He had the gift, at least that's what he called it. A kind of ESP clairvoyance, though it was more of a talisman or monkey's paw. Nothing in life is free and to use the gift he paid with pain. Sometimes it was like razor blades under his skin. The days after he was laid up in misery, so bad heroin couldn't numb it.

Still, he'd spent nine months and owed fifty thousand to several loan sharks and bookies in Vegas to help him learn how to use the gift. But his final test was waiting at the Singrin.

The Singrin was Las Vegas' dirty little secret. It was a drug den, whorehouse, and casino, among other things. It lay hidden in the heart of Industrial Park; a bleak wasteland of dirt, rock, and steal; so barren that weeds would not grow.

The Singrin was created by Ivan Smirnoff, who some called the devil. It was said he could kill a man with one punch. Aside from his evil side, Ivan was also the Las Vegas Poker Champion for five years running.

Gates figured if he could beat Ivan, he could win the poker tournament. He'd played many, but never anyone at the caliber of Ivan Smirnoff. He realized he was taking a chance; he was playing chicken with the devil, but sometimes dealing with the devil is the only way.

He would also use the winnings from the Singrin to play in the tournament—he needed a hundred grand.

***

He wasted no time when he got back to town. He snuck into the Singrin as Vince Van Halen. The Singrin was for an elite crowd; they didn't let just anyone in. Gates flashed the key a coin with a demonic form of Sock and Buskin (comedy and tragedy)—a horned sinister face on one side of the coin and a fanged grinning face on the other.

Singrin was intoxicating and twisted. Gates always felt like Alice in Wonderland, in some inverted world where bad was good and sinners were saints.

Naked, beautiful women prowled the floors. Getting drugs was as easy as going into a Denny's and ordering a piece of pie. It was why he'd gone there to begin with. He was always in pain, and the doctors had cut him off. There he fell in love with poker, and he'd discovered his gift.

Stimulants enhanced the gift while downers killed it. He did two lines of coke and headed to the poker tables.

It wasn't long before he had a wall of chips the size of the wall of China. But Gates was sweating and jerking like a junkie and his nose started to bleed.

Ringo the pit boss was watching him close. He could smell a cheat a mile away. He knew Gates was cheating, he just didn't know how.

Gates caught Ringo looking at him and cringed. Ringo had a face that only a mother could love. His bulging eyes intimidated.

A large crowd had gathered. Everyone raved with excitement as Gates kept winning.

Security was on alert and every three or four hands, the dealer was replaced. And each time, the crowd welcomed the new card dealer with a cheer and laughter.

Gates wondered how long he had to keep the show going. He could not keep the winning streak going much longer; he was at the point where he could not stop shaking.

Gates had learned that it was best to go in for a quick kill. Long dragged out games took a toll on him; uncontrollable shaking, headaches, hallucinations and his biggest fear, becoming a vegetable—catatonic schizophrenia.

***

Ivan sat at a desk. In front of him was a middle-aged businessman, in a power suit, and what could be his sixteen-year-old daughter, wearing a white silk gown.

"Nyet! This is not negotiable, Mr. Chen," said Ivan, with a gruff voice and a slight Russian accent.

"But this is not what I sent my daughter to do, Mr. Smirnoff," said Mr. Chen. "Lilu is my only child, and I did not send her to America to be a prostitute. I will be taking her back home. If you do not grant my request, then I will be forced to go to the authorities, and I will inform them of your illegal operations."

"Da, I have diplomatic immunity. The laws of this country can't touch me. In fact, the casino is classified as a Russian embassy. American authorities can't even set foot here—not unless they want to start world war three," said Ivan.

"You are the devil," said Mr. Chen.

"The devil I am," said Ivan. "And the devil answers to no one; not even to god. So there really is only one option here. She stays."

"I said will be taking her home," Mr Chen got up and pulled his daughter out of her seat.

Ivan cracked his knuckles, showing off his gold rings from all his won poker tournaments. They were his trophies. Pressed together, the rings formed something similar to brass knuckles.

"Goodbye, Mr. Chen," said Ivan.

