Ivan and Gates sat at a poker table as a woman poured two glasses of Vodka.

"To a game of kings," said Ivan. The two men tapped their glasses and drank. Ivan was ready to play, but Gates suddenly felt funny. Not sick or bad, just the opposite. He felt great. He was painless.

"What did I just drink?" said Gates.

"Good, no? Vintage Vodka. Smooth, strong, and zero effects on your thinking. I call it liquid opium," said Ivan.

Liquid Opium. Damn, a painkiller, thought Gates. Painkillers killed his power to sense the cards. Without pain he was hopeless. There was no way he could beat Ivan just on skill alone. Ivan was a master. What now?

The dealer opened a fresh pack of cards and then shuffled them like pro. Ivan cut the deck then each man received five cards. The battle of kings was on.

Ivan's face was stone. He had the perfect poker face. Gates could not read any tells. Ivan won the first few hands. Easy wins for the champ. Gates saved face by getting several lucky hands in a row. The game went on. Ivan kept winning, without even trying. Little by little, like a tide washing away the sand, Ivan eroded the wall of money Gates had built.

Gates wondered how he could get his power going. He saw a woman holding a tray of cocaine and called her over. Cocaine usually put his power on overdrive. He snorted two fat lines, but felt nothing. This was no good. He'd come to play Ivan to test his power and now LIFE had thrown a wrench in his plans.

"I told you he was a junkie," said Ringo. He walked over to Gates with a drink in hand and whispered, "Game over, cowboy. Ringo's going to cut you to pieces." Ringo laughed like a hyena.

"Woof, somebody get this guy a breath mint," said Gates, and the crowd of people watching laughed.

Ringo slammed his glass on the table and it shattered. Gates looked at the shattered glass and then at Ringo. He hadn't planned for Ringo, but now he saw him for what he was, the wild card. The Joker in the deck. The unpredictable force that randomly shows up, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad.

Gates got an idea. Ringo unknowingly had given him a possible way out. Gates pushed the broken glass off the table then went down to pick it up. He grabbed a shard of glass and stabbed it into his hand deeply, twisting it. His hand jerked trying to free itself from the torture. He felt blood dripping off and for a moment his whole body went cold. Then the long-awaited agony, like a distant whistle of train slowly getting louder, came to him.

"Damn it!" said Gates, and wrapped his bloody hand with a napkin concealing the shard of glass still in it. An electricity shot through him and his nerves were on fire. He was never so happy to feel so miserable.

"Comrade, you promised me a battle," said Ivan.

"I was just testing you, Ivan. Be ready, cause here I come," said Gates.

Gates didn't lie. He won the next ten hands. He knew what cards were coming. Sometimes he threw out his whole hand and wound up with a flush. Ivan and everyone in the room were dumbfounded.

"Finally, the lion awakens. Good, now we fight," said Ivan.

Ivan and Gates played poker like two dogs fighting over a bone. Back and forth they went. As soon as a wall of chips was created on one side, it quickly dissolved and moved back to the other. Gates thought perhaps Ivan had a gift, or special power of his own because he won hands that should have been impossible. Sometimes he didn't even look at his cards and won.

Ringo watched the epic battle from the shadows. For a while he'd been happy because Ivan was winning. He hadn't killed anyone in a couple of days and he had the itch. He would enjoy killing Gates. He'd wanted to kill him the moment he saw him. He hated the type: the cowboy, the rockstar, the rebel with out a cause. They were all the same, like John Wayne.

***

Gates coughed up a clod of blood and began to shake violently; and it caught Ivan's attention.

"Comrade?" said Ivan,

"I'm alright, I'm alright," said Gates, but he knew he wasn't alright. His nose was bleeding, and he had a migraine from pushing his powers too hard. He felt he was being ripped apart. He was breaking down and knew he couldn't go any further with the gift. It would kill him. So Gates made a decision.

"Last game. Winner takes all!"

"Are you crazy, comrade?" said Ivan. "You know what you are wagering don't you? If you lose?" said Ivan.

"I'd love to stay, Ivan, but if I don't get home soon, I'm gonna turn into a pumpkin," said Gates, and he pushed all his chips to the center of the table.

Win or lose time. One chance to win and live...or lose and die. Maybe he was dead either way. He'd forgotten about the deal he'd made with Ivan. Gates wondered if Ivan would keep his promise and not kill him if he won, but the bigger question, would he let him keep the money? He needed to money to enter the poker tournament.

"Reckless move, comrade, but I'm impressed," said Ivan. "In my five years as poker champion, you have been my best opponent. Okay, last game. But first, are you a king or thief?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" said Gates

"I know what he is," said Ringo, and he walked over to Gates. He pretended to pick something off the floor, then threw four cards down on the table. Four Aces.

"He's a thief," said Ringo.

The room erupted in an uproar.

"Game over, cowboy," said Ringo, smirking.

"This is bullshit! Those cards aren't mine," said Gates, " Ivan, you dirty rat, you can't stand to lose. I was going beat you and you sent your flying monkey to sabotage me. You thief!" said Gates.

"No, you are the thief," said Ivan.

Gates climbed the table and was about to throw himself at Ivan like a pro-wrestler, but Ivan beat him to the chase and flipped the table; Gates crashed hard on the floor in a pile of cards and poker chips.

