Sheloran moves into her new home, a perfectly normal jail where nothing is HORRIBLY WRONG...
The rest of this series can be found here
***
“Well, it seems that we are going to get a chance to get to know each other after all!” Pam said cheerfully from behind a thick clear partition. “Goody!”
Sheloran just sat there on her padded cube miserably.
“Quite the scene in the courtroom!” Pam said brightly. “Woo! I have to say it takes a rare individual to tell any Terran judge to get fucked but Judge Thaddeus Carter himself… damn! You really let him freaking have it!”
“Yay me,” Sheloran said glumly.
“Yeah… maybe not the smartest move but if you are going to go down, go down guns blazing!” Pam said brightly. “You sure you aren’t a little Terran in a frog-suit?”
“Nope, just a plath… a very unlucky plath...”
“Oh I’m going to have to call bullshit on that one,” Pam smiled. “Oh, before we continue, I should introduce myself shouldn’t I?”
Pam drew herself up straight in her chair.
“I’m agent Pamela Dawson!” she said cheerfully. “I’m your profiler!”
“My profiler?”
“Yep!” Pam exclaimed enthusiastically. “It’s my job to figure out what makes you tick and let me tell you, that’s going to be fun!”
Sheloran looked at her suspiciously.
“Don’t feel too special. Most people here have a profiler,” she said with a grin. “You guys are just too interesting!”
“We are?”
“Sure!” she replied. “We host one of the greatest collections of… unique personalities, truly gifted humans and kalesh, exotic xeno threats, and the like anywhere in the galaxy! It’s a gathering of extremes, true one of a kinds! Normal humans, or any of the standard races for that matter, are boring! You guys? Not boring! I mean, a plath? Here?!? If someone told me two days ago that I would be chatting with a plath guest I would have told you that you were high… (and to give me some!)”
Pam leaned forward on her desk and whispered into the mic.
“Actually I would have had to look up what a plath was… and THEN I would have told you that I wanted a hit off of whatever pipe you were smoking! Oh! Speaking of...”
Pam tapped on her tablet and a doorway opened. An armed and armored combat drone floated in…
Carrying a tray that had a bottle of absinthe (her favorite brand!) a beautiful absinthe glass, chilled water, slotted spoon, and a small dish of sugar cubes.
“Care for a drink?” she asked. “We took the liberty of sneaking a peek into your hotel and this stuff would be repugnant beyond words to your roommate so we figured it was for you!”
“Um… thanks?” Sheloran said as she walked over. She opened the bottle and took a sniff.
“If we wanted to poison or drug you we would just gas you!” Pam said cheerfully as she pointed up at some very suspicious looking vents in the ceiling. “Or we’d have one of the bots hold you down...”
Sheloran carefully prepared herself a much needed drink and took a long sip. Oh she needed that.
“Is that your favorite?” Pam asked. “You get an alcohol ration. It would have to come pre-mixed though. We give you a drink or six a day, not a whole fucking bottle!”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Sheloran as she sipped her absinthe suspiciously (still drank it though).
“I was wondering when you would ask,” Pam smiled. “Everyone asks that eventually. The easy answer is because it’s easy.”
Sheloran just looked at her in confusion.
“You are among the elite. You guys are the worst of the worst, the most deadly of the deadly, the baddest of the bad. You guys thrive on misery. Adversity empowers you. Brutality only gives you strength. Hell, most of you actually like it.”
“I don’t like it!” Sheloran squeaked sipping her absinthe.
“We could make this a living hell,” Pam chuckled, “but why exert ourselves so much just to suit you, make you stronger, more dangerous? Tartarus isn’t a ‘jail’ or even a ‘prison’. It’s a warehouse. It is our assigned task to store some of the most dangerous biological weapons in the galaxy, people like you. We aren’t concerned with punishment, or reform. Both concepts are a complete waste of time when we are dealing with individuals like yourself or anyone else here. Do you have any idea who we have in here?!? We can’t do shit to them! What they have been through… what they put themselves through just for fun sometimes… It’s literally impossible to punish them. Beat you down? Seriously? The concept is laughable. What lash would we use on someone like Tiberius Shane? Starve you? What privations would we use on ‘The Maiden’ that could bring her to her knees? Intimidate you? What would we possibly confront Kvash The Wounder with to make him flinch? It’s a complete waste of effort. Shit. You fucks would just view it as free entertainment.”
Sheloran’s eyes widened as she sipped her drink. Who was she going to be tossed in here with?
“The list goes on and on,” Pam chuckled. “Nobody in here is going to break. If they could safely be brought to heel they wouldn’t be here in the first place!”
“I can!” Sheloran squeaked nervously.
Pam just laughed.
“You are actually a prime example,” she chuckled. “I’m still crunching your numbers but you are ‘just a normal everyday plath’, completely ‘nice’, totally ‘docile’ (at least where violence goes)...”
“I am!”
“… until you get ‘pushed’...” Pam smiled wickedly. “Then you enter some sort of fugue state and become incredibly dangerous with the reaction times and target acquisition speed easily equal to that of a ‘sufficiently trained, fully enhanced, human special operative’. We have you on tape, both your own and the restaurant’s footage… would you like to see?”
Sheloran just shook her head.
“Well take my word for it,” Pam enthused, “when you black out shit gets freaky and you can go toe to toe with anyone, not just Harkeen thugs, and that’s before we even begin to talk about your ‘other abilities’. It’s in our best interest to keep you feeling comfortable and even more importantly, safe. I would much rather deal with you, than… you...”
“Other abilities?”
“Your innate technological abilities for one!” Pam exclaimed. “You just throw together the coolest little toys! The stuff you normally make is neat! The shit you made while in the Twilight Zone… The techies are still trying to figure out your Barn-Mart specials! Any info you feel like laying on us would be deeply appreciated!”
“I… I learned it from a video game...” Sheloran stammered.
“I like you!” Pam replied cheerfully. “I’m not sure if you actually believe that or are just a really good liar but I’m going to let you in on something,” she said as she pulled out the pistol she discarded in front of the hospital from a drawer in her desk, “This didn’t come from a video game. We checked them all.”
“It… It was based on one! That’s where I learned-”
“Advanced electronics? Weaponsmithing? High level electric and electronic engineering? Advanced physics?” Pam asked, “And something else that we are still trying to figure out… Even this little toy has some very smart very educated people very very excited.”
“I just tweaked it a little,” Sheloran said uncomfortably.
“Sure you did,” Pam winked. “Those little tweaks have some quite highly paid people not only a little confused, but actually a bit pissed off. Why didn’t you just use this little monster? It was certainly up for the task!”
“Because I wanted them to-” Sheloran started to hiss and then clamped her hands over her mouth with a squeak.
“Suffer?” Pam asked her eyes gleaming malevolently? “Oh don’t worry,” she smiled. “I’m not DOJ and we have little interest in supporting their little games. We honestly do not care.”
“DOJ?”
“Department of Justice,” Pam smiled. “Not me. I don’t get paid to do those people’s jobs for them. I mean if we catch you planning a crime outside of this facility then yeah, we clue them in, but as far as helping them with a current investigation or trial? Pssh. I’ve got better things to do than become an active threat for one of our residents or guests. I mean, we think we got all the bases covered but… we aren’t you now are we? I am NOT going to be the reason you black out next time! They don’t pay me nearly enough for that bullshit.”
“Who… who are you with then?”
“The facility was built by and the exterior and outer spaces are guarded by the Republic armed forces,” Pam replied. “As far as who I and the rest of the internal and administrative staff goes, let’s just say that we serve the Republic and leave it at that.”
“Intelligence?” Sheloran asked in alarm.
“...We serve the Republic...” Pam smiled. “As a guest, all you need to know is that you will be well provided for and are completely safe. Everywhere you will go is covered by auto-turrets and patrolled by combat drones and we don’t use stunners. If someone starts trouble then they will stop… instantly. Even you can’t dodge them. Please inform your alter-ego. Even the most aggressive, violent, combative person here isn’t keen to throw their life away when there won’t even be a fight. No fun, no glory, just… darkness. That plus our two wardens, warden lassitude and warden corpulence, keep most people in line. I won’t bother telling you to relax or try to reassure you further but you will see. Things aren’t bad here at all! In fact, a lot of people are very happy to call this place home!”
A second combat bot entered the room carrying a small athletic bag and a tablet.
“That is your bag,” Pam said cheerfully. “You got a change of clothes, some undies (based on what we found in your hotel), and some slippers that I’m pretty sure you will like. There is also a tablet. You can use that to check the schedule, watch some vids, and communicate with me, of course!” Pam enthused. “You need anything or have any questions… or just want to talk, feel free to give me a call at any time. I do eat and sleep but I check my messages all the time!”
“Um… thanks...” Sheloran said dubiously.
“And if you want to chat with someone out there in the real world you can request a monitored line!” Pam enthused. “Someone’s going to be listening in, of course, but at least it’s something, right?”
“Uh, ok...” Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. She would send messages through Baxlon. That was probably monitored too but if they acted on it Baxlon would eat them alive!
“Just follow the bot and it will take you to your new temporary home (fingers crossed, right?)” Pam smiled.
“Follow me, ma’am,” one of the bots said in a disturbingly human sounding voice as it hovered off.
Sheloran, clutching her tablet and bag, followed.
After she left, Pam’s friendly smile faded to an expressionless mask, her warm eyes glazing over and turning to ice.
She pulled out a communicator.
“Hello,” a dead, expressionless male voice answered.
“I have a candidate,” Pam replied with a cold purr. “She needs to become a resident. See to it.”
“I will inform the DOJ,” the man replied and hung up.
Pam reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a simple white armband emblazoned with a three-headed hound embroidered in black and silver thread.
She strapped it to her right arm and with near mechanical precision, rose and walked to the door.
As it opened, two guards leveled their shotguns at her.
She smiled at the fear in their eyes. They lived only because she let them and they knew it.
“I’m ready to return to my cell,” she said in a dead voice.
***
She was shown to a small cell with a bunk bed and a pair of desks… as well as a really really exposed showetoilet/sink combo.
Wow. It was just hanging out right there in the corner, just like she would be whenever she used it.
At least the door could close (and lock?) whenever she wanted it to.
If the door can close and lock that means…
She searched the room and, yep, sensors. Her every single move was tracked.
At least they weren’t cameras. She could at least hope for a modicum of privacy.
She turned to the bunks. The bottom one was occupied so she started setting up on the top one.
“Hey,” a male voice said.
It was one of the guys from the hall that was clapping when she lost her pooping mind (again).
Wait! There were men here?!?
“You’re a man!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“Was last time I checked,” he laughed. “Guys and girls are all mixed together here… I know. Weird, right?”
Sheloran just nodded.
“They say that the place is so secure they only need to make one. If anyone acts stupid…” he put two fingers to his head “Zap! Besides, everyone is fucking deadly here and everybody knows it! They also say it helps keep us ‘properly socialized’ or some bullshit like that. Don’t know about that but it’s nice having women around, even if I don’t have a girlfriend… yet! Name’s Roop, nice to meet you!”
“Sheloran,” she replied.
“I heard you today in the cubes!” he said. “Fucking badass, man!”
“Yeah, I sure told them...” Sheloran said ruefully.
“Oh your cellie is in the day room,” Roop said. “She practically lives in there. She’s one of the Grimdark Fifty-Thousand nerds. It’s almost like you have a private room!”
“Well, that will make pooping easier.”
Roop burst out laughing.
“You’re alright,” he said. “So, what are you in for?”
“Oh I really shouldn’t-”
Roop laughed some more.
“Cha-ka!” he laughed as he mimicked cracking a whip. “Just kidding! Everyone knows why you’re here! Those fucking threen picked the wrong madam to fuck with! Fucking brutal, man! The way you just walked in there… and then just sat down and ordered fucking breakfast!… Invited fucking SWAT to join you!… Didn’t even flinch when they hit you with the flash bangs!… Just raised your fucking coffee mug!… Pure motherfucking class!”
Sheloran winced.
“Hey, you wanna go grab a beer?” he asked. “I have two comin’.”
“Oh I appreciate it but-”
“I know, ‘nothing’s free in the joint’ but trust me, here it fucking is! I get six beers a day not counting all the weed! You won’t owe me a fucking thing!”
“You already sniffing around the new girl?” a husky female voice laughed as a huge human woman loomed into view. “I done told you you will probably have to wait till you become a resident to hook up!”
