This is fic 8 of the Traces series. This series takes a song written in the 70's and makes a one shot out of it. This fic's theme is The Gambler by Kenny Rogers.

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Sanji Himura presents

A Final Fantasy VI fan work

Setzer Gabbiani, The Gambler

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The pub in South Figaro is normally a very rowdy place. Pub hops usually go to table to table taking orders for drinks, and tables open to gambling. Figaro's king, Edgar Roni Figaro, is usually ignorant of the gambling trouble, but at this particular table, a famous face was due to make an appearance, claming that he was out of practice.

I was then a young pup, a man no older than 25, but my tendency to lie has landed me at this exclusive game. The world's best poker players was invited to the game, a former Imperial commander, the mayor of Zozo, the current champion at the Coliseum, who was supposed to defend his title now, and the last two players, Locke Cole and Setzer Gabbiani, was late, very late.

Three hours late.

That didn't stop us from talking about the terrors that the self-called god Kefka brought down on us. I was one of those lucky enough to survive the destruction of my village. My village was one of those that was made up of underground resistance members, but that didn't matter to Kefka as he ordered that the Light of Judgment be brought down on my lowly village, and most everyone died. I was eventually found and raised by traveling gypsies that was about to enter the village to put on a show. Sometimes I even wonder who my parents really were. My graying hair was shining against the candlelight, as my black wool coat hung limp against my chair as the other people was talking behind my back saying that I look like Setzer.

The comparisons stopped as the last two players entered the room. Setzer Gabbiani and Locke Cole took their spots at the table as the game was underway. Knowing the basics of hold-em poker, I looked into the eyes of the first player to act, the Imperial commander who was in full uniform, made the call to the Big Blind, who was me. Play went around to myself as I looked at my cards, two threes. Seeing that no one raised me, I decided to check my option. The first three cards were dealt to the community, a two, a five, and a jack. The player to my right checked, and I made a small bet. Setzer threw his hand away, and Locke did the same as the other players foolishly called my bet. The next card turned out to be another three, but my facial expressions refused to show anything. I checked as the other players raised the pot thinking that they can steal it, but I called, and the final card was dealt, the final three in the deck. The rift raft put all their chips into the pot, and I made the call, winning the hand.

Disappointment was etched into the faces of Setzer and Locke as I counted my winnings as I stacked them. "You know, Setzer, the kid lacks all common sense," Locke whispered into his ear.

"I know, but the kid is very talented," he fired back as the next hand was dealt.

Three hours later saw the distribution of chips to be about even. Every mental error I've made Setzer took advantage of, and every mental error Setzer made, Locke took quick work of. My selling of a bad hand took down the recent pot.

"What's your name kid," Setzer finally spoke to me, getting annoyed at my lack of manners.

"Biggs Mancel," I shot back, still counting my chips.

"Well, Biggs, I do have one word of advice if you still want to be in the game."

"What's that," I answered looking up after I counted my chips.

Setzer flashed me his last hand, two Aces, "I knew that you didn't have any Aces, yet you were selling that. If you were looking at my eyes, you would have known that. Also, you lack all common sense on when to throw away a hand, and when you do throw away a hand, you usually throw away a winner. And you always count your chips after a hand, and when you do that, you always don't focus on us when the next hand is dealt."

"Then why didn't you put me away?"

"Because you look like you needed the workout."

That did it. I was angry enough to kill him, but I let my chips speak for me as I put them all in the pot. The hand that was dealt put the nail in my casket, and I lost the hand.

I got up from the table, putting on my jacket, and I was about to leave when a hand shot up and grabbed mine, "nice game," Setzer told me as I walked away from the pub.

I promptly left the city, as I know that either Setzer or Locke won the game, and even though I never saw the pair again, I knew that the lessons that they taught me would never go away as I lived my life, never finding out that those rumors that Setzer was actually my father.