Ace of Spades - another Logical World Short
Posted: 2005-09-13 02:33am
This one is considerably larger than last one. This one is also somewhat sillier than the last. Oh and Shroom Man 777 features.
Ace of Spades
The casino was nice, as far as casinos go. Sentients of thousands of species went about the business of losing money at a variety of games of chance, all of which were tilted in the favour of the casino. It wasn’t one of those baccarat casinos either – this one had everything, including fifteen million slot machines. It also had card tables.
“Bets?” asked the dealer, a Johanik, looking for all the world like an orang-utan in a casino uniform. He was ideally suited to being a poker dealer, what with double the number of joints of a human.
The players put their chips forward; they covered the spectrum alright, but they were all rich. One was an infamous American ‘businessman’ they called The Shroom. He was truly huge, with a neck like a roll of carpet and biceps like watermelons, all stuffed into an expensive looking white suit. There were an inordinate amount of rings on his fingers. Another was a Mikado Hyperspace engineer, Myhln Peronnnen his tall cranium a pale green colour like the rest of his skin, his top-knot and beard white. He was dressed in a simple sort of way, that high-lighted some sort of sophistication.
Another was a vicious looking Imperial Navy officer, Lieutenant Caris Johnson sitting with his Flower Girl escort, whose name wasn’t particularly important to anyone. He was sharply dressed in his black uniform, her in some revealing low-cut dress that existed purely to show off her genetically altered alien figure.
Kazuaki Hagiwara was a woman from Japan, her hair was short and, oddly, purple, but it was to be expected. Apparently she was some sort of police officer, but one with a considerable amount of money. Sitting next to her was another Imperial, James Harrington, dressed in a fairly ordinary suit. He wasn’t rich when he came into the building, but he was now.
The dealer tossed out cards at an alarming rate, five to each player. They picked up their hands, gazing at them. Sometimes an eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, but mostly their faces were blank, or in the case of the Flower Girl, completely bored. More money was put in, cards were placed face down, more still were handed out.
Hagiwara sighed very quietly, and the humans perked up – Harrington was right next door, while Johnson and The Shroom undoubtedly had some form of hearing enhancement. Perhaps it was real, perhaps it was not – if it wasn’t, lots of money would probably end up hers. None the less, raising would continue unabated. The Chossok girl might have know – she was an empath by virtue of species and very good by virtue of profession, though it went without saying that she wasn’t allowed to speak during a hand.
The Shroom made a large bet, befitting his large size. It was matched and raised by the purple haired Hagiwara, who might have been bluffing. So it went, as it does. There was light conversation – how the war with the Selakhar was going for Lieutenant Johnson; who said it was going as well as it had been going for the past five thousand years, how the Hyperspace engineering industry was fairing at the moment; Peronnnen had a nice spiel about the vagaries of the economy, but how he’d been doing a nice mountain range for some planet that was being built by his company. Harrington directed a question about life in the Eurasian Alliance to Hagiwara.
“Well,” she began in accented True “It’s fine, I suppose. I’ve never been to other members of it though. I mostly stay in Japan.”
“I see.” Harrington replied, disappointed by the impersonal reply.
The time came to show their hands. It always comes in the end, as it must. It had come to this, five gamblers, one orang-utan and one alien escort. Money was on the line. Johnson folded, slapped his cards down angrily, and put his chin heavily onto his fist. Hagiwara followed suit soon after, bluffing after all. Personnnen put his cards on the table calmly when the raising went to high.
The Shroom eyed Harrington “Whatcha got, little man?” his tone was ribbing, but Harrington just smiled back.
“Show me.” Harrington replied. The Shroom agreed.
He put his cards down “Full house,” he rumbled, and that was what it was, two queens and three eights. He smiled broadly, his teeth blisteringly white and uncomfortably broad. “Can you match it limey?”
“Have a look, big man.” He replied in that unmistakable British accent. He placed them down deliberately slowly; the first a ten, the second a jack, the next a queen, after than a king, then finally an ace. An ace of spades.
