Novel Emperor of Poker

Chapter 20 isn't published yet. I'll be adding it tomorrow.

 

Chapter 20: Fleeting reminiscence

"Every villain has a weakness. Find it, hold it tightly, and you'll have a new little brother."
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The weekend melted down in the usual way of New York winters, with locals gathering warmth indoors while idling about. At the end, Sunday came, and so did Joey's work at Angelo's

Upon return, there was the usual crew. The game stayed nearly full the entire night so Joey never even got to play. Late in the evening, he was dealing when the door buzzed. An acquaintance arrived, this time without a date.

"Marco, you came pretty late." Angelo addressed.

"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by." He flashed a winning smile, then suddenly took out his phone and made a call. "...Something came up. I'll see you later."

As quickly as he arrived, he had gone.

Joey caught the scene despite dealing. He hadn't failed to spot Marco's hard gaze in his direction, nor the malicious spark that flared in his eye.

Joey finished working, poured himself a soda, and made a phone call.

...

Getting late, the game was on its last legs. The players went home, followed by the staff. Joey traveled on his normal route, around Angelo's building and through the wide adjacent alley, when he heard a whistle.

Some distance behind him, a man emerged obscured by shadow.

"...Who's that?" Joey asked.

Snort. "Who do you think, punk?"

"From your entrance...gay serial rapist"

The hidden man scowled and stepped forward. It was Marco, and with company. Two others emerged alongside him.

"...So I was right."

"Shut up!" Cords bulged in Marco's neck. "You probably thought you were pretty cool the other night, huh?"

"Correct."

This script wasn't going according to Marco's plan. This was supposed to be the part where Joey begged him for mercy. Instead, it felt like the studio took his script, hired a clown to make a rewrite, and made him the comic relief.

"Enough bullshit. Fuck him up." Marco's crew stalked towards Joey when they heard footsteps coming from Joey's direction of the alley.

Three hulking men appeared. Their leader glared at Joey, even more fiercely than Marco had prior.

"Who are you?" Marco tested.

"It seems the extras are all here," Joey remarked.

The leader of the new group looked at Joey. "You remember our deal, right?"

"Of course, we can get it notarized if you like."

The large men moved to stand beside Joey. It was Craig and his football friends from the poker game. Joey called in a favor when he guessed Marco's plot.

Marco's brows furrowed, but he wasn't ready to back down. 'They look like a bunch of kids, how tough could they be.'

The two groups locked eyes. They sized each other up, searched for weaknesses. In this empty midnight alley, there was music in their tense, heavy breathing. Exhales harsh like engine exhaust in the biting winter air. Threat unknown. Each preparing for the impending brutal brawl.

At this moment, Joey took a step forward, lifted his chin, extended his arms out in front of him, and said, "Spew forth, my minions."

...

The silence was deafening. Seconds passed like hours. Craig wanted to cry, but ultimately gritted his teeth, roared, and led his side to attack.

Six men launched a savage battle in the concrete jungle. Adrenaline flared. Shouts echoed. Fists flew. Chaos.

"Pikachu, use slam!" Joey pointed and commanded Craig.

Craig's punch abruptly veered off target and he took a blow. This was the worst moment of his life.

"Bulbasaur, tackle!"

"Jigglypuff, sweet kiss!" Joey assisted Craig's friends.

'Why am I Jigglypuff?!?' One of them took friendly fire to his self esteem.

Marco's group was furious, feeling like Joey was treating them like fools. Their eyes grew red and they fought harder.

Unfortunately for them, Craig's group was even more enraged. Joey's 'coaching' hurt more than any fists or kicks ever could. They knew the only way out of this hell was to defeat Marco as fast as possible. They roared and went berserk.

'...They're evolving mid-fight.' Joey experienced the pride of a Pokemon trainer.

Morale bars were dropping near the suicide line when the fight finally concluded.

Marco's crew squirmed on the ground while Craig's group gasped, leaning against a brick wall. Although Marco's group was older, like him, his friends were just playboys. Craig and his friends were athletes and triumphed through sheer physicality.

"You did it, I proud of you Daniel-san." Joey was satisfied with this victory.

More than ever, Craig just wanted to go home and go to bed. "We're even now right? You'll stay out of my game?"

"Yea, we're square. It was short...but we'll always have the memories."

Everyone dispersed with various stages of physical and emotional trauma.

Joey resumed his walk home with a gloomy expression.

'They say most restaurants don't last a year, but my business venture didn't even last a weekend.' Joey shook his head. He was distressed because he would have to find new cannon fodder.

'Come to think of it, I've really changed in many ways recently ...Is this what's meant when they say people are influenced by those around them?'

Joey recalled a memory. It was a pleasant day, a day that man actually did something seemingly good for once.

