Iva didn’t know this song. It was a little before her time, and she wasn’t much of an audiophile, so she didn’t make a habit of trying to listen to older music, which most people her age called “foundational” or “classic”. But she was enjoying it nonetheless, bobbing her head in rhythm with the synthetic beats as she sipped on her beer.

Jake didn’t know the song either. But he noticed the way she was moving to it, and scooched a little bit closer. The stools were squeaky, though, so she stopped and faced the noise. Of course, given that she was blind, she couldn’t exactly “look” at him, but she turned in his direction.

“You, uh… know this song?” He asked to break the ice for the fourth time that night.

“Nope. I just like it.”

“Sounds old.”

“But good, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s called ‘Running Up That Hill’. Sung by Kate Bush in 1985.” The bartender leaned forward and flashed dangerously sharp teeth, “And if you like it then you’ve got a better taste in music than you do in drinks.”

Jake had a Long Island Iced Tea, which he’d been nursing for the past ten minutes. Iva, who had been here first, was on her… second beer, maybe? There was only one empty glass in front of her, but she could have drunk any number earlier. He had no way to know.

But it was, indeed, merely her second drink. She had only beaten him here by a few minutes, unbeknownst to him.

“...so… you like the old songs?” Jake asked the bartender.

“Heh. Matter of fact, I do. I got all the classics here. You ever hear of Hollywood Rose?”

Both Jake and Iva shook their heads no.

“Kids these days,” he snorted, “In that case, I got a real treat for you. Hold on.”

The music suddenly stopped. And after a few moments of silence, was replaced with heavy guitar riffs, accompanied by their bartender playing the air guitar with the aid of a tequila bottle. A high-pitched wailing voice exploded out of the speakers, prompting both guests to flinch and the bartender to shout.

“Killing Time, baby!”, although his enthusiastic head banging was soon put to an abrupt stop when a silver-haired woman held a tray of used glasses in front of his face, which he blindly headbutted. Glass broke, expletives followed, and the song came to an abrupt end. Replaced with blissful silence, sans pained grumbling as their bartender remained crouched behind the bar.

“...pardon me,” she finally said, “but our guests looked a bit uncomfortable. Please try to mind their preferences when you select the music.”

She turned to the guests in question.

“I do hope I wasn’t overstepping my bounds.”

“Nope… not at all.” Jake laughed awkwardly.

“Did you just smash glass into his face?!” Iva asked.

“Ow ow ow! Yes!”

“Of course not. I simply misplaced my tray and, since our bartender friend was swinging his head around blindly, it was an unfortunate accident the two happened to collide.”

“Fuck you!”

“Mind your language. The guests currently in the parlor will be wrapping up shortly, sir and ma’am. You won’t be left waiting much longer.”

“Thanks…” Jake waved as she went back through the door.

Iva stared blankly ahead.

“...this place is weird,” She finally said.

“Yeah…”

They knew, more or less, where they were. Teresa had dutifully informed them about this place and its nature not soon after Jake arrived. They were both confused, but it was a managed confusion. They could basically accept the premise of their situation, for the time being, and the idea was whimsical enough to even excite Iva, but they were still preoccupied with questions on how it would work… or what they would even want to gamble.

Iva had toyed with the obvious notion of trying to win the ability to see, but if this place worked the way she thought, well, that would mean depriving someone else of their sight, and given that she was a lot better equipped to deal with blindness than a stranger probably would be, she decided to shoot for something less devastating… like possibly a third language. Her English wasn’t perfect in the waking world (although for some reason here she found it came out much more naturally) but it would be fantastic to just instantly know how to communicate with a whole new group of people. She’d love to learn… German. Or Russian. Or maybe even Korean.

Jake was a simpler creature. He wanted money. There was a lot you could do with it, and there wasn’t a whole lot he wouldn’t risk to make some.

But between their confusion, their drinks, their brief and meaningless small talk, and the sudden interlude with the bartender (who had finally emerged from behind the bar, grumbling but letting “Running Up That Hill” return to the radio), this smoky place hadn’t really given them the opportunity to meditate on the subject.

And while it was far from a lively place, it was about to get just a little bit more so.

“W-where am I?”

Ture, Jake, and Iva turned to a new face at the door. A third person had joined them, a chubby, older woman with dirty blonde hair and an unusually large mole on the left side of her neck. She glanced around briefly, but her narrow eyes soon focused on the three people at the bar, and she took a tentative step forward.

“Um… w-who are you?”

“...the hell…?” Ture’s face scrunched up in confusion, “Teresa, why are there three people here?!”

“Because the Silver Wheel is changing, Ture.” She replied briefly before turning to the woman and offering a stiff smile. “Welcome to our humble gambling parlor, ma’am. Would you like a drink?”

“G-gambling… p-p-parlor?”

“Indeed. Allow me to introduce you. Here at the Silver Wheel, we allow people to gamble whatever they wish, be it your talents, your health, your past, or your possessions: so long as you own it, you can wager it. Juan, our dealer, will tell you more. In the meantime, would you like a drink?”

She nodded slowly, and stepped to the bar. There was a free stool for her, although it creaked unhealthily as she eased her weight into it.

“Some… w-wine, I think.”

“Wow, what an exciting and unique drink. You must be interesting and fun.” Ture dryly rolled his eyes as he pulled out a glass. The woman shrank away, but Iva grinned.

“He’s an asshole, ignore him.”

“O-okay, w-who are you?”

“I guess I’m your opponent tonight.” She lifted her mug, but slowly, and carefully. “Cheers.”

“Are you b-blind?”

“I go by ‘Iva’, actually.”

“And, uh, I’m Jake.”

“A-Avigail. G-good to m-meet you I g-guess. A-although I’d still like to know w-what the hell is going on.”

“You and me both.” Jake sighed. “But apparently there’s already a game happening. This is the waiting room.”

A glass of striking red wine was placed in front of the woman. She considered it suspiciously, but then took a long, greedy gulp. Some ran down the side of her face, and Jake watched her chug it with a wordless fascination. When the glass was empty, she finally put it down, and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

“S-so when they say y-you can gamble-”

“-We don’t know.” Iva interrupted. “We were told exactly the same thing.”

“And the bartender hasn’t been very useful.”

“Not my job. I just serve drinks,” he replied, “That said, lady, you want another glass or should I just give you the bottle?”

She shrugged.

“S-sure. A-as long as it’s free.”

“Hell, I can’t remember the last time I got paid.” Ture placed the bottle in front of her with the satisfying ‘thunk’ of heavy glass on solid wood. She took it, and drank from the long neck without hesitation this time.

“...nervous?” Jake asked the newcomer.

Avigail didn’t answer. She closed her eyes as she chugged the bottle, even more trickling to her chin and dropping red onto the bar itself.

“Of course, a little bit.” Iva answered the question instead. Jake decided to roll with it.

“Me too. I’ll feel a lot better once we… you know, get the game started. I guess. Know what the stakes are.”

“I was thinking of betting for another language. What do you guys speak?”

“...uh… just English, sorry.”

“I-I know some latin I’d be willing to b-bet… I.. think.”

“I just want money, m’dudes. American college student here, shouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

“European university student!” Iva raised her hand excitedly, “We don’t have to pay that shit!”

“Pssh, wanna bet for your admission then? Studying abroad is, like, the dream.”

“And go to your filthy American schools?”

Avigail thought for a few seconds, seriously considering it.

“I-I really can’t think o-of anything I-I’d want to bet for. Money too, I-I guess. I’m too old for anything exciting.”

“I go bouldering a lot.” Jake pointed out. “That’d be, like, kinda fun. Bouldering grandma.”

“A-are you sure?” Avigail’s laugh was twenty years younger than the rest of her, and even infected Ture, “A boy your age might d-die if he had to deal with these old wrists.”

“What do you, uh… I don’t get it.”

“She’s talking about jerking off, buddy,” Iva tried to slap his back enthusiastically. Her aim was good enough, but her timing was less-than-perfect, and she wound up smacking his head into his drink. Whatever his response might have been was interrupted by a full minute of gagging. She continued to hammer his back in the meantime. As if it were helpful.

“...okay… uh… yeah, okay I’m good now.”

“Nice. Glad to see you won’t lose those lungs I might try to gamble you for.”

“...is… uh… is that a joke?”

“Moooving along, so, Jake and I are college kids, although I’m better at it and probably cuter.”

“Y-you are.”

“Were you serious about the lung thing?”

“What about you, Avigail? I’ve picked up some subtle hints in this conversation that you’re a bit older than us. And you stutter a lot.”

Honestly she found it kind of annoying but she wasn’t going to say that much.

“Oh, y-yes. I’m a g-grandmother actually. Only recently. S-still feels strange to say it out loud... b-but I’m happy I was able to turn my son into something s-someone was willing to t-take off my hands. R-raising a boy is like g-getting a h-house… it’s all a-about the resale value…”

“Word.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They didn’t get the chance to toast, because the door to the parlor finally opened. Everyone sans Iva glanced over to see a middle-aged woman storming out of the parlor, moving so briskly they assumed she might throw herself into the door before she had the chance to open it. But she stopped just shy of it, eyes clenched shut while she rested her forehead against the wooden exit. She was soon followed by a young latin man, who was wearing the same outfit as Ture. Another employee, it seemed.

“Are you okay?”

It sounded like he really wanted to know. A sincerity that didn’t match the professional detachment his outfit so strongly implied.