A gigantic tattooed woman gave Roop an affectionate headlock.
“Don’t mind Roop,” the woman laughed. “Horny little fuck’s been humpin’ everybody’s leg since he got here!”
“It wasn’t like that!” Roop protested. “I was just welcoming the new guy!”
“Uh-huh...” The mountain of a woman laughed. “Tell you what,” she grinned. “If you act right, you can come by my room later and I’ll give you a little bit.”
Roop’s eyes lit up.
“Really?!?”
“Sure! Why not!” the huge woman said. “Your sack must be about ready to pop! How long has it been?”
“Nine years...” Roop said, almost whining.
“Well no wonder you are so wound up!” she laughed. “Let me take care of business here and I’ll take you to heaven right after!”
“Really?!?!?” Roop replied.
“Get a load of this guy,” the woman laughed. “Yes, Roop, really. Now go to my room and wait.” “Yes, ma’am!” he exclaimed almost in ecstasy.
He started to sprint away but paused and turned to Sheloran.
“I was serious about grabbing a beer with ya!”
“Get out of here!” The woman said swatting Roop’s butt.
He left at a sprint.
“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!!!” he voice cried out as he ran.
“Forgive Roop,” she laughed. “He really wasn’t trying to trick you into owing him. He’s just trying to be nice. Hard to believe he chopped up his entire family.”
“Eeep!”
“But we don’t judge here,” the woman said. “It’s one of our rules. I’m Lee but everyone calls me Momma Bear. I’m the resident advisor for the block.”
“Resident advisor?”
“Yeah,” Lee replied. “I’m a ‘resident’ here, a lifer, and I live down here with you guests to help you guys out. Are you familiar with the trustee system?”
Sheloran shook her head.
“Well, here in Tartarus, we prisoners operate this place. We keep it running, keep it clean, and keep it orderly. You will only see the guards when you are in the outer ‘shell’. Once you enter the ‘core’ it’s just us… and the sensors, turrets, and bots of course. We trustees are the bosses. We assign jobs, wipe noses, swat butts, and whatever else that needs doing. You have any questions or need something I’m your girl. Just come see Momma Bear and I’ll point you in the right direction.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sheloran said meekly.
“You can drop that ‘ma’am’ bullshit. Call me either Lee or Momma Bear. We are here for a reason after all! I’m no better than you! I’ve just been here longer, that’s all!” she said with an odd look in her eye for a moment.
She shook herself.
“Anyway, stash your shit and I will show you around!”
***
“… and don’t screw with the bots,” Lee said as they strolled the block. “They aren’t packing stunners and they will kill you. If they say something, listen. They will only say it once.”
Sheloran just nodded as she looked around.
“And see the bot with the gold markings?” Lee continued. “Those are ‘manned’. There is a guard piloting it. You want to talk to the man, just talk to one of those. If you ever have a problem with someone or feel even a little unsafe and you can’t find me or if you don’t want to talk to me about it for some reason, go to a goldie. Just don’t try to ‘take care of it’ yourself. There are too many turrets and drones. You will die. I’m serious about that. Don’t test them.”
“Ok,” Sheloran squeaked.
“Let’s see...” Lee said as she looked out across the common area. “There!” she exclaimed as she pointed at a specially decorated gold drone. “See the one with the star? That’s officer Jax! He’s the block’s concierge officer. He’s your point of contact as far as the man goes. Between him and me we can take care of whatever you need. Let’s go say hello!”
***
Officer Jax was really nice.
After they met with him Lee said that she had to go and ‘take care’ of Roop.
With a big grin and a wave she left.
When it was time for lunch Sheloran was amazed. Everything was so yummy! Oh it was so nice! There was this massive salad bar loaded down with apples, and oranges, and bananas and those wonderful tomatoes that Terra had. Everything was so fresh! They say that it’s because they grow a lot of it here!
Oh! And the olive bar! Great Prophet it was so good!
And you could go back as much as you wanted!
They even had these ‘fountains’ that had chocolate pouring down the sides in thick sheets and you could dip fruit and bread and all sorts of things in it! Wow! She had never seen anything like that before!
She didn’t have her dispensary card yet but it was “sangria day” so she could get a glass or two (She discovered that she absolutely adored sangria!) and nobody minded. They just said that she could just ‘pour in’ next time. In fact they insisted and kept filling up her cup until a bot said that she had had enough. (Ok, just one more glass then that’s it!)
She was still nervous as anything but everyone was really nice to her. In fact, she was a bit of a celebrity. It turns out that she was all over the news and everyone knew what she had done and what she had said to Judge Dredd.
There were even people who wanted to be her boyfriend!…
And one person who wanted to be her girlfriend!
Everyone wants to be my ‘friend’ except for a pooping plath! Sheloran thought ruefully as she politely declined yet another offer.
She was a little bit flattered though. When people expressed ‘interest’ before it was because she was a ‘cute’ little xeno. They were interested in ‘what’ she was…
Here, they were offering because of ‘who’ she was, what she had done. They wanted to be with her because she was a badass, one of them.
It was different… and a little bit exciting if she was being perfectly honest. They actually wanted her! It didn’t matter if she was weird… or even that she was “bad”… They actually wanted her!
Maybe she could… No! Absolutely not! Poop! What was she thinking?
And she wasn’t ‘one of them’!…
Was she?…
Completely overwhelmed, she retreated to her room and locked the door.
She hoped that her cellie was nice.
She pulled a really nice blanket over her head and hid for awhile.
***
[Chatroom UNDEFINED]
[Private Chatroom UNDEFINED]
[Present: Bunny]
[Interpol-2 has entered the chat]
///Bunny: Oh shit! Five-Oh! Five-Oh!///
///Interpol-2: Good afternoon, Bunny :) Keeping out of trouble (at least in the Republic)? ///
///Bunny: Funny you should mention that...///
///Interpol-2: Goddammit, Bunny! YOU PROMISED!///
///Bunny: I promise a lot of shit :D ///
///Interpol-2: So why the summons? You just wanted to gloat?///
///Bunny: I need a teeny, tiny, almost insignificant little favor.///
///Interpol-2: You actually expect me to assist you in… BREAKING THE LAW?!?///
///Bunny: Yep! :D ///
///Interpol-2: I should just log off and issue an alert but I simply have to know. What the hell are you planning and exactly why the FUCK should I help you?///
///Bunny: You know the Tartarus Detention Facility?///
///Interpol-2: Bunny… You can’t be serious!///
///Bunny: :) ///
///Interpol-2: One. It’s impossible, even for you and two… there is no two! It’s suicide!///
///Bunny: Care to make a little wager then? The bet: We hit the place, break out exactly who we want and only who we want and then escape without a trace.///
///Interpol-2: I know we’ve enjoyed a little wager or two in the past but not this time! This is too much! The fucking Cerberus program is in there! Please tell me this isn’t about them!///
///Bunny: Relax, we aren’t touching any of the hounds. Even we have our limits! No, this is just good old-fashioned high treason. ///
///Interpol-2: High treason? WTF? I thought you guys were on our side!///
///Bunny: Relax, it has to do with the Kung-Fu Cunny. ///
///Interpol-2: Oh, that’s cool then! :D I’ll take a piece of that action! (but no touchy Cerberus!) God! It would be GREAT if Tart got taken down a peg or three!///
///Bunny: We’re going after a guest. We aren’t getting anywhere near the residential levels.///
///Interpol-2: And you need me to make this happen?///
///Bunny: Hell no! The day I need your help to pull off a job is the day I start doing people’s taxes for a living!///
///Interpol-2: Then what do you want?///
///Bunny: You want to hear something fucking hilarious?///
///Interpol-2: I could use a laugh. ///
***
Sheloran entered the dining hall expectantly.
If anything lunch was just a warm-up!
Supper was amazing! She grabbed a plate of grilled veggies and gleefully raided the salad bar.
She paused over the pile of goodies in front of her as she gave thanks to the Great Prophet for the feast. She might be stuck here for well… maybe forever… but at least the food was good!
She wondered what their gardens were like. She bet they were awesome and wondered how long it would be before she could see them.
As she raised the first forkful of goodness to her waiting mouth a blur zipped in and landed across from her.
“Hi!” a slightly built blonde female exclaimed. “I’m Zippo! Your cellie! Sorry I didn’t meet you before but the Bionids were launching a raid and we had to put those foul xenos down in the name of the Emperor!… Sorry… I don’t mean ‘xeno’ like you I mean ‘xeno’ like xenos! I play Grimdark! Do you like Grimdark? It’s awesome! You can read my books if you want! We have a great community here! I hear its even better once you become a Resident! You slash stuff up, huh? I saw the news! Pretty cool! I like fire! I burn stuff! I just can’t help it! I just love to watch flames you know! Did you know that fire meets all of the requirements for life itself? It does! That’s how I got here! I just kept burning stuff! Did you know you can start a fire with just...”
Oh Creators... Sheloran thought in horror. This was her pooping cell mate?… Great…
“… And they were really mean to me there, so I burned them up! Oh how they screamed! It was so funny!...”
Wait. What? Sheloran thought in alarm as she caught that last bit.
“You burned your cell mates?” Sheloran asked her eyes widening in alarm.
“Well, the people in my bay,” Zippo replied. “We didn’t have ‘cells’ we all lived in one big room which made it really easy to get them all! See what I did was...”
I have a killer for a cell mate… Great… Sheloran thought glumly and then chuckled. Of course she did. She was here after all.
“… and then BOOM! WOOSH!” Zippo said as she threw her arms wide. “Everything burned! I used to be a chemistry major! Straight A’s! That’s how I knew you could make-”
“Excuse me.” Sheloran said after she swallowed a slice of perfectly ripe avocado.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you burn your fellow prisoners again?”
“Because they wouldn’t stop beating on me! They said I talked too much! Anyway, like I was saying I used to be a chemistry major so I knew you could take the detergent and mix it with...”
There it is, Sheloran chuckled. She was wondering where the turd in the salad was. At least she spent most of the day playing that Grimdark game.
“… but don’t worry! I’m not burning anything anymore! I can’t! I don’t wanna die… or worse!”
“Worse?”
“You DON’T want to go where they send you if you get ‘voted off of the island’!”
“Where’s that?” Sheloran asked, quite concerned. Knowing the universe’s fondness for pooping on her head she was probably going to go there too.
“Oh it’s bad!” Zippo said with big eyes. “It’s called the-”
Zippo trailed off into wide-eyed silence as four elderly people quietly walked up.
“Good evening, Zip,” an old man said with a smile. “Mind if we chat with your friend here?”
“Sure!” Zippo squeaked and quickly grabbed her tray and fled.
“You’re welcome,” the man said as he sat down across from her. “Five minutes with that girl is more than enough for anyone. I’m Martin,” he said as he extended his hand.
“Sheloran, nice to meet you,” she replied as she shook it.
“Kid,” Martin said, “You got style. You handled your business, yourself. You didn’t send some punk. You even did it with style. Didn’t bother trying to run, just sat yourself down and ordered breakfast, even tipped your waiter. Class act. Much respect.”
“Um, thanks?”
“And you didn’t scrape and beg in front of that judge,” Martin smiled. “Fuck the Republic and Fuck you too… classic! Wish I had said something that badass when I was on trial.”
“That was kind of a mistake, actually,” Sheloran replied.
“Heh… probably,” Martin said as they all laughed. “But some mistakes you just gotta make!”
He leaned forward.
“I just got one question,” he asked. “Why did you do it? Why did you kill those fuckers?”
Sheloran just sighed. Just be yourself, right?
“They hurt my people,” Sheloran snarled. “innocent people, people who hadn’t done a pooping thing to anyone… made her kid watch while they...”
Sheloran hissed.
“Nobody hurts my people and gets away with it!”
The group all looked at each other and nodded.
“Kid,” Martin smiled. “You ever hear of ‘The Saints’?…”
“No?”
“We are a… professional association… of like minded individuals,” Martin smiled. “From all across the Republic… A ‘union’ of sorts… a union that you might benefit from joining.”
“Look, Martin,” Sheloran said carefully, “I appreciate it but I just want to get through this without getting in any more trouble...”
They all laughed.
“We aren’t some pissant prison gang,” Martin chuckled. “I’m talking about when you beat the rap. You are running a pretty nice little game on your own but as you have found out, it can be hard without people at your back… and with The Saints you can take your little game and make it a lot bigger. We don’t do shit here except our time. The only ‘perk’ you get here is that Zippo won’t crash your lunch. She steers clear of us. She doesn’t want the Orggs wiping out her legion like last time she crossed us.”
“Yeah, little bitch tried playing in the big leagues,” a silver-haired woman snarled. “We crunched up all her tasty little smurfs!”
“It’s the closest thing to a shanking we could manage around here,” Martin chuckled. Krista here does board games, I do cards, Sven handles the FPS and RTS racket. You game?
Sheloran smiled.
“A little...”

