Three days after the fight at the canteen, Mik was released from solitary confinement back into the freedom of prison. Meanwhile, Dolisia and Joel gathered intel, searched every place, went everywhere, and talked to almost everyone. However, their efforts were fruitless for the most part.
On the afternoon of the third day, Mik, Joel, and Dolisia sat together at an empty table, one they basically owned for themselves after the fight against the Templars. They sat in different poses, though all were ones of deep contemplation and thinking, not uttering a word as they sat in silence inside the noisy canteen, their bowls of cold beans and moldy, rock-hard bread sitting untouched after nearly an hour.
“It’s too risky.” Joel said.
“Risk be damned! I just want some proper fucking food. My shit’s become all weird and greenish after eating this godawful bowl of vomit.” Mik argued.
“I don’t know, I’m a little here and there.” Dolisia interrupted, “Yeah, it is too risky, but I’ve had about goddamn enough of the moldy bread. It’s a recipe for death.”
“Or we could wait for an escape plan, y’know?” Mik retorted.
“Are you kidding me? No, out of the fucking question.” Joel rejected, “The fucking guards, luminary or not, are beasts. They are awake at 3 AM roaming the halls. And by the looks of it, these dog-faced bastards are not the easy-going kind like Luke, or that captain Saliva or whatever. If anything, escape is a recipe for disaster.”
“Well, how about we snuff some food under everyone’s nose? We could be really sneaky about it.” Mik suggested.
“That’ll only make it worse. We’ve got a pretty good reputation in the prison now since you beat the Templars, they’re a bunch of shitfaces that no one likes. But if we go around robbing food, we’ll get everyone in the prison against us, we already have enough on our plate as is.”
“Then we just go for it?” Dolisia asked, “Just shoot for it, I think? I mean, what are our options? It’s that or death by food poisoning if you’d call this food, to begin with.”
“Yep…we just shoot for it.” Joel said, “You know, I have a pretty good feeling still, that we might pull it off by some god-given miracle, if there is a god anymore.”
“Well, cowabunga it is.” Mik added, “After you, Joel.”
As if in queue, Mik, Joel, and Dolisia stood up from the table with their trays in hand. With Joel taking the lead, they walked towards the largest table in the canteen—the gambling circle. Scores of men were standing around the table, while only five sat at it. Each was holding his cards, stacks of Coe pilled up next to each of them as a greater pot was placed in the middle, catching the eyes of any curious passerby, the spectators, and especially the gamblers.
As the men shot each other expressionless, nasty glares, the spectators gossiped, laughed, mocked, cheered, and bet on the gamblers. The money passed around from betting was nearly the same as the one set on the table from gambling.
“Excuse me,” Joel interrupted, poking the shoulder of one of the gamblers. “You boys look hungry, I could trade my meal, three meals actually if you let me play with y’all. What’d you say? I’ll buy in with all I got.”
The table went silent for a brief moment before the gamblers and spectators broke into a fit of laughter. They weren’t laughing, but cackling at the sheer stupidity and audacity of this nobody going around trying to buy into a multi-thousand Coe gambling circle with cold beans and moldy food.
“Aye, Tony. Ya catching what the shmuck’s spouting?” One of the spectators laughed, speaking to one of the gamblers at the table. “Moron thinks he can buy in with beans, hah!”
“Loud and clear, Luka.” Tony laughed, “Tell ya what, wise guy. Ya better get a move on before I tell my bois here to crack ye fucking skull open, capiche?”
“No offense meant, fellas.” Joel explained, “But I insist on buying in. I dunno what is it you want, but I’m betting it regardless. Clothes? Brand new, you can have ‘em. Plus, what could one round do? We’ll most likely not win.”
“Listen, wise guy.” Tony said, now with a serious, menacing expression. “Ya look like a decent guy, aye? Tell ya what, if ya get a move on, I’ll pretend this neva happened. Else, it won’t be nice.”
“Look, listen, Tony.” Joel said, “There’s gotta be something you want. I don’t care what it is, but I’m willing to buy in at all costs.”