“That was impossible.” This woman, tall and dark and beautiful, had a sadness to her voice that went beyond tears or wailing. It was defeated, it was hopeless, it was a weary but newfound nihilism that could leave a soul dead even when the body still breathed. It seeped through the room far more violently than Avigail’s earlier laugh. “Did I do something wrong? Is this... a punishment?

“No, I swear it’s just… it’s just supposed to be a game.”

“He said he’d let me win, Juan. He promised. Isn’t that…”

“...no, it’s not.” Juan shook his head sadly. “It’s just a bluff. And… you fell for it.”

“I… but I…”

Teresa was suddenly at her side. No one was quite sure how she had gotten there, but if she had been there the whole time no one would have been surprised either. It’s only just now her presence was known, when she placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s back.

“Please. Do not cry...”

She then opened the door with her other hand and pushed the woman out.

“...the other guests have been waiting long enough.” She continued, brushing her hands clean while everyone, even Juan, looked on with mild shock shock. “Wonderful news. It seems it’s time for your game, ladies and gentlemen.”

Ture was chuckling. Iva took a long drink, then placed her glass down.

“...so what the hell just happened?”

“I was escorting our earlier player out, pay it no mind.” Teresa bowed, before stepping up to take Iva by the hand, ushering her to stand. “I apologize for the wait, but we’re ready for you now. Please take a seat at the table. All of you.”

That last part was directed towards Juan. He had gotten over his shock and had turned it into something akin to a begrudged determination, and stomped in ahead of everyone else. They could hear him saying something, just shy of shouting it, from the other side of the door. It gave them reason to pause, but Teresa was already guiding Iva to the door, and the other two, sharing a glance, followed suit.

The door was opened. And they could clearly hear the heated exchange between two men.

“-here. I’m still a guest.”

“I don’t care anymore. You had no reason to torment her like that. I’m running out of…”

Juan stopped as they stepped inside. The man he was speaking to merely sighed, and took a quick sip from an expensive-looking glass of expensive-looking water.

“Hey! Haha, sorry… sorry about all this, we’re just… having an exciting time here tonight! Woo! Haha… welcome, uh, to the Silver Wheel.”

“It’s a pleasure.” A cool, dispassionate voice joined the joyful cheer of the well-dressed dealer. “My name is Charlie, and I’ll be your opponent this evening.”

Jake and Avigail were throttled by the sight of the table. A scrawny, red-haired man took up all of one side, his drink in front of him, and an enormous panoply of chips at both his sides: a number that defied counting, let alone estimation, in a whole rainbow’s worth of colors. If he weren’t such a skinny-looking businessman sort, he would have the appearance of a dragon jealousy looming over his horde of stolen gold.

Juan gestured them over as Iva sat down, immune as she was to that particular kind of intimidation. She sat on the other end of the table, to Charlie’s right. Jake sat next to her, directly opposite of Charle.. And Avigail took her seat next to him, to Charlie’s left.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, guys. He’s on a winning streak but it’s due to end.”

“...I-I think this is a-a bad i-idea…” Avigail muttered, although Jake held his own tongue for a few moments longer.

“...let’s… see what the deal is first. And assume he won’t just… let us win.” He cast a glance at Iva, who was still bobbing her head to the music. “Uh, Iva, so you know, our opponent has… like, a shit ton of chips.”

“What’s a ‘shit ton’, exactly?” She asked fearlessly.

“A w-whole l-lot.”

“You needn't worry about the pile,” Charlie spoke in a professional and unemotional drawl. “Almost all of these chips will have no bearing on our game today. All I will be using to bet is this pile in front of me.”

He gestured to three small stacks of chips, which were a blinding, metallic golden color. There appeared to be about thirty total.

“I think it would be more productive if I told them how the Silver Wheel Gambling House works before we get into that, Charlie.” Juan’s voice was impossibly chipper until that last word, which was caked in irritation and audibly sharp. “And that’s my job!”

“Does it really matter who tells them?” Charlie sighed, either oblivious or immune to the daggers in the dealer’s tone.

“Yep, it does! Anyway. As I’m sure Teresa told you, this is a mysterious, magical place where you can gamble anything -- not just money. As long as you own it, we can turn it into chips, and you can wager them against… well… I guess just Charlie this time. Once everyone agrees that they want to gamble, and we get the chips ready, I’ll tell you the game we’ll be playing.”

“Of course, just because this is a magical place doesn’t mean we don’t have laws. For one, all parties have to agree their wagers are fair before we begin. Secondly, every game is all-or-nothing: if you leave the table before the game is over, you give up all your chips to your opponent. And finally, if you’re caught cheating, you automatically lose. Sound good?”

Jake and Avigail looked at each other. Their curiosity was sated but their anxiety wasn’t. Whoever this Charlie was, he had clearly won his last game, and he must have won quite a few before that as well, to have so many chips in his treasury.

“...so… what will you be wagering, uh... Charlie?” Jake asked.

“As I said, I’ll be wagering these gold chips.” He reported very matter-of-factly. “Each chip is worth a .5% share of Walker Horizons, the company I work for. Since there are three of you, you’d each get a stack of ten if you win, which would be a 5% share, each.”

He took a sip of water, and folded his hands in front of him. It looked -- and sounded -- terrible rehearsed. As if he had done this many, many times already, and wasn’t so much talking to them as he was talking at their end of the table.

“In which case, each one of you would be worth 51.3 billion USD.”

There reaches a point where a number becomes so absurd, so unbelievable, that it simply stops being stunning. So when the value of the chips was revealed, Iva could only scoff, Jake let out an awkward, disbelieving laugh, while Avigail took a long, quiet drink from the bottle she’d brought with her. That was a sum of money none of them could have ever imagined getting, and thus had never even considered what they’d have done with half that much, let alone the full, promised sum. Even Jake, who had come into this hoping to earn a buck, found a number that large ludicous.

“That’s… a lot better than learning Latin,” Iva snorted, “but we have to agree the wager is fair, right? There’s nothing I have that’s worth… that.”

“Nonsense.” Charlie actually smiled, although it was frozen and wholly evil. “Money like that doesn’t mean much to me. That said, there are three very specific things I want from you all, and I will only play with you if you wager them.”

“What?” Avigail pressed.

He pointed to Avigail.

“Your dreams.”

He pointed to Jake.

“Your childhood.”

He pointed to Iva.

“And… your legs.”

For Jake and Avigail, the abstract nature of their wager was genuinely confusing, and they needed to process what had been requested of them. Iva, on the other hand, had a far more straightforward bet, and was able to say what the other two had been trying to think.

“What? How would that even work?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged, “but I’m interested to find out.”

“So we’re your guinea pigs.”

“Call it what you want. It’ll be worth over fifty billion if you win. You’ll never want for anything.”

“But if we lose we’ll be… fucked up.” Jake cringed.

“A-and i-it looks l-like y-you do a l-lot of w-winning…”

“Then don’t play. But then you’ll have to live with the fact you lost your only chance to ever make that much money.”

“No, you won’t, your memory is erased when you leave.” Juan interjected in with a grin. Charlie rolled his eyes.

“...all the same. Fifty billion will change your life beyond your wildest dreams. And like I said: this will be your only chance. Walk away at your own risk.”

Avigail turned to Juan first.

“How will he t-take my… dreams? If he wins?”

“The Silver Wheel is responsible for making sure the winner gets their due, and they always do. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that.”

There was a lot to chew on, and a lot to consider. Each of the three players opposite Charlie was forced to give a monetary worth to things they had never tried to value before. Avigail wasn’t the world’s biggest dreamer: she was old, and she was tired, but she, like almost everyone, couldn’t keep her mind on a tight enough leash to keep it from wandering. And all-too-often, her brain took her places she wished she could go, realities that would never be, and she could feel a catharsis and ease that only bold escapism could afford her. She couldn’t imagine getting by without it… but… if she could get over fifty billion… she wouldn’t have to dream. She could go to all the places and do all the things her imagination had taken her over the years. And she could secure that same joy for everyone in her life, especially her new granddaughter. In that respect… it almost felt like it would be selfish not to take this risk.

Jake had always wanted money. But his childhood was more than just memories of better days: they were the moments that made up who he was, the man he had become. If he lost that, what would he turn into? Who would he lose forever? And was it right to give up the memories nothing could ever let you recapture? Childhood is once, and once only -- even fifty billion dollars wouldn’t get it back again… but… fifty billion dollars. Billion. Everyone had a childhood. But the number of people who had billions at their disposal… that was an elite group. And one he yearned to join more than anything else.

Iva had to work a long time to accept her blindness. It didn’t come easy and it didn’t feel right for a long time, but she was eventually able to find pride, or something adjacent to it, in her ability to manage her blindness and live a full life with it, as well as celebrate all the ways it made her experience unique. She had found a community in her disability, and she didn’t even like calling it that anymore. But she wasn’t sure she was ready to fight that fight again. To be blind and to lose your legs… her world would grow so much smaller. So impossibly tiny she could barely imagine it. She’d be a burden to the people around her. She’d be restricted in so many unthinkable ways. And she’d have to deal with the fact that for the rest of her life she’d be known as the girl who was double-fucked by life by people who couldn’t see past her disabilities…. but… think of all the change she could bring to the world with fifty billion. She could cure diseases, she could save forests, she could raise awareness of blindness and the disabled. Hell: she could buy new eyes if she wanted. Losing her legs would make the world small, but five billion would make her world so much bigger… and the planet so much better. How could she refuse that?