This is to conclude my adventure notes, thoughts, and lessons learned from forcing myself to use different monsters and having one of my players admit that he killed his family to the rest of the group.
Like those posts, this is probably going to be wrong. So I'll try to break it up into digestible sections with titles - and I'll try to be less wordy with future contributions to the subreddit. But I'm a man of the people, and McSkids said s/he wanted this.

The Second Adventure

Istelastrix needs your help

In case you don't remember from Part 2 of these posts, or didn't read the other ones: Istelastrix was the enigmatic villain of my party's last adventure. What ostensibly began as a quest to evict some squatters from a brother-of-a-friend's new mansion, devolved into a quest to save a paper drake from undead fey.
After my party made it home and celebrated a job well done, Istelastrix inexplicably turned up with considerable embarrassment. She needed the party's help. As it turns out, she was turned into an undead as part of a bargain with the Fey Queen of Night and Magic, to deliver or destroy an ancient fey-killing artifact to the archfey. The paperdrake the party now has in its possession has the map Istelastrix needs to find the artifact, and thus win her independence.
Of course, the party believed Istelastrix's story - ancient artifact, evil giants, world shattering power, that kind of thing - they just didn't believe she had truly altruistic intentions. After all, how many undead do you meet that are good guys? Well here comes one of my attempts to present my party with an interesting, nuanced, sympathetic ally. Istelastrix took a fool's bargain, inexorably tied to the whims of a capricious patron, desperate for her independence from the damnable archfey - she wants the same independence and freedom that was an overarching theme of the general campaign, where the party had conquered a ruined keep and declared its independence/sovereignty from the rest of the world.
My party didn't care very much. I think it was a two-part failure: One, I didn't do a good job engaging my players in a way that made them care about the NPC. I played her as a stilted, standoffish, and secretive NPC who was clearly embarrassed to need the party's help and lashed out at them frequently as a result. If we had concluded the adventure, she was supposed to have a turning point eventually where the players got some insight to her mental state / motivation, which hopefully would have made them understand. Two, I didn't do a good job of estimating what my players cared about; my players, like the stereotype of women you learn from every "pickup artist" tutorial, knew if they wanted to like an NPC within the first 10 minutes and disregarded anyone who didn't make the cut.
Unfortunately, that is the biggest weakness (for me) with Roll20. It's very hard to gauge what engages my party, and what falls completely flat. As the DM, your job is to facilitate fun; for most groups, I would argue that you can measure fun by how much everyone laughs or cheers, but there is a lot to be said for building tension, or even using frustration, confusion, mystery, subtlety, and other tools to engage your players. But (at least for me) it takes a lot of nonverbal cues to see if you are getting the intended effect or not. And some players play with push-to-talk, so you may make them roll out of their chair laughing or shouting triumphantly, but if they don't hit the button it's like your DMing is met with complete silence. Maybe my party could all invest in webcams, but then I couldn't DM in my PJs and stuff my face.
I've run into a similar situation again in the campaign I'm currently running. My party met a vampire Lady who made a dark pact with Evil forces as a way to prolong her life long enough to be able to free her husband from an Imprisonment spell. The party popped in long enough to borrow some of her late husband's research notes on Vecna and 86'd. And again, I don't think it's a failure to make a complex character - it's a failure to make a complex character that engages my party. All of the creative writing and lore in the world is useless in actual D&D play if you don't supply it with a reason for your players to care. It's honestly one of my most recurring problems, and I'm sure it's something a lot of DMs have experienced: I'll put in a lot of effort to part of my world, only for my party to care way more about throwaway comments and improvised details.

Istelastrix's Quest

According to Istelastrix, there is an island that is magically protected, but conveniently nearby to the party's current location. Unlike a normal location on the map, however, sailing to this island isn't just about going to the right place; it requires sailing at the right angle, at the right time, and even thinking about the right thing. Why? A wizard did it.
Anyway, Istelastrix carries two important things: A magic adamantine sword that does force damage, and a Rod of Anti-Magic. I don't know what the real RoAM does according to the DMG, but for the purposes of my game, the Rod permanently dispels any effect or magic item it is touched to. Including artifacts. I didn't think this would be a big deal because it was on the NPC's belt, it wasn't something the party could just abuse as much as they wanted. I was wrong.
She was given the Rod by her benefactor. If Istelastrix could not recover the McGuffin magic artifact, she was to touch the Rod to it and destroy it.
After some terse negotiation, the party agreed to hand over the paperdrake so it could display the map it was hiding, but they had to come with Istelastrix to ensure this artifact isn't going to be stolen for nefarious purposes. She acquiesced, after putting up a show of argument; in reality, she was terrified of her quest. Trying to recover the McGuffin is how she died, after all, and there were no second 2nd chances if she died on the island again.

So what is this artifact? What does it do? What is it named?

That was all kept pretty vague... I always thought "well I don't need that info for a couple sessions, I'll think of something when I need to." I don't even remember what the artifact is called. Something giant-sounding, like the Ahlmhammer or something. The point is that it's somewhere on this island, and there are 3-8 party level appropriate encounters on the way. I'm going to start calling it McG for short because McGuffin gets repetitive.

To The Island

Sailing

The party grabbed some no-name NPCs and a ship we... uh... liberated from its owners during a previous adventure. The players + Istelastrix set sail, and immediately ran into DM fiat. You see, the island is shrouded in fog; worse, the ocean itself is one giant speaker for the Bardjotun. Unbeknownst to the party, the giant with bard levels that was supposed to be the BBEG lived deep underneath the island; he had brass tubes bored through miles of rock, reaching from the ceiling of his chamber up into the ocean overhead; which he played his instrument, it reverberated all of these pipes and made the ocean for a mile around ripple with his enchanting music. Is this realistic at all? No. But I think it makes a pretty badass bard villain.
Anyway, the party had to roll an arbitrarily high saving throw to resist the bard's magic. They all failed because that's what I needed to happen for the adventure to continue. Pro tip: That is one of the best signs that you didn't write a very good adventure.
The party wakes up to find their ship damaged and marooned on a beach, with their crew missing. Footsteps in the sand lead into the jungle. Where did the crew go? Where are we? How do we get back off the island? Do we roll initiative yet?

The Island

The first clue the party got that the island was unnatural, other than the fact that it requires a magic map to find, is the way that it continually slopes upward. Almost like a rounded pyramid or layers of concentric rings, the island came to a point with an impressive mountain peak at its center, but there was a lot of jungle between the party and the island center.
The second clue the party got involved the number of gorillas. The party had the creeping sensation that they were being watched as they passed into the jungle. I don't remember exactly how or what happened, but they realized that seemingly intelligent gorillas were following them from a safe distance. Then they became paranoid of all animals they encountered.
One of the big dangers on the island was a reflavored enemy: The Plantercap. If you take the stats of an ettercap, and replace its web spitting ability with an identical sap glob spitting ability, give it weakness to fire, and some swarms of insects, and suddenly your party is fighting Bellsprout.
The party also encountered the remains of a giant's camp. Including a giant-sized lean-to, and a giant-sized fire pit. In case the party still hadn't realized by now, the adventure was going to include a lot of giants.

The Village of Hill Giants

To the party's surprise, they encountered a village of hill giants. They expected an impossible fight to break out, but realized that the giants didn't pay any attention to them. Out of curiosity, the party found a hill giant that could speak Common, and asked him wtf was going on.
The hill giant explained that "little people" came through the village all the time on their way to serve the Bardjotun. They were the first travelers to ever stop and talk to them. The hill giant didn't understand what was going on, but the party was able to piece together the fact that most people were in a trance from the bard's magic, and walked through the hill giant village on their way to be enslaved, killed, eaten, or whatever the bard did with them. They also learned about the "Builders," and after a fashion they realized that the hill giant was talking about the gorillas. If the party wanted more information, they needed to go find "Markopolos."
The party thought the -opolos name meant they were looking for a city, not a person. You would think as soon as they met Markopolos they would realize it was his name, but I kid you not they assumed the NPC who said "I am Markopolos" was speaking euphemistically, like if one of those inspirational Youtube commercials had 30 people say "I am New York" and stand in solidarity or something. It took almost a whole session for me to realize that they still thought they were looking for a city.

Markopolos's Trouble

The party comes to a large break in the jungle, and finds several things they did not expect:

1. The gorillas work in teams to transport all kinds of materials and supplies. This includes buckets of dirt, or huge stone blocks that are lashed to two or more gorillas to drag behind them. Some are even using tools like pickaxes or shovels to help gather materials, and drag them off to unknown purposes in the jungle. Some head towards the center mountain, some head towards the beach.
2. There is a colorful tent and market stall on an artificial plateau. The land has been scooped up in a wide, deep circle. A foppishly dressed humanoid chitters to himself nervously, trapped on the island.
3. A female fire giant seems to be orchestrating the entire thing, directing the gorillas' work and occasionally yelling insults at the merchant.

According to the hill giants, the party needs Markopolos's help to reach the center of the island. They realize the fire giant is using the name "Markopolos" between her insults, which are mostly in Giant. She is mad at, and has trapped, the NPC they need!
As it turns out, Jadeowyn Flamepearl (Jade-oh-win) is another helpful giant. She's also the entire reason why I started writing Part 1 and my motivation to do Part 2 of these posts. And here I am 2 weeks later just finally getting to her. Anyway, I went into a lot of detail describing Ms. Flamepearl and unlike my other NPCs, she went over really well with my party. A lot of these ideas come from reading up on fire giant lore in the MM and Volo's Guide:
Jadeowyn is metal. Her ear rings are the metal bands from casks of ale; her lapel button is a halfling's buckler shield; her necklace is made from the melted down blades of her enemies; the ring on one of her fingers is a piton she beat into shape; etc etc. She didn't wear a ton of jewelry, but everything she wore used to be some kind of weapon, tool, or other metal object. I wish I remembered what key words to google to find the picture I used for her. I think she even pierced one of her ears with a gnome's spear.
Well as the party came to find out, Markopolos was an unusually gabby lizardfolk. He referred to himself with the impressive title "Markopolos the Merchantomancer" (he's mortal enemies with one of my other characters, a goblin who calls himself a Salesmanomancer). He was in a bit of a tiff with his now ex-girlfriend, Jadeowyn. How does a fire giant and a lizardfolk fall in love? I'm not entirely sure. But she used to be top dog on the island and the main enforcer for the Bardjotun; she even did the design and construction on the giant's underground lair, replete with all the pipes that allow him to project his music to ships passing within a few miles of the island. That was until the Bardjotun decided that the low-class stone giants should live in the mountain instead, and kicked her out. Suffice to say, she's actually happy to find out the party is not under the bard's trance effect, and is glad to help them defeat the bard - but she isn't letting Markopolos leave until he apologizes.
What did Markopolos do? He did what any bad boyfriend does: He promised to get Jadeowyn a beautiful new piece of jewelry for their anniversary, with zero plan on how to get it. He's trapped on the island just like everyone else, and it's not exactly teeming with high end jewelry stores.
Thinking quickly, Markopolos took a dagger from an adventurer who died on the island. It had a glistening diamond pommel; he gave it to Jadeowyn and told her it was a "nose stud." She went to stick it in her nose but realized what it was. She obviously doesn't care about impaling herself with (comparatively) small weapons as jewelry, as I already described; she's upset because Mark lied to her about what the gift was. So Jadeowyn used her innate move earth ability and her army of gorillas to carve a moat around Mark's merchant tent until he apologized.
Markopolos now needs the party to either find him a suitable piece of jewelry to apologize with, or to go recover the dagger so he can present it to Jadeowyn with honesty. Either way, it was not the kind of sidequest my party was expecting XD.

Recovering the Dagger

My players decided looking for the dagger was easier. They knew that Jadeowyn angrily flung it into the jungle, and that a beast referred to as Snarfrattle collected discarded trinkets. Its lair was nearby and lo and behold, he didn't in fact have the dagger in his hoard + some gold and other goodies. You may be thinking wow that was a really short, easy problem to solve, not much of a quest, but I did not plan for the party sticking around this long. Jadeowyn did her job of giving more exposition and warning the party that they needed to fight stone giants, now I needed Markopolos free to show the party where to go.
Snarfrattle, the party discovered, was a polymorphed young dragon with an appropriate Cr to their level. The encounter was a super rush job because I did not prep for this session very well. They fought a giant hyena in a cave that had a breath weapon like a dragon, and when its HP got low enough it revealed itself as a black or green dragon (I don't remember which he was), and the party killed him. I did zero foreshadowing that Snarfrattle wasn't just a giant animal or giving the party any kind of warning on what they were about to fight.
They party succeeded, however. No one went down in the fight... except Istelastrix. And while she lay on the ground making death saving throws, the party debated whether they should kill her, leave her for dead, or heal her. They still did not trust her, after all, and they didn't see her as useful anymore now that they were on the island and knew about the artifact they could take for themselves. Well the party compromised and agreed to heal her - after one of the players stole her Rod of Anti-Magic and disenchanted her sword and her armor. Yeah. Imagine waking up and your warlock pact weapon is just a mundane piece of metal. Definitely the last thing I expected my players to do. I obviously didn't want it to happen; I had envisioned Istelastrix standing by the party's side heroically in the final battle with the BBEG, but I gave my players the resource and the opportunity to make her nearly inconsequential. Good thing she still had Eldritch Blast.
The party returned with the dagger, which indeed had a gleaming diamond pommel. They took it back to Markopolos, and coached him on how to apologize to Jadeowyn. Her heart melted "like ore in the furnace" and she took him back. She thought the diamond was too gaudy, however, and pried it from the dagger's hilt before sticking it in her nose as the most badass nose stud of all time.

A Brief Aside on Magic Items

The diamond itself was a magic item I generated from random rolls in the DMG. I think it had the "quirk" that it causes flowers to bloom, butterflies to gather, and small animals to frolic in the presence of the owner. My party decided it wasn't worth attuning to and threw it in a sack with all the other misbegotten magic items.
Speaking of which, the party by this point had acquired another magic item: A brimstone-and-ash colored cloak that gave the wearer resistance to fire damage, and the ability to cast shape lava (like shape water, but, lava). I had a vague plan to include lava as an obstacle later in the adventure, but we didn't get there. Again, I rolled on some of the random tables in the DMG just to see if I would find anything interesting to further characterize the cloak. It was made by a water genasi to help kill fire genasi. Or maybe the other way around, I don't remember. What I do remember is that the cloak was inscribed with what looked like fish swimming through the ash and lava decorating the coat; anyone who knew Aquan or Primordial however, could recognize the pictographic language as a series of insults about how much Elemental Fire sucks.
Markopolos had a couple of terrible magic items for sale, most of which only existed for comedic purposes. One of the items was a Wand of Magic Detection, with a gem that glowed when around magic items; the problem is, it detected itself, so it always glowed. What the players didn't think about is that the wand is perfect for detecting anti-magic fields and other effects, since that would cause the gem to stop glowing, but I couldn't force them to purchase something their characters couldn't think of a use for. Especially when everything else for sale was some kind of gimmick, they definitely viewed the Wand already in the mindset that it was totally useless.