“…Well.” Tony said, glancing at Dolisia. “How much for the chick?”
The spectators burst into laughter at Tony’s remark. However, Joel was dead serious in his response.
“Afraid I can’t do that. But…” Joel paused.
“But?”
“But I’m willing to give…to give you a handjob if I lose, fair enough?”
The canteen erupted into maniacal laughter. The absolute ridiculousness of the bet was maddeningly hilarious, unlike anything they’d ever heard before. Whether he was joking or not, the bet was far too amusing to take seriously. Tony joined in on the mocking laughter and turned towards the gamblers.
“Handjobs, bwahaha!” He said, turning towards Joel. “And I suppose you’re willing ta give handjobs to everyone at the table if ya lose, right?”
“For a month.”
The dead serious reply caught everyone off-guard, even Tony. They listened in silence before the latter erupted into solo laughter, his eyes darting across the canteen before locking back on Joel.
“Seriously? A month?” He repeated, “Wheneva, howeva, for a month? Ya sure?”
“Damn sure. I’m willing to give you one right after I lose.”
Tony broke into a fit of laughter as he eyed the gamblers once again. He scooted over to the side a considerable distance before he gestured for Joel to come and sit next to him.
“Let him in, bois. I’ve been longing for da touch of a woman fo a long time.”
The canteen once again erupted into laughter before Joel stepped towrads the table. But, before he could sit, Tony pushed him away before he gestured a 'no' with his finger.
“Oh no no, not you, wise guy.” He said, pointing at Mik. “Men don’t give handjobs, I want the idiot to come and play. Idiot as he is, he’s still more a man than ya. But get on softening ‘em hands of yours. bwahaha!”
Though he wanted to take his tray and bash it over Tony’s head, Mik calmed down upon glancing at Joel, who was shooting him a triumphant smirk. And that’s when Mik understood everything as he stepped towards the table and sat down.
As Joel backed up next to Dolisia, the latter was gazing at the ground, her eyes wide in horror as she held her face in her hands. She glanced at Joel, and lashed out at him.
“What the fuck did you do?!” Dolisia lunged at the boy, “You dumbass! Handjobs? For a month?! Do you want to turn into the prison’s little bitch boy?!”
“Dolisia, relax. I’m not turning into anything.” He said, shooting her a devilish smirk. “Except for a filthy rich millionaire.”
“Huh?”
“Shhh, just watch and see.”
After the gamblers finished a round of playing, the cards were gathered up again and shuffled by Tony. The latter shuffled nonchalantly as he glanced at Mik sitting on his right.
“So, I take it you’re familia with poka?”
“Poka?”
“Yeah, poka.”
“What the hell is poka?”
“He means poker.” Joel interrupted.
“Yeah, poka? I literally said that.”
“Oh, poker!” Mik repeated, pausing for a brief moment. “…I never played poker.”
“Hah! My lucky day!” Tony said, shuffling the cards faster. “No time to learn, bozo. We’re startin’ now.”
Tony shuffled the cards for one last time before he began distributing the cards between the four other gamblers, Mik, and himself. He gave out the first card, then the second, then he set the deck of cards on the table. Before that, two of the players on the table put Coe coins in the middle of the table. One threw in one coin, while the other threw two coins in to begin the bet.
As each got hold of his cards, keeping them from peeking gamblers, they began betting. The first gambler bet fifty Coe, the second followed with the same, so was the third, the fourth, and lastly Tony. Mik didn’t bet for he was a special case and hereby excused.
Tony then put his cards down, picked the deck, and drew three cards that he set face-up on the table. A queen of hearts, a king of hearts, and a jack of hearts. Upon seeing the cards, the gamblers kept their facade cool and composed, though some were screeching from the inside.
They picked their cards once again and began the betting. This time with Tony. He bet 150 Coe on the table, a staggering sum to say the least.
“Come on, bois. Make it more exciting!” Tony said.