Avigail and Jake looked at each other, noticed the resolve, and nodded soberly.

“...I w-wager my dreams.”

“I’ll bet my childhood.”

Iva grinned.

“And my sexy legs.”

As they spoke, chips were at their side, as if they had always been there. Avigail’s were a deep, dreamy shade of purple. Jake’s were a playful shade of baby-boy blue. And Iva’s were a floral pink.

Charlie nodded, pushing forward the thirty golden chips. And the object of their match.

“Then, if all parties are agreed,” Juan’s face flickered with both forced optimism and irrepressible fear, “...the game is team poker.”

“Poker, of course, is typically a game played by yourself,” Juan stated as he slammed a deck of cards on the table with shocking authority, “but given that Charlie has an unusual number of opponents, we’ll be playing a variation unique to the Silver Wheel.”

“At the top of the round, you’ll each ante your chips into the pot. Once the antes are in, I’ll deal you each five cards, as in five-card poker. And like in normal poker, the goal for each of you is to create the best five-card hand -- Iva, Jake, and Avigail will be working together to do that, and they can swap any number of cards between themselves as long as they each only have five cards total. Obviously, Charlie will be trying to make the best five-card hand as well, although he’ll be going it alone.”

“Here’s where things get really different, though: unlike normal poker, the winner of the round won’t merely go to has the best hand. Rather, each hand will be scored accordingly:

* A pair will be worth one point.

* Two pair is worth two.

* Three of a kind is worth three.

* A straight is worth four.

* A flush is worth five.

* A full house is worth six.

* Four of a kind is worth seven.

* A straight flush is worth eight.

* A royal flush, as with normal poker, simply means you win.

Once you’ve put together your hands and presented them, all the points will be added up. Iva, Jake, and Avigail will be trying to get as many points as possible. Charlie will be doing the same, although his hand is worth three times as many points. If he outscores you three, then he wins, otherwise, you guys will. Of course, even earning three times the points, this game would be outrageously unfair to our friend Charlie, which is why he’ll have a few advantages to help even out the playing field.”

“First, in normal five-card draw, you can discard and replace up to three cards, or four if one of them is an Ace, during the draw phase. However, Charlie can throw away up to five cards and draw from scratch no matter what he's holding. Alternatively, Iva, Jake, and Avigail will be stuck with the hands they’re dealt.”

“Secondly, during the draw phrase, Charlie can take one card from one of your hands to replace one of his cards. He cannot see what it is before it’s taken, obviously, but he can choose which card to discard in his own hand once he has it. And don’t worry: the person whose card is taken will get a replacement card, so we’re all playing with full hands.”

“Finally, he is the only one who can bet or raise. Charlie will always have to wager in integers of three, and you three must all match his full wager. So if he bets three, you all bet three each. This applies to the ante as well, which for this game defaults to three chips each.”

“In any case, once everyone is satisfied with their hands, we'll compare hands, count points, the winner will take their due, and we’ll continue until one side or the other has all the chips. Any questions?”

Iva raised her hand unnecessarily.

“Will the cards have braille on them?”

Juan laughed.

“Of course!”

Avigail didn’t have questions, but she did have concerns. Specifically with the second rule: that Charlie could take one card from any of their hands. One card between fifteen might not seem like a big deal, and it wouldn’t be… if it were truly random. But the process of switching cards between hands was not a subtle one, and in doing so, if Charlie had half a brain, all he would have to do is steal one of the switched cards and he could sabotage at least one of them fairly easily. After all, making his own hand better by stealing a card would be nearly impossible, but ensuring one of their hands was worthless... that was a significantly more viable strategy.

Iva would make things all the more challenging. Since she was blind, she’d either need to trust that they were giving and taking the optimal cards, or she’d need to scan all their hands one at a time. And if her poker face wasn’t perfect, Charlie could probably get a read on which of their cards were the most important just by watching her face move. There was no doubt the game was heavily in their favor, but considering everything they were risking, she didn’t want to go in without a plan.

“I have a question.” Jake raised his hand unnecessarily, too. “Can we use the bar to plan our strategy? So Charlie can’t hear us, I mean.”

“A fantastic idea,” Juan beamed, “I’ll deal the first hand and then you three can go and plot. Let me know if you ever want to do it again, but don’t do it too often! We’ll have other guests we need to serve before long.”

“Yeah.

“P-perfect.”

“Thank you.”

“And, if there’s nothing else...” Juan grabbed the deck and started to shuffle, the cards moving like liquid as they passed between his skilled hands, “...It’s time for your ante!”

Charlie threw three of those tantalizingly gold chips into the pot. They seemed to shimmer in the dull light of the room. Purple, blue, and pink chips, three each, were thrown in soon afterwards: twelve chips in total, in an unorganized pile.

And then Juan started to deal.

----------------------------------------

Ture was smiling as he poured the group three beers. It was smug, and it was sadistic, but it was also silent, which all three of them appreciated. In the other room, Charlie and Juan were waiting, while “Carry On My Wayward Son” played in the background, sung by Kansas. The three other players, flush with excitement and trepidation, were in a huddle despite the promise the room was soundproof.

“W-we need a p-plan to communicate,” Avigail started, “We obviously can’t tell each other our cards, and w-with Iva, w-we can’t exactly just show them to each other either. W-we could even reveal i-important information j-just by switching cards.”

“Could we come in here every time to do the swap?” Iva asked.

“...I don’t think so.” Jake frowned. “It’d take too long.”

“We could just let Iva feel our cards, but s-she has t-to have a good poker face,” Avigail stated plainly. “I-if she gets visibly excited or reveals any k-kind of tick while looking at c-cards-”

“-Then Charlie will take it,” Iva said at the same time. “That’s fair. But I don’t even know how to play poker. I can’t get excited about a card if I don’t know if it’s good or not.”

“Uh… not for nothin’, Iva, but if you don’t play poker do you even need to feel our cards? We could just tell you what to give us and what we’re giving you… like with a whisper or whatever.”

Iva actually huffed.

“I’m betting my legs on this, I’m not going to trust you guys blindly, pun kind of intended. I have a reference card, I’ll check your hands first, then I’ll check the reference card so I can’t give anything away.”

“B-but Jake’s not w-wrong. W-we can still w-whisper to p-plan our hands, b-but we still need a way to m-make sure Charlie c-can’t see w-what we swap.”

“...under the table?”

“Clearly you’ve never been to a c-casino. T-they don’t c-care for people h-hiding their cards for any r-reason. I don’t think this place will be d-different.”

“...you sound like you know whatcha doin’.”

“I-I wouldn’t call myself a c-card shark… b-but I am a fan of the game.”

“So what do we do, then?”

The three of them thought, their united concentration sparking electricity between them as they felt the combined pressure of time and a need to win.

“Shuffle our hands!” Jake said first in a “oh duh” kind of tone.

“Do we r-really want to b-bet he can’t keep track of cards with his eyes?”

He bit his lip. Iva raised her hand.

“Y-you really don’t have to d-do that.”

“Why don’t we just combine our hands into fifteen cards, organize them, then hand out three full five-card hands? We’d have to organize the bad cards exactly like we organize the good ones, and it would tell him nothing.”

“That’s not bad.” Jake grinned. “But who’d do the shuffling?”

“Y-you’re sitting in the middle. C-can you do it?”

“Lotta pressure. But I can try.”

“J-just make sure y-you keep a s-straight face and g-give bad cards j-just as much thought as g-good ones. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

“Fine by me.”

“Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

They returned to the table, and sat in the same formation opposite Charlie and his indecipherable frown. Jake was in the middle, Avigail was to his left, and Iva was at his right. Avigail and Jake had kept their hands face-down on the table, but Iva had never played poker before and couldn’t even grip the cards well. So she had a plastic stand that could hold her cards up, allowing her to brush her fingers smoothly from one side to the other to see what was in her hand. She also had a sixth card on the table: her reference sheet in braille, listing the value of hands.

But without consulting it first, she reached over and grazed her fingers over her companion’s cards, reading what they had available:

Avigail had a three of hearts, a five of hearts, a Queen of spades, a six of spades, and nine of clubs.

Jake had a nine of hearts, a two of clubs, a ten of spades, a seven of clubs, and a three of diamonds.

And she herself, on the far right, had a two of diamonds, an Ace of spades, a nine of diamonds, an Ace of clubs, and a Queen of clubs.

“I wanna whisper.” Iva announced abruptly. “Jake lean into my face.”

Jake did as he was told, and made it clear she knew where his ear was so she could whisper into it.

“So what do we do?”

“Avvy’s thinking. We got a lotta choices. I think.”

Avigail joined the huddle.

“...I think we go with the f-full house rather than the straight. If he takes even one card from the straight, the hand will b-be useless, b-but taking o-one card from a f-full house will l-leave us with three of a k-kind or two p-pair. It's worth more points too.”

“Got it.”

“If you say so.”

“P-put the nines and aces together. Twos and threes in one hand, and the two queens in the third. D-do it slowly. Take your time.”

"Whatever you say, boss.”

The three of them collapsed their hands, then put them into one large pile in front of Jake, which prompted an eyebrow raise from Juan, as well as a snort from Ture, who had stepped away from the bar to watch them play. Jake inexpertly but effectively shuffled the small deck, then started slowly sorting through them, doing his best to keep his face neutral. This left the other two with little else to do but wait.

