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A brown-haired man sat in the bar of a casino. He had never lost in a game, not even once during his whole career as a poker player. Not before tonight.

He stared solidly at the other side of the bar counter, where a gloomy-looking man was sitting and staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. The man's rough hands were lying on the table in front of him, neatly one on the other, and in the middle finger of the upper hand, meaning his left, glimmered a silver puzzle ring. The man's black clothes seemed worn-out as if he had been on the road for a long time, not having the time to change his clothing.

Behind the man's hard appearance his face was lugubrious, and this astonished the man who was looking at him. After all, that black creature had just taken 5000 US dollars from the table with him, and at the same time happened to win a man that had never lost before.

He was called Invincible-Fox, and by that name everyone knew him nowadays. He made his living by playing poker, and poker was his only life. Women stayed by his side only for one night at a time, and he never asked for more. He had got used to it, being invincible, and that was the reason for the nagging feeling he had gotten from his loss.

The man who was dressed up in black had sat for a long while there, staring at his glass, from which he had sipped only one gulp right after he had gotten it, and then left it untouched. Fox wanted to learn the man's secret. He knew that he'd never find peace if he didn't approach the man now and ask about his gambling tactics.

He ordered another expensive vodka which tasted like **** to his mind, but which was the only drink that fitted his personality as he wanted. After drinking the glass empty with one gulp and frunting to the bitter taste of it, Fox stood up and started walking towards the black-clad man.

"Fox. Invincible-Fox", he introduced himself and offered his hand towards the other man's scarred and rough hand that came out of the sleeve of a leather jacket. The black-clad man seemed to have woken up from a torpor after hearing Fox's voice. At first he looked around himself, confused, then he found the source of the voice and grabbed Fox's hand noncommittally. When the man didn't say a word, Fox decided to go on with a leading question: "And you are..?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Blackie. Just Blackie", the man answered, seemingly brightening up. He grabbed his whiskey glass and gulped it empty at once, not changing his expression a bit. Then he turned his curious glance at Fox who moved nearer to the counter. Fox ordered his "favourite" vodka, sat on the bar stool next to this Blackie, and started speaking only after he had gotten a long gulp of his drink, accompanied with a grimace.

"Good game, Just Blackie", he started, staring at his glass, avoidingly. "You are... skilful", he continued, lifting his eyes to face Blackie during the last word. "Or is it luck?", he finished.
Blackie laughed, bothered. "Luck it is, only luck", he said, trying to sound nimble, but didn't quite manage to cover the bitter, nearly fearful shade of his voice.

"You know... I don't believe you", stated Fox simply, looking at Blackie in the eye. "I don't believe, for my name is Invincible-Fox, isn't it?"

"Well, it is... But I assume it is now just Fox, am I right?", said Blackie, flashing a bothered, artificial smile. The whole appearance of this man told that he would have liked it better anywhere else, most preferably on another planet.

"That's right... I've never... not once in my life... lost in a card game. And now... You. You won me...", Fox chatted, irritated, more likely to himself than to Blackie.

"You must have something special... Skills? Talents? A long practice? Or... a fraud?", he went on, spluttering fast and desperatively, but emphasizing his last word very clearly.

Blackie stared at him, pondering, and now his expression had changed completely. It was now dominating and wild, and it made Fox feel like a little boy who had gotten caught while stealing some apples. That had never happened to him before with anyone.

"Would you really like to know?", asked Blackie seriously. His strange blue eyes had gotten a scary bit when they nailed themselves to Fox's face. Now it was Fox's turn to feel bothered, and therefore he twisted on his chair awkwardly as he tried to flee from those diabolical eyes.

"I... I would", he murmured uneasily, almost whimpering. He was still staring at the dark and shiny surface of the counter, touching his vodka glass and trying not to look at Blackie.

For a while both of them were quiet, and then Fox felt a rough hand grabbing his chin. Blackie forced Fox to look at him in the eye, shoving his face much nearer to Fox's face than before. The scent of whiskey filled his nose and for a moment he regretted that he had ever approached this man.

"If you're sure... Absolutely sure that you wanna know...", growled Blackie with a low voice that made Fox sweat and have chills running along his back. "Then I can tell you", continued Blackie, still staring at Fox's eyes. Fox thought that the man was able to see straight into his thoughts, but still he forced himself to splutter "yes" as an answer.

Blackie let Fox out of his grip, and within a split second his expression changed from scary to normal.

"You're braver than I thought", said Blackie and examined Fox, who didn't feel brave at all. Blackie ordered himself another glass of whiskey, and right after that another one for Fox.

