It’s getting hard to tend to my regular obligations.

My thoughts are… preoccupied by Miss Nine, these days.

Calling it an obsession is too generous -- it’s more of a distraction, really, preventing me from dedicating the full scope of my mental faculties to Marie’s own little obsession. I still believe in her mission and I am faithful to her vision, but I can’t help but feel as if her thinking is too… narrow? I can’t quite think of the right word, but I can’t think of a better one either. She’s really transfixed on human values and ideals. While disregarding a multiverses’s worth of perspectives and opinions.

She’s got a menagerie of interdimensional and intergalactic entities to choose from, and yet she refuses to investigate or even discuss any of them. It’s a mindset I can’t wrap my head around… you’d think she’d be more interested in recording and documenting these beings, and yet, she trundles ahead blindly towards her own noble, yet terribly blind ambition.

Miss Nine is making me reconsider my own blindness.

The human eye is such an unfortunately limited thing. The range of light it can perceive is narrow to the point of uselessness, and the amount of that information processed by the brain, narrower still. I can’t help but feel that humans have been held back by this narrow vision, both literally and figuratively.

Miss Nine’s eyes have been opened, both literally and figuratively, to things no other human could imagine. The typical wavelength of light humans can perceive sits at around 380 to 700 nanometers. Miss Nine’s striking eyes, however, can see between .00001 nanometers to 1 meter. A baffling amount of information is absorbed by them, and her mind is somehow able to perceive and process it.

I want to see the world as she sees it. I’m going to use this eye I collected to create a lens that will allow me to see what she sees.

...

Maybe she’ll like me more if we have something in common…

~*~

Durak, despite being ubiquitous with Russian history, did not enjoy a robust cataloging of its history. Thus, much of its past and origin are unknown.

But what we do know is that it was invented in the 19th century and exploded in popularity with the peasant class. In some respects, it even grew to represent them, as the game continued to be popular well past the revolution and even thrived under Communism, spreading out to other Soviet Nations to take a prominent place around kitchen tables in Eastern and Central Europe. These days, it’s less popular than many games that were imported from the west, but it still remains a pastime enjoyed by many.

Durak, unlike most card games, is only played with a deck of 36 cards, with twos through fives of every suit being removed before the game begins. Each player is dealt six cards, and the top card on the deck (called the talon) is then flipped up, shown to the players, and placed under the deck at a 90 degree angle, so it remains visible under the other cards. That card determines the “trump suit”.

The player with the lowest-value “trump suit” card in their hand starts as the “attacker”, while the player to his left -- or, in the case of two-man Durak, the other player -- is the “defender”. The attacker then chooses one of his cards and puts it on the table.

The defender then has two choices: they can either “defend” the attack by playing either a higher-ranking card of the same suit (so a ten of diamonds would ‘block’ a seven of diamonds), or any card of the “trump suit” (so a six of clubs would ‘block’ a seven of diamonds, if the club was the trump suit). Once blocked, the attacker can choose to attack again, but only with a card that has the same value as one of the cards on the table -- the defender is under no such restriction.

If the defender passes, or is unable to defend from an attack, they lose the round and must take all the cards on the table and add them to their hand. If the defender succeeds, all the cards on the table are discarded. At the end of the round, any player with fewer than six cards draws from the deck until they have a full hand. Once the deck is exhausted (including the card at the very bottom that determines the trump suit), it is not refreshed, and players no longer draw cards.

The winner is the first player to get rid of all the cards in their hand.

“Of course, Durak might have plenty of strategy, but this is a gambling house. So we’ve gotta find something for these chips to do. So in this game, if you’re defending and you’re unable to beat your attacker, you lose a number of chips equal to the value of the attacking card. If you can’t beat a six, you lose six chips. A King, ten. And since all Aces are high, that would be eleven. Other than that, we play the same. You win if you get all your opponent’s chips or get rid of all your cards. Oh, and all the standard Silver Wheel rules apply: no cheating, winner takes all, leaving means you lose, yada yada. Questions?”

A song neither man recognized (it was “Saturday Night” by Leyton Buzzards) was nibbling at the corner of their ears. But the game choice did bring a smile to Nikolay’s face: this was his grandfather’s favorite game. He spent many hours in his childhood playing this with the old man. They were fond memories. If he had remembered the game existed he might even still play it in the waking world, but the details of those old memories seem to slip away faster and easier with every passing day.

But the stakes were too high for him to get lost in happy memories. He had to win.

Durak was roughly split into two stages, both of equal importance. The first phase was when there were still cards in the deck, and winning was functionally (although not technically) impossible, since you’d end each round with at least six cards in your hand. You had three goals during this phase: to keep the number of cards in your hand at a minimum, to ensure the cards you do keep are good -- cards of the trump suit, or high-value cards that the other player wouldn’t be able to easily beat -- and to keep track of who has what card and what’s been removed from play. The second phase, called the ‘endgame’, occurred when the deck was exhausted, and the players are focused on emptying their hands as quickly as possible.

Both phases are far easier when you have at least three players in the game, since there are rules that give you more opportunities to get rid of bad cards, but it wouldn’t be impossible in a head-to-head match like this… if you played smart, knew which fights to take, and which to avoid.