Still, this first draw filled Avigail with a sense of certainty she desperately needed from the moment she placed her hands upon her chips. When she had grasped them, she had felt this white and dim but noticeable static tugging at the corners of her head and heart. She knew this… staticness was the source of her dreams, and she felt its absence painfully when she put her chips in the center of the table. She did not relish this experience, the threat of losing something so foundational to who she was that she could have never imagined it would ever be at risk... but if this was what their average hand looked like… it seemed very unlikely that Charlie would have any hope of beating them. And that made stomaching the separation a bit easier, confident as she was that the three of them had the odds they needed to win.

Still. Good hand or not, it was up to Charlie to bet or fold. And their opponent did not take that decision lightly, examining all three of them in equal measure as five new hands were placed in front of each of them, which they each picked up and examined carefully.

Jake had given Avigail the full house, two Aces and three nines.

He had given himself the two pair: the two threes, two twos, and one useless seven of clubs.

And Iva, either due to randomness or inexperience, got the two Queens and the useless ten of spades, five of hearts, and six of spades.

Iva was double-checking the rules, and had a bluffed smile as she scanned the hand rankings. Jake kept his face relaxed, holding his hand between loose fingers, his cards unevenly jutted out. Avigail made a point to keep her hand as flat and uniform as possible, but occasionally glanced at her comrades’ hands, making sure she wasn’t missing some better hand or combination.

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Charlie’s fingers strummed across the table. The tempo was consistent, but slow and asynchronous with the music streaming in from the other room, which was now Weezer’s “Island in the Sun”. His eyes ricocheted between his chips, his hand, and the three people opposite him. And after twenty seconds of intense thought, he suddenly stopped strumming his fingers and grabbed six chips, throwing them into the pot with noticeable aplomb.

The sheer bravado on display gave Avigail, at least, some pause.

“Charlie bets six chips.” Juan announced for Iva’s benefit. She whistled appropriately.

“Someone’s awful confident, huh?”

“I don’t really care for banter,” Charlie sighed. “If you must, keep it between yourselves.”

“Someone’s an asshole, huh?” She amended her statement, but it failed to provoke a reaction. Her smile, however, noticeably wavered, and everyone threw their chips in without another word. They were one round in and the pot was already noticeably full: everyone had put in nine chips already, meaning it was a respectable thirty-six chips full.

“Charlie, if you don’t plan to raise, now’s the time to take a card, if you’d like.”

“H-here we go…”

This time, Charlie didn’t pause nearly as long. He reached out to Avigail’s hand, grabbed her first card, the one to the far left, and pulled it back, throwing one of his other cards aside to keep his hand at an even five. The card was replaced, by Juan, with a four of spades, which he handed to Avigail almost apologetically.

“That’s all.”

It was one thing for Charlie to have completely ruined their strategy in a moment. That alone would have left Avigail and Jake baffled and struggling to keep composure. But for him to have so unceremoniously grabbed the nine of hearts, thus robbing them of their full house, that was what really knocked the wind out of their sails. Their expressions dropped, and they were left looking at their combined hands searching for something they might have missed that would soften the blow.

“...Jake, what did he take?”

“The nine of hearts.”

"Fuck. But she’s still got two pair, right?”

“...yeah.”

It was a devastating blow: a full house was worth a whopping six points, while two pair was worth only two. Still, both she and Jake had two pair, and with Iva’s pair, they had a solid five points. Not bad by any measure.

“Do you want to raise, Charlie?”

Charlie shook his head in a brisk and callous way. It seemed it was impossible for him to do anything without it coming off as demeaning.

“Alright! In that case, Charlie, go ahead and reveal your hand.”

“Of course.” He matter-of-factly sighed, and dropped his five cards.

The stolen nine of hearts. A nine of spades. A seven of spades. A seven of hearts. And an king of diamonds. Two pair. Normally worth only two points, but since his points were tripled… six points. One point higher than their combined five.

If he had taken a card from any other hand… hell, if he had taken one of the aces… they would have won. From a purely statistical standpoint, once the cards were drawn he only had a one in five chance of winning that hand. And yet, he had done it. He had done it with the confidence and assuredness of a man who had known he was going to win from the beginning. And that was what burnt a noxious hole of hatred and stress in Jake’s stomach.

“Charlie has two pair, or six points, while our heroes have…”

He audibly sighed.

“...five points. Three good hands, but not good enough, I’m afraid. Charlie wins the first round. Please allow me to shuffle for the second round.”

Jake pulled Iva in for an improvised team huddle.

“How did he do that?!” Jake whispered in an uncharacteristic panic.

“Did he cheat?! Did you see him cheating?!”

“I-I didn’t see anything. It m-might have been luck.”

“Luck?”

“Keep an eye out and l-let’s not call any bets. We need to be sure.”

“Alright…”

“How am I supposed to keep an eye out?!”

But by now, Avigail had already returned to her hand. Jake blinked.

“...I dunno. Listen real hard I guess?”

She didn’t justify that with an answer, but after several seconds of dry glaring she returned to her seat. But Jake and Avigail would notice, somewhat to their surprise, that Charlie hadn’t yet raked in his winnings. Rather, he had been sitting quietly, his eyes trained upon them with a sort of scientific patience. It was only when their attention wasn’t divided by their whispers that he put his hand upon the pot and dragged it in, and revealed why he had been waiting to claim his due.

He wanted to see how they’d react to what happened next.

Avigail shuddered as her brain felt entire chunks of itself get torn out. Not physical chunks, but the ethereal yet tangible essence of her consciousness. It wasn’t painful in the physical sense, but it was petrifying to feel something so essential to what you are simply vanish in a way that shouldn’t be possible. It left her dazed, her face glazed over as she tried vainly to comprehend exactly what it was that had actually been taken from her.

Jake and Iva were far more straightforward. Jake’s expression crossed with concern and focus as he realized an enormous chunk of his memory had suddenly vanished. A swath of his history had just been lifted from his mind, and there was nothing but a fuzzy haze to fill its place. He crossed his eyes as he tried to grasp at what had been lost, but no amount of concentration could will it back into existence.

Iva wailed as she felt physical chunks of her legs just… melt away. Everyone else could see her legs were still there, perfectly intact, but she couldn’t feel them anymore. As with the others, it wasn’t painful in the physical sense, but there was a psychological shock that couldn’t be dismissed when you could feel muscles, tendons, and fat just phase off your body, even if your legs still seemed in one piece. She tried to stand up on instinct, but she stumbled immediately, her balance and her support undermined by what was lost.

“T-this was a mistake.” Iva began to sweat as she felt her legs shake in their effort to keep her standing. She had to lean on the table. “Can we quit? Please. I don’t want to play anymore.”

“As Juan explained, once you agree to the game, the only way to quit is to forfeit,” Charlie started with the same enthusiasm and energy of a complacent bureaucrat. “If you want to keep your legs, your only option is to play.”

“...you son of a bitch.” Iva hissed, tensing up as if to pounce, but Jake put a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s just trying to psych us out. Don’t tilt on me man.”

“It’s w-working.” Avigail muttered. “I feel wrong, guys. I-I really don’t like this.”

“Just breathe, okay? We can get back what we lost in our next hand…”

That was easy to say. But it was hard to believe. The world doesn’t so easily correct itself with a few uplifting words when it’s been shaken so harshly, and Jake knew it. But it was all the group had right now. That, and a new hand being passed to them by Juan. A new hand, a new opportunity. A new opportunity they’d all have to pay for with three chips each.

“Would any of you care for a refreshment?” Teresa asked as the face-down cards piled before them. Avigail answered by handing over the empty bottle of wine and muttering for another. Charlie tapped on the side of his empty glass. Iva and Jake shook their heads.

Then, the cards were revealed.

Avigail had a Queen of hearts, a King of Hearts, a four of diamonds, a four of clubs, and a nine of diamonds.

Jake had a four of hearts, a seven of clubs, an eight of hearts, a Jack of diamonds, and a ten of clubs.

And finally, Iva had a King of diamonds, a six of clubs, a two of diamonds, a nine of spades, and a King of clubs.

At first glance, it was a far, far better hand than their last draw. And the three of them felt a small surge of hope, which was fortunately mild enough to barely register on Jake and Avigail’s faces. Iva, on the other hand, remained unaware until Jake pulled her into the huddle.

“Another full house!”

“A-and a possible s-straight.”

“That’s the one where they’re all the same color, right?”

“T-that’s a flush. A-although looking at our hands again… we have that, too. B-but the s-straight and flush would be dangerous t-to use. If he even took o-one, we’d h-have a useless hand.”

“But what choice do we have…?”

Avigail had to think, because the more she looked at these cards, the less exciting they actually became. They had two three-of-a-kind, but only one pair. And worse, it was a pair of nines, and they would need at least one of those for the straight. But if they used the three fours to flesh out the three kings, they would gain a full house, but lose a three-of-a-kind.

Iva, fortunately, was good at mental math, and while scanning her reference sheet with her fingers, chimed in.

“A full house and three-of-a-kind is just nine points. Five again if we get unlucky and he takes another king. But a straight and a full house, or a straight and two three-of-a-kinds would be worth ten.”

She muttered more math under her breath.

“In either of those cases, the lowest score we could possibly get is six. We have to use the straight.”

“T-then we do the straight and full house combo. That way o-one hand will be useless and safe. So Jake-”

“-Got it.”

He flashed her a confident smile, which reassured her in its lameness. The three spread out, and put their cards in a big pile in the middle. Charlie watched with a mild aloofness as the cards were tossed about like a salad, and reconstructed into three hands once again.