There was one of those stunned silences that always come at moments like this. James Harrington leant forward for his money, considering what he’d do with it all. Maybe buy the girl off of Johnson, maybe buy a set of twins. Perhaps he’d just stick it into his pocket and not spend it on anything. Maybe he’d put it towards a new ship. Maybe.
But The Shroom put his hand out and placed it on Harrington’s forearm. He was suddenly reminded about how big The Shroom really was. The accusation would come next, Harrington knew: the big man would say in his deep voice “You cheated.”
“You cheated.” Said the big man in his deep voice. Harrington wasn’t surprised.
“Nope, I’m just that good Shroomy.” With that he yanked his arm away and got his chips into his hands.
The Shroom got to his feet, rising up almost seven feet. Harrington’s eyebrows quivered in a suddenly frightened sort of way. The American’s muscles moved over each other like parking Volkswagens, and Harrington guessed that they weren’t real, but rather bundles of marvellous Buckycarbon all around some metal frame. Shit.
He didn’t speak but instead stood completely immobile. Then he drew his whole right side back, ham-like fist clenched so hard that his metal knuckles were almost popping out of super-tough anti-ballistic synth-skin. Harrington’s mouth hung open in abject stupidity as the ferrocrete destroying punch came forward, making the air go ‘whump’.
James Harrington watched his life flash before his eyes and he realised suddenly that it was pretty damn boring. But he didn’t die, and instead was pushed into the Japanese chick sitting next to him. Lieutenant Johnson had saved him, leaping around the huge man and catching the punch in one hand, the other moving Harrington aside considerably more gently than The Shroom intended.
Johnson slid to a halt twenty metres away, his mouth twisted into a smile “You Yanks.” He snapped jovially “You Yanks are always full of yourselves. You think you can come into an Imperial casino and smash an Imperial in the face with another Imperial around.” He paused for effect. The whole casino it seemed had stopped to watch silently. Only the noises of slot machines sounded throughout. “You’re in for a right kicking.” Johnson finished.
The Shroom roared angrily, grabbed the card table and flung it at the RIN officer, wrenching it free of the ground. Johnson’s fist snapped out stopping the table in mid flight, before shattering it with a flashy spinning kick. The pieces littered the floor as he dashed forward. He covered the distance in a second and ducked beneath a skull shattering punch from The Shroom.
Johnson’s fist zipped out far to fast for the human eye to follow, his hands leaving indentations into the artificial musculature of The Shroom’s arms. But the big man wasn’t defenceless, and he struck back, forcing Johnson onto his back foot, pushing the massive blows aside. There was blurred moment and the officer lashed out at The Shroom’s diaphragm. The huge man lifted his white suited form up and flipped back onto his hands, before throwing himself back onto his hands.
“You can’t match me for sheer prosthetics performance!” The Shroom shouted, rushing back in, his hyper-fast blow forcing Johnson to leap up, the percussive force of the punch pushing him backwards as well. He came down on a Lamborghini Diablo (fourth edition) sitting beneath a huge hologrammatic wheel. The force of Johnson’s landing imploded the roof and blew the doors off of their hinges. Shards of glass exploded outwards in a glittering halo that lacerated those unfortunate enough to be standing nearby.
By this time, casino security was rushing out to deal with this problem. And it was all of casino security too, all come to try and stop the two fighters from killing someone. As they watched the Imperial Navy officer fists and feet blurred with speed and the American’s massive arms launching out pneumatic wood-splitter like punches, they knew it was a hopeless endeavour. Not that they didn’t try anyway.
Lieutenant Johnson felt hands on his left arm, so he twisted around, bringing the hapless security guard into The Shroom’s newest punch, which hit him in the chest, collapsing both lungs. A rush of both oxygen and blood escaped his mouth, splattering The Shroom’s impeccable suit red. Johnson tossed the man aside, took a step back, grabbed the big arm passing his face and then bodily threw the giant into the mass of casino security, knocking them aside like bowling pins hit with a wrecking ball. The Shroom rolled to his feet almost too gracefully and pulled his sunglasses off.
James Harrington watched the carnage with Hagiwara and the Flower Girl. He slipped his arms around their shoulders and said “Care for a drink ladies?” with a grin plastered across his mug. They sighed in agreement and Harrington’s grin widened “I’m suddenly very, very rich.”