“Teresa, get me a strawberry schnapps, won’t you?” Ehije ordered while Ratna shuffled the cards, “Would you like something?”

“I’ll have a Moscow Mule.”

“You heard the man.”

“Yes, sir,” she bowed to her boss, and walked out the door. Ratna had started dealing their cards.

“Lovely woman. Well. Not a ‘woman’, exactly. But she's a convincing fake, isn't she?"

Nikolay’s eye twitched.

“...I saw the video where she got shot,” Nikolay leaned forward, picking up his hand but not checking the cards yet, “and I want to know what the hell she is.”

“Win this game, and you’ll learn a lot more than just that.”

“...I also want to dissect her.”

“Of course. It can be arranged later.”

The final top card, unarguably the most important card in the game, was flipped and tucked under the deck for both men to see: the Ace of clubs.

“Clubs trump.” Ratna announced, “Alright boys, who’s attacking first?”

Nikolay finally looked at his hand: he had a nine of spades, a ten of hearts, a seven and King of diamonds, and an eight and Jack of clubs. Two cards with trump suits. Could be better, could be worse. His opponent was looking at the cards too. Looking rather… comfortable.

“My lowest trump card is a Queen,” Ehije flashed the card to both the dealer and his opponent. A good card. A very good card. Nikolay, a man very comfortable with letting his inner demons claw up his stomach until he could find the perfect time to unleash them, took the news with a smile.

“Eight. It seems I attack first,” Nikolay showed his card, and turned his attention to the empty table in front of him. The battlefield where he would determine if he was destined to become a god amongst men… or merely god’s secretary.

At the very least, his opening move wasn’t challenging: he wanted to avoid using his trump cards and high-value cards for as long as possible. And that seven wasn’t looking too appealing right now.

Nikolay placed the seven of diamonds onto the table. Ehije laughed, taking the card, adding it to his hand, and throwing seven chips in Nikolay’s direction.

“And first blood is drawn. A bad start for me.”

Ratna dealt Nikolay another card: the eight of spades. Not what he would have liked. Despite drawing “first blood”, Nikolay knew his hand, right now, wasn’t a winning one. But it was still too early to call it a losing one, either. He smiled anyway, keeping his eyes aggressively glued to his cards.

Ehije hummed, hovering his fingers over his cards.

“Let’s see… let’s attack with…”

He threw down a seven of spades. Nikolay could defend from it, so without a word he put down a nine of spades to block.

“I’ll have to try harder, I guess.” Ehije chuckled, putting down a seven of diamonds as a second attack. Now Nikolay had to think: he could block this attack with his king of diamonds. But if there were no more attacks (which seemed likely) he would lose it, which would be a net win for Ehije: he would have gotten rid of two bad cards and one of Nikolay’s good cards, and reset their hands back to an even six

But if he didn’t block… the chips would be equalized and he’d be up one card. He’d be stuck with some bad cards, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing… if he played smart.

“I’m not defending,” Nikolay sighed, throwing seven chips right back to Ehije while begrudgingly grabbing the three other cards on the table. The chips were even, and he had more cards than he wanted. Not a great start.

“Ah, a pity.”

“Mhm.”

“Not to pry, Nikolay, but it does not seem like you’re having much fun.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know this is an important game for you, but you should be smiling! A game can be friendly and important at the same time!"

“...I can tell you're being patronizing. You don't respect me at all."

"Nonsense! I wouldn't make you co-owner if I didn't respect you!"

"You're not treating me like one! Treating me like a glorified suggestion box, and letting your dealer say the most disrespectful shit to me-"

“-Well, it's true, isn't it?"

“Excuse me?"

“You... fuck your mother?"

"What kind of disgusting wart of a human being do you think I am?! What the hell makes you believe that's true?!"

Ehije simply shrugged, his smile unflappable.

“...you won't be smiling when I have that key,” Nikolay sat back down, those demons really starting to chew up his insides. The obvious choice would be to attack with the seven of spades. But he was already holding the eight and nine of spades, so it was unlikely his opponent would defend with a ten of spades or above. He needed to make the most of each turn, and that meant trying to milk each chance to lose as many cards as possible.

So he dropped his seven of diamonds first. Thankfully, Ehije blocked it with an eight. And now, now he was ready to play the seven of spades. Ehije didn’t block, as Nikolay predicted: which meant he won the round. He didn’t get to draw a new card, but that was fine. He still had a fairly good lead. And more chips than his opponent, to boot.

Well, it wasn’t much of a lead. At the moment, they were just going back and forth. Trading blows. It was still too early to make any calls, and it was Ehije’s turn to strike.

Ehije puckered his lips, and he played his newly-won seven of spades. Nikolay blocked it with a nine of spades. Ehije then played a nine of diamonds. Nikolay could have blocked it with his king, but that would be an enormous waste: and again, they found themselves switching cards and chips.

This was going to be a long game, at this rate. But Nikolay wasn’t worried.

Ehije was making his turns quickly and easily. Barely glancing at his cards before deciding what he should attack with, or if he should defend.

It could be he was a genius at the game, but based on how they’ve played so far…

...it was more likely he had no idea what he was doing.