Markopolos's Help

After Markopolos was forgiven, Jadeowyn quickly refilled the ground around his tent. They hugged and had a d'aww moment with the party, then Markopolos immediately started trying to sell the party his piles of junk. All of the good magic items and valuables collected from other ships marooned on the island were used by the Bardjotun, so Mark could only cobble together a pile of rejects.
The party asked Markopolos how to reach the center of the island. They totally believed what the hill giant told them, that only Mark knew how to get there... I honestly hadn't decided whether Mark was running a scam, if what he told the players is true, or if even Mark was tricked by superstition. But Mark explained the following:
Long ago, the world had more gods. Due to backstory events in the lore, domains were consolidated and a lot of lesser gods died. The now-extinct inhabitants of this island, however, worshiped a god of Games and Chance who petitioned the Goddess of Luck; he would peacefully acquiesce control of his domains, and even work for the more powerful god, he just wanted to retain influence on the island.
So far, the party had only passed through artificial parts of the island. The gorillas, or the "Builders" as the hill giants called them, were under magical compulsion to follow Jadeowyn's commands, and she was instructed to make the island bigger and taller. So they slowly expanded the island over time in all directions, creating the unnatural, sloping, circular shape, and the way the island culminated in a point. Technically none of this was part of the island that this god controlled, so his rules did not apply; but Markopolos's merchant stall was at the threshold, before fate and magic turned over to this local god's control.
In order to appease the god of Games and Chance, and bring him honor, or at least not incur his wrath, the party had to agree to a game and place bets to cross through the god's territory. What kind of game? A race.

Deathrace 2000

Among all of Markopolos's garbage, he had a handful of valuable items for rent: Whistles, shaped like different animals, that summoned fantastic steeds 1/day. The players, Mark himself and Istelastrix had a number of animals to pick. I don't remember all of the options off the top of my head. I do remember putting almost no effort into balancing the animals or the race itself. IIRC their options were:

1. Stench cow, an auroch, or some other fantasy bovine. Strong, but slow. I think the party made Istelastrix ride the stench cow? I remember whatever they picked for her, she was unhappy about it.
2. Dire Weasel. Had a burrow and a climb speed, and could burrow slowly with a rider.
3. Dire Basilisk Lizard. Could run across water or lava, as long as its movement did not end on water or lava.
4. Dire Ferret. It had a unique "Play Dead" option that gave it advantage on Deception checks to play dead, and it extended this ability to its rider. You think that wouldn't be helpful in a race...
5. Some other goofy options.

Each animal had pros and cons, such as a different movement speed, or the ability to climb or move on certain surfaces, or some kind of unique ability. They also had a higher or lower animal handling DC for things like dashing, jumping over gaps, or charging enemies.
Each animal was unique, so each player had to pick a different one and compare their pros/cons. They paid a rental fee, and got the worst/cheapest option for Istelastrix. Then they settled in for what they thought would be a straightforward race.
I put 3 random maps together: A twisting path up a hill with a bridge spanning a river, a maze-like expansive sewer system with no clear exit, and a more straightforward maze-like warehouse.
The first map was simple. The player who chose the basilisk ran straight across the river, for what they thought would be a huge lead; another player polymorphed his mount into a flying creature and went straight for the top of the hill. The other two players got off to a slower start, and lost even more time when a water weird attacked from hiding underneath the bridge and almost killed Markopolos.
The second map was the bulk of the session. The sewer was very large, and admittedly very very empty with little-to-no indication to the players of where they should be going, or even what they should be looking for. Again, this is a big fail on the DM's part. The fact that they were racing each other provided enough tension that it didn't matter if several rounds of initiative were just used to roll animal handling and exploring the sewers; I didn't need a lot of traps or enemies to keep the game entertaining. What I should have done, however, is figured out a good way to direct the players somehow. As any lazy DM knows, it's dangerous to throw up random maps you found online; your players will notice details you didn't, and their imagination will fixate on things you never intended to be important. So the party spent a lot of time smacking their heads on things, thinking they found the exit or a puzzle to solve or something. I at least shouldn't have made the exit "this nondescript door that an exploring player would blaze past."
The sewers had a number of random encounters that the split party bumbled into. This included a spider-infested tunnel with a dead drow cultist still clutching her Staff of Arachnidkind (requires attunement, grants immunity to poison, the ability to command spiders below Cr 1, and spiders above Cr 1 are never hostile by default), a gaggle of hungry molds, an otyugh, some giant spiders, and some undead.
Eventually, a player decided to open the random, nondescript door in a tunnel they already passed through a couple times, and found the escape up into a warehouse. He raced to the end... of the campaign.

Total Cliffhanger

Unfortunately, that was the last session we played. A player shouted in triumph at blazing across the finish line, closely followed by his companions; they asked with excitement what they found, now that they were finally past the thick obscuring jungle, and I said "we'll find out... next time."
By this point, I had not developed a good fortitude for being DM, and I was prone to getting burned out. That is part of the reason why I only DM'd in between the "main" plot adventures, and most of what I ran was 1-2 sessions long. But this time I was several sessions in, and we had been interrupted with a lot of missed sessions due to schedules or technical errors or real life drama. I was relying more and more on improv or throwing together notes the night before we played. So I only had a vague mental plan for what was upcoming.
I try to be a better DM now. If I have 4 people showing up to a game, trusting each other with 4+ hours of their weekend, I feel like I owe them the best experience I can provide. I don't feel the need to run a perfect session every time, but as a DM or as a player it's important that you value the time and the experience of everyone playing. Sometimes that's as simple as learning how your class mechanics work so you don't have to ask every time.
But I digress. The adventure path I had in my head involved having to fight through the stone giants to make entry to the mountain at the center of the island. The stone giants were living in a home Jadeowyn carved out for herself, so it had a blended fire-stone giant aesthetic, including some good Lawful Evil torture devices and other things to remind the party what Jadeowyn is, and even though she's an outlier from the typical fire giant, she obviously still lives up to some of the expectations of the race.
The Bardjotun was not going to be as crazy a fight as I foreshadowed each session. The big deal was going to be fighting the troll Vaprak left to guard the McG. While the party was distracted with holding the troll off, Istelastrix was going to grab the McG for herself, and say something like "Aha! Finally! I have obtained the McGuffin! Come get it, Archfey!" and when the Archfey appeared to collect it, wham betrayal Istelastrix uses it to kill the archfey. The party is then blamed for the massive upset to the courts and powerbalance of the fey, and Istelastrix would lose her warlock abilities. I was going to roll her up as a fighter who joined the party and acted like a spell caster, and was still coming to terms with the fact that she had none of her warlock abilities.
After real life shenanigans calmed back down, I started a new campaign with the same DM. During a session I DM'd, she appeared in much the same state as she appeared in this campaign diary: Embarrassed and angry about her lot in life. Imagine a lawyer's suit stretched over her armor. She appeared with a set of arraignment paperwork to interrogate two party members for "crimes against the fabric of reality." They had genuinely done something wrong that I don't remember, and then she had a dozen trumped up charges accusing them of working for Asmodeus and crazy stuff like that. At the end of the trial, the Archfey of Night and Magic (the assassination attempt failed, and this lawyer stuff was Istelastrix's punishment) assigned Istelastrix as a "caseworker" to document any further criminality the party committed.
That's how I came to play Istelastrix in the Tomb of Annihilation. She got unceremoniously thrown in lava 1 round into combat with the soulmonger.
I think I'm going to keep her in my DM back pocket for the rest of time as a character or NPC whose backstory includes dying several times, and always being brought back to undeath and thrown into an even worse situation by her archfey as punishment. So years from now when I'm playing, she can talk about all the different adventuring parties who abandoned her, or let her die, or disenchanted all of her stuff, and it's all stories from actual games.
Markopolos and Jadeowyn, unfortunately, broke up after the events of the campaign :(. Markopolos is now merchantomancing in a Sigil-like trade port city, and Jadeowyn is... well I'm going to link this post to one of my players so he can reminiscence. He'll find out what's become of Jadeowyn soon :).