Avigail got the useless hand, the four of clubs, nine of spades, Queen of hearts, Jack of diamonds, and two of diamonds.

Jake gave himself the full house, with the two fours and three kings.

And that meant Iva got the six, seven, eight, nine, and ten.

Their drinks were placed in front of them. “Just the way you are” started playing on the radio. Avigail bit her lip as the anticipation of the moment crawled up her spine: apprehension, she figured, was a safe emotion to express… even with a good hand, a game with stakes like these would make anyone nervous. Jake held his cards unevenly with one hand, strumming with the other. And Iva bobbed her head left and right with the music, perhaps a bit too forced, and continued checking card rankings with her fingers. She didn’t have much else to do with them.

“Any bets, Charlie?”

The man twitched. Although knowing exactly what part of him did it seemed a bit beyond them. It happened across his whole body, and yet didn’t seem to happen at all. As if he were a mirage that flickered for that brief, telltale moment as it was approached.

“No.”

“Are you folding?” Juan asked with an extremely unprofessional tone of hope. This, more than anything else thus far, seemed to actually irritate Charlie.

“...no.”

“H-heh, I-I guess that would have been too l-lucky…”

Charlie ignored her as he reached out towards Jake. He took the fifth card in Jake’s hand, the one on the far right, which was one of the kings. He replaced one of his own cards with the stolen one, and made no other changes to his hand. Jake’s four-card hand was filled with a five of spades.

Once again, their full house was down to two pair. But their straight… their straight was untouched. Their combined hand was still worth six points.

“...are you folding now?”

“No. In fact…”

He threw three more golden chips into the pot. They clattered, and Iva’s ears perked up, recognizing that something had happened. But she wouldn’t know exactly how big the pot had gotten until Juan narrated.

“He… bets three. Do you call?”

Jake swallowed hard. Iva started breathing hard.

And Avigail took a long drink from her bottle of wine.

----------------------------------------

` “H-he’s cheating. He has to be c-cheating.”

Ture wasn’t at the bar, and it was clear he had left in a hurry to enjoy watching the game. Glasses were left half-washed, one of the taps of beer was still dripping amber onto the floor, a half-peeled lime was leaning against a small knife, and a few bottles of liquor weren’t put away properly.

In the end, they had folded. But in a show of pure ambivalence to their collective struggle, Charlie had tossed down his hand face-up, revealing his nine-to-king straight, a hand that would have been useless if he hadn’t beaten the one-in-five odds, again, to draw the exact right card he needed. They had made the right call in folding, but it was hard to feel good about that: not when they had lost twice in a row in the most important game of their lives.

“But how?” Iva asked. She was drinking a beer that was mostly head while seated on one of the stools. Avigail had helped her sit down, while Jake had poured her drink.

“I-I don’t fucking know.”

“There aren’t any mirrors or anything in the bar.” Jake chewed his forefinger thoughtfully. “And we saw Juan take out a fresh deck, so it couldn’t be, like, marked, could it?”

“Juan seems really keen on us winning...” Iva muttered.

“Maybe, like… I mean, we’re in a magical dream casino, right? Maybe he’s the devil.”

Avigail stared blankly at the door to the void. Iva took a drink, and broke the silence after she swallowed.

“Heavy.”

“H-he’s not the devil. Y-you don’t think the devil works for Walker Horizons, do you?”

The two others had to think for a little bit.

“...maybe?”

“That, or Amazon.”

“T-the devil doesn’t exist he’s not the devil he’s just cheating!”

“But… how?”

“Does it matter?! If we just tell Juan-”

“I’m afraid it does matter.” Teresa walked forward from the one corner neither Jake nor Avigail had been looking at. The two jumped, but Iva was more or less used to voices spontaneously appearing, so she didn’t visibly react. “It would be easy to claim your opponent is cheating, but if you cannot prove it, we cannot disqualify them. And I’m afraid that random accusations will be ignored, even if you do happen to stumble into the correct method.”

Avigail looked at the waitress with an acute scrutiny.

“...so you know he’s cheating?”

But Teresa said nothing, and her face remained as still and cold as stone.

“D-dammit. P-process of elimination people, w-what could he be doing?”

“We already said it can’t be marked cards… or a reflection…”

“...wait a minute. Wait.” Iva put down her mug. “Ture, that asshole bartender, he was surprised when Avigail walked in. There’s an abnormal number of people here, right Teresa?”

“The Silver Wheel has traditionally hosted two-people games, yes.”

“And Walker Horizons…” She continued, “They’re that company that deals with alternate realities and dimensional travel and shit. And Juan was yelling at Charlie for how long he had been here and shit before the game. Guys. Guys.”

She had grown pale as she continued talking. And she had started to shake. From the tips of her fingers which still grasped her ale, to the bottom of her nearly half-missing legs.

“One of us is a mole.”

The accusation fell onto their shoulders like a bolt from the heavens. It was blinding in the clarity, but searingly painful in the realization: one of them had been planted here by Charlie to help him win. It made sense: if anyone could transport people to this weird dream world it would be the company he worked for. And he clearly had the money at his disposal to pay for someone to do something so outrageous. And the only way he could have known exactly what card to take each time was if someone was signaling him which card to take.

Avigail turned to Jake. Jake was still staring at Iva. Iva kept her head straight, milky white eyes unfocused yet seeping with emotion.

“...f-fine. O-one of us could be a cheat. B-but who?”

“Jake, obviously.” Iva answered immediately, an accusation that left Jake visibly wounded. “He’s the one sitting in the middle who can see all the cards the easiest. He’s the one shuffling them and passing them around. He could signal super easily that way.”

“Me?!” Jake wailed and laughed at the same time. “It wasn’t my idea to be the card shuffler, Avigail picked me to do it! And, and, you were here first, right? You were here when I first arrived! You could have been waiting for us!”

“I’m blind!”

“So what?!” He stepped forward. “You feel up all our cards, you could, like, signal with your face each time you put your hand on one or something!”

“That wouldn’t matter if you shuffled them right! I only check mine after you hand them back, and he hasn’t taken from my hand yet!”

“And, and what about Avigail? Huh?” He turned to her. “Both games you said something right before he chose a card. You... you’ve been the one suggesting how we, like, communicate from the very beginning.”

“E-excuse me?!”

“She also showed up last. She was the one who surprised Ture,” Iva said. “Maybe he knew we were coming and ordered her to show up.”

“D-do you think the t-traitor would gamble their fucking dreams?!” Avigail pointed out, “Iva, you’re the one only betting your legs, w-with enough money you could just-”

She didn’t get to finish her thought. The door was knocked, gentle enough to not be aggressive, but loud enough to cut through the chatter.

“Guys, you’re taking a while in there,” Juan pointed out from behind the door, “Try to wrap it up, alright?”

They had fired words back and forth at each other like a volley of bullets, and now they sat in the silence and the smoke they had created. Not peaceful, but quiet. The scars they had created with their accusations could not be so easily ignored, or dismissed. Unlike smoke, they would have to carry what had been said, and what it might mean, for the foreseeable future.

“...l-look,” Avigail started, her tone tempered and cooperative, if not exactly friendly. “L-like it or not, w-we have to p-play the next round. E-everyone, pay attention to what’s going on and if you see anything suspicious-”

“-See?! That right?! So what am I supposed to do?!” Iva snapped. “I can’t see and I can’t trust either of you! This is unfair! This whole thing is unfair and bullshit! I’m going to lose my goddamn legs!”

“We’re all going to lose s-something, u-unless we win. For now, all I can do is promise I’m not the traitor and go f-from there. B-but just in case… Jake, l-let me shuffle the cards this time.”

“Fine.”

“I hate this…”

And with resignation and suspicion abounding, the other two helped Iva off her stool and guided her back to the parlor, where they took their old seats in front of their new hands. They had already paid their antes, and 12 chips sat in the middle. Charlie wasn’t supposed to hear what they had said, and nothing had really changed about his aloof persona since they had gone off to talk, and yet it was completely different nonetheless. There were teeth behind his vapid assuredness now which gave his empty and evil smile some real bite. Anyone would hate him, considering. Which made the idea that one of them was willingly helping him seem almost too absurd to be true.

Avigail checked her hand. She had been dealt a Queen of spades, a ten of clubs, a five of diamonds, a Jack of clubs, and a ten of spades.

Jake had a two of clubs, an Ace of clubs, a four of clubs, a three of spades, and an eight of clubs.

And Iva, who was checking everyone’s hands very carefully this time, had a two of hearts, a King of clubs, a three of diamonds, a nine of clubs, and a Queen of clubs.

They pulled themselves into another huddle. Charlie checked his phone.

“...a kinda s-shit hand, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You think?”

“W-we have enough for a flush, a-a pair of twos and threes, and two queens… n-not even a full house. It’s bad. I-it’s real bad.”

“So do we fold?”

“...no. Not yet. M-maybe his hand is worse. L-let’s see, and gimmie your cards.”

There was an undeniable hesitation this time around, but everyone had agreed to letting Avigail shuffle, and there wasn’t much room for negotiating a better plan. So she gathered up the cards and started to deal them out. Five at a time.

She handed Jake the two of hearts, the two of clubs, the three of spades, the three of diamonds, and the five of diamonds. A humble two-pair hand.

Iva was handed the trash hand. Nine of cubs, eight of clubs, ten of spades, Queen of spades, and the four of clubs.

She gave herself the remaining five cards, careful to subtly tilt them away when Jake turned his head so he couldn’t see what she held: a ten of clubs, Jack of clubs, Queen of clubs, King of clubs, and Ace of clubs.