***

'Reach the sky Joey boy!'

Joey's palm reached out to grab the clouds high above. They seemed to be coming closer and closer, nearly within his hand. The air was fresh and smooth. His ears were filled with the sound of metal squeaking, forming an unexpectedly lovely tune. The speed gave him a funny feeling in his stomach, but one he liked. And then came the drop.

He never feared the drop, because he knew there was someone there who promised he would always stop his fall.

'Up again!' The man pushed him back as high as he could go. Joey laughed louder.

He was surprised when he was offered to go to the swings today. He always asked every day and the answer was always no, so he was very happy.

'Did you have fun? Good...Oh, here comes the mark.'

The man took out and lit a cigarette as he looked over at a male stranger walking on the outside of the park's chainlink fence. At that moment, a van pulled up screeching to that man's side. Before he could respond, three men dove out of the van and dragged him in screaming.

It was the middle of the day. It was the middle of New York.

It became quiet again. The only sound left was the man puffing his cigarette, occasionally exhaling, the air now smoky, forming new clouds nearby, hiding those above.

'Remember this Joey boy, the best knife to use is a borrowed one. Never get your hands dirty if you can make someone else do it for you.'

...

In the New York streets, it wasn't strange to occasionally catch a scent of cigarette smoke. That's what Joey thought. He watched the grimy gray snow cracking under his boots as his legs pushed forward, holding down that thing trying to break out of the cage he built over his heart.

'I'm becoming more like him every day...'

 

Chapter 21: Feeling of a predator

"When you beat enough players down, some take it personally, especially those with more pride than skill. Keep tabs on them because they may decide for a rematch away from the poker table. When that happens, you just have to beat them down again."
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Joey awoke staring at the ceiling. Arms behind his head, he was lazing about. His mind wandered between yesterday's events and the nonsensical dream rapidly fading from his memory.

'Alright, let's get to school. It's not like my ceiling has cable.'

Walking through school, Joey noticed several interesting changes today. It seemed rumors had spread of him as some sort of dark lord. The entire football team avoided him like he was a necromancer.

On several occasions, he crossed paths with his precious Pokemon, all with panda eyes or varying degrees of visible damage. Upon seeing him, their faces instantly turned pale and they jumped into the nearest open classroom or hallway.

'These Pokemon never lost their habit of hiding in bushes. That's alright. They fought so hard for their master, they deserve a rest now.' Joey's heart bled for his creatures.

After school, it was back to Angelo's. Joey just hoped this time he might get to actually play. Although dealing is a safe and stable income, compared to what he had made last week playing poker, it wasn't worth mentioning. More importantly, it didn't give him that feeling he craved.

Today's crew was Andrew, Pedro, and Amy. Joey arrived slightly late today so the game was already in session. It was shorthanded though, with Andrew filling in as a player.

'I remember Amy told me Andrew's a serious player. I should see what serious looks like...' Joey went over and observed the game from the side.

Andrew listened to music through his headphones, while grinding through hands. Joey decided that unless a good target showed up tonight, he would focus his observations on Andrew to see if there was anything he could learn.

"Are you looking for your next human puppet?"

"AAH!" All the players glanced in Joey's direction, startled, before soon returning to the game.

Joey was spooked by a voice to his right that came out of nowhere. Amy had creeped up behind him. "...What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You're clearly standing here watching these people, flesh bags in your eyes, observing the quality of their bodies to find a suitable puppet soldier."

"Flesh bags? Puppet soldiers? What are you on about?"

"I saw your mighty battle last night with the bandit named Marco. You skillfully controlled and commanded your team of human puppets to gain victory in mortal combat. The degree of control you displayed couldn't be gained in only a year or two of training. I admit...I was slightly jealous of your talent."

Joey gulped.

"Game recognizes game. Let's talk shop." She returned her gaze to the poker game as Joey shook his head. "If it was me, I would choose Andrew as my next puppet."

Joey closed his eyes, trying to find a way to embrace the suffering. "Why Andrew?"

Amy watched Joey close his eyes. Her eyes thinned and her mouth turned into a Cheshire grin. "'You think darkness is your ally. But you merely adopted the dark; I was born in it, molded by it...'"

'ANDDD now she's channeled Bane...' He kept his eyes closed, going back to his happy place. 'I'm just going to stay here forever...it hurts less...'

...

Sensing no biters, Amy returned to the topic at hand. "Unlike these other flesh bags, Andrew can at least be used to farm money. Just puppet him to a poker table and he'll do his job."

"So he's a winning player?"

"Yes, he's been winning for some time and with reason. He has the skills."

"What skills exactly?"

"All of them. He's well rounded, a solid player. For instance, he makes good laydowns."

"Laydowns?"