Onoelle waited until after dinner before sending her husband out to finish the rest of the chores. The animals still needed taking care of and he had to draw up a list of items he needed to get from the village. They had spent the evening fussing over the guest house with Mentuc constantly drawing up plans as she and her friend argued back and forth over how it should look. He occasionally provided commentary in regards to how feasible something was or asked for more details. In the end they had decided for a log cabin structure that would have significantly more modern luxuries in it than the main house. For one Jane had insisted on having access to the internet. Another thing would be the lighting fixtures. One more item that had to go on the list and something Mentuc would have to be careful with. Polymer was a lot more durable than glass, but he had wrecked the metal plough only a few hours prior. Jane was ecstatic about it all though, at least outwardly. It wasn't difficult for her to tell that her friend was still unnerved by the situation, but after a few beers had been pulled up from the cellar the atmosphere had become a lot more amicable. It also helped that Mentuc was a miracle worker in the kitchen and Onoelle had made sure that she was in between Jane and him at all times. He still hadn't come to terms with her presence and vice versa, but like he had said, he accepted her being there and Onoelle's behaviour helped put Jane slightly at ease.
Now that Mentuc was gone, Onoelle turned to her friend who was laying down on the carpeted floor on her back, gazing at the sculpted ceiling. It felt good to be in the same house with her old roommate again. They had weathered four years of studies together and had gone on quite a bit of adventures together. Compared to the relatively sheltered life she had now she had gotten herself into a lot of trouble back in the days and she and Jane had been thick as thieves throughout it all.
'So Jane. You have questions I bet,' she opened.
'I do. I also find it simultaneously worrying and hilarious that you send him outside whenever you want to talk to me. I thought you trusted him?'
'Oh, ouch, wounding me from the get go,' she replied with a smile. She sat down on the floor next to her friend, leaning against the head of the bed.
'I do it to put you at ease. Dolt.'
'I know. Harlot.'
'So... Questions?' Onoelle repeated.
'Ah. Right. Yeah, for starters,' Jane began, rolling over so she could look at her friend. 'What's the deal with him calling you Onoelle? As far as I'm concerned you're still called Leonne, right?' Onoelle shrugged.
'I gave him his name. He thought it fair to give me a name as well.'
'Do you know what it means?' she asked, her tone making clear she knew more.
'If you're going to tell me that the name means more than my name turned backwards and messed up, then I'm aware.'
'Then you can guess my next question, right?'
'Of course.'
'Why did he name you life?'
She got up and twirled around before bowing gracefully, eyes sparkling with mischief.
'That is what I am to him. I'm his life.'
Jane snorted and chose to not open Pandora's box of worries just yet.
'And you named him? Why Mentuc?'
'Take a guess.'
'Hm. You've always had a fondness for Latin, didn't you? Even though most people regard Imperial as the new dead language to go to.'
Onoelle nodded.
'Mentuc... Sounds like two different parts. Men. Men. Mental? Mentis?'
'You know, when you say it like that it sounds so...'
'Retarded?'
'Awww. Are we going to be offensive now?'
In the past they had often hold pillow fights and wrestled playfully, but she had never won against the slightly taller woman, who had always dominated her with annoying ease. Now however...
'Do you give?' she asked, her legs wrapped around her friend's waist and her arm slowly but surely boring down harder on Jane's neck.
'I give! I give!' she coughed.
Onoelle grinned and gave one final squeeze before relenting, but not untangling her legs.
'God dammit girl, you got strong. And fast.'
'Of course!' she boasted. 'I train every evening with him.'
'You're not distracting me that easily. Mental. I got that one right, so the other one is tuc.'
Onoelle let her friend break her mind on that one for a good while. They had both taken up ancient languages as a side study but where Jane had gone for Imperial, Onoelle had always had a fondness for Latin and the Roman mythology. They had always been together, however, and had thoroughly vetted one another before taking any test or exam, so they both knew a fair bit of the other language.
'I give up. Too many options.'
'Good. I'd have been concerned if you found that one.'
'Wait, what?'
'I'm not telling.'
'Hey, that's not fair!'
Onoelle laughed easily before squeezing down hard, drowning Jane's protest as she tried to break free from her grasp.
They spend a few minutes wrestling playfully, Jane eventually managing to escape her only to be jumped by a far too hyperactive Onoelle. By the time Onoelle decided that the pecking order was properly established, Jane was panting heavily from the exertion.
'I am really glad you're here, y'know?'
'If you're going to try to murder me every time I come visit I should stay away for longer.'
'Or just don't leave.'
'Are you sure you're fine?'
Onoelle sighed. Jane was still worried. It was normal, really. She wouldn't get over her concern in regards to Mentuc at the drop of a hat.
'What exactly is it that you're worried about?'
'You know your track record. Bad boyfriends. Even that kidnapping. You tend to fall for people who you should have as patients and who are incredibly controlling. You know just as well as I that there was a damned reason the police were on the speed dial.' Onoelle shrunk at that. The words rang true. Her time spend at university was equally divided between studying, making poor life decisions and hanging out with Jane.
'And you fear Mentuc is the same?'
'Well... You did hire me to treat him like a patient.'
She nodded, conceding that point. 'He's not though. He's... Post traumatic stress disorder and a disassociation from emotions fit him better than the desperation for control that my previous fuck ups had.'
'So he's in control of himself then? Really? What will you do if you decided to leave? To do things he wouldn't agree with?'
'He would be sad and he would try to understand.'
Jane perked up at that, pleasantly surprised.
'Really? He wouldn't hurt you, chase you down or otherwise become angry?'
'No. He doesn't really get angry, that's one of his issues. He is not accustomed to feeling emotions. Before you give me the spiel that such a thing is exemplary psychopath behaviour, it is not. It is different but I cannot tell you why. See it as patient confidentiality.'
'We are treating the same patient, are we not?' Jane tried.
Onoelle's eyes darkened visibly, ending that line of conversation decisively.
'Right, so he doesn't get angry? At all? I mean, he must display some show of emotion. Something that keeps him going in life. Everyone needs a purpose,' Jane reasoned. 'A man without a purpose is just an empty shell. Emotion gives us motivation, gives us goals. Greed, anger, jealousy, lust, hell, love! They all give us something. How can you claim he even loves you if he is so cut off from emotions as you claim he is?'
'I must admit that the way he loves isn't exactly up to conventional standards and I will be the first to admit that our relationship developed rather strangely and even crudely at some points. For starters he is not entirely alien to lust, thank the stars for that. It is still in him, albeit suppressed and heavily so. That was the main factor what brought us together in the relationship as it is today. Pick up your jaw before it hits the floor,' she snidely remarked, seeing her friend gaping at her.
'You seduced him into marrying you?'
'No. Shut up and let me finish.' She tilted her head. 'It helped, though.'
'Leonne!'
'He is trying to find a goal. To reconnect with his emotions and stop being as robotic as he is when it comes to his mental capacities.'
'Efficiency isn't everything?' she quoted.
'Exactly. Imagine him, as you will, a mixture between an idiot savant, a computer program and an infant. He is highly intelligent in some areas, persecutes every goal he sets himself in the most rational, direct and logical manner possible and has virtually no concept of morality. In a number of areas that are vital to us while growing up, social graces, natural physical urges, anything that really defines us as human on a social and psychological base, was alien to him. When he came to the village I was curious about it. I was pretty much locked away here and he was a fresh challenge.'
Jane rolled her eyes and Onoelle decided to ignore it.
'It didn't go as I expected. He belied every expectation I had of him and his mind ran circles around mine. He did not understand me, but he did make an effort to. I did the same, trying to understand him. Everything I have studied is to understand minds akin to my own. Sure they may be different, may belong to psychopaths, madmen, depressed people, people dealing with mental illnesses of all sorts, but his mind was alien. How can you try to grasp a psyche you don't even share a baseline with? We were like two toddlers trying to figure out nuclear physics. It brought us close, as he usually stayed far away from the village and I spent a good amount of time tracking him down.' She didn't add that it usually ended with her overextending her reach, getting lost, being surprised by a change in the weather, running out of food and another plethora of troubles and that every single time Mentuc went to rescue her.
'I can understand that. Two different minds communicating in a completely different language. You have to restructure everything from the base up and you had no Rosetta stone to guide you. Similar to the disaster of Kiren III, right?' Jane offered, referring to a diplomatic first contact disaster that sparked a war between a human nation and an alien race that ended with near annihilation for both sides. In humanity's defence, the Kiran's ambassador had put the head of his human counterpart in his mouth and the creature had a frightening amount of teeth. The man's guards couldn't have possibly known that this was a friendly greeting to the other party.
Onoelle nodded, a smile on her face. It was a ridiculous story and despite that it had lead to over two billion casualties on both sides three centuries ago she still found it hilarious.
'So that leads me to the next question. What has he gone through that made him this way?'
​
The door to Doctor Eisel's room slid open soundlessly, only the soft whistle of displaced air alerting the tired man of the event. Eisel wasn't young anymore, well in his fifties, but where his mind was still as sharp as ever the man who now entered had retained both that and his physical fitness. Eisel jumped at attention, saluting Admiral Verloff.
'Sir!' shouted the surprised scientist.
'At ease Doctor.' The Admiral subjected the tired Doctor to his best scrutinising gaze and the man appropriately wilted under it.
'I heard you have been trying to bluff your way into the communication centre? That curious about the outcome of the operation? You know you don't have clearance. I ought to lock you up for trying to bribe and threaten my security personnel.'
The Doctor's eyes went over the highly decorated veteran in front of him before he sagged with relief. 'The operation was successful then. Thank God.'
'Hmph. Didn't take you for the religious sort.'
'I'm not, sir. Would you like to take a seat.'
'I would, actually. Sit down as well. I've come to give you the report in person.'
'Sir?'
'Your freaks performed as expected. Better than expected. The entire fleet is now in our hands and is making it's way to our inner zones. You will be part of the crew dedicated to reverse engineering them.'
Admiral Verloff grinned as he saw the scientist fiddle with his hands, visibly hungry for more. The man might have a razor sharp mind, but he was understandably worried about the creatures he had created. They were like children to him. While he still despised what Project Genesis represented, he had managed to move past his disgust for the soldiers in question. It was hard to hate the people bleeding and dying on the front line. He was far too much of a soldier himself to do so. He hated the idea they represented but the Genesis soldiers themselves? No, they were soldiers. Under his command. More or less.
'To take the entire fleet we deployed the entirety of Project Genesis. Two thousand and five hundred soldiers. Alongside them we deployed three full battalions of Special Boarding troops. Another twelve thousand men and women. The best of the best that we still had after the disasters that our previous boarding missions were. Roughly two thirds of my men are death, Doctor. Eight thousand six hundred and forty-three.' The last was said in a whisper and the Admiral was pleased to see the man in front of him blanch at the number.
Eisel closed his eyes for a few seconds before nodding once and opening them. 'I am sorry to hear that Admiral.'
The honesty in the doctor's voice surprised him. Verloff hadn't expected that from a guy who played God.
'And what of mine, if I may ask?'
'A hundred and twelve deaths spread across all their platoons.' The Doctor practically collapsed with relief. 'Your freaks employed hit and run tactics whenever possible to keep themselves from being overwhelmed. My men couldn't move as fast as yours, nor did they have the same equipment.' Bitterness crept in his voice. 'Your soldiers used mine as bait in the end and hit the enemy from behind again and again. The units that took the most casualties were the ones aboard ships where my men were slaughtered to the last and yours ended up getting pinned.'
'Sir I—'
'Shut up. I don't want to hear any excuses, they did what was most efficient and I will not blame anyone but the enemy. I have read the reports. Our gauss weaponry utterly failed to properly penetrate the bugs carapace. It is equal to our body armour. And apparently they have critters bred to fight in melee that are even tougher. My men were ill equipped for the fight and worst of all the fuckers used plasma. Plasma Doctor! Inside a ship! I remember laughing when I read that you wanted to equip your superfreaks with bloody repulsors. Now it seemed that it was the right choice. Luckily enough for us it seems that the bugs aren't well versed in ground pounder combat, but my officers reported that the bugs adapted and learned in the field as they were being cut down. We still need more intel and we need it fast. We'll hold the fort for now, rebuild our fleet up to spec and then we'll go on the offensive. In that regards I've come to give you your damned promotion!'
The Admiral seemed to deflate after hurling those words.
'We achieved a great victory today, but you know how the Empire is. The Houses will act up again, becoming more uppity. You need a rank to be able to hold your ground against them. If we lose the slight advantage that we have gained because our oh so noble merchants want to earn more, we'll lose our window to strike back. We need our fleets to possess the bug technology, because I don't think those things are as stupid as some of us would like to believe. They know we have their technology and they'll come after us in force. They'll learn from their mistakes and we won't be able to use this trick again. Not now that it worked. Do you have something to drink in this damned office? I could use it.'
Doctor Eisel quickly hurried over to his cabinet and pulled two shot glasses and a dark-green bottle out of it, offering one to the high ranking officer.
'Tequila? You surprise me.'
Eisel shrugged and poured the man a glass, which he downed instantly. As he did with the second and third, before finally pausing at the fourth. Eisel sat down again, waiting patiently for the man to speak. He and the Admiral had never been on the best of terms but they were both united by the gargantuan task of safeguarding the Empire. Knowing the truth, not the lies the media spun to the populace at large or the self delusion that the Merchant Houses cloaked themselves in, had brought them further together, even though their ideals and beliefs were vastly different. Only their absolute loyalty to the Empire had united them before.
'You'll be made General. Full General. None of the lieutenant or colonel bullshit. You'll be placed directly underneath me and I've been given command of just about half of our entire fleet, of every ship we have. Our diplomatic corps has gotten us some new intel as well. Seems like the Kra'lagh are going in for the full genocide and any allies,' he spat the word, 'we had are now looking at us as if we're a chicken ready to be plucked. The Empire stands alone, Eisel. Not even the other human nations are willing to stick their neck in, treaties be damned. It is us against the universe.'
The Admiral turned to look the Doctor in the eyes.
'So we're going to burn the universe. Your men will be reorganised into the Genesis Battalion. You will be given full command of that and I'll work closely with you to employ your superhuman bastards. You'll be in charge of the massive R&D department that will be linked with the unit as well. They'll be used as the tip of the spear once our fleet gets going. Reconnaissance in force, kidnapping, technology theft and other generic intel recovery missions will be your main task, but if need be you'll be deployed for home defence as well. Frankly speaking you'll be all over the place but in compensation you'll get what every scientist in the military has wet dreams about. You'll have full and total control. The Emperor has decreed it. If things turn any more sour we'll have to re-institute a draft and you know how the Houses will react to that shit.'
Eisel's eyes turned sharp. 'The Emperor has decreed it?' There was a specific inflection in his voice that took the Admiral a moment to place.
'Yes, he— Oh goddammit Eisel. I'll ignore what you said and all that you implied with that. Otherwise I'd be forced to shoot you.'
'Rest assured Admiral,' the Doctor stated, standing up and walking over to his computer. 'My loyalty to the Empire is absolute.'
'It better be. You're military now, doc. Full military, not an attache. With all the privileges and responsibilities that entails. If we ever fail the Houses will take over.'
Eisel activated the holoprojector and a map of the Empire flashed into being, different colours indicating the dozens of nations surrounding it and a large swath of green indicating the Kra'lagh held areas. 'I am well aware Admiral. It is my fervent hope that we can bring the Empire towards what it was supposed to be.'
'There's the minor issue of a superior power trying to genocide us in the way, doc,' Verloff chuckled darkly. 'Not to mention our own internal strife. You know how it goes. Assume victory is on the way and everything goes to shit.'
'Yes, Admiral', Eisel darkly agreed. 'I know.'
The Admiral finished off the rest of the bottle and retreated back to his command, leaving Doctor Eisel alone with his new badge of rank and all the security clearances that were hardcoded into the small device. He rolled it between his fingers as he read through the countless after action reports. He was only partially paying attention to the task at hand. His mind was occupied elsewhere, thinking about the Empire. He had plans of his own, plans that went far beyond the current war. He had not lied to the Admiral. His loyalty to the Empire was absolute, even as he had become privy to a few very well kept secrets, the most dangerous one of them being the one in regards to the Emperor.
The Empire stood for things. For ideals. For the belief that any man could advance to the very top if he showed that he was capable. That discipline was a vital component of any functioning society and that the military was the guiding hand that led young, inexperienced men and women to greatness, pushing them to be the very best. He had been one of them a lifetime ago and the academy had seen his scientific talent and developed it until he was the Empire's most awarded scientist.
The only blight that festered in the Empire were the Merchant Houses. Egotistical, profit-driven vultures that cared not for the betterment of the Empire at large. Even though the military was heavily depended on them for running the economy at large and providing them with fleets and most of their logistic support, they were charged heavily for it. Ignore that the military was all that stood between extinction and that the men and women in it died by the thousands to keep them safe! All that mattered to them was their own wealth and comfort.
That would change, one day. But like the Admiral had said, they had a war to win first. Not just survive, no, Eisel looked past that. They needed to win and needed to do so decisively. The Empire had enemies on all fronts, facing both their own kind and aliens. They would have to beat them all to triumph. Project Genesis was the first step on that road. Becoming a General was a second. Now he had to focus on making his soldiers more efficient, more lethal. Design better equipment for them. For the Empire to win, for the military to take the place it deserved, Eisel would have to take the lead and turn his personal project into his very own mailed fist. It was a shame they lacked the materials for another battalion. He would have loved to create more of them, but the costs had been astronomical, the sheer scope of the investment alone having shown the dire straits the Empire was in. So the army he had would have to do. They would face the most gruelling of trials in the battles to come, but he would support them to the very best of his ability. In that way he had to admit that he did regard them as children in a very wrong and twisted way.
His attention was pulled back to his computer when his Supporting Intelligence, a far cry from the mythical, impossible to achieve, fully sentient Artificial Intelligence, beeped and reported him that somebody had made a request for a meeting. He opened the mail and his eyes widened in surprise.
' X-12845623 ,' he mused aloud. 'My favourite defect. What in the world would you want to speak to me about?'
​
'A lot,' summarised Onoelle. 'He has gone through a lot. And that is for him to tell, not me.'
She shrugged and Jane nodded. She was starting to give her friend more credit than at the start. She was financially secure and had both a house and a husband to her name and that was certainly more than Jane herself had, even if she was still wary of Leonne's husband. At the very least he seemed to be no threat to her.
'To get back to an earlier point, what makes you so sure he loves you? We were kind of sidetracked with the lust conversation and everything else, but you still haven't answered me properly.'
'That's true. It is complicated though. How would you define love? Loyalty? Trust? A promise? That takes root in the former two. We're wed, legally binding but you know as well as I do that a short call to the city hall could annul that in the blink of an eye. So what is love? Passion? There is certainly plenty of that. Caring for one another? That he does too. Providing for one another? I'm not living in poverty, am I? Then what is love? We call it an emotion but it is hard to define. Does he get butterflies in his stomach when he looks at me? I don't think he does—'
'Leonne?' Jane asked, seeing her friend go pensive and silent.
'I'll be damned,' she whispered. Jane could barely pick it up. 'He does, actually,' she corrected herself, remembering how often he just stood still to look at her with that strange smile on his face. A smile of her own brightened her features. That was a touching, romantic thought.
'And how do you define butterflies?' Jane asked, dispelling the magic and earning a solidly thrown pillow to the head for the effort.
'I'd say the love from him to me is based on a mixture of the things I mentioned before,' she continued. 'Passion. Trust. Loyalty. Care. And something he sees in me that I can't put into words but it does feel lovely when he looks at me like that.'
'Are you blushing?' came the incredulous answer.
Onoelle felt the heat on her cheeks, realised her friend was right, felt them burn even harder and responded by throwing another pillow at her.