~*~

“Shouldn’t you be watching the game?”

“Losing my Religion”, the billboard-topping wonder from R.E.M, was playing louder than usual in the bar. Ture was leaning forward, bobbing his head while keeping his eyes locked onto Teresa, who was standing nearly motionless in front of him.

She considered his question, then answered after a moment.

“Ratna is there. It does not need two witnesses.”

“...you’re nervous, aren’t you?”

She didn’t say anything. Ture shook his head.

“Come on. You said you didn’t want to be numb anymore, right? Be honest.”

“Yes, it is true. I am anxious. The stakes of this game are very high.”

“For us. Not for our champion,” Ture reminded her, holding out a freshly-poured glass of white wine, which she took readily. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Risking our everything on an uninvested stranger for a few pills.”

“It is important that they are uninvested in our fate, Ture. I cannot imagine what someone else could give that would equal the Silver Wheel in worth, from my perspective.”

“...I never really got the impression you liked this place, honestly.”

She finished her glass, and handed it back.

“How much I like the Silver Wheel and how much I care for it are unrelated.”

“Amen to that.”

She finally seemed to make up her mind, and took a seat at the bar. He poured her another glass. She drank it quickly but joylessly. As if it were an obligation, rather than a comfort.

“...how’d you get the boss to give you that key, anyway?”

“I did not. It was always mine. I inherited it from my progenitor when I took over waitressing duties.”

“...do they, uh… know you’re gambling it?”

“I did not see it necessary to communicate that point.”

She paused for a moment, then preempted the next question.

“You may be surprised to learn that the boss does not generally hold much interest in the Silver Wheel.”

“I’d be surprised to learn anything about the ‘boss’, boss.”

“I suppose I have not been very forthcoming with many aspects of the Silver Wheel’s operation.”

“Wasn’t ever important until now.”

“Please pour me another glass of wine.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be numb,” he teased while he poured.

“Yes, but only as a necessity of diagnosing my issues. I am fully aware and at peace with my anxieties on this matter.”

“Gambling the Wheel?”

“Talking about the boss.”

He slid the glass forward, and she clasped it once again in her thin, silky fingers. He hadn’t quite realized how perfect her fingers were until now, watching them snap into place around the glass and hold it steady while still looking genuinely untouchable: like there was a cushion of air between her skin and everything else. Like she had never touched anything in her entire time alive. Like she merely gestured and the glass, out of sheer politeness, started floating up to her lips. He tried to remember if there was ever a time he held her hand, or touched her body… but his memory was drawing a blank.

He felt the sudden, intense desire to grab her at that moment.

She placed the glass back down, and folded her hands in front of her.

“In truth, Ture, there are many things I do not know. But unlike humans, it seems I am not coded with any particular desire to learn more than I need. So I could not tell you why the Silver Wheel was made, who made it, or how long it has existed in its current or any other form. It is not that those facts are a secret to me, it is that I never found cause to learn them.”

She accepted the refilled glass, but did not drink from it.

“Regardless of this, I do know this much: the boss runs many establishments like the Silver Wheel. It is his intention to use it as a testing ground. Not for visitors, but for employees like yourself and Ratna. My job, as you are likely aware, is to judge. Those deemed unworthy or unsuitable are generally kept in these establishments until they willingly terminate their own existence, or they become worthy.”

“And you take the people you approve of back to your boss, right?”

“Yes. Back home.”

“...and then what?”

“I do not know.”

“What qualities are they looking for, exactly?”

She shook her head.

“I am not able to tell you the exact criteria. But Juan came to us as a desperate killer. When he passed away, he was almost worthy. You may make whatever assumptions you wish with that information.”

She took another drink.

“Regardless of this. I do not think the boss will be especially perturbed to lose one of his establishments in theory. The people who often become employees are volatile. Coups, or something similar to them, have been known to break out among employees, leaving their establishments adrift. In practice, however, this would be the first time anyone from the outside has staged a hostile takeover. This might incite curiosity, or perhaps rage, from the boss. It will depend, I suppose, on what the boss’s boss thinks on the matter.”

“Everyone’s got a boss, huh?”

“Yes. But maybe it is disingenuous to call them a boss. It is an adequate description of their purpose, but not a perfect one,” she paused to take a drink, maybe a bit longer than necessary, and when she was done she continued. “If I were to try to describe them more accurately, I would call them shepherds of motion.”

“...that’s… weird.”

“I suppose I could also call them 'stirrers', if you would prefer a more mundane description. They oversee the flow of the essential forces of reality. They do not claim authority over it, merely responsibility in ensuring the laws are followed and destinations are reached. They are, at once, a manifestation of indelible laws, and a necessary negotiation for a reality that does not deal well in absolute absolutes.”

“...you’re losing me,” Ture sighed, “there’s no idiot-proof way of explaining this, is there?”

“Not in your language, no. I suppose all that matters for you is knowing that they would not need to exist if the universe was a perfectly oiled machine that operated on flawless, predictable logic. But as long as unpredictable variables in reality exist -- from the motion of atoms to the decisions of kings -- their existence is a necessity.”

“You sure have a roundabout and shockingly relaxed way of saying ‘free will exists’.”

