Venzo Mercury sat directly across the table from Vincent Huron, with Zander Nenmos sitting directly in the middle of those two. Quietly, Venzo continued to shuffle the deck with a wide smile on his face. The way he shuffled the deck had both elegance and confidence to it, and the way that the cards flowed and rifled with each cut and bridge reflected that tone. He never once broke eye contact with either Vincent or Zander the entire time. Eventually, he stopped shuffling and set the deck down on the table.

“So,” Venzo started, “what game would you like to play?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me, I usually lose anyways,” Vincent plainly replied. “What about you, Zan?”

Zander straightened his back and casually slid his gold coin from one finger to the next. “Typically if I have the choice, I prefer to play Euchre, which a friend of mine from Ohio showed me. That being said, you seem to be doing rather well, why don’t you pick the game?”

“Why are you letting him decide?” Vincent asked.

Zander didn’t verbally answer but shot a glare in Vincent’s direction. Vincent knew that look all too well, and he didn’t bother asking any more questions.

“I’m mighty flattered by this gesture,” Venzo replied, “although it seems I’m not the only confident one in this room. Well since you brought up the United States, let’s take our journey to another state: Texas—a place of simple people, simple minds, and simple games.”

“I’m not sure I entirely agree with that, but I will agree that life seems to be simpler there,” Zander retorted.

“Well, truthfully, I picked that State because we’re going to be playing for a big pot of value, and you know what they say about Texas: everything’s bigger there.”

“A bit too big, empty, and boring for me,” Vincent said, once again jumping in.

“Well I hope this game won’t bore you,” Venzo continued. “I choose to play Texas Holdem; the world’s most popular poker game.” He then raised his glass of wine and downed the rest of its contents. “Any objections?”

With no objections from either Vincent or Zander, Venzo proceeded to shuffle the deck a bit more. While he was shuffling, Zander flagged down a casino worker and exchanged his gold coin for poker chips of equal value. Upon seeing this, Vincent did the same, but with his 250 dollars that he had in his wallet instead of his gold coin.

“I do want to clarify something before we begin,” Venzo stated. “First: we are not playing with blinds, but instead with antes. The ante for each round is the equivalent of fifty dollars. Second: there is no limit to how much any person can bet. If you run out of chips, but you still have things of value left, you can still exchange them mid-game and continue playing.”

“Oh, how kind,” Zander replied, sarcastically.

“Of course. Well, let’s begin.”

***

[For the sake of clarity, cards will be shown based on their number, followed by their suit. For example: a hand with a three of hearts and a queen of spades will be shown as 3H-QS]

***

After that, Venzo finally dealt each player, including himself, a starting hand. Vincent looked at his hand and was not impressed, which his face didn’t hide. His hand was 2S-5S. Even so, he wasn’t about to fold on the very first hand.

He threw in his ante, leaving him 200 dollars left. Looking around, both Zander and Venzo followed suit. Both them and Vincent then checked, not adding any more to the pot.

“Let’s flop,” Venzo said as he revealed the flop—the first three cards to play with.

The flop was 4S-7D-6S.

How does that help me? Vincent thought. Not a single two or a five. Vincent was sure that there was going to be something he could work with on the flop, but he couldn’t even make a pair of any kind. Oh well, he still didn’t want to fold so early, especially since Zander still hadn’t. However, since he was starting the betting round, seeing as he was left of Venzo, the dealer, he didn’t have to commit to anything.

“Ah what the hell?” Vincent said. “I’ll bet fifty.” He then threw in another chip that was worth fifty dollars.

Rolling his eyes, Zander seemed to hesitantly say “I’ll call,” while throwing fifty dollars in, matching Vincent’s bet.

“I was expecting so much more from you all. How boring,” Venzo said, matching Zander’s call.

The turn card (the fourth card) was then flipped over and it was a 5C.

Finally, there’s something I can work with. Excitedly, Vincent threw in another fifty dollars in the pot.

Zander didn’t respond right away. Vincent could see that he was calmly looking at his cards for a while. This lasted for a few seconds until Zander finally sighed and turned his cards face down on the table. He folded.

“Already?” Venzo said with a disingenuous frown. He then threw in fifty, again matching Vincent’s bet. And just like last time, they both checked and didn’t add any more money to the pot.

“I’m surprised you’ve lasted longer than your proud friend over there,” Venzo commented, gesturing towards Zander.

“I guess I’m just a better player than him,” Vincent replied.

“Oh I can tell, you seem like such a great player. If I’m being honest, the fact that you’ve stayed in this so long scares me a little.” As he said that, a slight smile couldn’t help but start to creep up his face.

The river was then flipped over—the last card revealed before the last round of betting. It was a 3S.

Damn, I thought it was gonna be a two or another five, Vincent disappointingly thought. Well, at least I have one pair of—

Something in his brain began to click, as something seemed to catch his attention. He leaned forward and narrowed his vision towards the cards on the table. After a few seconds of looking, his eyes grew bigger and his expression was one of surprise.

With his newfound energy, Vincent grabbed the chips that equaled fifty dollars and threw them in the middle of the pot. He and his smug look then stared at Venzo, expectantly.