"Good folds. In spots that most others couldn't fold decent or good hands even though they're beat, Andrew can find thin folds and save money. One way to look at poker is that to play well, you need to lose less when you're behind, and win more when ahead. Making laydowns is losing less when behind. He's also good at value betting."

"Value betting?"

"Value betting means betting with the best hand and thus making money when someone calls you. It's an example of winning more when ahead. In poker you can win a pot in two ways: getting everyone else to fold and gaining the pot by default, or having the best hand at showdown. Being good at value betting makes the pots that you win bigger in both cases."

"You see, it's easy to play cards that are either garbage or very strong." she continued. "Everyone plays them the same way which is betting when strong and folding when weak. However, it's the spots in the middle where the good players shine."

"Most of the time you actually have a hand that's only slightly weak or slightly strong. It's in that gray middle ground where the player that makes better decisions will come out ahead over the long term."

Amy looked at her pupil to make sure he was paying attention. "So let's say you have a hand that if you bet, you believe your opponent can't raise, and that he will only call or fold. You also believe that when he calls, your hand will win 60% of the time. Many players merely check there in spots like that because they feel the bet is too thin. It's uncomfortable for them"

"Good players find bets there and win slightly more often than they lose in those spots. That's called a thin value bet. For a good player, those small gains add up and snowball into large wins over time. Of course, things can get much more complicated than that, especially when considering potential check/raises from the opponent."

"Check/raises?"

"That's just when someone checks, then the opponent bets, and the original checker then raises. Usually, when a player is slowplaying, they're looking to do a check/raise at some point in the hand."

"I'm all in." At this moment, Andrew was involved in a big hand. He moved all in and was called by someone with a slightly worse hand than him. He doubled up.

New players were coming in now so Angelo asked Andrew to give up his seat for a player. His playing session ended on a high. He got up and went to greet the other dealers.

"Nice hand man," Joey congratulated.

"Thanks," Andrew replied as he removed his headphones. He was satisfied with the good session.

Joey looked to the side and Amy had shadow sneaked away somewhere.

"How's playing been going lately?" Joey questioned.

"Good bro. I ran pretty well last week. This other club I play at has a great game...Pocket Rockets Club, you been there?"

"...Pocket Rockets? No..." Joey knitted his eyebrows. It sounded like some sort of S&M club.

Andrew noticed his misunderstanding. "Haha, it's just a nickname for aces preflop. Pocket refers to your two private cards. It's a poker club. I'm going tomorrow. Want to come with? It'll be good to have a familiar face around."

Joey remembered Amy mentioned that Andrew played somewhere else last week. His heartbeat sped up. 'Is this the feeling of discovering a new map?'

"Definitely! Just let me clear it with Angelo first." He walked over to the office and knocked.

"Come in." Angelo was inside, squinting through his glasses at an excel sheet. He looked like a 70 year old who just discovered the magic of the Internet.

'Mobsters do excel now...What is this world coming to?'

"Hey Angelo, can I get a day off tomorrow?" Joey could tell he was barely paying attention. "I need to go poison the city's water supply."

"Yea sure Kid, go for it."

That was that. Joey walked back over to Andrew and exchanged contacts. The new club was in a different neighborhood but not too far from his school. They agreed they would meet outside the club tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night at Angelo's passed quickly. Joey got to play for a short while but he ran somewhat badly and ended up only breaking even. He was more concerned about what the new club would be like...

***

The next afternoon, Joey left school and walked to the address Andrew gave him.

'Let's just hope it's really not an S&M club.'

When he arrived at the cross street, he noticed it was a barren industrial area pretty far off the beaten path. There were no pedestrians or cars parked.

*Squawk* A group of vultures circled above.

'This is the rhythm of getting your organs harvested,' he gritted his teeth and kept walking.

'Having two kidneys is really wasteful anyway.' Rationalizing losing his organs to go gamble. He was entering the middle stages of degeneracy.

"Joey!"

"He heard a shout and saw Andrew waving to him from the side of a large, two-story gray building. He went over.

"You made it. Come on, let's go inside." At the entrance, Andrew rang a buzzer and showed his face to a black hemispherical camera attached to the ceiling corner. The camera glowed with a bright red light in cold, calculated observation.

Buzz

Andrew pulled open the door and led the way. They climbed a flight of stairs to a doorway that was already open and entered.

The light smell of synthetic plastic. The sounds of clashing poker chips in neverending war. The sight of rows and rows of poker tables, filled to the brim with players.

Filled to the brim...with opportunities.

Joey's pupils shrank as an enigmatic feeling overwhelmed him. This was the feeling a predator gets when he smells his prey approaching.

'It's time to eat.'

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Author's Note:

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked the 21 chapters here.

If you would like to continue. Additional chapters are published on my webnovel page: Emperor of Poker