She looked up from her drink. Almost surprised.

“Is that a controversial statement?”

“It’s contentious. Or at least, it was when I was alive.”

“It must be a great comfort for some people to believe they are victims of destiny or biology.”

“I, uh, don’t think that’s the thrust of their argument, but you’re not wrong.”

“Maybe, at some later point , I would like to discuss the issue further. But not now, Ture. Now, I think I should like another drink.”

“Going pretty heavy today, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” she replied, watching him fill up the glass, “because we’re losing.”

~*~

Nikolay was winning.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

There were still plenty of cards in the deck: fifteen, by his count, meaning they had gone through just over half. But his lead now was convincing: just by knowing when to take a hit and when to defend, he had a six-chip lead and a hand that consisted of a King and Queen of spades, a King of diamonds, a Jack and Ace of hearts, and a Jack of clubs: only one card of the trump suit, but all his other cards were winners of their own suit, and would be difficult to defend against.

By comparison, Ehije had eight cards. Most of them were low value. And he only knew of one “trump suit” card, the eight of clubs, which Nikolay had used in an earlier round to secure his current lead.

That may have been a poor strategy if this were normal Durak, but this game was different: Nikolay realized he didn’t need to wait for the deck to be empty to secure his win. All he needed were three indefensible attacks so he could empty out Ehije’s chips and win the game that way. And with a hand like this, he had cards to spare.

But Ehije looked as calm as ever. Almost like he was having fun. Not taking Nikolay seriously. How irritatingly familiar.

“Say,” Ehije cut into the music, “would you care to learn why the Silver Wheel was first created?”

“I suspect it was because you were bored. It certainly couldn’t have been for money or power.” Nikolay smirked.

“Well, it certainly does liven things up! But no, that’s not it. I’m not actually the person who created the Wheel, myself, but I was told its purpose was to… stir the pot, or somesuch?”

“I don’t get it.”

“The world works on consistent and predictable rules. Every cause can be traced back to a source, which in turn was caused by something else. Even things that seem random were caused by measurable, detectable phenomena. Humans, of course, are no exception. And if you existed in isolation, everything about humanity would be… pre-written, I suppose. You could map out and predict everything every human would ever do, until you wipe yourselves out.”

Ehije put a finger to his lips.

“Oh, sorry. I guess that was a spoiler.”

“Not much of one.”

“But the Silver Wheel is an element of randomness that helps keep things from being truly preordained,” he continued, eyes flickering down to the cards Nikolay was holding: it was his turn to attack, after all, “It never did much -- just occasionally shuffle who has what -- but even those small changes could lead to some seriously unexpected results. Including those pills you used to get here.”

Nikolay almost always preferred having someone else do the heavy social thinking for him. But he wasn’t beyond doing it himself when it was necessary, and the pieces he was putting together painted a very… confusing picture.

“If that’s true, how come you’re asking me to change how it works? You know I would just make it predictable again.”

“Just because I inherited the Wheel doesn’t mean I agree with the vision of the person who did. I, for one, never saw much value in unpredictability. Surely it would be better to always know what’s going to happen, wouldn’t it? Humanity doesn’t do so good with chaos: every unpredictable element and every deviation from the norm creates friction in the world. Why, if we all looked and acted the same way, we’d hardly have any problems at all, would we?”

“It’s so refreshing to hear someone say that, Ehije. I’ve always felt that uneven cogs that can’t fit neatly into the machine of society either need to be re-fitted or discarded. Civilization slows to a crawl while waiting for the worthless and the irregular to ‘catch up’.”

“Exactly! Which is why the Silver Wheel of the future should have no surprises. It should be run by someone who is efficient and predictable and focused on a singular goal, even if it is self-serving. At the risk of offending you, that’s part of the reason I selected you for the task.”

“I promise I won’t become a total monster when I win.”

“Oh, I look forward to finding out either way. Although…”

Ehije paused, glancing to the side. New glasses were placed in front of them by Teresa, who vanished soon after.

“...although I do worry about Marie Walker.”

Nikolay shook his head.

“Why?”

“She is, after all, an element of chaos. It was fortunate enough she sent you the pills, of course, but she must have sent more pills to others, right? And as long as those pills are out there, well… your position at the Silver Wheel won’t ever really be secure, will it?”

“...yes. Yes, I- I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t worry too much about it right now, though.”

“Oh? Do you know who has the other pills?” Ehije leaned forward, onyx eyes glittering.

“Just her and some faggot, Helmut Beisner. And I don’t think he’s even used his pills yet.”

Ratna, for whatever reason, started chuckling. But what that hyena of a woman thought barely mattered to Nikolay. And she would matter even less when he was running this place.

“Just those two, you say?” Ehije leaned back, “That’s good to know, Nikolay. I suppose we should keep playing, then? I think you’re in the middle of trouncing me.”

Nikolay grinned: Ehije had no idea how true that statement was. He had a suite of cards that Ehije could only really block with a card of the trump suit. Nikolay knew for sure he had at least one, the eight of clubs he gave up earlier, but Nikolay also had a Jack of clubs: considering the Ace of clubs was at the bottom of the deck, the odds that Ehije had the King or the Queen were low. The odds of him having both? Almost impossible. Even if he did catch on and realize that Nikolay was going for a brute-force chip victory, he’d have no real way to stop it.