One punch is all took. Mr. Chen's head exploded like a watermelon being hit by a sledgehammer. He dropped to the floor as if all his bones had disintegrated and all that was left was an expensive Armani suit encasing a meat sack.

"YOU'RE A MONSTER!" said Lilu.

Ivan pressed a button. Immediately, security came in.

"Clean this mess and then break her. Make her do what we say," said Ivan.

He knew there was a commotion in the Casino. He looked in the mirror, cleaned the blood off his hands, and fixed his tie.

***

Ivan Smirnoff appeared out of the shadows. When a crowd of onlookers saw him, it was as if they were seeing a movie star. Gates watched Ivan with a slight smile. The big man was impressive. He stood at six-five, three hundred pounds of hard fat and muscle. His large sledgehammer hands had diamond studded rings. A bulging Rolex decorated his arm like a hood ornament.

He was in his fifties, balding, and had a pockmarked face. He looked more bruiser than a gentleman and when he greeted the people adoring him; he was awkward, like he'd forgotten how to smile. Still, he shook hands and forced smiles as he made his way to Ringo.

Ringo said something in Russian and pointed at Gates. They both watched Gates anxiously. When Gates won another hand, Ivan took action. He approached with a scowl. Gates saw Ivan approaching and greeted him.

"Yo, Ivan, my man," said Gates, and he put up his hand for a hi-five. "Don't leave me hanging, bro." But Ivan did.

"What's your name, comrade?" said Ivan in a guttural Russian accent.

"The guest list says he's Vince Van-Halen, but he's a fake," said Ringo.

"The name's Gates. No first name, no last name, just Gates," said Gates.

"Game over, Mr. Gates," said Ivan.

"You can't be serious. I'm on the best streak of my life. I'm gonna beat the house tonight."

"Adios, cowboy," Ringo pulled Gates out of his seat.

"Ivan Baby, I'm really not feeling the love here. This isn't the VIP treatment I read about in the brochure. I'm gonna have to leave a bad review."

The whole casino had stopped and was now watching.the Gates and Ivan show with a special guest star, Ringo.

Gates was aware of the eyes; he was counting on them. He knew a Ivan had two sides, a Dr. Jekyll and a Mr. Hyde.

Ivan could never show his ugly side in public. His public image affected his business and Gates was going to play to the court of public opinion. If he couldn't sway the man to play him, then maybe the hundreds of people watching could.

Gates downed another Scotch, then proceeded to spin his web.

"You leave now, comrade," said Ivan.

“Fine, but before I go, answer me this ... Ivan are you a King or a Thief?" said Gates.

"What?"

"I came here to beat you, Ivan. I’m your greatest opponent. You're never going to get a chance like this. I'm giving you the chance to see if you really are the greatest poker. The guys in those tournament were not match for you. You swept through them like hurricane. I know you're a real competitor and wants a real fight. Am I right? So don't miss chance, Ivan. Let’s play mano-a-mano,” said Gates

"Don't listen to him, Ivan; he's a junkie; he buys drugs here every week," said Ringo.

"I don't deny it. I have a pain management problem that I take many, many, many pills for. Most days, I'm high as a kite, but not today. So don't let this once in lifetime chance get away," said Gates.

"Nyet! You could sell cars with your mouth, but I know a con-man when I see one. Let's go."

They dragged him out of the chair and took him to the back. Gates saw a door. He knew if he went in, his face was going to wind up on a milk carton.

He broke free from Ringo then, like a lunatic, he charged Ivan. He rammed the large man in the stomach, but bounced off like a rock hitting a wall.

Ivan laughed. He picked Gates up by the neck and hoisted him up in the air. Gates dangled in the air, kicking his feet.

"You are the fly, and I am the spider. You came here to get me, but it is me who has you. You could have walked out of here alive, Mr Gates, but I'm sure that's not what you wanted.," Ivan squeezed Gates' neck.

"You kill me, Ivan, and say goodbye to your Singrin. Remember, they're watching. They don't know the monster you are, but when they find out, you won't even be able to turn Singrin into a car wash. The cops can't shut you down, but they can," said Gates.