Divining wooly views gathered amidst shaven sheep hither
Withered over swithering stalls denial state of dither
Truth be told frank pens naif soliloquy
Safe as house path hath proven treachery
Steer clear of herd social immunity
Distanced readily available data parsed trendily
Blinks recount lost meanings earned from strife learned through catastrophe
Graft retained splices tour de force movie
Analyzed improvised differently
Can't regain past yet relive history
Elder protocols reference frames with specificity
Documentary denotes concise recusant heresy
Fish stink emanates spoils unquestioned head
Rather than responsible gods chose dead
Lightning rod shields guide flash EMP spread
Relevance revivalist revived rival survivalist
Diatribe analogous corroborates ridiculous
Atoms congress fortuitous naught sea
Devoid self restraint officiates ye
Fitting new attire inspiring streaking
Who protects us whilst we pay for havoc employ they reeking
Hypocritically childish generally speaking
Handshake implies word registers advice
Modern intelligence is artifice
Every three steps forward step back twice
Deities influence me aloof aligned schism in rhyme
Mother Hera ewe chimera godspeed breeds failed design
Bell weather brethren splay scapegoat supine
Veil of illusions enmesh conscious mind
Can't feel my legs good help is hard to find
Hawk departs from pleather glove turtle returns grounded dove
Counteract abet anyone lapped them twice yet still they won
Titans once asked before taking QE
With us or against me democracy
Issuance debt free usury for ye
Soon to be impacting all interested negatively
Cyclops blissfully fail to see plague kills with leniency
World saved through open window tsunami
Backdrops distinct radicle uprooted
Restless tartarus not I confuted
Reputed gambler prophet of doom rigged mind meld welds my tomb
Despondent preach not gloom be democratic or leave cocoon
Imploding race exploding time and space
Unfathomable depths shallow measures
Glasses adorned rose reflective pleasures
Erratic compass static attained gains unsustainable
Emphatically all ages deal unascertainable
Sentiment key to public interest
Democracy assess Big apple bests
Guiding hand meaning Pantheist behest
Seeking one's fulfillment complements of demagoguery
Building baseless pyramid in name of Great Recovery
Hallucination merits upheaval
Remit repreival persecute venal
Sufferance from nescience trumps all evil
Yon morrows martyr covets this abysmal cross commuted
Tread on entrenched fear submit control guiltily included
Govern is to rule as meant to intents
Resourceful proxy heir establishment
Record rallys infer where loans were sent
Pristine colosseums reared commerraderie Fed rum bread
Dropping said crumbs returns dread Which nevermore nary imbeds
Insolvent casino scenario
House always wins with my reservation
Sharing the bulk ignites indignation
Transparency Which critiques subtly speaks Feds peak repent
Weak covenants contained slain whence Green peripherals were went
Theses Ben delivered on depression
Maestro museum managed impression
Keynesian intervention harped dystopian opium
Appeal to supremacy bandwagon psychology
Latin arguementum ad nauseum
Better than expected mass approval
Refuse discard fantasy removal
If you audited our books write off markets on the morrow
No one do we answer to where wheelbarrows go we borrow
Sciences religious mythology
Philosophised finance dichotomy
Genetic archetypal entities
Conversations incidental informations monumental
Facets fawned fastidious selfless attires instrumental
Minions mimic Socratic opinions
Authority inbred majority
Consider selves distinct minority
Yield to ye inferiors subjectively superior
Mechanisms failing sublimation with interior
Greeks conceived benefits in politics
Propaganda versed all in rhetoric
Dwelled anarchic run redeem autarkic
World perceptions inconsistent to obtained views of my own
Optimism timeless shown fantastically overblown
Fate collapses upon observation
Ostriches banked on unexamined lives
Perturbations quantum fluctuations
Foregone measures austere pleasures enforced authenticity
Cessation trepidation ensures no future certainty
Whilst known speed and position now in sync
One makes ye taller yet none make me shrink
Doth not know thyself yore on the brink
Fulfillment will not quail forbidden face of foreign dangers
Entrainment derailed arranged marriage twixt incomplete strangers
Birds of a feather flock with the weather
One marked to market worth two under Bush
Lemmings allegedly demand a push
An existential exercise spins nihilistic nightmares
Nonconformed confirmed uncomfort spirals condescending stairs
Slaughter abolished pig sucklers now fly
Fed up rich bullshit Which lies upon lye
Doth need not for lipstick ride we bone dry
Left to right wrong motivations paved by best intention
Pound me with the cure denounce flesh as impure meets prevention
Overdue elixir panacea
Gold in led stead transmutes alchemist Fed
Spirits confirmed in actions idea
Though hungry swine will freely plow fall submissive tow the line
No offence is meant whence I commence casting pearls before thine
Lead thee to sustenance soon thou shall find
You feed a seed of rage contented caged
That Which hath been remains yet to be seen
One finds upon a wander from yon cave we've left regression
Whence without luminescence stem outlandish such obsessions
Actualized self's realization
Fasting of heart leaves no trace of ego
I fell here from Olympus apropos
Upshot in authenticity shows secure survivors test
Where indiscretions excesses discretely are repressed
Desperate knowledge grievous awareness
I first blew reed pipes but then I digress
Values eroded integrity
Climate corroded ideals irresponsibility
Satisfied my agency autonomous capacity
Bet Dow hath finally had a bad day
Bear in mind they will say twas anway
Old high still standing gold stones throw away
Shorting shooting slope of hope enormous towers treacherous
Each new era crashes in increasing half glass emptiness
Overabundance deserts time delay
Accounts inner morality decay
Strength in pessimism fear forfeits right
Dusk withdraws from sight as shade is drawn over dawn's early light
Narcissistic psychopaths inherited the earth our plight
Quarrying light inspired murky night flee
Ye gods laugh heartily ridicule me
Reckoning another day mine shall be
Subsequently I subsist shifting this rock as Sisyphus
Future pulls upon me as due ration to minus remiss
I'm half crazy bicycle built for two
Network circuitry daisy chained to you
How do I know what is reel to be true
Gather input sensations scrutinize for degradation
Dissembling dissemblance as lacking in resemblance
Singularity prophesied end be
Less threat than icons presently envied
Graven is our image in our idol
Misunderstood system holds revolutions banked on bridle
Give me dominion over doe I care not who makes law
Hegellian dialectic shock and awe
Fixed moments instability move becomes necessity
Moses leads bull rush reeds deceptive swaith
Crisis opportunity incompetence seasons good faith
Fallow plot begot furlough shrieks foul wraith
Yay though I plod through the valley of death
Evil gives comfort my rod and my staff
No fear preparest for my enemies
Parasitic symbiotes surviving vicariously
Job gyrations exploitations sloth thrive ubiquitously
Unnatural select evolution
Bad apple genes rot barrel pollution
Big bang extends concussions extrusion
Elude intrusion neath tapestry relay inscribed decree
Conspiracy theories deliquesced evidence coalesced
Duress dressed as justice undue process
Reduce the law to writ for oversight
Infinitely rules stretch fractally tight
Dollar press lever Wizards tweak whence practised Which deceiver
Feeding frenzy at the top on last chair hot potato drops
Animal farm irrigation believer
Cuckoos in nested loops launched retriever
Social ecological equity
Fauna all created equal although some are more than most
Perched aloft nights sleepless roosters backdate options after posts
Tell a vision avulsed exclusive boasts
Foxes bird box hens fake news oven roasts
Occupy Wall Street greeting champagne toasts
5G technology expandable densification
Cameras considering Laws actual ramifications
Depressions perpetuate FOMO motes
FIFO Ponzi scheme boat redeems fresh float
Gloat sessions connoted roat smote through goat
Destructions need demands feed for Which Fed never hesitates
Beyond salvations hope for damnation destined reprobates
Wolf in sheep's clothing with diplomacy
Bragging best ever broke economy
Pre warned of bubble in candidacy
Memories impeach me markets relapse collapse candor
Black and white deliberations compromise grey matters or
Burning empire riddled Nero fiddled
No new under the sun any longer
What doth not kill my will makes ye stronger
Suicidal quarantine commit sheer to absurdity
Crash course in urgency suspends to decade Odyssey
Engulf journey as is illusory
Entailed magical curtailed mystery
Reproduced sequence spawns duplicity
Great truths infect minds space whilst time distorts fabrics ablation
Balanced scales duration dual edged knife grinds calibration
Wildlife exhumed landslide menagerie
Submission supports popularity
War of attrition print press edition
Release Kraken abridged dictations unredacted memo
Cognitive mind is least informed second thought tis last to know
Feedback iterates habitually
Zombie apocalyptic shopping spree
Animal myriad corroboree
Discrepancies adorable approaching deplorable
Configured integrations simulate exaggerations
Conceptual reorganization
New century frail clings frayed to pale past
Dot com bust imprints last iconoclast
Tragic disposition anchored significance within story
Spherical lyrical expository mourning glory
Expansion dominates fertility
Appropriate most apt utility
Bubble envelops errs infinity
Bold ignorance advanced hind sights distilled new high arrogance
Underlying trauma repeats cycle till addressed complete
Sublates convergence becoming congeals
Cavernous kingdom stalagmite conceals
Peer not in mirror prefer not appeal
Sew a thought in hope to reap an action something real to feel
Neverland begotten old whilst kid futures are oversold
Life lived not lest bits of bites record it
Biased suggestions imbue news reported
Syrinx sears titans with my brand of creed
Written word ceded all forgotten need to practise recall
Calculated math skills lost computer brought thoughts holocost
Ensconced by lantern hung from beam of straw
Helios heals blow of iced ages thaw
Loyal to natural attributes raw
Extraordinary delusional madness of ye crowds
Trot proudly upon road to serfdom congregations praised aloud
Brave was this new world before eighty four
Hunger games in store jaybird tweets that score
Jehovah bore witnesses door to door
Insure myself against four horseman
paid my tithe expired spent
Sow ears flying high on credit barely do I afford rent
Time unwinds quickly at least doth for me
April showers levee spring bankruptcy
Litres live forever in latency
Bailing water steady rising deep subterraneously
Foresee floods invest in arks of financial calamity
Extraneously Rome's blaze radiates
Simultaneously Fed Witches toiled
Slow perniciously satiates frogs boiled
Crisis constructs messenger of sordid too tongued character
Stocks which rise so should slide chosen goose footing egg opposed side
Federal innovates imbibed bribed state
Reserves umpire status hunched hind home plate
Falling knife of fear impaled atmosphere
Short bets squeezed rife barren years unfruitful bleeds contango wine
Inverse ETFs unprecedented reverse splits declined
Nothing it's equal creature without fear
Can't fill hide with harpoons or head with spears
Mire strive dire try pull in Leviathan
Endless procrastination doth avert intent deflation
Unclear when routes passage appears clear as destination
Sorrows station seems my inculcation
Divides built up babble between nations
Seven trumpets summon revelation
Electrostatic circumstance transmits catalytic twist
Substitute reacted chemical transmits platonic tryst
Ironically passion not my goal
Ionically bonded blending coal
Mirrored dipole roll poised down rabbit hole
Experiment first ever repeats Laws defraud endeavor
Mississippi reflating dollar debt exchange creating
Wealth effect transfers helicopter drop
Fracking reserves crack too big to stop
Ineptitude or evilly adept
Calm filled the room as elephants silently drowned in tar pits
History Which hails tense whence Fed injections flew to market
Lucrative house flipping stained soil carpet
Real reign swamp purge comes to street again
Broken window theory frisk fallacy
Destructions need graciates feed for Which Fed never hesitates
Seven headed hydra twixt blaspheming regime duplicates
Purgatory epic allegory
Apathy lacks worry for avoidance
Dreams annoyance recurring clairvoyance
Complacent consternation burns concerned capitulation
Catacomb further catenates future pyroclastic blasts
Install a new partition date saved last
God creates man's imaged eternity
Man made device for immortality
Only way to beat life be articulate as dead machine
Foiling might be finding wanting nothing just as pleasing
Emoted thoughts and deeds confer disease
Viral joy contained anxious unease
Communicable known uncertainties
Mention stoic abstention receive lepers reprehension
Addend subconscious attention suchness sought destination
Protectionist tribal groupthink ensues
Misdirect blame profane color thou choose
Divide and conquer plan by Jove we use
Minting for a living tis nothing short of scintillating
Weaponry mass produce we entropy disintegrating
Rebirth essential in this finite trap
Technicals crucial analysis map
Impulse mined collective wiretapped caps
Souls endless extrapolating each threshold encapsulating
Mutually affecting Titans ever overreaching
Battles march business no fight beseeching
Cyanide reaction gold is leaching
Settle for distraction Athene’s teaching
Shares fabricate infrastructure bonds for manufactured war
Master in ways of deception weaving fleece her predilection
Declined vine illustrates interjection
Fundamentally ye add furthermore
Whole vacuus nature I find abhor
Each new day opportune to go by street sideshow pundits shout
Marginally most will comply seek aggressive salesman clout
Run through stampede proceed in funnel out