So Nikolay attacked by dropping his Queen of spades.

“See what I mean? I can’t keep up. I pass.”

A good start. The card switched hands, which meant Ehije had a high-ranking spade… but that’s why Nikolay played it first and kept the King in his hand. King beat Queen. Every time.

Ten chips were passed over to Nikolay. Ehije had less than half left, with 14 on his side of table. He remained oblivious. But Nikolay’s good fortune only grew when the card he drew to replace it was the Ten of clubs. Which practically assured his victory.

“Oof. Got me in a corner, huh?” Ehije hummed, “alright, looks like I gotta start playing like I mean it.”

He put the eight of spades on the table. Nikolay replied by defending with the King of spades. An unfortunate loss, but a necessary one.

“Sorry, but not this time.” Nikolay quipped.

“My turn’s not over yet.” Ehije quipped right back, dropping the eight of hearts. Nikolay blocked with his Jack.

“And now?”

“...alright, now I’m done.” Ehije threw up his hands in defeat, and the cards were thrown into the discard pile. Nikolay drew two new cards, and his heart nearly stopped: it was the Jack and Queen of diamonds. He had the King, Queen, and Jack of diamonds, all in his hand! Almost indefensible. He’d start with that, use his club on the off-chance Ehije had the Ace of diamonds in his hand, and once he won the round he’d be one turn away from claiming ultimate victory.

He put down the Jack of diamonds. Ehije double-checked his hand. He looked… a bit nervous.

“Uh, Ratna, you said they had to be the same suit, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck. Okay, fine. You win.”

The Jack was handed over. So were ten chips. Ehije was four chips away from losing entirely, and the card that Nikolay drew next? The Queen of hearts. The fact he was drawing so many face cards wasn’t just a sign of good fortune -- it was a sign that Ehije’s hand was likely full of lower-valued cards. Dragging him out of the game.

Nikolay was on the edge of his seat. He was so close to winning he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. He was salivating. His chest was pounding and heaving, despite his efforts to ignore it. Once Ehije finished his stupid turn this farce of a game would end and he could really get to work.

He just needed to defend.

“Here’s a fun question for you, Nikolay. Do you believe in fate?”

“What?”

“Do you think you were destined for something?”

Ehije attacked with the eight of diamonds. Thank god he didn’t use a spade: Nikolay didn’t actually have any of those in his hand. He did have the Queen and King of diamonds, though, and he quickly put down the former.

“Not… much of a question, is it? You already said people are predictable due to biological and sociological factors.”

“Oh, that is true. But do you think,” Ehije attacked with the eight of clubs -- the clubs being the trump suit, making this an aggressive attack, “that the right people are placed in the right spot at the right time?”

“That would imply a plan. I can’t quite stomach that idea.”

Nikolay begrudgingly blocked with the ten of clubs. A big loss, but a necessary one.

“Hmmm. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things. But maybe fate doesn’t work like that. Maybe fate is a thing that operates moment by moment.”

He leaned back, folding his hand in front of him. Ending his attack.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Nikolay half-muttered while the four cards were discarded, and his two replacement cards were drawn -- a nine of clubs and a Jack of spades. The banter didn’t matter now. He was about to win.

“I think you’ll understand in just a second.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

Nikolay could play any card and win, as long as it wasn’t defended against. But he started with his Jack of spades: that could only be blocked with a Queen, King, or Ace: all cards he could attack with again.

Ehije blocked with a Queen of spades. Annoying. Not catastrophic. Nikolay put down the Queen of hearts to attack again. Ehije blocked with his own queen: the Queen of clubs.

So he did have a card that could beat Nikolay’s Jack of clubs. That’s fine, though: because with the queen spent, he could attack with that very Jack. He slapped it down on the field, his breathing growing uneven as he stared at Ehije’s increasingly dwindling hand, and the four chips that stood between him and his well-deserved victory. The tension was grappling his throat -- the only way he could possibly lose was if Ehije just happened to have….

Without a word, Ehije put down the King of clubs.

“What is wrong with you!?” Nikolay whispered, his already thin patience being torn to pieces by the demons in his stomach, “Just lose already!”

He put down his King of Diamonds. There was no way Ehije would have both the King of clubs and the Ace of diamonds, was there?

Ehije pulled one card up from his hand. Teasing Nikolay for a moment as he stared in utter disbelief, before gingerly placing the Ace of diamonds on the table, next to the King.

“No, no, no, you’ve got to be shitting me!”

He had two cards left: the Ace of hearts and the nine of clubs. There were no nines on the field so he couldn’t attack with that, but he could throw down the Ace!

“Wow. Five attacks. You really want this, huh?”

“Shut up and block it if you can!”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Ehije laughed, putting a six of clubs, the trump suit, in front of the Ace.

“I intend to.”