She had given herself a royal flush.

Charlie started to think carefully, tapping his finger against his chin as he stared at his cards. “Feel Good Inc.” was starting to play on the radio, and Iva, despite herself, actually started bobbing along in earnest. “Heh, I know this one…”

“Feeling lucky, Charlie?”

“I am.” He nodded, and threw six more chips into the pot.

“Six chips.”Juan blinked. “So… call or fold, gang?”

There was a natural hesitation before anyone would make such a call, or speak on behalf of two other people. Avigail took advantage of that natural lull to hesitate just long enough to appear in thought, before slowly putting her hand on six chips and dropping them into the pile.

“...call.”

Jake wanted to grab her and slam her face into the table for that. He wanted to scream at her for making that kind of call without consulting them first, after assuring them that their hand was bad. And he had to fight every natural urge in his body to keep his expression and body language as neutral as possible. And then, with the few seconds he had available to him, he had to decide exactly how much he trusted her.

...he trusted her more than he trusted Iva. And that was the best he was going to get at that moment. So with theatric hesitation, he dropped his six chips into the pot.

“I guess we’re calling.” Iva said, her voice cracking from fear. And why wouldn’t it? She had always had to wrestle with vulnerability. With dependence. She had found pride in her blindness but she could never escape the shameful reality of it either, that she still relied on others; it had always come with its own set of challenges, but they couldn’t have ever prepared her for this. So much was at stake, and she couldn’t do a damn thing. She already didn’t know how to play, and now that there was a traitor, she had no way to keep an eye out for them, to search for the telltale moments or gestures that might betray their intentions. Feeling powerless was never a good feeling, but this was a degree past that. It was her entire life slipping away and she couldn’t even make a cursory effort at salvaging it, a token gesture. Something to console herself so she could say she at least tried.

But she had almost nothing. She was doing all she could, scanning the rules card as if it would reveal some hidden path to victory, and be disappointed anew when it remained as unchanging as ever.

Six more chips were dropped in the middle. Everyone had followed Avigail’s lead. Everyone had no choice but to trust her.

Perhaps, then, it should be no surprise that Charlie would take a card from her hand: specifically, the fifth card in her hand, to the far right, the Ace of clubs, and once again only discard one card from his hand so he could keep it. It would be replaced with a king of diamonds, giving her hand at least a pair.

Avigail wasn’t surprised he had targeted her. How could she? His always knowing exactly which card to take was little more than an unbroken pattern at this point. No, what she was feeling wasn’t surprise... it was looking down and seeing a hole in your chest. It was waking up and being paralyzed from the neck down. This was horror. It was despair. And it was something so palpable that she couldn’t even pretend to hide it. Her poker face evaporated. And the only one in the room who couldn’t tell exactly what had happened was Iva.

“...what did you do?”

Jake demanded.

“Avigail, what did you do?!”

“What’s going on…?!”

Maybe it would have been better if Charlie was the devil. If he did feed off the discourse and grew excited as his enemies fell apart. But it all seemed so routine for him. He had egged them on just enough to fray their nerves, to sow their discontent, and now he seemed to take no pleasure or pain in reaping what he had created. It would have meant something if he had cared about what it was he was taking from them. It would have meant something if he was at least happy to have gotten the right card, showed that he had stakes in this game where they were risking such essential parts of who they were. But his face remained stoic and his posture was still. He made his apathy abundantly and unmistakably clear.

He put nine chips in the pot. For them to call, they’d have to go all-in.

With no hesitation, they folded.

----------------------------------------

His hand had been a ten of hearts, an Ace of hearts, an eight of hearts, an Ace of spades, and the stolen Ace of clubs. Three of a kind, worth nine points.

Since she had been given a King when he stole her card, she technically had a pair. That was worth a point. With the two-pair that Jake had, their combined hand would have been worth three points.

If he had taken any other card, literally any other card in her hand, he would have only had a pair of aces, worth three points. And they would have won since he hadn’t scored higher than them.

Iva had to be carried to the bar by Teresa. She was crying. Avigail and Jake, however, were at each other’s throats.

“You had a fucking royal flush and you didn’t say anything?!”

“Why w-would I?! I wanted to keep it hidden from the traitor!”

“Well now you look like the traitor!”

“M-me!? Y-you didn’t even see the Royal Flush in our hands! I-I could have just given us all t-trash hands a-and we could have lost that way if I was the t-traitor!”

In truth, it was hard for Avigail to even think so coherently. “Dreams” are so broad that they intersected frequently with imagination, which she needed to state the hypotheticals that helped prove her innocence. She had taxed her imagination to the limit just for that one example, and even then she had only been able to think it because she had thought of it the moment she realized her royal flush was compromised.

“Or you knew he’d take your card anyway.” He snarled. “So you just… gave yourself that fucking royal flush so it would look like you’re still on our side.”

“You were watching me the w-whole time, right?!” She slammed her foot down. “Did you see any kind of signal?! Any k-kind of sign I could have used?!”

He tried to recall. The cards in her hand had been level, far more than his own. She hadn’t said anything before Charlie picked a card, not this time. She had shuffled their cards exactly the same way he had, overhand style. And while she had glanced to the side once or twice to make sure he wasn’t looking at her hand, her eyes otherwise were level and straight towards Charlie. He had seen, because he had been watching. Carefully.

“I… I don’t know.”

But then his eyes turned to Iva, still crying at the stool.

“...but…”

His voice turned to a conspiratorial whisper.

“...she keeps scanning the rules card on the table as we play.”

Avigail couldn’t visualize such a thing happening, but it sounded about right. She knew she had seen it, in the most literal sense.

“We’ve been taking it for granted since we assumed she was blind, but… what if she wasn’t as blind as she was letting on?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Contacts, man. To make her eyes look milky. But she can see our hands just fine, and she uses the card to signal what our most valuable hand is…”

Iva noticed they were whispering.

“Guys?” She sniffed. “Why are you whispering?”

“It could even go deeper, though…” He continued to mutter, now to himself more than Avigail. His breathing grew shallow. He was sweating.

Jake had the idea and now he couldn’t let it go. She wasn’t blind. There was so much she could get away with if she wasn’t blind. So much was possible. Like… He had heard of cameras so small they could fit into contacts. What if she were wearing some of those? The contacts record a video. Charlie sees the recording on his phone. Iva distances herself from suspicion by not feeling the cards after they’re shuffled and handed out, but she’s still being his dutiful camera. It would be trivial to pull off for a company as large as Walker Horizons, and equally trivial to replace her legs once she lost.

She could have used some kind of invisible ink on her fingers that marked one card as she felt them one at a time. She wouldn’t know when to apply it if she were blind, at least, not in a way that they wouldn’t notice. But if she could see and plan ahead...

There were no two ways about it. If she wasn’t blind, it would explain everything.

He had to know if it was true.

“There’s no problem. Heh. We’re, uh, still just trying to figure stuff out,” he said in as calm and reassuring voice as he could muster, all while walking up to the bar. The knife used for peeling the lime was still there, sharp and covered in a thin film of citrus juice. While she sniffled and looked in his direction, he carefully picked up the knife, so as not to make any noise.

Avigail only faintly recognized what he was doing. Iva’s ears twitched: despite his best efforts, she knew someone had grabbed something. Her guard as up now.

“Do you have any ideas, Iva?” He asked, raising the knife as he took another step towards her. He was searching for something. Anything. Any kind of sign that she realized what he was doing. But she stared at him, past him, eyes unfocused and lost. She shivered, but she had been shivering since her first chunk of leg had been removed.

He took another step forward. Iva leaned backwards. Her face was starting to contort with worry.

“Why are you walking towards me? What are you doing? Avigail, what is he doing?”

Avigial didn’t answer. She wanted to see what would happen as much as he did, even if she didn’t have the courage to go through with it herself. But she wasn’t about to help him by crafting a lie, either… even if she could think straight, that would be assisting his efforts a bit too directly.

“I’m just pacing.” He tried. The knife was high in the air now. Ready to swing down, as a pendulum. His face was warped with desperation but steeled with purpose.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t have any ideas” she wiped at her wet cheek with her sleeve, moving her hips as if trying to scootch away, but lacking the leg power to do it herself. A knife was swinging down at her face. “I can’t see anything, and… and frankly you’re kind of freaking me out right now.”

She let out another heartbroken hiccup. The knife had stopped a mere centimeter from her face, paralyzed there for a few precarious seconds. She hadn’t so much as twitched, although she did sniff, and noticed the smell of lime.

“...what’s that…?”

Jake, however, couldn’t answer. And Avigail, lacking so much of her dreams and imagination, could not describe what it was she was seeing. Not completely. But she could recognize objectively that something had grabbed Jake from behind, a something that was halfway inhuman and entirely nightmarish. She dully recognized that whatever it was, it dragged Jake off into a corner of the room that was suddenly far darker than she had ever remembered or noticed, and before he could so much as scream, he was gone.

The dark corner spat back out the knife. It fell onto the ground with a softened thud.

Avigail threw up.

“What’s going on?! Jake? Avigail?!”

“You do not need to worry, Iva.” Teresa stated as she wiped the blade clean with a swipe of a small hand towel. “It appears that Jake let the pressure of the game get to him, and he forfeit. You and Avigail may continue as normal.”

“What?!”

“I’m afraid there’s not much more I can tell you.”

