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I was having a nightmare. It seems that the only dreams I have anymore are bad ones, luckily they don't occur every night. This dream hurts more than most because it's true. The details might be more sinister and fantastic in the dream, but the underlying facts are all true.
Years ago, before Anna's voice became my conscience, I made money playing poker. When I first started, I tried not to use my powers to gain an unfair advantage. It wouldn't be difficult to see the opponents' cards in their minds, but I chose not to do so. As I played, I convinced myself that I was reading body language and discerning my opponents tells. That was a lie.
When I first started playing, my powers merely told me if my opponents were excited or fearful. Playing against people on gambling vacations, that was all that I needed to win. Eventually I started playing against more experienced players who were more in control of their emotions. I found the variation in emotion was much less and to make it even more difficult the emotions often extended beyond the current hand. I still won, but not as easily, and I would win less money.
The more I played, the more I learned from my opponents. With every hand I learned their tricks subconsciously through my powers. I learned betting strategies, how to bluff, how to spot easy money, and my opponent's tells. In time, all I had to worry about was my own tells which I also learned from my opponents.
At some point I realized that I had been cheating all along. I think that was Anna's first attempt at reaching through to me. By that point I was drowning in gambling addiction. Knowing that I had been cheating only convinced me that I should cheat more actively, "in for a penny, in for a pound." At first, I peeked for a glimpse of their strategy, but soon the peeking turn to looking at their cards.
In poker, you can't win every hand, even with perfect knowledge; sometimes you just don't have the cards. At first this frustrated me, until I learned to bluff. Of course, this was another situation where I convinced myself it was natural acting ability that made my bluffs so effective and not my powers leaching confidence from my opponents. It got to the point where the only hands I lost were the ones I decided to lose. But even that wasn't enough. I learned to entice my opponent's into larger bets, convincing them to throw good money after bad.
Eventually the pit bosses became suspicious as the money quickly moved to my side of the table. They couldn't prove I was cheating, but they didn't really have to. I could have changed their minds, but a part of me didn't like intentionally using my powers on other people. I also could have played it cool and taken my time, but time doesn't feed an addiction.
I started in Vegas where I drained the high rollers at a dozen casinos. When I tried to make it a baker's dozen I wasn't allowed on the premises. So I bought a Ferrari and headed to Reno. I only made it through a couple casinos in Reno before people caught on. There was a picture of me in every casino in the state before I finally left.
It was an incredible high, having so much money and with every casino looking like an ATM. As I drove around the country I stopped at every Indian casino and floating casino I could find. I was so flush with cash that it seemed like I bought a new car every time I ran out of gas. I would forget where I parked, or park in a tow zone, sometimes I would even give the cars as a tip to a cute waitress. Eventually I made it to Atlantic City and learned that word had gotten there ahead of me. Every gambling establishment in the United States had a picture of me along with the words persona non-grata.
I bought my first private jet just to fly me to the world's gambling meccas. Realizing a whole country worth of gambling was already closed to me, I managed to disguise my winnings somewhat. But inevitably, my reputation in the States and my consistent winning at their tables led every casino I visited to turn me away. I only made it through a half dozen casinos in three countries before the whole of Europe turned its back on me.
Frustrated I turned my attention much further east and flew to Macao. When my plane landed I knew something was wrong when we were directly to a small hangar away from the main terminal. Inside the hangar were representatives of the city's top casinos, the police commissioner and a score of police officers. They explained that if I so much as set foot in a casino or gambling hall, I would be arrested, tried and convicted for cheating. They played by less forgiving rules.
As I was about to reboard my plane, one of the casino managers stopped me and handed me a card. When I asked for an explanation he smiled and walked away. I looked at the card which read simply, "Oleg Stukova, Import/Export, Vladivostock." The message was clear: I couldn't gamble in the light of day so I would have to play underground.
As I explored the underworld's gambling dens, I actually made as many allies as enemies. As often as not these infamous men were happy to lose money, provided their enemies lost more. But it wasn't only money, since in these games collateral was often the only prize. So I began accumulating cars, yachts, airplanes and villas. I even won odd things like oil fields, shopping malls and fishing boats. The further down I ventured, the seedier the prizes would become. Drugs, guns, and prostitutes started falling into my hands.