"Take. Drink", he urged Fox when the drinks came. Fox, feeling thankful, took the drink and gulped it at once, forgetting his "only-expensive-vodka" -principle. Then he put the empty glass down, looking confused. Blackie hadn't even touched his glass.

"Were you... serious? That you'll tell?", asked Fox, lifting his eyes. Blackie became solemn and pensive again, but not scary this time. "Yes... Yes, I was. If you really wanna know.. But one thing I have to require from you before I tell anything", he said, but didn't wait for an answer. "You must believe everything I say. No laughing, no suspicion. 'Cos all I will say is true. You promise?"

Fox cast a long glance at his companion and asked: "Everything? True? Well, I dunno beforehand..." His voice was dubious. Blackie stood up, throwing a hundred dollar bill to the bartender. "In that case... So long, or lost, my man...", he said and turned around to leave the place. Fox stumped down from the bar stool, almost turning it over, and grasping the man's shoulder.

"No. Don't go. I promise to believe every word, I swear to my mother's grave, if you only tell me! I really wanna know", he said, rushing, and made Blackie stop. He pondered for a moment with his back towards Fox, and pressed his head down then. "Fine. Follow me. We must go somewhere else, for this is not a place to speak about it", he said meekly, and stepped out of the door to the streets of Las Vegas.

They strolled a long way, Blackie striding in charge with his tall legs and Fox blundering half running behind him while the mass of people flowed around them. Little by little the mass decreased until there were only a few on-coming individuals, and at the same time the flamboyance of Vegas dimmed. Fox didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was scared.

"Erm... Where are we going?", he asked, when the darkness around them was getting thicker. Anyhow, at that moment Blackie suddenly stopped, forcing Fox to stop, too. Fox looked at Blackie, who was looking straight ahead and saying: "Nowhere. We're here."

Fox also turned to look ahead, but didn't see anything at first. Then his eyes started perceiving shapes, and finally they gathered together into a form of a small, tin plate shack.

"My home", told Blackie simply and started walking towards the door of the shack. Fox followed him and stepped inside, doubting. The shack seemed so fragile it could fall apart in the next flash of an eye, just like a pile of tin cans. Blackie lighted a few candles that were set in the mouths of some liquor bottles, and then sat down on a grungy arm-chair that might have been the colour of red wine a long time before.

"Don't bother taking ya shoes off", he shouted out to Fox, who actually had no intention of doing such thing. "Sit", continued Blackie from the bottom of the arm-chair, and obediently Fox began seeking for a chair to sit on. Unfortunately there was no chairs in the only room of the shack, so Fox grabbed himself an empty bucket from the corner, turned it around and sat on it carefully.

"You cold?", asked Blackie, and without waiting for an answer he bent down in front of a poor hulk of a fireplace. He threw a couple of twigs and a piece of plank in the furnace and managed to set them on fire with the first try. After that he sat down on his knees for a while, staring at the flames. Finally he took a pile of bills out from his pockets, the ones he had won previously. With a small gesture he threw them for the flames to swallow and went back to his arm-chair.

"You... You...", stuttered Fox, stunned, looking alternately at the flames, alternately at Blackie. "Threw them away", he finally continued, and stopped his glance when it was fixed on Blackie's smiling face. The smile was a bit incomplete, though, and behind it there was bitterness.

"Yeah... What do I do with 'em", Blackie pointed out, turning to look at his hands. Fox looked as if someone had just hit him with a stick of wood.

"But... This house... With that kind of money you could buy all kinds of stuff...", Fox tried to explain, but Blackie turned his words down with one wave of a hand.

"No", he started. "I don't care about money, nor 'bout stuff. This is fairly enough for me, for I have lost one of the most valuable things in my life." Fox tried to say something again, but Blackie quitted his objections right at the beginning.

"Listen... You dunno...", he said. "You gamble, you win and you get money. You can gamble whenever you like, or be without gambling. But I...", he chatted absently, and then stopped to organize his thoughts. The flames reflected from his woeful eyes, and at that moment Fox knew he would have not liked to be in that man's position.

"I guess it's better to start from the beginning. First things first", said Blackie and sighed deeply. However, he fell into his thoughts for another moment, and during that time Fox thought that he would not remember to start at all. When he was about to notify Blackie about this, the man suddenly turned his glance at his guest and began talking.

"I was thirteen. My dad had taught me to play poker games; Canasta, Texas hold 'em, and others. 'Course we played with play money by that time, I was only learning, you know. I won dad every time and collected a great deal of play money. I thought I was good, really good, and that's why I agreed to play with real money when dad asked. 'Only for tiny sums, at first', he tempted me, and I went head first into the fight.