In response, the second gambler bet the same amount, the third did it reluctantly and so did the fourth, while the fifth dropped the cards on the deck and walked out in a rage.
“I’m foldin’, fuck you.”
“No handjob for ya, Davie!” Tony laughed.
He then picked up the deck once again and set one more card face-up, a five of hearts. Tony dropped the act and was visibly giddy. Whatever cards he had, he knew that he had already won. He then set the decks on the table once again, before he bet 500 Coe on the table.
“Man alive! What the hell are you doing, Tony?!” One of the gamblers questioned.
“If anyone’s getting a handjob, it’s only me. Now, bet.”
The gamblers exchanged a look before the first one bet the same amount, the second folded and stepped out, and the third raised the betting to 1000 Coe.
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“I say you’re full of shit.” The third gambler said.
“We’ll find out.”
Tony raised the bet to 5000 Coe. The staggering sum made the first gambler slam the cards down and step away before the last gambler raised the bet to 6000 Coe.
“All in.”
“Tough one, aint’cha?” Tony replied.
Tony raised the bet and went all in as well, placing 6000 Coe on the table. He then went for the deck of cards and placed one more card. An eight of hearts.
“Shit!” the last gambler said, slamming his cards down. “Alright, your turn, Tony.”
Tony set his cards down with a toothy grin. A nine of hearts and a seven of hearts. The nine of hearts and seven, along with the queen, the king, and the jack made for a straight flush. An undeniably powerful hand that was very rare yet undeniably triumphant.
“Hah! Read ‘em and weep!” He said before turning towards Mik, “Your turn, idiot.”
Mik, as confused as he was, placed the cards on the table. An ace of hearts and a ten of hearts. Along with the queen, jack, and king, Mik had the most powerful hand in poker, the undeniable trump card that was unquestionable—The royal flush!
“What??!!! Royal flush????” Tony blurted out, “How the hell?!”
“A royal what?” Mik questioned.
“Yes! I fucking knew it!” Joel cheered in triumphant joy, “Misplaced luck! Yes! Hell yeah!”
“Oooooh, that’s what you meant earlier.” Dolisia wondered.
“Fuck yeah! Misplaced luck never disappoints!” Joel cheered, gesturing to Mik for a high five. “Aye, come on, baby!”
Mik high-fived the boy before they both jumped in joy.
“Hell yeah! We’re rich!” Mik cheered, “I don’t know what the fuck I did, but fuck yes! Misplaced luck!”
“Na!” Tony blurted out, slamming the table with his hand. “Ya schumcks cheated. A royal flush?! First time?! Ya gotta be kidding me, you two are damn stinking cheatas!”
“Well, wanna play another round? See if it’s true?” Joel asked, “Calling me a woman and all. At least I have more balls than you.”
The canteen fell silent, followed up by “ooohs” and “aaahs” while some chuckled in silence at the remark. Tony, however, was fuming with rage. He couldn’t accept what had happened to him, but he wasn’t one to bet all his money to regain his pride…not for now, at least.
“Tell ya what,” He said, slamming the cards on the table. “I ain’t fallin’ for ya tricks. It’s rigged, and big Tony ain’t wasting his time with you, lowlifes.”
As Tony stood up and left the canteen, the trio sat there basking in the beauty of the Coe that lay on the table, all for their grabbing. An unbelievable sum of 12,153 Coe was won by Mik. They weren’t just rich, they were undoubtedly the richest in the prison alongside Tony.
However, before they could put the money to good use and enjoy it, the spectators chimed in.
"Oi, bruv! 'Old up right there, you bleedin' wastemen! I'm jumpin' in for a propa game, droppin' 500 Coe like it's nuffin'!"
"A grand, mate! I'm buyin' in, and I ain't lettin' you lot get away with your dodgy shenanigans. Gonna expose ya proper!"
"You bet, fam! I'm joinin' the party too! Can't let these tossers pull a fast one on us, innit? Nah, mate, not happenin'!"