Ace of Spades
The casino was nice, as far as casinos go. Sentients of thousands of species went about the business of losing money at a variety of games of chance, all of which were tilted in the favour of the casino. It wasn’t one of those baccarat casinos either – this one had everything, including fifteen million slot machines. It also had card tables.
“Bets?” asked the dealer, a Johanik, looking for all the world like an orang-utan in a casino uniform. He was ideally suited to being a poker dealer, what with double the number of joints of a human.
The players put their chips forward; they covered the spectrum alright, but they were all rich. One was an infamous American ‘businessman’ they called The Shroom. He was truly huge, with a neck like a roll of carpet and biceps like watermelons, all stuffed into an expensive looking white suit. There were an inordinate amount of rings on his fingers. Another was a Mikado Hyperspace engineer, Myhln Peronnnen his tall cranium a pale green colour like the rest of his skin, his top-knot and beard white. He was dressed in a simple sort of way, that high-lighted some sort of sophistication.
Another was a vicious looking Imperial Navy officer, Lieutenant Caris Johnson sitting with his Flower Girl escort, whose name wasn’t particularly important to anyone. He was sharply dressed in his black uniform, her in some revealing low-cut dress that existed purely to show off her genetically altered alien figure.
Kazuaki Hagiwara was a woman from Japan, her hair was short and, oddly, purple, but it was to be expected. Apparently she was some sort of police officer, but one with a considerable amount of money. Sitting next to her was another Imperial, James Harrington, dressed in a fairly ordinary suit. He wasn’t rich when he came into the building, but he was now.
The dealer tossed out cards at an alarming rate, five to each player. They picked up their hands, gazing at them. Sometimes an eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, but mostly their faces were blank, or in the case of the Flower Girl, completely bored. More money was put in, cards were placed face down, more still were handed out.
Hagiwara sighed very quietly, and the humans perked up – Harrington was right next door, while Johnson and The Shroom undoubtedly had some form of hearing enhancement. Perhaps it was real, perhaps it was not – if it wasn’t, lots of money would probably end up hers. None the less, raising would continue unabated. The Chossok girl might have know – she was an empath by virtue of species and very good by virtue of profession, though it went without saying that she wasn’t allowed to speak during a hand.
The Shroom made a large bet, befitting his large size. It was matched and raised by the purple haired Hagiwara, who might have been bluffing. So it went, as it does. There was light conversation – how the war with the Selakhar was going for Lieutenant Johnson; who said it was going as well as it had been going for the past five thousand years, how the Hyperspace engineering industry was fairing at the moment; Peronnnen had a nice spiel about the vagaries of the economy, but how he’d been doing a nice mountain range for some planet that was being built by his company. Harrington directed a question about life in the Eurasian Alliance to Hagiwara.
“Well,” she began in accented True “It’s fine, I suppose. I’ve never been to other members of it though. I mostly stay in Japan.”
“I see.” Harrington replied, disappointed by the impersonal reply.
The time came to show their hands. It always comes in the end, as it must. It had come to this, five gamblers, one orang-utan and one alien escort. Money was on the line. Johnson folded, slapped his cards down angrily, and put his chin heavily onto his fist. Hagiwara followed suit soon after, bluffing after all. Personnnen put his cards on the table calmly when the raising went to high.
The Shroom eyed Harrington “Whatcha got, little man?” his tone was ribbing, but Harrington just smiled back.
“Show me.” Harrington replied. The Shroom agreed.
He put his cards down “Full house,” he rumbled, and that was what it was, two queens and three eights. He smiled broadly, his teeth blisteringly white and uncomfortably broad. “Can you match it limey?”
“Have a look, big man.” He replied in that unmistakable British accent. He placed them down deliberately slowly; the first a ten, the second a jack, the next a queen, after than a king, then finally an ace. An ace of spades.
There was one of those stunned silences that always come at moments like this. James Harrington leant forward for his money, considering what he’d do with it all. Maybe buy the girl off of Johnson, maybe buy a set of twins. Perhaps he’d just stick it into his pocket and not spend it on anything. Maybe he’d put it towards a new ship. Maybe.