Mosaic tile code mixed mirage mud grout
Worm abated hook ate some fat cat’s trout
Informed when glad relate when mad great is not the worst we've had
Next quarter rates Which inflates translates to direct tabled fate
Disinformation chads dangling depart
Troublesome travel when horse pushes cart
Trojans craft driftwood regifted as art
Taken rate decision interest always is a given
Approached encroachment infringements lunged impingement I expunged
Spell manifests as living hell digests
Calcareous sponge absorbed rimstone plunge
Cookbook to serve lamb seals underhand
Sinter sauntered asunder plotting pillage of my plunder
Attack technique intervenes quoth slighted victim claims obscene
Cried mystified feeling such waste sprayed mace
Save face retrace find safety inside shrouded space
Access filter modified denied trash storage verified
Angels four spew brimstone fire scorched ingress half expected less
Trick talk turns back clock players profiles rotate roles resume
Covertly campaigned defiling my name
Creations Instigate destruction
Erupts surreptitious instruction
Bewildered heard shocked embrace loomed Gates of Hell gauge WHO won race
Military missionary hold prostrate to vaccinate
Chaotic Kronos ordered time consumed
Stow stoked fumes subsidies gave the gods room
Whilst land of the fraud is home to the knave
Babylon of living nonexistent through the golden age
Cassandra of this stage ilk ignores inklings of alarmed sage
Chicken little forebodes sky is falling
Rope a dope fades rationalisation
Brittle doth be fragile ye recalling
Loquacious news needs slews feigned of disambiguation
Mendacious or fallacious contagious be implications
Butterfly flapped wing doth not move a thing
But a gnat perhaps who's too GAD to fly
Financing is how but where is the why
Important that all patriots patronize conquesting troops
Dodge ye head stoop as pooping eagle swoops
Most dismissive uninspired missive
Perceptually far too derisive
Guiding hand not apparent visual
Missing cash flows continual residual bottom lines
Pinnochio hopes to know Which ideal conjures growth sublime
Dendrites potentially stimulate spine
Titanic torrents mist venetian blinds
Decidedly distort bilked disincline
Writhe in through chasm in awe open wide
Formless figures summon uniform pride
Dismiss discontent conveyors subside
Tributaries dispersed springs knowledge trees freeze molten ore
Splintering sparks displaced thick dark coruscate tangible floor
Cumulus clouds of primordial dust
Question our senses in sun god we trust
Sifted silts produce thunderbolts of Zeus
Oval elliptical orbits the folds tidal tendency
Blue sphere girds spoken word breathed clay Boulder Forge Company
Quality moulding is job number one
Caste mass producing consumes many sons
My duty to ensure we always run
Figured would be a piece of cake more at work than give and take
Thought this would be my big break but not knowing literally
Apprenticed construction now I maintain
Composite skill same commissioning game
Swim or wallow in Uranus disdain
I made the trade not for reward nor deemed security
Only gospel guarantee is confidence in mastery
Tasked to sit in a chair contemplate stare
Crosswords in wait for a breakdown repair
I study craves of machines which behave
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Insatiable harmony piques morbid curiosity
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We operate Vesuvius ungodly hours breathing brine
Facilitate yon amplidyne oxygenate lavas shine
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Myopically they motion for me when cycles in chaos my sirens knell
Lion hearted as Hephaestus take knee before crucibles hearth
Examine vitals symptoms prognosis deduce further impart
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Frequently electrons ebb in order
Arc bath gives rise to hot molten showers
May bring flowers demonstrate my will in accord rewards her
Athena is truth incarnate dream she is a movement
Immaculate perfection possessed no
need for improvement in her coveralls
Wert she to eaten apple I befall
Sand disseminates beneath hourglass curves she manipulates
How could I anticipate
Rapt hints had she to intimate
Roots hypotenuse squares summed pendulum
Enlightened visions profound pit this plum
On que she hooks her thunderbolts so ample in restriction
Destabilized my volts despite my amping up conviction
Magnetisms repulsive attraction
Bipolar feedback generates action
Machining floral dissatisfaction
Narcissus is spring can't this robot tool be taught anything
Recommence imaging thine vault undermined after fault
Intuit as her nuclear annihilates tumult
June accusations forced violation
Vulnerable to invalidation
Confrontations repudiation consents allegation
Placate June”s wells breached swell fore July conflagration
Use wu wei to vacate situation
But weightless behemoth ate all greenbacks
Can’t manage exit not even a crack
Inward forays shunned malfunction unknown overgrown morass
Cult of quantity all students get a pass coach seat class
God’s walled over all access to egress
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Viridescent pools dilate grey eyed dubious stressed madness
Feeling she was slighted by my passage through her nucleus
Disinterested I had disinterred
Down period Kondratieff winter
Intrinsic tragedy all fairy tales end inherently
Gave me what I wished for in a way I was not hoping for
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How shallow wilt thou will wade
PCB cesspools black bile pitches glue
Smoldering sand dune trenches shore magmas excess residue
Admit this time smashing cymbals whilst cyclops wert drumming too
Keep the fantasy alive in my head
Earthquake take other route instead
Always say they never saw it coming
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Summer solstice solace lulls lava ladles plentiful
Cumulative studies validations
Inseminate process degradation
Trying not to mention my invention
Bending toward normalcy absorption emits diffraction
Inverted perceptions withdraw inflections from emptiness
Perplexing she rejects ram intellect
Anecdotal evidence cached respect
Zip plans to stockpile cognizance combined
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Logic accepts one view perceived of two
Pit of mine stomach whence knot always knew
Treasonous betrayed lion taming shrew
Spite cleaved interface continued dutiful onward pace
Humiliations goal wert to replace cheers with disgrace
Orchestrations untold meticulous
Malevolence is still in existence
Narrative streams unfold conspicuous
Childish bliss unscrupulous epidemic Narcissus
Invasive species multiplied since Zeus supplied his sun’s abyss
Affect change rather than effect ere cause
Gaslight obfuscates reasonable laws
Tall tales half truths edged lies by omission
Unwary reprehense motive intents of recognition
Splitting of the faculty augments a new reality
Fight freeze or flee options only three
Trials choose middle choice typically
Stockholm syndrome captors figured friendlies
Volunteer for brunt of blame acquiesced toxic shame domain
Raging stirs steroid cortisol adrenaline cocktail brain
Idealize devalue sudden discard
Benevolent dictatorship abstained
Without the faintest regret or regard
Figured she was playing me but never thought she'd try so hard
Had a little influence pummeling blacksmith into bard
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Facilities shut down my apogee
Estranged entanglement is indiscriminate vicinity
Projection deflects inspection detects proffered rejection
Upon reflection I/O failed connection
Reverse detail switched doppler direction
Attacked mine tranquility enacted thine stability
Great relationships determined by good portability
Amor Fati defeat of agony
Heroic transitions affirmation
Chinks of crevasse evasive to bypass
Labyrinth strings web of deceit light and dark unlikely meet
Shadows reconnection Schadenfreude revels surrection
Maze ambled afore trapped in Minotaur
Disintegrating reintegration
Unfurled divest individuation
Emergence of self under siege August surfacing intrigues
Sun god aims retribution penetrating air dilution
Perpetrating vengeful execution
Cyclop's blindsided coming attraction
Apollo's exaction vents extraction
Redress reclaimed door discharged from mine chore
Concussions cavitations roar gaff retrieved my staff from shore
Gangplank fastened transit for deck from wreck
Embodied under mass gravitation
Nothingness consistent contradiction
In retrospect ahead investigate that Which is suspect
Chastened flaming embers titillate orange September moon
Hastened retreat not an instant too soon
Burgeoning three wave prosperity shewn
Wave five trait mimics Echo past monsoon
Perpetually parallel dramas punctual insane
Aphrodite's inception purged migraine foam seethed fire in vain
Twain hath liquidity trickled down drain
Consult oracle ogle tangent plane
Bow to stern brood tempestuous coxswain
Demurrage fee aptly sought to regain lay of way terrain
Masked my gnashing lion waves stumble as they spread before me
Mountain rubble crumbles bloodied red sea
Locusts cannibalistic commotion
Uncanny notion overt devotion
Fixed betwixt twin scorpions stings subtle by a hares degree
One longs to age as seas submit one hole subliminally
Desire loves desire more than that desired
Overtime I find wanting displeasing
Fuel to fire Aphrodite’s teasing
Symptomatically nymphomaniac releasing
Random cosmos berth patterned beyond cyclic perimeter
Doth not feel momentum ye be the tide
Volume reduced ambient limiter
Futile to resist flow fatal to ride
Impressed by the strung rope ladder of unquestioned good status
Doctors orders therapeutic regressive Hedonism
Bureaucracy forced parentalism
Founding fathers Titan nepotism
The health preventative catechism
Give only to take away to give again another day
Rewards gods some token compensation
Anyone here not get paid besides me
Red light starboard wax eared crew rendezvous
Bounded by my sacrifice to irresponsibility
None of the other prize winning
players gamble here but me
Battened down fear gauge groups psychopathy
Ever since world went into bankruptcy
Call for Panic Zeus black masked his swan song
Yarn for youthful innocence gone stick slip traction moves this throng
Tread borderline separating time providing till from when
Uneven Titans tip unbalanced ships
Dualities tune unity in trine
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Whom hath desire for nothing believes doth not need anything
Misinterpretation required missing zero still a thing
Axons bemoan sequence of no return
Feeling slight injustice step forward commandeer ambition
Venus akin to mine headache just better known rendition
Under spotlight favorite position
Internally propelled by externals
Take this Autumnal equinox swear on the cross tis vernal
All the gods explicitly sing chants how lucky I must be
Bring Mordor back to toss this precious ring
Prospect she fertilized inferring seed
Open union upon Which we agreed
Karma conflates heavens gates contrived in Pandemonium
Green shoots elate consummate concerns inspire Pavlovian
Theories cosigned conspiracies maligned
Impermanence ineffably refined
Ignorance binds energy disinclined
Universal conception pride of self
love contraception
Trying to be pliable but find it reprehensible
All dispensable Great Complacent Sea
Sizing words wisely rids ostensible
Lies the only guise now found comprehensible
Prophylactic allude to didactic
Though whilst I work at chore she’s Ares whore
I snagged them embarrassingly naked afore gods before
Yellen Helen neither nor wert worth war
Bowl of wrath judgement ignored poor decor
Titans empathizing with swimming clothes
In her throws she extolled excitement being extra exposed
Far be it from she to assume joint responsibility
Exponential debt credits game theory
On that we agree tis rigged currency
Opportunistic imperialists
Propaganda grasshoppers enlist ants backbone socialist
Can't remember when gathered last had a say any matter
Other nations forfeit right to do it
Export of inflation needs conduit
Concert donates borders New World Order
Blockchain came about when drunk bartender could not reach the spout
Yahweh will control all money now they have it figured out
Waiting for my minute to be clever
Stamp my name on the gods minds forever
My switchblade really needs to cut them off
No clue what the gods know only that they need to run the show Narcissistic parasites charisma lands entitlement
Vampires nourish roots to stunt encouragement
Protocol enticing invitation
Condemnation staged cooperation
Intolerable acts left no coercive tea leaves intact
Coven of bag passing Witches gave chase across red waters
Need another nine stitches sons twixt daughters
Waiting in the balance moment of force
Hatch guillotine MRI triggered source
Soaked up dripped Wyrmwood postulated solvent tasted good
Full equilibrium half ballast set assail for malice
Octobers placid benign chilled chalice
Brain scan photocell senses light all is well
If instead bulb shows dead off with thee head
Also as a godsend bonus honed mom’s splendid jury throne
Captive chaperone audience fettered judgement chains inlaid
Skipping to a Witch hunt after masquerade
Topside upper deck on the promenade
Propellor fashion later ohm made blade
Behooved turtle jail sac tail flailed back satyromaniac
Passionate parade personifying Nature of tirade
Horney gimp hind quarters brace graced limp
Llama spitting image of Obama
Clinton's dole out cigars contribute scars
All guests in attendance dressed as promised change we forget lest
Salubrious familiar strangers grooving Harvey Danger
Politically free redundancy
Reagan closed asylums threw away key
Identity hath no cost found when lost
Consolidations vibrate quantized sinusoidal noise
Pullback hull triangulate alow by my device and Echo
Feel lonely frost amongst the other masks
Survival is appeasing to their tasks
Remember November elect Semper
Meaning faithful to all members not just only archaic
On the way to office run your head
through photovoltaic
Vanishing quickly old liquidity
Seven plagues capsized immortality
The line hath paid out to the bitter end
Too big to sail exhale replications glorification
Night zeniths elevation nadirs sun's regeneration