One by one, the spectators joined to the point that half of the canteen, around two hundred men, all rounded up around the table to get a chance to expose the trickery and fraud act of the trio. However, they couldn’t help but kindly oblige to the eager crowd.
Unfortunately for the spectators, the cheating theory was only disproved further with each round. Mik, even under the eyes of countless piercing glares and scrutinizing eyes, won every single round with calmness and ease. A straight flush, a full house, four of a kind. Mik’s hands were always absurdly powerful, winning every single round by a landslide. In the end, Mik had a grand total of 14,600 Coe.
“Fuck yes!” Mik said, “Midas touch, baby! Who wants the touch of the king???”
He cheered triumphantly amongst the broken, fuming, and stunned gamblers. His win streak expanded to nearly ten rounds without a single loss or split-pot. And one by one, the spectators walked away disappointed, criticizing the gamblers and the ‘cheater’. However, amongst the crowd, a man with balding brown hair stared dumbfoundedly at the pot, with a child-like glee he jumped up and down as he walked towards the table.
“Hey, you guys!” He said, in a rather slow, yet slightly deep voice. “Can Phil Play? Pretty please with a cherry!”
The trio gazed dumbfoundedly at the man. For someone to still want to bet in was truly crazy, however, the trio noticed that Phil was clearly someone with mental disabilities. His gleeful, childish way of speaking, and his mannerisms were a clear indication, which garnered Joel’s sympathy to grant him his wish.
“Alright, sure, big guy.” Joel replied, “You can buy in, just one Coe.”
“Joel, are you serious?” Dolisia questioned, “Why play him? He’s clearly…you know.”
“Relax, it’s fine. Poor guy just finds this fun and wants to play.” Joel explained, “Besides, we’re the richest in this house. What’s one Coe to lose?”
As Phil sat opposite Mik, squirming in his seat in a childishly exuberant manner, Joel took the deck of cards, shuffled it, and gave two cards to each of Mik and Phil. Mik placed two coins on the table as Phil placed one, followed up by Joel drawing three cards from the deck and placing them face-up.
A five of heart, nine of spades, and a king of clubs.
“Betting, Mik?” Joel asked.
“Sure! 153 Coe!” He said, placing the Coe on the table.
“Whaaa? But Phil doesn’t have Coe.” Phil said, gazing at Joel with a saddened expression.
“No worries, Phil. You don’t have to bet.” Joel comforted, “I take that you won’t bet anymore, Mik?”
“Nope.”
In response, Joel drew two cards from the deck and set them face up. A 3 of clubs and a 4 of spades. Mik approved with a satisfied nod, placing his cards on the table. A 2 of hearts, and a king of spades.
“Nice, a pair of kings.” Joel nodded, “Your turn, Phil.”
Phil then placed his cards on the table. A king of hearts, and a nine of hearts. Joel’s eyes widened in response, utterly gobsmacked by the sudden shift of luck. Phil’s cards, along with the cards placed on the table, added up to two pairs, a stronger hand than Mik’s. The boy looked at Mik with a slow turn of his head, his eyes doing the talk instead.
“What?!” Mik exclaimed, “I lost? 153 Coe??!!!”
The canteen fell into a deathly silence. One could hear his heart beating, or his brain thinking aloud, for those words shocked the plaza into utter silence. The prisoners, at first uninterested and disheartened, couldn’t believe that Mik was beaten by the mentally disabled inmate.
“Phil Stones won????!” A shocked prisoner exclaimed.
And just like flies around garbage, the prisoners were rounded up again around the table, waving their pouches of Coe in the air and insisting on buying in for a new round of poker. No, even the stone-faced guards dropped their facade and shouted their way in for a round of poker.
The canteen was in turmoil, as spectators were betting on gamblers, while rows and rows of gamblers stood in a line, waiting for their turn at a completely occupied table, filled with twenty gamblers ready to play!
“Good lord…” Joel whispered in astonishment, “…what the hell did I do?”