Ivan saw the hundreds of people watching and he put Gates down.

"Let me kiln him. He talks too much."

"No, he's right," said Ivan. "You may prove to be a worthy adversary, Mr. Gates. After all, you planned all this. I'm sure this is all going to according to your plan. Was this your last hand? You played it well. Alright, we play but my terms."

"I'm listening," said Gates.

"You win, you live ... you lose, you die," said Ivan.

"Fair enough," said Gates.

***

They played like to warrior attacking. Ivan would go on a winning spree, then Gates would.

The crowd in the casino were amaze.

Gates was impressed. It was as if Ivan had gift of his own. He seemed to be able to pick a winning hand easily.

Gates was feeling the pain of the gift. His nose was starting to bleed. He could feel the glass in his veins. He wanted to vomit. The pain was so hard he blacked out a bit.

"Last game. Winner takes all," said Gates.

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

"Hey, I'd love to stay, Ivan Baby, but it's getting late and If I don't get home, soon, I'm going to turn into a pumpkin." Gates pushed all his chips to the center of the table. Win or lose time.

The cards were dealt. Ivan quickly checked his with a stone stiff face. Gates peeked at his cards, then smiled. Was it a bluff, or did he really have a good hand? This was the game.

"A King or thief, comrade Gates," said Ivan

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Ivan baby?" said Gates.

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

"He's a cheat," said Ringo. "He's been cheating all this time."

"This is bullshit." Gates stood up in a huff. "Ivan you're a dirty rat. You just can't stand losing," said Gates.

Gates climbed the poker table and was about to throw himself at Ivan like a pro-wrestler, but Ivan beat him to the chase. Ivan picked up the poker table and tossed it over, throwing Gates off. Gates landed on a table full of champagne filled glasses. A security team grabbed him took him away.

They took him to the back room. A room with thick concrete walls, no windows, just a drain hole in the floor. Chains and shackles bolted to the walls, along with a selection of medieval and barbaric tools of torture.

The guards shackled Gates to the wall, then stepped back.

"Show time," said Ringo.

Ringo pressed a button on the wall, and Gates was electrocuted. His hair was fried and smoking. He was breathless and exhausted. Ringo laughed.

"King, I could sure use your help," said Gates looking up at the ceiling.

"God, won't save you now," said Ringo.

"I said king -- Elvis Presley

"you pray to Elvis?" Ringo chuckled. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. Another idiot brainwashed by TV to believe a hero will come and save him. Look at you all by yourself, cowboy. Who will save you now?"

"Never lose sight of the human spirit, Dingo," said Gates.

"Nyet, breaking a man's spirit is the most pleasing thing there is."

"You're a sick fuck," said Gates. "But the game isn't over. I'm still playing my last hand. In the end, I'm going to beat you."

"No, cowboy, it is me who will beat you." Ringo got a wooden baseball bat with spikes. He laughed like a mad hyena. Gates saw the bat and cringed.

"Time to find religion," said Ringo.

Gates looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

"Hey, King, your buddy Gates needs you. I'm in a bad, bad, situation right now and well, if you ain't too busy; lend a hand," said Gates.

No answer came. The lights didn't flicker. The walls didn't crack. There was no mysterious voice from the magical world of OZ telling Gates not to worry.

Ringo went to swing the bat.

"Nyet!" said Ivan barging into the room.

The security team grabbed Ringo and pulled him away from Gates.

Gates looked at Ringo with a grin.

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

"You are a worthy adversary, and it leaves me with a question. Who is the best ... me or you," said Ivan. "So we play at Las Vegas Poker Tournament, come out of retirement. One last fight"

"For the crown," said Gates

"For the crown. I will be king," said Ivan.

"What about my money?" said Gates.

"The money I keep. It is the price for your freedom, comrade. "

Ivan looked at Ringo. Teach him a lesson, then dump him ... alive," said Ivan.

Ringo nodded, but rolled his eyes.

"The human spirit, Dingo," said Gates. "Okay, let's get this over with."

He closed his eyes, still flashing a big grin as Ringo and the boys went to work on him.