Chapter 5: The Card Game
July 8th, AD 2169, 10:00 AM.
Location: Fortress Omega: Nicolas Fidel's personal hideout, G.U.N. General Headquarters, Somewhere in southern Greenland.
Nicholas Fidel, the undisputed dictator of the world, barely smiled as he looked at his cards. In his hands, he held a straight flush, one of the best hands in the entire game of poker. It was an old fashioned game of chance that had been popular for over three hundred years, but even now, it was still fun to play.
"I raise the pot by $10,000." Fidel said, placing ten 1,000 credit chips in the center of the table.
No one backed down, and the other five players added their $10,000 to the pile, raising the prize in the center to $100,000. They were playing in American currency, because it was the most valuable, and the money was accepted world-over.
The man to Nicholas's right, a big man with a scraggly red beard, eyed everyone at the table briefly, then took a card from the draw pile and discarded a two from his hand. He glanced briefly at his cards.
"I raise the pot by an additional $10,000." He said flatly, placing the chips in the center.
The next man placed his chips on the board, almost like he was board, and the third did so as well, raising the total in the center to $130,000. But the man across the table from Fidel was apparently feeling a bit bolder than the rest of them.
"I raise the bid to $20,000." the man with the short black beard and an old-fashioned cowboy hat declared in a booming voice.
The man to black beard's right promptly folded: he was running out of chips and couldn't play anymore this round, but everyone else added or upped what they added to the pot so that the total that they added was $20,000 each.
The play continued, until the drawing round was complete and it was now Fidel's turn again. No one else had folded yet, and the amount in the pot was over $1 million. He was thinking that it was time to make things interesting, as until now, he had just been toying with them. Fidel glanced briefly at his cards, the spoke calmly.
"Now that the pot has grown to more significant numbers, I raise the pot by $2 million." He said, without the slightest amount of emotion showing on his face.
The next two piled their $2 million into the center, bringing the total up to $5 million, which wasn't really all that much, as far as Nicholas was concerned.
The black bearded man spoke up, "I will raise that by $10 Million."
The next man in the line folded. Obviously, he thought that the black bearded man wasn't bluffing. But, Nicolas knew better.
So… this one thinks that he can bluff me out of the competition, so easily, eh…? Fidel thought to himself. Let me see how he handles this…
"I raise THAT by $10 million." Fidel responded flatly, glancing at the straight flush he had in his hands.
"You're on…" The man with the cowboy hat replied, with an ironic smile, as the other two folded. He was obviously a very convincing bluffer, but Fidel would not be tricked.
The price quickly tripled as the two of them raised the bets exponentially. Eventually, Fidel had to send the servant out to get chips of even higher value. Finally, those fateful words were spoken by the black bearded man.
"I'm all in…" Fidel's opponent whispered.
Fidel silently put the equivalent number of chips to that the man had added to his bet in the pot, raising the total to over $300 trillion; only a fraction of Fidel's fortune, but a flood of money to a common citizen. The stony faced world dictator laid down his cards face up, revealing the straight flush to the man with the cowboy hat who had come mysteriously out of nowhere to challenge him and four others to a game of poker.
The stranger didn't even blink, he laid his cards on the table, face down in front of Fidel, and then silently took all the chips. He pulled out a duffel bag, and poured all the chips into it and walked toward the door, his back straight.
Fidel flipped over the cards, then his eyes slightly widened in a moment in disbelief. His entire expression did not change at all, as he revealed a royal flush to the other five players.
Impossible! He thought, I am the best poker player known to man!
He moved his hand slowly toward the old desert eagle that he carried in the secret holster near his Boot, and then whipped it out, armed it faster than the eye could see, and then pointed it straight at the man who had just cheated him of $300 trillion. Fidel pulled the trigger three times, and the bullets hit the black bearded man in the back. There was no outcry, just a surprised gurgle as the blood flooded into his lungs. Fidel wasn't even fazed by the death of the victor, and his slight irritation burned like small embers deep inside his brain.
The man collapsed in a pool of blood, and the world dictator calmly unarmed the old handgun, and placed it back in its holster. He glanced at the other four competitors, who had looks of chagrin and sick outrage on their faces.
"I do not allow cheaters to escape me," Fidel said simply, as he leaned back in his chair. Portraying a sense of emotionless logic and calm was one of his greatest strengths. He pulled a cigar from out of one of his pockets, lit it, and then gave it a few puffs. "Nor would I allow someone to make off with even the smallest amount of my fortune in such a rude manner."
There was a hissing sound as the intercom turned on.
"Mr. Fidel, would you be kind enough to meet General Forte in the War Council Room?" The man spoke through the local radio, "The General has some extremely important information for you, which should be heard as soon as possible, sir."
The intercom turned off, and Fidel stood up. He walked casually over to the body in the doorway, and picked up the bag of the $300 trillion worth of poker chips.
"Gentlemen, I would like to stay and chat even further," Fidel said, casually swinging the duffel bag over his shoulder, "but I have some rather important business to attend to."
Without a second glance, or any expression on his grizzled face, the dictator calmly stepped over the body of the man he had just shot, and stumped out of the room.