Forgive me for my nostalgic sentiments on Transformers and the God of Gamblers series that spawned this weirdness. I own neither the Knight nor the Lord. Also note, mild influence of Hikaru no Go. And another bout of forgiveness if I messed up the terms. I tried Wikipedia but it only served to confuse me more...
An Art of Stakes and Probability
Gambling, at its highest form, is an art. An art form that only a few could master to perfection. Of course, many of his comrades in arms would dismiss this all as a gambler's glorified rant, but if any of them had seen a true match between professionals (those who have no need for X-Ray vision scanners or hacking into spy cams), they would eat their words.
He could still recall a time where such experts and such a profession did exist once in Cybertron. Before the war destroyed them all. It may not be the most honorable profession, and almost all are illegal, but he could not deny the fact that during his earlier days, it had earned him his daily meals, a simple dwelling; then, his tuition fees for his degree study in psychology, as well as providing him a chance to practice his theory knowledge. But, most importantly, it had brought him some level of success later in life, and satisfaction. He had gotten to know the thrill of the game, the impulse that made his spark trembled, yet feeling fully alive; the sensation that made his energon run cold yet burn at the same time. Not to mention the exciting challenge provided by an equally skillful opponent; a meeting between two 'maestro' in complicated battlefield of numbers and stakes. It is no longer a simple game of luck; but one on a more complex level - a combination of silent, astute analysis; of probability, psychological warfare, and a test of one's expertise in pulling off a clean, undetected cheat right under so many eyes (or optics) and cameras, with a straight poker face.
"Straight flush."
The young Asian man, in all his T-shirt-&-Jeans glory, revealed his hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. On the opposite side of the 'table' - being the hood of a Xanavi Nissan 350Z, the Asian's opponent, an older Caucasian man in neater slacks and polo-T, took a second glance at his cards, his facial expression remain unchanged. Then, a similar wicked grin gradually carved upon his face.
"Royal flush."
"Ah, fuck!"
Leaning back on his foldable wooden chair, the younger man ran a hand through his black hair, letting out a sigh.
"Guess you win this round."
His opponent merely shrugged, as he gathered up the scattered cards.
"Well, you did won the previous round. It's a draw by now."
Both men settled for a short break, with the Asian man reaching for his can of chilled beer. His opponent preferred to just lean back and relax, not bothering to take a sip from his drink.
"So, a third round to determine the winner?"
The Caucasian, as he put down the deck of cards, spare a glance at his opponent, and replied with a smile.
"You're on."
His Asian opponent regarded him with an amused lopsided grin as he shuffled the deck of cards, brown eyes gleaming with glee.
"Don't feel too bad when you finally lost, though. The Knight of Gamblers ain't one you can beat that easy."
Glowing blue eyes narrowed with mirth, a twinkle of mischieve shown.
"Not unless your opponent happens to be the Gambling Lord of Vegas, who ruled unchallenged."
And the match continued between the two maestro of gambling. Passers-by would only see a normal game of poker, played on the hood of a sports car, between two young men, but would never have guessed the intensity and excitement behind the challenge. A competent opponent of equal calibre in a simple leisure match, something that Smokescreen had always missed from his good old orns as the undisputed Lord of Gamblers.
Note:
This is purely an experiment recipe. If it causes any indigestion, please inform me, and I offer my deepest apology. But if you think it's palatable, or delicious, I offer you my most sincere thanks.