Gates attacked again. It was kill or be killed. Killing Ivan was probably his only chance of staying alive. He charged Ivan with a broken bottle and Ivan turned around and punched him. Gates went ten feet in the air and landed on a table full of champagne filled glasses. Gates struggled to breathe from the punch. Security guards rushed in and fished him out of the mess.

"You're a cheat, Ivan. A big fat cheat. I want my money! I need the money!" said Gates.

Gates looked at Ringo who was the only one smiling. There was the tell. It dawned on Gates that there had been a better player than both Ivan and him. While the spider and the fly had been fighting each other, the snake had arrived to eat them both.

"Son of a bitch! You did this," said Gates.

"I didn't do anything. I saw the cards on the floor by your foot and picked them up. I guess it would explain why your game improved after you cut your hand," said Ringo.

* * *

Gates was taken to a room somewhere in the belly of the Singrin. A room with thick concrete walls, no windows, no vents, just a drain hole in the floor. A room of torture. Chains and shackles on the wall and a selection of barbaric tools for beating and cutting up; knives, bats, and chains. Gates couldn't imagine the atrocities that taken place there and he didn't want to find out.

"Plug him in," said Ringo.

The guards shackled Gates to the wall. When they attempted to chain his feet, Gates kicked the guards and they backed off.

"Fuck you, Ringo!" said Gates, and spat a clod of bloody phlegm.

Ringo wiped his face. He had the look of madness. His eyes bulging, his menacing grin. He grabbed a leather baton and whacked Gates in the ribs to tame him, and the guards finished shackling his feet.

"Show time," said Ringo.

Ringo pressed a button and the lights dimmed as high current electrocuted Gates. He screamed as the high voltage fried him. His body twisted and contorted.

"You're a worm, Ringo," said Gates.

Ringo zapped Gates over and over. Gates was so fried his hair was smoking. He was breathless and exhausted. Ringo laughed wildly like hyena.

"Back in the USSR, we stomped insignificants like you all day," said Ringo.

"Can't say I'm sad I missed the party, but being a cog ain't my style," said Gates.

"You Americans are all the same. You think you're so special," said Ringo.

"Blame television," said Gates.

"You're culture has brainwashed you to believe that one man can save the world like Superman, John Wayne..."

"I'm pretty partial to John McClane myself," said Gates. "Yippee-Ki-Yay, motherfucker."

"Yippee-Ki-Yay. Bullshit," said Ringo. "Look at you. All by yourself, America. Who will save you now?"

"Never lose sight of the human spirit, Dingo," said Gates. "It's an unstoppable force. It can move mountains."

"Nyet. It's fragile. Breaking a man's spirit is the most pleasing thing there is. First you see the spark in his eyes when he believes he can, then the light goes out when he knows he can't. The look of defeat is priceless," said Ringo.

"You're a sick fuck, Dingo. But the game isn't over. I still got one more ace up my sleeve," said Gates.

"Bullshit!" said Ringo.

"I can't bullshit you, you ugly fuck,"said Gates. "You got me and you got Ivan. I came here to play Ivan thinking he was the best games-man, but I should have been playing you. But your over confidence is a killer...cause I'm going to beat you."

"No, cowboy, it's me who will beat you," said Ringo. Ringo put a baseball beat with nails sticking out of the barrel up to Gates' face.

"Let's talk this over, Ringo. You know, I've always liked you. We just got off on the wrong foot. I mean, out of all the freaks I know, you're my favorite."

"Time to find religion, America," said Ringo.

Gates looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes.

"Hey, King. Your buddy Gates needs you. I'm in a bad bad situation right now. So if you ain't too busy, lend a hand," said Gates. But there was no sign of an answer. The lights didn't flicker. The walls didn't crack. There was no mysterious voice from OZ telling Gates not to worry.

Ringo laughed hysterically. "You lose, cowboy."

"Ah, fuck," said Gates, and he closed his eyes sensing the bat coming to his face. Ringo was about to swing when the door opened.

"Nyet!" said Ivan. The security team grabbed Ringo and pulled him away from Gates. Gates opened his eyes and saw Ivan.

"I don't believe it. This can't be happening," said Ringo. He started to charge Gates, but Ivan swatted him away.

"Is this real?" said Gates. Ivan punched the wall right next to Gates' head and the concrete shattered leaving a gaping hole.

"That real enough for you?" said Ivan. "A king or a thief? There is something to the game of poker, isn't there? Hard to know what is real here, but I suspect there was some foul play at hand." Ivan looked at Ringo.

"You are a worthy opponent, and it leaves me with a question that will bother me. Who is the best poker player...me or you?" said Ivan. "So, you have a choice, Mr. Gates. You can die here or we play at Las Vegas Poker Tournament"

"I thought you were retired," said Gates.

"I come out of retirement. One last fight," said Ivan.

"For the crown?" said Gates

"For the crown," said Ivan.

"What about my money?" said Gates.

"I keep the money. It's the price for your freedom. Be thankful I'm letting you walk out of here alive but only on one condition. You never come back here. I see you here, I kill you myself. Oh, if you don't show at tournament, I release the dog on you," said Ivan, and he pointed at Ringo.

"I'll be there," said Gates.

"Teach him a lesson. Then dump him...alive," said Ivan.

Ringo had fire in his eyes and Gates had a smirk.

"The human spirit, Dingo. Never lose hope," said Gates. "OK, let's get this over with. Try not to hit the face, Ringo, and no kicks to the family jewels." Gates closed his eyes as Ringo and the boys got to work.