“Well, isn’t someone excited? I’ll match that excitement...no wait, I’ll do you one better,” Venzo said. He then grabbed chips equal to one hundred dollars. “I’ll raise you fifty more.”

Vincent only had fifty dollars before he would be out of money to bet. And even though that was the case, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation before he slapped down his final fifty dollars. Pushing his final chips forward, he confidently leaned back in his chair and smiled.

There was a moment where he could swear that he saw Venzo’s eyes recoil back in surprise. He wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things, but there was a definite change in Venzo’s demeanor but for a second.

Venzo then looked at his hands, at his watch, and then back to his hands. He then waited for a second before wordlessly checking, thus ending any and all bets for the hand.

“On the count of three, we will show our hands,” he called out. “One...two...three.”

As soon as he finished, both he and Vincent laid down their hands. Vincent’s hand was 2S-5S and Venzo’s was 7S-7H.

“It looks like it’s my three-of-a-kind to your straight flush,” Venzo stated.

“Hell yeah!” Vincent replied, scooping the entire pot in his arms to his side. In total, there were 550 dollars in the pot. “See, Zan? This is gonna be easy.”

“Yeah…” Zander suspiciously replied, his eyes locked onto Venzo.

“I do have to say that I didn’t expect you to be such a good poker player,” Venzo said, looking at Vincent. “Out of the both of you, I expected you to be the one that folded like a coward first, not our crew-u fellow over there.”

“He just can’t handle my immense skill; never has been,” Vincent confidently said. His ego and arrogance were growing by the second after he won against Zander and the self-proclaimed ‘best card player’. With a bit of cockiness, Vincent taunted “I can do this all day.”

“Haha, I’m sure you could. It seems I might have met my match,” Venzo replied. “Let’s start up another round, hm?”

“Of course! My turn to deal?”

As soon as he was handed the deck, Vincent began to shuffle it with the most amount of confidence he ever had. This amount of pride was almost a high for him, and he began to forget the situation that he was in.

He then dealt everyone their hand and looked at his own. His hand was AH-AS. What a fantastic hand! He, along with everyone else, paid their ante. However, before he flipped the flop, in a moment of hubris, Vincent flagged down a casino worker.

“Can I get this,” he gestured towards the gold coin that he pulled out of his pocket, “appraised and turned into chips.

Within mere moments, Vincent now had an additional 1500 dollars to work with, for a total of 2050. Now I can really run this idiot out of money, he thought.

He then dealt out the flop, which was 5D-2D-AD.

In Vincent’s mind, there was no way he could lose this hand—his victory was assured and he was going to run Venzo out of money.

Most of the hand went by in a similar fashion as the last one, with Vincent and Venzo being the main ones who upped the betting. By the time that the turn was flipped, the pot had already accumulated 300 dollars worth of chips. When it reached 200, Zander once again folded, losing 175 dollars.

The turn was then flipped and it was 5C.

The flop couldn’t have been any better, Vincent thought. Heavy Metal songs of victory and destroying enemies began to bounce around in his brain, as he was in the best situation he could have hoped for. It didn’t matter what the river was, Vincent was absolutely confident in his situation.

During the back and forth of betting, Vincent managed to drive the pot up to 700 dollars, which he was proud of. Eventually, he decided to stop raising the pot in fear that he might drive the other player away. He was going to run the pot up after the river.

He then flipped over the river and it was KS.

That was it. Vincent knew that he had won. The river was nothing that anyone could use with the rest of the cards on the table. He was determined to run the betting up as much as possible.

The betting that he and Venzo did eventually ran the pot up to 2750 dollars. That was the point in which both of them stopped raising, opting to just check and call. Vincent had him right where he wanted him.

“Ya ready?” Vincent called out to Venzo. He was itching to slam down his cards and impress his friends. He was about to do something that he could only dream of—beating Zander and someone who was beating Zander at a game of cards and minds.

“Of course,” Venzo slyly replied.

They both laid down their hands. Vincent’s was AH-AS and Venzo’s was 4D-3D. The final cards on the table were 5D-2D-AD-5C-KS.

“BOOM!” Vincent exclaimed. “That’s a full house right there, and that pot is mine! I’m sorry you had to get such crappy and low cards.”

As he reached for the pot, another hand suddenly came and cut him off from the pot. Looking up in the direction of where it came from, he saw a familiar fancy watch and then saw Venzo.

“Tsk tsk,” Venzo said. “Don’t be too hasty.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t be a sore loser,” Vincent annoyingly and angrily replied.

“Sore loser? No no, I’m just being a sore winner. Take a look at my hand.”

Vincent looked back at Venzo’s hand but couldn’t figure out what was so special about it.

“I see you can’t quite figure it out. Let me help you,” Venzo replied. He then gestured to Vincent to look at the cards on the table once again. “I have a flush of diamonds, which is higher than your full house, and thus, I win the pot. I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

Venzo was right—he did in fact have the better hand. Vincent was deflated upon realizing that. While he wasn’t completely out of it, that loss did take a lot of the wind out of his sails. It was only a short matter of time before he was full of energy again, and he was ready to fight back.