The demons that were tearing through Nikolay’s stomach were a demanding, bloodthirsty lot. If they are promised satisfaction, and denied it, they vent their frustrations on Nikolay’s insides. The tearing, bloody rage he was feeling tore through his nerves, reaching the tip of every limb and the lining of every bone. Active, demanding, constricting rage. Not only because his attack failed and this fucking game wasn’t over, but because in the process of being wrong he also equalized the playing field: he spent all his good cards, and now they’d each draw back to a full hand of six. His lead was almost completely gone. And now that his turn was over, those four fucking chips were still taunting him at the other end of the table. Glistening their unholy silver, throttling his eyes and refusing to be ignored.

Nikolay could feel their claws in his throat now. Burning his flesh and boiling his blood. The demons were taking their toll.

“Whew. That was a close one.” Ehije laughed as the cards, all the cards Nikolay was sure were going to win him the game, were thrown into the discard pile. Ratna dealt new cards, starting by dealing Nikolay two in a row, since he had one less card. Each one was sent to either side of the table, one after the other, as the deck continued to dwindle… until vanishing entirely, and the last card, the winning card, the Ace of Clubs, was handed over to Ehije. Each man had six cards in their hand. And nothing left to replace them.

They were in the endgame.

...but there was something Nikolay didn’t like. The way they dealt the cards was… unusual. Typically even if your hand had fewer cards than your opponent’s, you still alternate dealing cards until one hand is full. The only reason they would do it any other way…

“...wait. Wait!” Nikolay shouted, standing up, “You dealt me two in a row! But if you dealt normally, then I would-”

“-what, have the Ace of clubs?” Ehije’s smile, once gentle and almost fatherly, twisted in an instant. A spider baring its fangs. “It sure seems that way."

Nikolay’s throat was suddenly filled with writhing, angry claws.

“...what did you-”

“-That’s why my dealer dealt this way. If you have an issue with that, why not cry to your mother about it?"

The demons were snaking up his arms now. Teasing his nerves and muscles into making fists. He could almost feel his bones popping in his jaw.

“God, you look so pathetic. Did you actually think I’d let you beat me? Did you actually think this game was fair?” Ehije stood up, walking along the table until he was standing over Nikolay, looking down his nose. “It was never fair. And it never will be fair. I make the rules around here, and you? You're just a sad, pencil-cocked nothing who's only legacy is a pile of rotten, incestuous fetuses at the bottom of a dead surgeons waste-bin."

Nikolay was barely listening. Each word was just throwing another match into a forest fire. His rage was already consuming and complete. His demons, his limbs, his soul demanded satisfaction, and he could feel the tension winding up in his shoulder, his forearm, his fist. Ehije was already within striking range. He could be put in his place, on the floor, in a split second.

But while there were no words that could penetrate the intense inferno burning in the pit of his stomach, a pair of sharp, blue eyes could. And he turned, ever so slightly, to meet those frigid blue pits with his own hateful glare. Neither one could melt or warm the other. A perfect stalemate of completely opposite emotions.

...wait, no. They weren’t completely opposite. They were similar. Just different temperatures.

Teresa was staring at him with intention. With anticipation.

No, that’s not right either.

Teresa was waiting for him.

Nikolay stood up, reached out his hand… and clapped it against Ehije’s shoulders.

Whatever Ehije was saying, he shut up.

“Sit back down and play, asshole.”

“Aw, scared? Wanna end this quickly so-”

Nikolay smiled at him, a sight so alarming that Ehie shut up a second time.

“I know what you’re doing, you fucking idiot.”

“You’re not half as clever as you think you-”

“-shut up.” Nikolay’s eyes widened, and he spoke with such a guttural rage it silenced the con-man a third and final time. He looked almost scared. “I’m not a fucking idiot, and I will wait until I’ve won our game before I beat you to death with my bare hands.”

“You still think you can win?” Ehije seemed to find himself, although his voice was less taunting and more indignant.

“I know I can. Sit down and attack me with your fucking cards, prick.”

Nikolay let go of Ehije’s shoulder. Ehije took a step back, paused to stare at his opponent for a bit longer, then took his seat at the far end of the table. Both men picked up their cards.

There was no denying it. Nikolay’s hand was bad. Very bad. He had a seven and nine of hearts, a ten and Ace of spades, a ten of diamonds, and a nine of clubs. For a typical endgame of Durak, this was absolutely not what you wanted… especially when you knew your opponent had the Ace of the winning suit.

Nikolay had to bait it out of him. Otherwise, he really was fucked.

Ehije, however, had control during an attack, and he started by dropping the six of hearts. Nikolay blocked with the nine of hearts, despite having a lower-value heart in his hand, the seven. Ehije retaliated with the nine of spades.

Nikolay had to think over his next step. The ultimate goal of Durak, of course, is to empty your hand first: so in theory, if he defended until Ehije could play no more cards, they would both ‘win’. But in practice, that Ace of clubs changed everything. As long as he had it, he could block any attack, but it was far more useful as a definitive way to ‘end’ an attack: meaning he could always decide what hand was the last. He always knew he could win an attack. Nikolay, on the other hand, had no such insurance.

So the smaller hand would be far more useful for Ehije than it would for Nikolay, assuming he were able to keep that ace in his sleeve. In a normal game of Durak, it would be to Nikolay’s advantage to actually lose this attack, get the extra cards, and use them for future attacks.