…
After hours of betting and gambling, the table was once again empty as the surroundings were filled with fuming gamblers, sore losers, and heartbroken spectators. In the end, the last gambler, aside from Phil and Mik, slammed his cards down and folded before he punched one of the spectators in anger.
Phil and Mik split the pot, Mik taking a larger for betting more than Phil. In the end, Mik had a total sum of 20,500 Coe and Phil with 25,500. Regardless, the man was laughing and cheering in pure joy. He couldn’t care less about winning or losing, he was simply enjoying the game. Joel, Mik, and Dolisia were sweating, panting, and holding onto their heads after hours of stressful gambling that could’ve rendered them dirt poor.
“Fuck this,” Mik breathed out, “This is bullshit. I regret playing in the first place.”
“Yeah…but we’re rich, tired but rich.” Dolisia argued, “It’s time we stop…I’m done.”
“Who says you can?” A voice resonated from within the crowd.
As everyone turned towards the source of the voice, big Tony stepped out of the crowd. With a frown on his face, he walked towards the trio, slamming his hand on the table.
“Poka rules, ya can’t leave until everyone’s dun.” He explained.
“What?” Joel retorted, “Everyone is done, the hell are you talking about?”
“No, they’re not.” He said, pointing back at Phil. “Mista Phil Stones here’s still playin’. Far as I know, you gotta play…else ya’ll get all ya money taken back.”
“…” Mik said nothing as he looked at Joel before he nodded approvingly. “Alright…let’s play.”
“Good choice.” Tony said, “Oh, and one last thing, wild cards are involved. If you gotta a joka, you can play it.”
The crowd reacted with “ooohs” and “aaaaahs” of wonder. The mention of the Joker card being available as a wild card was a turning point in the game, but at the same time, a notorious variant of poker that Tony always won. Everyone knew that Mik would lose, but they all hated him equally, even if he lost by cheating.
“Oh, also,” Tony said, motioning for his boys, carrying dozens of pouches, to come towards the table. “I’m betting 50,000 Coe on Phil’s behalf, and it’s gonna be a one-round game. No five cards on the table, just three.”
“What?!” Joel retorted, “This is ridiculous! Straight bullshit!”
“Shut up, sissy.” Tony argued, “And you’re not gonna deal the cards anymore. My boi here will take care of it.”
A man stepped from the crowd before he pushed Joel away and took the deck of cards. He shuffled them nonchalantly, neverminding the fuming trio breathing down his neck.
“Alright, deal ‘em.” Tony ordered.
The dealer then gave two cards to each of Mik and Phil. The canteen fell silent, everyone, including the guards and cook, everyone directed their attention at the table where only Phil and Mik sat. Phil threw in a coin before Mik followed up with two, giving the dealer the signal to begin. He drew three cards, all of which were aces. An ace of spades, an ace of hearts, and an ace of clubs.
“Betting, Phil?” The dealer asked.
“Um…I…” Phil stuttered.
“Come on, Phil.” Tony said, whispering into Phil’s ears with his hand on the latter’s shoulder. “All in, come on, all in.”
“Uh…” Phil stuttered, “Phil don’t want play. This is not fun.”
“Listen here, ya schmuck.” Tony squeezed Phils shoulders, “You go all in, or I’ll rip ya head off. Understand? Now go.”
Phil’s eyes darted around the canteen with a confused and saddened expression. He no longer was having fun, and the eyes piercing at him almost made him cry. But to not upset Tony, he did as he was told and went all in with a hesitant push at the Coe towards the center of the table.
“And you?” The dealer asked Mik, “All in I suppose, or fold?”
Mik’s eyes darted around before he turned towards Joel. “Bro, what do I do?”
“…I…I don’t know.” Joel replied, “Going all in while we know he’s cheating would destroy us, but folding…”
“But we gotta do something.” Dolisia said, “Joel, you’re the smartest one here. Please, save us.”
As he massaged his temples furiously, Joel glanced at Mik before he began whispering into his ears. At the moment that the trio lost concentration, Tony snatched Phil’s cards before replacing them with a joker and a ten of spades. Making it the highest possible combination of cards that could be made with the three cards on the table.