"In no time the stakes started getting bigger. But it didn't bother me, 'cos I thought I was so good. I had collected money with hard work, almost a thousand dollars, so that I can buy myself a car after I get my driver's licence. In my stupidness I put that money in the game too, 'cos I thought I could double it easily. That wasn't the truth."

For a while Blackie was silent again and stared at the dirty floor, deep in his thoughts. Then he awoke again to continue his story, this time with a voice that was more bitter than before.

"Dad had fooled me. He was a crooked old drunkard, but I'd forgotten that. He had let me win in purpose, and made me believe in my nonexistent skills. He coaxed me to put all my savings at once in the game, and I didn't even doubt anything before I had lost. It was the first time I lost - and at the same time the last. Dad didn't give me the money back.

"Then I thought I knew what I was doing when I went to my room after that. I called Satan for help. I lay on the floor in the dark and prayed for the Master to come and help me revenge on my dad. I moaned there for many long hours, maybe until the next morning, I'm not sure. But finally he came..."

Blackie shuddered and stopped his story as he rose to fetch a bottle of whiskey from a locker that was in a clod corner of the room. He took a long gulp from the bottle and offered it to Fox then. Fox took the bottle and Blackie sank back to his arm-chair to continue his tale.

The tin can, where the money I had earned with sweat and blood were, suddenly fell rattling down from a shelf and started spinning around in a small circle. Right after that a pair of red eyes appeared in to the mirror above it. It was strange, 'cos the shelf the can had fallen from was located exactly in the opposite way, by the other wall of the room. Still the can fell right under the mirror. It was Satan there, of course, and he spoke to me.

"'So you want to have a vengeance? You want to have your money back, and maybe more?', said Satan to me, and I was in immediately, young and stupid as I was. He promised to give me superior skills in card games, so that no living human can beat me ever again, especially not my dad.

"He wasn't willing to give this all without conditions, of course. 'Spades. Let it be your suit. Always gather spades in your hand, and the victory will be yours.' With that I agreed straight away, 'course. The second condition was that from that day I had to play at least one gambling game each and every day, from that moment until the moment of my death. I agreed to this one, too, 'cos at that moment revenge was the main thing in my mind.

"The last condition was that I wasn't allowed to neglect the first two conditions. Of course I asked what would happen if failed to follow them, though I almost knew the answer myself. 'Oh, it'll be worse than your own death, naturally', answered Satan. Still I agreed as a damned fool. I let one word come out of my mouth, and because of that I've had to suffer throughout my whole life, since I was thirteen."

Blackie put his palms on his face and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Fox thought he was crying, but when the man finally lifted his head, there was no sign of tears on his face. He drank a bit more whiskey, sat a little more comfortably back, and started speaking again.

"Of course I got my revenge back then. I borrowed some money from a friend of mine and asked daddy to come and play a one more game. Obeying to the condition I had had I won my money back, and a bit more, and I thanked Satan for that. The same night dad shot himself in the head, probably 'cos of the disappointment he had 'cos of the lost, though he also had a couple of per milles in his blood.

"I had felt abandoned from his side even otherwise, so I turned to my Master, and he became sort of a new father for me. I circulated around the pubs of our little town, winning every card game I took part in. Finally all the people learned to leave a game with me out, so I had to go. And where else could a young slave of gambling go, than in here, in Vegas? Here I've been ever since, living in this tiny shack."

"But what about... What about all the money you've won? What have you done to it?", asked Fox, glancing at the dying flames in the fireplace. Blackie sneered with frustration.

"The money? Well, it was fun at first, to win so damn lot of money every day. But you get bored with it. So what, if I could've bought a mansion and a pool, when my freedom was out of reach forever? I'd become a slave, Satan's slave.

"Of course I could've just broken some of the conditions and gotten out of it all, but every time such a thought came to my mind, my Master arrived to remind me somehow of my destiny. Maybe it was a window cleaner, who fell down to the asphalt in front of me, breaking nearly every bone in his body, but yet staying alive, obsessed with his agony. Or maybe it was a child running past me in front of a over speeding car of a business man, leaving awfully stuck under the car, but keeping their miserable lives, after all.

"The same happened when I thought of suicide. I was made to understand that I'd either die when it's my time, or suffered with it, even after it; like if my death just continued and never ended. I don't want that, of course."

It was quiet again, and the only noise was the rattling of the last coals in the fireplace. "You wanna... stay over night?", asked Blackie then. "It's dark outside, and dangerous by the night, specially for a rookie like you", he explained, looking at Fox a bit nervously.