But this was not a normal game of Durak. And after thinking it over for longer than he cared to admit, Nikolay blocked with the ten of spades.

Everything hinged on how well Nikolay could remember the previous plays. If he was right, then this plan would net him the win. But if he misremembered anything (since it’s illegal to check the discard pile in Durak), it would be his downfall.

Ehije continued his attack with a six of diamonds. He only had three cards left. One… no… two of them were the winning suit. One was definitely the ace, and the other one, Nikolay was almost certain, was the seven. Nikolay, taking a deep breath, blocked with the ten of diamonds.

They each had three cards left. Nikolay was holding the Ace of spades, the seven of hearts, and the nine of clubs.

“Alright. I can’t attack anymore.”

He smiled.

“...your turn.”

He was right to smile. His hand was probably amazing. If this were a normal game of Durak, he would probably win.

But Nikolay had reason to smile too.

Because if he was right…

...he just actually won the game.

“My turn.”

And he slapped down the nine of clubs.

If this was a normal game of Durak, that would be a losing play. Because it would have been advantageous for Ehije to forfeit the round, collect the nine of clubs, and have all the remaining clubs in play in his hand. The rest of the game would play out like clockwork: Ehije would attack with the seven of clubs, the only other unaccounted club in the game (that had to be in Ehije’s hand, since Nikolay never had it), which Nikolay would have to take, and then use the next round. That would then be blocked by the nine of clubs, meaning both cards would be discarded, leaving only the Ace of clubs in play, insuring Ehije’s victory.

But this was not a normal game of Durak. Because Ehijie only had four chips left. If he didn’t defend this attack... he would lose.

And the only thing he could defend with was the Ace of clubs.

And with the Ace of clubs on the field…

He could attack again with the Ace of spades.

There was only one card that could defend against that: the seven of clubs that Nikolay knew was in his hand. Which meant that Ehije had only one card left… which had to be the Jack of diamonds, which Nikolay had used against Ehije earlier in the game.

Which would offer no defense from the seven of hearts.

The look on Ehije’s face when he saw the seven on the field was… indescribable. And proof that he had been right.

“Well, well, well…” Nikolay slowly rose to his feet, casting a broad shadow over the table, and the four remaining silver chips that remained on Ehije’s side.

“...looks like I win.”

But then that frozen look on Ehije’s face… melted away into a broad-faced laugh. Just like his earlier kindness had evaporated to reveal the spider from before.

“...heh. Did you really?”

“...what?”

Ehije stood up, clasping the final card in his hand: defenders would win in the endgame of Durak, so if Nikolay had really made a miscalculation, then… then…

...was it possible he lost?!

“I hate to break it to you, Nikolay, but they chose me as champion for a reason,” Ehije chuckled, walking slowly around the table, dragging his face-down card against the edge. “Just about anyone can get lucky in cards, but they chose me… heh, well… they chose me because I have tricks up my sleeve.”

He stopped, a foot shy of Nikolay.

“Check it.”

He flipped over the card. Nikolay looked down, fear clogging his throat as he saw…

…wait, that’s the Jack of diamonds.

...wait, Nikolay did win.

He looked up to find his opponent missing, and the door to the bar swung wide open. That bastard Ehije was already halfway out the door to the void.

“You shithead!”

Ehije turned around just long enough to flip Nikolay the bird before falling backwards into the void, only pursued by “Demon Cleaner”, by Kyuss. Nikolay stared out at that darkness for a precious few seconds, before turning back to the table.

Ratna was trying to smile. But Nikolay had gotten very good at spotting the fear that raked the corners of smiles. Ratna was terrified. She should be.

“...congratulations on your victory, sir.” Teresa bowed her head, “It would appear that you are the new-”

Nikolay pushed the waitress aside, storming up to the table where that cocky shit dealer was trying to make herself smaller, breaking eye contact and keeping her shoulders slouched. The bitch who had tried to rile him up earlier. The bitch who cheated to try to keep him from winning the victory he was owed. And the bitch who was about to feel a world of hurt.

“H-hey, I was just doing what my boss told me to do,” she lied as Nikolay loomed over her, raking in the chips and picking up the cards. Looking busy. “You’re my boss now, right? Ha, so, so now I’ll do whatever-”

Nikolay punched her across the face with his entire body. She toppled to the ground and he straddled her across the stomach, pinning her arms to the ground with one hand and beating her purple face into pudding with the other. He let his demons have their play by attacking her with a ruthless tempo, smashing her nose flat, her eyes shut, her cheeks blue, her lips twisted and cracked. It was amazing the kind of power he held over her. She couldn’t even struggle against him. He only stopped when his own knuckles were bruised and a tooth was wedged in his middle finger. But he could have done it for as long as he wanted.

He spat into the bloody, cavernous hole that used to be her mouth.

“Cuntface. Once I change the rules and get my dick back I'm stuffing that worthless mouth of yours."

He stood up, licking blood and skin off his knuckles. Ratna wasn’t moving. Teresa had been standing there, watching the whole time. Her fingers were curled tightly around her silver tray.

“So. I run this place, huh?”

“Yes.”

“That means we’re gonna be making some changes around here.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Then let’s get fucking started.”

~*~

Ehije woke up in a cold sweat.