Even as I descended deeper and deeper into this depraved yet enticing world, a part of me wouldn't give in to evil. I couldn't destroy the drugs and free the enslaved whores without painting a target on my back, but I found ways to minimize the human damage. I did keep the guns, missiles and bombs, which linger in caves and warehouses even now.
My lingering humanitarian streak even extended to these unsavory people. Even against these disreputable people I never intentionally used my powers to make them bet a losing hand or to make them fold a winning hand. I also hadn't fallen so far that I would take money from people who couldn't afford the loss, since with these people bankruptcy meant certain death.
The time I broke both of those rules is the source of my nightmare.
* * *
I peered out past my wall of chips and pile of counters, at the sweaty man across the table. He had come in a few hours earlier looking like a minnow among sharks. Over the course of a few hours we had combined to eliminate all the opposition. He was the shrewdest opponent I had ever faced and I was surprised to realize he was a stranger to everyone, and not just to me. Who would have thought, I would find a worthy opponent in an illegal gambling hall deep into what would soon be called the Czech Republic.
Here amid the gun runners, drug-traffickers, mercenaries, adventurers and second world playboys, sat an anxious little man who claimed to run a whore-house. He started with a very small stake, too small for the tastes of the villains in the room. To sweeten the pot he produced pictures of three women to use as collateral. The vultures greedily gazed at the beauties, and the pictures were accepted as counters. Amid all the black counters of guns, tanks, drugs and murder for hire, sat three women dressed in white. I watched the three women huddle together behind his wall of chips, looking fearfully at my tanks and bombs arrayed before my own high walls.
Smoke slithered through the room in thick gray tendrils, wrapping about my chips and giving enticing caresses through my open collar. As the dealer shuffled the cards, I took another drink of absinthe, and cherished the bitter flavor. A green fog seemed to rise from the cup to dance sensually with the blue-gray smokes from the opium, hashish and tobacco. The absinthe fumes and narcotic smoke seemed to whisper words of encouragement into my ears as I was challenged by this opponent.
I let the anxious man win a small piece from my wall of chips, and even let him win a couple of tanks and a dozen kilo's of cocaine. He seemed more interested in building his wall of chips higher than in acquiring weapons or drugs. As he gathered them in he did so delicately, as if merely touching the counters revolted him.
"Yes, give him hope, it will make his defeat taste all the more entertaining," I heard the green fairy, absinthe, whisper in my ear. I gazed around at the vultures perched on their chairs, watching with greedy eyes as the army of counters and stacks of chips slid from one side of the table to the other. They might be out of the game, but they were ready to bid on the counters, particularly if I pried the ladies from my nervous opponent.
I heard another voice telling me the sweaty man only wanted one more hand and would then resign. The voice then told me what the man thought, "One more hand... then I can get away from these villains and this evil game forever." My eyes grew cold and I could see the air growing still about me. The smoke tendrils froze and frost grew on my glass. Another voice whispered in my ear, "how dare he lump you in with the other villains!"
I drained the green slush from my glass and with the next hand I started reclaiming all I had let him win. His tanks on their little tracks came back to my side. The guns and drugs were soon back in my control as well. I started wagering only chips to entice him into placing larger bets against me. The vultures crowded about the poor man as his wall of chips tumbled down. The women were tearful as they became exposed.
I finally had all of his chips in the pot, laying the three lovelies bare. I knew he hadn't gotten the card he needed on the draw and that my hand was better than his. "Too bad he is going to fold," whispered the fairy. "Yes, he won't throw good flesh after bad money... unless..." the fog said as it caressed me.
I reached out with my powers and convinced the man I was bluffing. Soon he knew his small pair was enough to beat me. The ladies looked at him in terror as he pushed them blindly into the pot. I sent in a pair of tanks to corral the ladies, calling his bet. The four bullets I threw down were two more than I needed to kill him and his pair of threes.
I raked in all my ill-gotten gains and began arranging for delivery of the counters. The nervous little man approached me and begged to reclaim the ladies. He would do anything he promised. "What kind of a pimp are you, to worry such about your whores?" I said with disdain.
"They are not whores. They are my wife and daughters... My wife is very sick, she needs an operation and this is the only way I could hope to raise the money in time. Please." The man continued to plead and tug on my sleeve, imploring me to have pity. A part of me watched in terror as this scene played out, but I have no control over acts long since done.