“Fuck off with all your vague-ass answers! Avigail? Where’s Jake?! Is she telling the truth?!”

“...y-yes.” She was finally able to speak. She wiped a line of saliva and mucus from her lips. “He’s… g-gone. I-it’s only you and me now.”

“Was he the traitor?!”

“...I-I don’t think so.”

“Then that means…”

“...t-that means…”

If there really was a traitor… either Avigail or Iva was stuck playing with them.

That fact sat in their stomachs like a large, cold stone.

“...i-it doesn’t change the fact we c-can’t win by o-ourselves. W-we need to work together somehow.”

“And how, pray tell, are we supposed to do that?! There’s nothing you can suggest that will make me trust you. We might really be better off just keeping our hands hidden and hoping for the best!”

That wasn’t true. And both Iva and Avigail knew it. But Iva was struck with inspiration in the silent moments that followed: they only had to survive one more turn. If Jake was really the traitor, then it would be clear when Charlie either hesitated to steal a card, or stole the wrong one. If that were the case, their problem was solved and they could start clawing their way back.

But if he stole the right card without hesitation one more time, Iva won. Because all she’d have to do is accuse Avigail of cheating. And that would be that.

Iva felt useless, and in her effort to fight that, she had been keeping track of everything she could. The smell and feel of the cards. The rules and if they were making the most optimal hands. She had even been counting how long it took Charlie to be told he could take a card and when he actually took it. So far, he averaged about three seconds. Just enough time to visually locate the card he wanted and pluck it loose.

She’d be counting very, very carefully this time.

Avigail was consumed with very different thoughts. Jake’s stunt hadn’t convinced her Iva wasn't the traitor. Not entirely. Iva’s failure to flinch, and her non-reaction to that thing taking Jake away, was convincing evidence of her blindness, but just because Iva had been telling the truth about that didn’t mean she couldn’t still backstab them.

Of course, Avigail still needed her cards if she was going to make the best five-card hands possible.

But…

...Iva didn’t need to know that.

“F-fine, then. Let’s leave our h-hands alone and see how that works out.”

“...do you mean that?”

“Since we already anted we both have six chips left. That’s three more hands including this one. A-and if we’re g-going to f-figure out a method to w-work together to b-beat him, w-we need to be prepared t-to lose a-at least once more.”

Iva was thinking the same thing. But Avigail didn’t need to know that.

“...fine.” She said with feigned reluctance. “Teresa, let’s go back to the table.”

When they returned to the parlor, they noticed that Jake’s chair was gone, as were the chips that he had created with his wager. They were all on Charlie’s side of the table now, pushed into the horde that surrounded him. A part of his collection, and removed from the game. Just one more color in a rainbow of victims.

“I’m sorry about Jake, guys.” Juan sincerely frowned, “But rules are rules. Speaking of, this game’s gotta go on, but since you’re down one member, now Charlie’s hand is worth twice as many points. Alright?”

Charlie didn’t protest. Charlie didn’t even emote. The other two at the table did.

“Okay.”

“Still bullshit, but not a whole lot I can do about it.”

They each sat down -- Avigail to the left and Iva to the right -- and checked their cards again. Iva made a point to only feel her own cards, refusing to touch Avigail’s, but Avigail made no secret at peering at Iva’s holdings.

Avigail was holding a King of clubs, an eight of diamonds, a four of spades, a nine of hearts, and an Ace of clubs. A pig hand.

Iva faired little better. She had a King of diamonds, a King of spades, a ten of spades, a six of spades, and a three of diamonds. A pair.

Together, they could get three of a kind. Three points. Which would beat Charlie if he only had a pair. Anything else, he would win, but it was pointless to look at his face to try to glean his hand: he was too uninvested in this game to express anything even if his poker face was absolutely garbage. Of course, that was only if they could combine hands and get their kings together: as things stood now, he could beat them with anything but a useless hand, and considering he could simply throw out all his cards for new ones at a whim, it was unlikely he didn’t have at least a pair.

But fortunately for Avigail, Iva was blind, and kept her cards on a stand because she couldn’t hold them correctly. Which made it relatively easy for Avigail to simply steal the cards from Iva while her hands were somewhere else, quickly put their kings together, then put five cards back on her stand. Everyone had watched her do it, but no one could call her out on it, because as far as they knew, this was normal and premeditated. Only Iva knew otherwise, and Iva was the only one who couldn’t have noticed.

Avigail had given herself the pig: and she now held the ten of spades, the six of spades, the eight of diamonds, the four of spades, and the three of diamonds.

Iva held the three Kings, the nine of hearts, and the ace of clubs. Not that she knew it.

“Viva La Vida” started playing on the radio.

“Any bets, Char-” Juan asked, but he didn’t even get to finish his thought before Charlie reached out and grabbed the middle card in Iva’s hand, the King of clubs, dropped it into his hand, and then discarded a card from his hand to make it an even five.

“...oookay then.” Juan frowned as he drew a replacement card. “Iva, he took your third card, the one in the middle. I’m replacing it now.”

Iva, for the first time since the game had started in earnest, actually broke out in a smile. An honest to god smile of utter and complete disbelief and relief: she had two kings, and if he had taken the middle card, then he took the ten of spades. He missed the card he wanted! When he reached out so fast she had been worried, preparing herself mentally to call Avigail out for cheating, but feeling the five of diamonds in the middle spot of her hand, she felt a relief like she had never felt before. They were still losing. But they still had hope. They had a fighting chance.

Right?

...right?

“I raise by-”

“W-we fold!” Avigail blurted out between clenched teeth. “We. Fold.”

“Wait, why?!” Iva frowned, grabbing at her hand. “I still have a… a…”

She felt her cards one at a time. Her two kings were there. So was her five, which had replaced her ten. But she also, now, suddenly… had a nine of hearts. An Ace of clubs.

“...you switched my cards.”

“I-I had a third King and I-”

“-You switched my cards!” Iva tried to stand up, but her legs weren’t equal to the task of supporting her indignation, let alone the rest of her body. She staggered, she stumbled, holding herself up with shaking arms. The tears were coming back, but they were mad and victorious as she bleated “Juan! She’s cheating! She’s the traitor, she’s working with Charlie! She’s been doing it this whole damn game!”

“...what?!”

Suddenly, Avigail was mad she didn’t think of doing this first.

“That’s… quite the accusation.” Juan sadly noted. He was taking no pleasure from this game. He looked as drained as the players, although perhaps he had no right to be. “How is she helping him cheat?”

Charlie looked on with mild interest. As if he were excited to find out himself.

“I-I don’t know!” she continued. Her voice was hoarse and she laughed like a cornered hyena. She was crying the whole time. Reminded of what she was going to lose by her near-failure to even stand. “I’m blind, I can’t, I mean, I can’t see what she’s doing but I know she’s doing it! This whole game was rigged!”

“...Iva, I’m sorry, but unless you can tell me how I can’t disqualify him.”

“How am I supposed to know?! How’s that a fair rule when you, when you drag a blind girl here against her will and force her to play your fucking-”

“-No one forced you to play anything, Iva, please.” Juan begged. But his sympathetic voice could not cool the inferno that was eating her alive. An inferno of anger. Of fear. And regret. She tried to point to where she thought Avigail was seated, but she was off by a few degrees, and in the effort nearly fell to the ground again.

“Admit you were cheating you bitch! For the love of god please! Tell them you were the traitor! Tell them how you did it!”

Avigail couldn’t say anything. Even if she wanted to. She couldn’t.

“Please!” Iva begged.

Avigail couldn’t say anything.

But Charlie did.

“Iva, shut up.”

His words cut through the noise of the room decidedly. And Iva, despite her hysteria, shut up.

“I’ve got things to do and I don’t have time for this,” he sighed impatiently, “Your accusations of cheating are unfounded and unsubstantiated and becoming an enormous headache. But since I sympathize with your predicament, I’m willing to speed things along with a final all-or-nothing gamble.”

Avigail turned to face him. Iva continued to bleed the odd sob and hiccup into the murky hall. He held up his five-card hand in front of them, each card held out perfectly flat. No one stuck out above the others.

“If you grab the King I just stole out of my hand, I’ll forfeit right now. Otherwise, you two lose. Frankly neither of you would have a chance to beat me if we played normally, so you’d better appreciate this opportunity.”

The two women’s heads were swimming. Their minds were fogged and their eyes were murky. There was hate. There was longing. There was weariness. They swam through an intense cocktail of chemicals and emotions that neither of them had ever sampled in their lifetimes, and like any unfamiliar powerful drink, it destroyed their inhibition and their judgement: And after all, he was right, wasn’t he? They literally had no hope of beating him normally, not when one of them was betraying the other: so why not give this a chance? A one in five chance was far, far better than a 0% chance… right?

Of course, if they had been paying attention, they’d know that Charlie was not a man who played according to chance.

The King he had stolen had already been discarded.

----------------------------------------

Iva woke up feeling tired. But then, she had been tutoring late into the evening for her online English teaching job, so that was far from abnormal. She got up. She stretched. She brushed her seeing-eye dog, Scruffles the Second, and decided that instead of the leftover kebab she was going to have for breakfast, she’d save that for dinner and just grab an apple on the way to campus. She brushed her teeth, got dressed, then went out into the day, feeling and enjoying the warmth of the summer sun on her skin. She enjoyed it so much, in fact, she decided that instead of taking the bus, she’d walk the whole way, eating her apple as she went.

