, showing off blood stained teeth.  "Know that you'll know no rest for the rest of your days."  She tried to had the gun off to the child;  rightfully won, rightfully owned.

But something happened, something that had not happened in the entire weapons life.


The boy refused.


Startled, Eve flinched back at the boy's almost calm dismissal of her gift; her curse.   He stood, defiant in the face of the woman in front of him.

For a moment Eve stood there, taking her last breaths in shock.  Then, her lungs emptied fully in a long heart rending laugh, so broken as to be unrecognizable as humor.   Her eyes lowered finally onto the boy's firm stance, taking one final gasp of air, she spoke.  "I suppose this is the end for me... but you... your surprise me boy...  When I am gone, take my gun... take it and hide it from the world.  Do you understand?"

A shaky nod was all that answered her.

Eighth Round Eve smiled one last time as she raised her gun to her head, her eighth and final bullet clicking into place...

---

The Curse of the Piece of Eight was broken that day and the gun lost to time.  The only account of it ever having existed beyond legend was a small book, penned decades ago by an unknown author.   Inside was a brief description of the gun and it's legend, with a small black and white picture of it sitting on a table

And an old man with a long angry scar across his forehead.

---


There's my rendition of the legend