“Alright…” Mik said, “I’m not going all in, but I’m betting on our food, clothes, cells, and service.”
As outrageous as the bet was, it was Joel’s idea to come up with a bet so unbelievable that no one could match it. Mik’s 20,500 Coe was not up to match the 50,000 Coe, meaning he had to fold. But raising the bet to something such as service and clothes surely overbet the 50,000 Coe.
“Ya think ya smart, huh?” Tony chuckled, “Tell ya something, I’m betting this 50,000, and the service of every schmuck in this canteen. Good?”
Upon hearing his response, Joel felt his legs turn to jelly. He knew that it was all lost now and that there was no way that they could win. And since Mik already bet, it would just be worse if they fold. So instead, they continued the game after Tony matched the bet.
“Alright, betting is done.” The dealer said, “Reveal your cards.”
Phil placed his cards, a ten of spades and a joker which amounted to an ace. Coupled with the three aces, it made for the highest possible four of a kind and a ten, giving Phil and Tony the win on a silver plate. Upon the reveal of the cards, the other prisoners breathed a sigh of relief and cheered in victory at the trio’s loss.
“Alright, Phil. You can’t miss this, ya just can’t miss this.” Tony laughed.
Annoyed, Mik breathed a sigh of frustration before he placed his cards on the table. An ace of diamonds and a joker, amounting to another ace, giving him the undeniably strongest, and rarest card in all of poker—the five of a kind!
“Fuck this game, man.” Mik sighed.
“WHAT???” Everyone, including Joel and Dolisia erupted into astonished gasps.
“He’s fucking missed it!” Tony fumed as he tore his hair, “What a prat, what a prat! Phil fucking Stones, it was bloody written in the stars!”
“Fuck! Fucking Phil, fucking Phil! It’s always him, it’s always gotta be him!” Another prisoner exclaimed.
“I can’t believe it! Bloody Phil Stones strikes a-fucking-gain! Fuck me!”
“What?” Mik uttered in confusion, “Did I win?”
Before he could get an answer, Joel and Dolisa lunged at Mik for a group hug. The two nearly squeezed him breathless as they laughed and cheered at this triumphant victory of gargantuan proportions.
“Mik! You beautiful, beautiful man!” Joel said, “You are a goddamn legend!”
“You stupid, gorgeous idiot! I can’t believe you fucking did it!” Dolisia added.
The show of affection was something he was unused to. Mik didn’t how to respond, or what to do, other than hug the two back and cheer along with them at his “misplaced” victory. However, before the trio could go away with their money in their pockets, ready to rule the prison, Joel glanced at Phil sitting opposite them, curling up with tears in his eyes as the other prisoners spat at the back of his head, and called him awful names and degrading terms as some pushed him or punched him in the shoulder.
Joel, feeling the need to do something, walked away from the group hug before he leaned towards Phil. He placed his hand on his shoulder, a friendly smile plastered on his face as he gazed at Phil.
“You did well, Phil. Thank you.” Joel said, “Do you want some hot stew?”
In response, Phil’s saddened gaze immediately shifted into one of pure joy and exuberant glee. He was jumping up and down in his seat as he gazed at Joel.
“Really? Stew for Phil?”
“Yes, all the stew you want.”
“Thank you mista, thank you!” Phil said, wrapping Joel into a very tight bear hug, nearly squeezing him breathless.
“Yeah, no problem.” He said, slipping out of the hug. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”
The trio rewarded Phil with a soup of hot stew. Joel, along with Mik and Dolisia’s confirmation, vowed to keep Phil safe and treat him well, as a token of gratitude and also as an act of kindness in this godforsaken prison.
The trio headed out of the canteen, happy, rich, and with the servitude of the whole joint. It was a ridiculous and risky plan, but with enough misplaced luck, the trio had enough to pull it off. Once again basking in the glory of 70,500 Coe and their new and improved lifestyle!