She was halfway through her walk and entirely through her apple when Scruffles the Second started pulling her, hard, off the sidewalk while barking like a dog possessed. She only barely had time to register what that might mean before a car slammed into her at fifty miles per hour.

It would be the last walk she’d ever have for the rest of her life.

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Jake woke up feeling tired. But then, he had been hosting one of Perry’s parties last night, and those tended to go on for a time and leave all participants thoroughly spent. So it was a good kind of tired, the kind of tired that meant waking up next to ten other men and women and not knowing for sure what body parts had been where (although in Jake’s case he found any combination appealing enough). But it also came with the knowledge that he’d have to clean up after one of Perry’s parties, because all of his friends were selfish jerks, and he found both of those things annoying, to say the least.

He was navigating a veritable marsh of fluids, underwear, cold pizza and beer cans, when he stumbled onto a bag of PCP that someone had brought and not opened. He gave it a sniff, and it seemed like the stuff was still good, so as a little reward to himself for taking on the burden of cleaning by his lonesome, he sampled the rest of the bag.

It did not go down easy. Or smooth. And while his friends were selfish jerks, they were not the kind of friends who would leave one of their own twitching and bleeding on the ground, having hit his head on the corner of the table mid-collapse. They got him to a hospital (using a car, obviously, no one there could afford an ambulance) and they all found out together just how bad that PCP and fall had been: he had suffered brain damage. Comprehensive brain damage. It wasn’t just that he had forgotten a huge chunk of his life -- everything before he was eighteen -- he seemed to forget everything he might have learned in that time. How to speak. How to eat. How to not shit his pants. His morals. Huge chunks of his personality. He was practically an overgrown infant, and his elderly mother and father had to take him into their home in order to take care of him, and teach him all the fundamentals again.

One step at a time.

----------------------------------------

Avigail never woke up.

Not properly, anyway.

When her family found her, she had slipped into a waking coma over the night: an unforgiving ailment, the kind that people seldom recovered from. The family doctor said there wasn’t much that could be done normally… but there was new, radical surgery that might wake her up. If the family consented, the doctors could remove affected chunks of her brain and re-wire her to see if that woke her up. Since it was so experimental, they wouldn’t charge anything, and in doing so, Avigail could become a medical marvel that helped other people in years to come.

They begrudgingly consented. It was better than letting her rot in a bed, draining their bank accounts.

The doctors had failed, however, to emphasize exactly how experimental and professionally unverified this surgery is. Or to disclose that the brain chunks they would remove would be preserved and sold to interested buyers.

After the very first surgery, they had inadvertently robbed her of her ability to dream. It was an accident, true, but it was a fortuitous one: it meant she could no longer be anxious of what they were going to do next.

----------------------------------------

Charlie was having a very busy, very strange week.

So strange and so busy, in fact, he had a hard time keeping track of where he was getting what, and who he had taken it from. From a professional standpoint it hardly mattered if he was able to keep up, that was Marie’s prerogative, but he still would have been more comfortable if he could keep it all categorized in his head for his own sake, not just his paycheck.

At some point in his week, during a trip around the world, a very desperate (and apparently a very unwell) police officer recognized him and forced him to go to a small Slovakian hospital so he could fix the man’s dying mother, under the assumption that as a brilliant engineer he could fashion her some kind of life-saving device. And in trying to escape this deranged police officer and the hospital in question, Charlie accidentally grabbed the wrong bag: which was how he was caught at the airport with a suitcase that had two amputated legs in it. Needless to say, he was immediately thrown into a holding cell while everyone tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

He found himself sharing a holding cell with a skittish woman who was being held on suspicions of drug trafficking. As it turned out, those suspicions were well-founded, because she couldn’t hold them in her bowels any longer and she just dumped right on the floor, and Charlie became convinced things couldn’t possibly get worse. As it turned out he lacked imagination, because that mentally ill officer found Charlie in his holding cell, enraged that he had had failed to “save” his mother, and in revenge tried to frame Charlie for the drug crime.

By trying to shove the bag up his ass.

Unfortunately for both parties, it broke in the process, and gave Charlie the trip of a lifetime; eighteen years as a small American boy in the suburbs of Texas, a place he had never even seen before.

When he woke up from his trip, dazed, confused, and terrified, he found himself in the hospital. The guard had been so furious when Charlie started tripping out that he started punching him in the head repeatedly, and only stopped when he assumed Charlie had died. The doctors were happy to report that he had not, in fact, died, but rather suffered what may have been irreversible brain damage were it not for a “donor”, so to speak, who had given up chunks of her brain to replace his damaged parts in a radical, unsafe, million-to-one surgery that just so happened to work. They called him the luckiest man alive.

Charlie, who wasn’t 100% sure he was actually Charlie and not a teenager named Jake, wasn’t quite sure he believed that.

Considering it was still just Tuesday.

----------------------------------------

Soft noire jazz streamed through the Silver Wheel. Ture was back behind the bar, leaning back and bobbing his head with the chill beats that surrounded them. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning. Which was more than could be said for Juan, who had a bottle of beer in front of him, cracked open with beads of condensation still clinging to the dark brown glass.

He took a long yet regretful drink.

“...I hate that Charlie guy,” Juan finally said.

“No kiddin’,” Ture replied.

“He’s an asshole. He has no passion. And I know he was cheating. I just… I don’t know how. That’s the thing, I always know how. Always. But not this time.”

“Well. World’s full of surprises, right?” Ture shrugged. “All sorts of new technology and shit. Maybe it’s something like that.”

“I very much doubt it.” Teresa took a seat next to Juan, and a glass of white wine was placed in front of her instinctively by Ture. She had been cleaning up the vomit on the floor: a not-uncommon chore at the Silver Wheel, when one sees Mr. Eight clearly and completely. “And Juan, I trust you won’t let your personal feelings interfere with your job. More than it already has.”

He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look guilty, either. Not this time.

“That game was weighed dramatically against Charlie. It was not a game well-suited for the Silver Wheel.”

“And yet he still won every hand.”

“It’s not your concern if he cheats. Only to execute punishment if he’s caught.”

“He’s ruining this place, Teresa.” Juan stood up, just tipsy enough to harden his spine so he could look at her directly, when normally he might be guilted into silence. “The Silver Wheel was supposed to be an opportunity. A place to change lives, and reflect on yourself. He’s turning it… into a slaughtering grounds. He’s giving nothing and taking everything and… if that’s what the new Silver Wheel is, I don’t want to be a part of it.”

He took another swallow, then slammed down the glass. Ture nodded approvingly.

“I’m going to think of a game that’ll beat that asshole.” Juan erupted and stomped towards the parlor. “Next time he comes here I swear he’s going to lose!”

He slammed the door shut like an angry child under Teresa’s watchful glare. But when he finally left her sight, her eyes softened, and she turned to Ture. She took a sip of her drink. She let the mellow jazz smooth out the ruffled atmosphere, and her drink to soak through her system, before she opened her mouth again.

“...by the way, Ture.” She spoke, but kept her eyes on the counter. “I quite enjoyed your selection of music this time around. Quite the inspired list.”

“Ya don’t say.” He raised an eyebrow, flashing his canines. “Didn’t expect to hear that from you. But hey, thanks. I try.”

“Yes. I can tell you put a lot of thought into each one. ‘Island in the Sun’, released in 2001. ‘Just the way you are’, from 2010. ‘Feel Good Inc’, that was 2005. And ‘Viva La Vida’, which if I’m not mistaken was released in 2008.”

Ture’s smile vanished. He leaned forward. And in turn, she raised her eyes and looked at him. Hers were an ice blue that could chill a glacier.

“...you sure know your music trivia, huh?”

“I know lots of things that might surprise you.” She continued, her painted lips hovering just barely above the wide rim of her wine glass. “For example, I noticed that Avigail, Jake, and Iva had fifteen cards in total. I also noticed that during the first round, Charlie took the first card from the left. In the second round, he took the tenth card from the left. In the third round, he took the fifth. And in the fourth round, the eighth.”

Ture was not capable of projecting sheer daggers of ice the way Teresa was able to. But he had a fiery obstinance that allowed him to weather anything, at least when the fire in his stomach had been properly stoked. It was a shameless persona that had kept him sane in his seemingly endless vigil as a bartender, and allowed him to fearlessly insult everyone no matter who they were or what they wanted to drink. And now it was allowing him to endure, and even thrive, Teresa’s hateful, vicious glare. He had wanted to push her buttons for as long as he had known her. He was thrilled to have finally found one.

“Why did you do it, Ture?” She asked.

“Because he promised he could bring me back,” he answered through a toothy grin.

“That’s impossible. If you take one step outside that door you-”

“It was impossible. Just like it was impossible for people to come here on their own. The old rules are broken. This is a new Silver Wheel. It’s changing, just like you said. So if Charlie says I can escape this shitty purgatory, I’m throwing my lot in with him.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single golden chip. Even in the dull light of the bar, it shone like a star.

“And when I do get out, I’m going to be loaded.”

She took a final sip of her wine, then left it on the bar, unfinished. She stood up, and walked to the parlor.

“Hey. You’re not gonna tell Juan, are ya?”

She stopped moving.

“...no. It’s his job to notice cheating and deal with insubordination. If he hasn’t seen what you’re doing, it must only be because he trusts you. I’ll let him learn the mistake of that on his own.”

She paused for a moment longer. As if allowing a thought to pass through her harmlessly. But then she stepped into the parlor, and left Ture alone with nothing but his bottles, his music, his single golden chip...

...and his wide, victorious grin.