“Mr. Zander—I believe it was—,” Venzo began, “it’s your turn to deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” Zander calmly and coldly replied. Vincent couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely something off about Zander. He usually enjoys playing cards and is one of the more vocal players during games, even rivaling Vincent.

After the cards were dealt, Vincent again had a good hand. His hand was AD-KC.

The first round of betting was fairly light, seeing as every person put 100 in it in addition to the ante. With all of the betting finished, the flop was revealed and it once again favored Vincent. It was KD-3D-6C.

It was as if every round was repeating, and it was at the point where Vincent could easily predict if and when Zander was going to fold—which he did after the turn card was revealed. The turn card was a 7S.

Being in the hot seat again, Vincent began to sweat a little. Was it the room temperature increasing or was he genuinely becoming nervous? As his thoughts began to drift to things about the room, he noticed how dim the lighting was. The way it casted shadows on the table was a bit ominous, and sometimes those shadows would shiver and squirm unnaturally for a second. He wasn’t sure if it was from the lights above, seeing as they hadn’t flickered once, or if he was starting to see things.

While that was all happening, Vincent could see that Venzo was as calm as ever. He would just occasionally smile at Vincent and check his watch. Vincent couldn’t believe how calm he was. It wasn’t fair. Why can’t I ever just feel nothing and act calm? Why do I show my feelings so much? Why can’t I be cool and collected like Zander and him?

Just as those doubts were beginning to creep in, he heard a voice call out to him.

“I’m folding,” the voice said.

Looking up, Vincent realized that it came from Venzo. He had folded immediately after the turn card was revealed.

“W-what? Why?” was all that Vincent could get out. He was so confused as to where all of Venzo’s aggression had gone. Vincent could not get a read on Venzo’s style at all.

“What do you mean?” Venzo replied with a smile. “I didn’t think I could win, so I folded.”

“Um, I guess so. So I won that hand?”

“Of course you did. It’s my deal now, right?”

And with that, Vincent scooped his small pot of winnings. The chips felt more like a pity-filled handout than actual winnings, and he did not like handouts.

The next five hands were something that felt like playing cards in a dream. Even though he knew he wasn’t particularly good at cards, he knew that something was off during those rounds. Every time he had a winning hand, Venzo would immediately fold, and the amount that Vincent would win would be minimal. Every time Vincent had a bad-to-decent hand, he would either have to fold or push through and hope for the best, because he knew that he was no good at bluffing. But every time he would, he would lose. Every. Single. Time.

It didn’t matter how many times he made Venzo fold, because when Venzo won, he won big. He played the game perfectly with every hand. It didn’t matter what anyone did or how anyone bet, he always chose the correct choice. He folded when he had no chance and he played all the way through on games that he won. It was so infuriating, because even Vincent, who wasn’t a genius by any means, could see how simple Venzo was playing, and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. No matter how he tried, he could not play as perfectly as Venzo did.

What was even more infuriating was that Zander hadn’t played a single hand; he had folded every single time towards the beginning of the hand. Vincent couldn’t believe that the one person who should be playing wasn’t. He was just sitting there, doing nothing but hand over his money to Venzo. Which, in retrospect, was what Vincent felt like he was doing those last five hands.

After those five hands were done, Vincent was officially out of money—both from the gold coin and from his wallet. He couldn’t believe that he had completely lost. He had nothing left to bet, and was forced to leave the table.

There’s no way someone could be that lucky, Vincent thought, and there was no way someone could play the game so perfectly. There was only one explanation in his mind: Venzo was cheating.

When Venzo was collecting the winnings from the last hand, Vincent quickly stood up, almost knocking his chair over. His frustration with himself and with how the game ended up combined into one fiery rage.

“You son of a bitch, Venzo!” he yelled. “You fuckin’ dirty cheater! There’s no way someone could play so well! I swear to everything I’ll kick your ass.”

As calm looking as ever, Venzo replied with a smile “Well thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” He then looked at his watch, not even looking at Vincent anymore “And did you just accuse me of cheating?”

“So what if I did? You know that—”

Venzo put his finger against his lips in a shushing fashion. “I’ll have you know that I have never cheated at cards in my life. Also, if you accuse someone of cheating in this wonderful establishment, you have to prove it. If you can’t, then you’ll suffer the consequences, instead.”

“What?!”

“You understand why that is, right?” Venzo asked in a very condescending fashion. “To discourage what’s happening right now. We can’t have false accusations being flung everywhere from sore losers, especially in a place like this. If you have to prove it, then it brings peace to gambling. It’s the fairest solution.”

“Fair my ass! I don’t give—”

Before he could finish, Vincent felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Zander.

“Vince, that’s enough. You lost fair and square, and now you have to leave this table.”

“Are you serious? He’s obviously cheating!” Vincent angrily replied.

Zander then quickly leaned into Vincent’s ears and whispered, “I know he is, and I can prove it. Just leave the table and trust me.”

Vincent then took a deep breath and calmed himself down a bit. Still a bit heated, though, he stomped away from the table. He decided to trust one of his closest friends.

After Vincent left, Zander slowly walked back to his seat and sat down.

“Shall we continue?” he asked.