But The Shroom put his hand out and placed it on Harrington’s forearm. He was suddenly reminded about how big The Shroom really was. The accusation would come next, Harrington knew: the big man would say in his deep voice “You cheated.”
“You cheated.” Said the big man in his deep voice. Harrington wasn’t surprised.
“Nope, I’m just that good Shroomy.” With that he yanked his arm away and got his chips into his hands.
The Shroom got to his feet, rising up almost seven feet. Harrington’s eyebrows quivered in a suddenly frightened sort of way. The American’s muscles moved over each other like parking Volkswagens, and Harrington guessed that they weren’t real, but rather bundles of marvellous Buckycarbon all around some metal frame. Shit.
He didn’t speak but instead stood completely immobile. Then he drew his whole right side back, ham-like fist clenched so hard that his metal knuckles were almost popping out of super-tough anti-ballistic synth-skin. Harrington’s mouth hung open in abject stupidity as the ferrocrete destroying punch came forward, making the air go ‘whump’.
James Harrington watched his life flash before his eyes and he realised suddenly that it was pretty damn boring. But he didn’t die, and instead was pushed into the Japanese chick sitting next to him. Lieutenant Johnson had saved him, leaping around the huge man and catching the punch in one hand, the other moving Harrington aside considerably more gently than The Shroom intended.
Johnson slid to a halt twenty metres away, his mouth twisted into a smile “You Yanks.” He snapped jovially “You Yanks are always full of yourselves. You think you can come into an Imperial casino and smash an Imperial in the face with another Imperial around.” He paused for effect. The whole casino it seemed had stopped to watch silently. Only the noises of slot machines sounded throughout. “You’re in for a right kicking.” Johnson finished.
The Shroom roared angrily, grabbed the card table and flung it at the RIN officer, wrenching it free of the ground. Johnson’s fist snapped out stopping the table in mid flight, before shattering it with a flashy spinning kick. The pieces littered the floor as he dashed forward. He covered the distance in a second and ducked beneath a skull shattering punch from The Shroom.
Johnson’s fist zipped out far to fast for the human eye to follow, his hands leaving indentations into the artificial musculature of The Shroom’s arms. But the big man wasn’t defenceless, and he struck back, forcing Johnson onto his back foot, pushing the massive blows aside. There was blurred moment and the officer lashed out at The Shroom’s diaphragm. The huge man lifted his white suited form up and flipped back onto his hands, before throwing himself back onto his hands.
“You can’t match me for sheer prosthetics performance!” The Shroom shouted, rushing back in, his hyper-fast blow forcing Johnson to leap up, the percussive force of the punch pushing him backwards as well. He came down on a Lamborghini Diablo (fourth edition) sitting beneath a huge hologrammatic wheel. The force of Johnson’s landing imploded the roof and blew the doors off of their hinges. Shards of glass exploded outwards in a glittering halo that lacerated those unfortunate enough to be standing nearby.
By this time, casino security was rushing out to deal with this problem. And it was all of casino security too, all come to try and stop the two fighters from killing someone. As they watched the Imperial Navy officer fists and feet blurred with speed and the American’s massive arms launching out pneumatic wood-splitter like punches, they knew it was a hopeless endeavour. Not that they didn’t try anyway.
Lieutenant Johnson felt hands on his left arm, so he twisted around, bringing the hapless security guard into The Shroom’s newest punch, which hit him in the chest, collapsing both lungs. A rush of both oxygen and blood escaped his mouth, splattering The Shroom’s impeccable suit red. Johnson tossed the man aside, took a step back, grabbed the big arm passing his face and then bodily threw the giant into the mass of casino security, knocking them aside like bowling pins hit with a wrecking ball. The Shroom rolled to his feet almost too gracefully and pulled his sunglasses off.
James Harrington watched the carnage with Hagiwara and the Flower Girl. He slipped his arms around their shoulders and said “Care for a drink ladies?” with a grin plastered across his mug. They sighed in agreement and Harrington’s grin widened “I’m suddenly very, very rich.”