He had lost.

The plan had been perfect. Make Nikolay forget violence had consequences by goading him into punching Ratna. Lure him in by flattering his ego. Frustrate him with a turnaround, drop the facade, and lure him into attacking with his infamous rage. He’d forfeit by default, and given how he likely never left the pills out of his sight (given his paranoid nature), the only way the Silver Wheel could deliver the pills to Ehije without allowing him to step foot in Nigera would be some freak accident -- like a plane crash. Tresa was “quite confident” they could kill him and take his pills in one fell swoop.

How did it fail? What went wrong?!

The game was obvious: Nikolay was just better at Durak than Ehije was, even with the dealer playing favorites. Nikolay was actually counting cards and paying attention while Ehije was setting up for the con. But how did he calm down enough to realize that it was a trick in the first place?! Ehije could see the violence boiling in his eyes, the tension in his muscles… he was one wrong step from being grappled by that… that thing they called Mr. Eight!

Did he not push hard enough? Did he push too hard? Or was Nikolay, as the man had made so clear, just not a fucking idiot? Because he really seemed like a fucking idiot.

He took a deep breath. He centered himself. He forced himself to focus on his expanding and deflating lungs until he saw his plain white ceiling, and not the millions of swirling questions and what-ifs that were swimming in his mind. And when he finally, truly, felt awake and present in the real world, he slowly sat up and stared out the window of the shitty apartment he called home.

“...I should have taken that fucking chip.”

He got a glass of water. He stared hard out the window. It was just shy of noon. Smog had engulfed the city. Then, both because he was still tired and he wanted to make sure this wasn’t some surreal dream, he went back to sleep.

When he woke up next, the sun had set. He had to pee. And he realized this wasn’t a dream.He really had lost. There was no way he could expect that knot in his stomach to have just come from some fake pictures and a story his brain had cooked up overnight.

As he ate his breakfast, which today was just some toast and jam, he let his mind wander on a tight leash, so as to avoid slipping into depression, obsession, or regrets. Or at least, deeper into any one of those three than he already found himself. How could he not? He managed to use his wit and quick thinking to secure his place as the champion for a magical otherworld, passed up the chance to trade that title for an enormous sum of money, then immediately lost in his very first game because he… well… probably because he underestimated his opponent. Everything he was told suggested that Nikolay was easy to manipulate and ruled by his temper. Everything he saw reaffirmed that. Getting attacked was as sure a deal as he could have possibly hoped and yet he must have miscalculated somewhere along the way. That, or something he couldn’t have accounted for sabotaged his efforts.

Would he have done anything differently? He didn’t know if he would have played the game differently: he wasn’t sure he could actually count the cards the way Nikolay had. And he was still utterly convinced that it would be possible to be punched by Nikoaly, but he had no idea how he managed to pull back from full-on hulking at the last moment.

...Nikolay did look at Teresa for a little bit before he grabbed Ehije’s shoulder.

...did… she somehow cause it?

He sighed, pulling back on the leash he tethered his mind to. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t go back in time and he definitely wasn’t getting a second invitation to the Silver Wheel. It was over, he lost, and it was time to accept that.

It would be hard to be a con artist if you could paralyze yourself over every failure or missed opportunity.

...now… that was a thought.

He put down his toast and jogged over to his computer, typing in a name.

Helmut Beisner.

There was a lot about this guy. A young artist, a modern-day Anish Kapoor known for almost exclusively producing work for the elite, the richest of the rich. His work was known to be extremely temporary and based largely on performance, although it retained too much artistic flair and interactivity to be truly called “theatre”... but of course, this was all based on second-hand accounts and testimonials, which were intentionally vague to keep his work prestigious and thus, valuable. What little public art he did produce was known for being… unnerving. The first example Ehije could find was switching the bones in the corpses of a married couple, and trying to morph the bodies to accommodate their new frames. He also famously used extremely precise surgeries and genetic engineering to manipulate animal fetuses into mimicking famous paintings. No one doubted he was a genius. More than a few doubted he was sane.

He had his fair share of controversy as well. His wife and three children went missing for seven years, and he was accused of their murder. The case against him was apparently airtight, until his wife and children materialized out of nowhere and verified his many, many claims about how much they loved living with Grandma. He was caught with enormous quantities of drugs more than once, he was caught running a dog fighting ring, and there were upwards of sixteen sexual assault allegations against him -- including some from minors. But he hopped over justice with the ease only afforded to the affluent, and to this day continues to produce work for his patrons, which were many.

...interestingly, however, his only link to Marie Walker was the conspiracy theory that she provided alternate versions of his wife and children to cover up for his murders. But of course, that didn’t matter. Ehije already knew they were linked. And he knew that Helmut had just finished his most recent presentation and needed a new venue, and a new patron, to demonstrate his next illustrious piece of art.

That’s right. There was no way that he was ever going to be invited to the Silver Wheel again, but Nikolay wasn’t the only one who had a key to the place. Helmut Beisner had the same pills NIkolay had. He could come and go as he pleased.

Ehije smiled venomously as he made a new email account.

“...I’m not done yet, you son of a bitch,”

He was going to pull the biggest con of his entire life.