"Well... Maybe I could... Thanks, Blackie. Thanks a lot", said Fox, tired, and stood up. Blackie arose, seemingly nervous, and pointed a thin mattress near the fireplace to Fox. "You can sleep there. I'll be fine in my arm-chair", he said. "Am... This might come a bit fast, but could you somehow promise to help me a bit later?", he continued then, looking at Fox who was ready to go to bed.

"Help? But how could I help you?", Fox asked, confused, but Blackie waved his hand to make him quiet down. He promised to tell the details in the morning, after a good rest. Everything he now desired was that Fox would give him his word to seal the promise.

"Of course I can help you, if I'm able to", promised Fox, and Blackie thanked him a thousand times. Fox crawled on to the hard mattress and fell asleep immediately after the hard night.

Blackie didn't sleep, though. He sat in his arm-chair and stared at the silhouette of Fox for a long while, pondering. Candle light danced on his blue eyes, making them look scary and mysterious. Suddenly he sensed the presence of something, something that was near.

"He is suitable, isn't he?", whispered Blackie quietly, and the Satan answered affirmatively.

*****

Fox woke up with his head hurting. The sun shone in through a dirty plexiglas and the noises of the birds could be heard well through the thin tin walls. He had a hell of a hangover, and for a moment he wondered where the heck was he, but then, little by little, the memories of the previous night came back to his mind. He crawled up from the mattress that had the scent of mildew in it, but had to sit back down immediately as a sudden feeling of dizziness caught him out of the blue.

He held his head between his knees for a moment, until the dizziness was gone. He lifted his glance to see Blackie sleeping in the arm-chair, but to his surprise the chair was empty. It took a while for him to realize that Blackie really wasn't in the room.
"Blackie", he croaked, but his voice didn't come out clearly at all from his sore throat. He coughed for a while and then tried again, now with a bit more audible voice. Nobody answered, though.

He stood up carefully and kept his eyes closed to avoid feeling dizzy again. Then he encouraged himself to walk towards the hole covered with plexiglas, the one where the sunbeams bravely penetrated inside.

Somewhere far was the body of the city, unreal as a ghost. The front yard of the shack seemed to be full of trash and junk, tidily separated to their own piles. Fox's head ached when he looked at them; the stench outside must have been awful. He tried to remember if he had noticed it when he had come, but couldn’t find such a detail from his memories.

Again his thoughts returned to Blackie. He circled around, looking for another room, but noticed soon that there was no such thing. He went out and could tell that he had been right; the smell was unbearable. He came back in, pondering where the man could be.

Only after that he noticed a small piece of paper on a tiny table, leaning against an empty bottle.

"Huh", he sneered, and then laughed a little to himself for being so silly and not noticing the paper before. He walked to the table and grabbed the paper to his hand. He read the text scribbled in it fast through. He put the paper against his chest, terrified, and then lifted it again to be read. The same text still stood there.

"No...", came out of his lips. He moaned. "This can't..."

"Yes", said a voice from behind his back, and though he had never heard that voice before, he knew who was it. Fox fell down, fainting.

In his hand there was still the hastily written message, that said:

Hi, Fox!

Thanks alot for offerin to help me.

I've been needin help for a long time: since i was 13.

One thing i didnt tell yesterday.

Thats to say the way i can get rid of this slavery.

I have to find an eager gambler with whom i can simply swap positions;

freedom for me, slavery to him.

Me and my Master agreed that your suitable.

You probably know the nature of the thing:

spades is your suit and you must play everyday.

Thanks to you Fox, for giving me freedom, at last.

Now you truly are invincible. Take care,

Blackie

Keyword: gambling vegas devil satan loss

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Comments (3)

Posted by Elizabeth 2008-02-23 05:13:32 notifications... I've never been to Vegas, nor I've never gambled, either, so I apologize if there's something that's sounds unreal about them. I hope it's still enjoyable. I spent two hours writing this, on the floor, in the middle of the night, and yes, with a pencil and a paper. I'm glad I did so. But I'll let you judge wheter you like it or not. At least rate it, if you don't have time to write a comment. Thanks.. + Report this comment
Posted by thirteen 2008-02-23 05:47:24 .... I liked it, thought it was good.I'd run it through spell check, but i enjoyed it.Well done. + Report this comment
Posted by Elizabeth 2008-02-26 07:26:02 .... Thanks for the tip! I checked the story with Word at school [I don't have it at home], and now the spellings should be correct. But I want to notify that there are some mistakes that are done in purose, and they are the ones in the spoken parts and in the letter at the end. I guess that this might have come to mind even otherwise, but I wanted to make it sure stil... :) + Report this comment

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