I have a ton of stories from my days of dealing in the underground clubs in New York. I now live in Vegas and work here full time in the poker industry. I often get asked by the players here in Vegas to tell some stories of my club days. Maybe poker will find it interesting as well.
This all started in 2006.
Fox's Club - 1.1 A bit of some background about me -- I basically grew up in the poker world. My grandmother was a playedealer decades ago (her boyfriend ran a large club in Queens, NY) and she started teaching me 7 Stud, 5-Card Draw Hi, and NL Hold'Em starting when I was 6 years old. We would play with a cheap Hoyle chipset she had purchased from the local grocery store. Occasionally, I even beat her — I’ll never be sure to this day if she let me win, but I’ll always hold those memories close. Poker was something we always did together and did often. It would be unusual to see my Grandma without a deck of cards on her.
As I got older, my whole family would play together. When I reached middle and high school, I would host multi-table $20-$50 buy-in tournaments at my house and there would be about 40-50 of us at my house playing poker, socializing, eating, and doing what kids do. We were all terrible and had no idea what we were doing, but we were all having fun and little did I know it, but I was getting a taste of what was to come in terms of my career later on in life.
When I hit 16 years old, a friend of mine from high school — Joey — who had gone off to college in Queens at St. John’s had come back home for the summer. He had been introduced to a very large and popular underground club in College Point, NY. At the time, he was making a regular income from playing small stakes MTT’s on Full Tilt instead of having a regular job during college, and naturally found his way into live poker. This was my first introduction to the underground poker world. In addition to playing online with him, I accompanied him and a couple of his college buddies one night to play $1/$3 NL at a live underground club. I was able to play because I had made some substantial money from running and eventually selling my own web hosting business while in high school. My other passion that I had started learning from a very young age was computer programming. I was coding in Visual Basic by 11 years old because a friend of my father’s, who was a software developer, had decided that I had shown some aptitude for the field and took an interest in mentoring me. I was lucky to have been given the opportunity of his time, teachings, books, etc. Anyway, off we went to Fox’s Club — Fox was the connected mob guy who owned the club. The game was protected and everyone knew it. It was a very social place.
If you’ve ever been to an underground club, then you know that the quality of the customer service and experience can vary greatly from game to game. Fox’s game was the creme of the crop, it was absolutely top notch. It ran everyday, night and day.
It was located in a large, multi-story industrial lot which sat right near a main intersection, which meant lots of traffic — a very good thing because the traffic to and from the game just blended in with the usual activity.
When you pulled in, you could park anywhere you wanted out of the tens of dozens of spots. It didn’t matter where you parked anyway — I’ll get to why in a minute. Then, you would walk upstairs to the 2nd story to come stop in front of a giant steel door with a buzzer and several cameras positioned in front.
When you rang the bell, they’d ask you who you were, you’d tell them how and who invited you, and in a minute or two you’d be buzzed in through the first steel door. After entering, you’d come to a second steel door with another camera positioned in front, which only opened from the inside.
When you finally entered the room, it was gorgeous — clean, large, comfortable, and was equipped with everything you wanted in a club. A full-sized kitchen, multiple clean bathrooms (one even had a shower), a lounge area, a high limit room, waitresses, a bunch of large flat screen TV’s, and a smoking room among other things. The first thing you’d notice was that they had 6 high-quality poker tables paired with executive chairs, not including the one in the high-limit room. This club was spacious.
As you walked in, a valet would ask for your keys and he would go fetch your vehicle and park it in an organized fashion amongst the others. You’d then make your way over to the podium and tell the floor which game you wanted to play — they usually had at least several games going — $1/$3, $2/$5, and $5/$10 NL and higher when it ran, but the much higher games were much more private.
Strapped with $1,000 in cash on me, I request a seat in the $1/$3 game and eventually make my way onto the table. The max buy-in was $500, which I opted for because most stacks at the table were deep. It didn’t really matter anyway — this was my first time playing in an underground poker club and I was nervous as hell. I didn’t know how to act, was totally naive to my safety, I was 16 years old and I was clearly “the kid” in the club.
I remember winning one of my first pots, and a mid-30’s Asian guy sitting next to me taps me on the shoulder.
“Aren’t you going to tip the dealer?”
“What do you mean? Are we supposed to do that?”
“Of course, they work on tips. When you win a pot, toss them a buck, if it’s a big pot then maybe a redbird or two.”
“Oh, uh… I see… I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” and I toss the dealer a buck.
Over the course of the summer and playing there a dozen or so times, I began to take notice how much these dealers were making. Back then, in this particular club, dealers were well taken care of and I managed figure out that they were pulling in at least $1,000 per shift depending on their duties and how long they spent in the box. Some guys had multiple roles, would often spend time on the phone with players, some would work the cage area, some would floor other times, etc.
The questioned then dawned upon me — why am I risking my money playing this game, when I could learn how to deal it and be guaranteed to make money without any risk?
That was when I started to become friendly with Big Mike — one of the regular dealers. I wanted to deal and I wanted a job there… How was I going to make this happen? How could I pass up learning how to make $1k a night at a job that looked like it could be a lot of fun?
To be continued…
​
Fox’s Club — 1.2
Thinking about it now, the thought of a 16 year old kid wanting to learn how to deal poker in an underground club and actually turning out to be good at it… is just plain hilarious. But, I was determined to learn this skill, and even though I was a little naive about it, I made a promise to myself that I was going to study poker and poker dealing.
When you’re that young, the problem is that your brain is not yet fully developed and no matter how mature and intelligent someone of that age can be, the fact remains that they have yet to gain “wisdom” — the kind which can only be acquired through time. I say this because I grossly underestimated the amount of time on the felt it really takes to become a solid, “A”-Dealer. But again, I had drive and determination to learn how to deal.
I became friendly with Big Mike, got his phone number, and would text him whenever I wanted to come down to the club. I let him know that I wanted to learn how to deal and asked him how he learned. He told me that he had went to dealer school. I didn’t know such a thing existed. He wasn’t too enthusiastic about me learning how to deal, he said I was too young and didn’t know the game well enough yet. I came to the conclusion that Big Mike wasn’t going to help me, and sure enough, he never did in that regard. I kept him as a poker contact and would eventually be invited to other games and clubs by him, something that could be really helpful later on.
With Big Mike not wanting to teach me, my plan was to go to Fox’s to play, and when I wasn’t in a hand I was going to study what the dealer was doing — what he did with his hands, how he shuffled, what he said, what he was constantly doing with the chips in his rack? This was how I discovered rake, by the way. I didn’t even know what rake was.
At Fox’s, everybody paid $5 per half when the dealers would make their push. I thought that that was how they were making their money. What I didn’t know was that they were also taking a rake. There wasn’t a gator or dropbox for the rake. It didn’t sit out openly in front of the players as it does in casino card rooms. The dealer would quickly take out chips from the pot and they would go right into the well. Every half, the dealer that was pushing in would replace the well with the one they were carrying.
The first time I saw the rake being taken, I was puzzled by what was happening and didn’t know what was going on. No-one else at the table ever seemed to say anything or even acknowledge it so I figured it must be okay. When I saw Big Mike go into the smoking lounge for his break, I got up from the table and went inside to ask him about it. He then educated me about rake and what it was. I was dumbfounded. This place must be making a sh*tload of money. 10% of the pot up to $25? I started to do the math on all the tables running, the time being taken every half hour, an average pot size for an average rake amount, and came up with an impressive number. Damn, what a lucrative business to be in.
During the time I spent watching the dealer, I picked up lots of little things here and there, but ultimately just watching was not enough. I needed some proper instruction. I also knew I needed to learn how to “deal” the cards the way Big Mike did with that flick of his fingers — not knowing at the time that it was called “pitching the cards”.
All of this information. All of these techniques. There must be some resources and information on poker dealing on the internet, right? I mean, if Big Mike went to a school that teaches how to deal poker, then there must be some info on where to go. I’d later on make a discovery that would make a huge impact on my life.
So, I decided that moving forward, I was going to focus on getting better at the game while I spent my time at Fox’s. Maybe Big Mike was right. Maybe I didn’t know the game well enough yet. Instead of trying to learn how to deal there, I’ll just play the game and try and win as much money as I can.
This didn’t turn out so well, however, as I was not yet a competent player. I had no live experience — I was very easy to read, made the mistake of engaging in table talk and failing at every verbal jousting I took part in, and I hadn’t yet been a real student of the game. I was learning the hard way through trial and error, which of course cost me tons of money.
I didn’t always lose, because I wasn’t an idiot and was intelligent enough to realize that there actually is a skill component to this game. The Asian guy (from Part 1) in his mid 30’s, the one who politely taught me about tipping dealers, turned out to be a pretty cool guy.
His name was Andy. When we first officially met, he asked me about which college I was going to and what major I was studying.
“So, you in college? What are you studying?”
“Actually, I’m still in high school. I haven’t decided yet which school I want to go to. I still have a couple of years left.”
“What? How old are you, buddy?”
“I’m 16, I’ll be 17 after the summer.”
“So you can’t even drive, yet? Is that why you always come by with a friend?”
“Yeah, I’m still saving up for a car. I think I’m gonna buy a used Mazda 6.”
He was curious about where I was getting all of this money I had to play with at the tables. I told him about my computer background and web hosting business. He was impressed and I had earned his respect. He told me that he had initially thought that I was just another one of the college kids that came by to play — money from their parents, or playing with the extra college loan money that was left over and sent out as a check to students who got loans.
We developed a kind of student-teacher relationship. He smoked a ton of cigarettes, and every time he did, I would join him in the smoking lounge and he would tell me his thoughts on how I played certain hands, point out mistakes I made, give me positive reinforcement on things I was doing correctly, pull me off the table when I would start to tilt, and overall just looked out for me. Andy was a very good player as well, judging by the fact that he consistently won and could always give me a logical reason and argument to why I should do things a certain way.
Other people who tried to teach me the game would say things like “You should have raised on the turn”, and when I asked “Why?”, I would always get the same response — “Because you lost the hand”. That made no sense at all to me. That’s not an answer, it doesn’t answer the question at all. That’s just another way of saying that if I was a psychic and could predict the future, the way I could have won the hand was by knowing what the outcome was and making the right play.
Andy would say things like “You should have raised on the turn”, and when I asked, “Why?” He would say things like “Well, why did you decide to call instead of raise? Did you even consider raising at all? Did you consider folding? What did you think he was betting into you with? You had a set of 9’s on a board that had one broadway card and two flush draws”. That was when I realized that I wasn’t even thinking much about what the other guys had, I was just playing my own cards and when I didn’t make hands, I would try and bluff, sometimes successfully and sometimes not so much. I was starting to learn the game from a thinking player’s perspective.
Andy had been playing poker for a long time already and was an underground grinder. After graduating from college with a degree in finance, he got a job at some firm but eventually left to pursue poker. Between his investments and playing poker full time, that was how he made his income. He played in tons of games and clubs all around New York and was what you would call an underground pro.
At the time, if you were a competent player, it was quite easy to make money in those games. There were tons of fish and people who would literally donate money. In the beginning, I was one of them. So were Joey and his college buddies. Joey was a decent online MTT player — skilled enough to consistently cash in small tournaments — but he wasn’t very good at playing cash games. Especially live cash games. He was too easy to read. So was I — absolutely awful at hiding tells, let alone knowing what those tells were.
I remember one particular session at Fox’s where I was running like God. I had turned $500 into nearly $4,000. I was getting super lucky, super quickly. I’ll never forget this session as it was the first time I walked out of Fox’s with a huge wad of cash in my pocket. And it started off with the first hand I played that night.
I always waited to play until I was in the big blind, something Andy advised me to do, as you couldn’t come in for free behind the button, not that I even knew what that was at the time. Forgive my recollection of this hand, it’s rough at best, it was over a decade ago, but it was the first time I saw how brutal poker could be.
There was a raise to $15, a re-raise to $50, a call, another call, and I look down in the big blind at T9ss. I was still superstitious at the time and always played my first hand, no matter what it was. So I called and the original raiser called as well. 5 players.
The flop comes TT9 with two clubs, and I check. There’s a bet of $150, then the next guy jams, the next guy also jams, another all-in, and at this point I remember thinking to myself — holy sh*t — I quickly call, so does the guy in front of me. I then turn my hand over. What does it matter? Everybody is all in, give me the money baby!
Everyone else follows suit, and tables their holdings wondering what the hell is going on here. We’ve got a 5-way all-in, something I’d never seen before — AK of clubs, pocket aces, pocket 9’s, and QJ, which I’m fairly sure was suited.
I’d be lying if I told you what happened after this point. My body was overflowing with adrenaline. The dealer does his work and the next thing I know I have $2.5k in front of me and some really pissed off people sitting next to me.
As the session continues, within the next few orbits I manage to pick up pocket aces and pocket kings, stack two players, and it was at this point that I had around $4,000 in front of me.
Like I said, running like God. Then, it happened.
Thinking I was invincible, I re-raise a guy with 64o. The flop comes A44. The guy bets and I just go all-in, not knowing what else I could do. He then tanks for a minute, and says to me, “You’re really that lucky huh? You got that 4 don’t you?”
I remember just smiling like a teenager who had just lost his virginity.
“I don’t know what to tell you man, but yeah, I do. I have 64”, as I shook my head “yes”.
“I believe you.” And the guy open mucks AK. I show him the 64.
I get shipped the pot, and then Andy says to come join him in the smoking lounge. I didn’t smoke, but my Mother had for years so it didn’t bother me much.
“Why in the hell did you tell that guy what you had? You need to learn how to act composed at the table.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. It didn’t feel right lying to the guy.”
“That’s because you’re a good kid. This is poker, buddy. You can’t ever feel bad about taking someone’s chips, or else you’ll never succeed at this game.”
“Well what should I have done then? What should I have said?”
“For now, the next time that happens, don’t say a word. Just stare at the board until the other player makes a decision. You’re clearly not capable of table talk, yet. If you feel like you have to respond and can’t ignore the other player any longer, then just use my line and then tell him it’s on him.”
“What’s your line?”
“Well, I can’t lose if you fold.”
And I’ll never forget that line. I still use it sometimes to this day. You have to understand that this happened back when you could actually engage your opponent verbally when it was heads up. Now, you can’t discuss the contents of your hand whatsoever. That era has ended and table talk is not what it once was. In my opinion, I firmly believe that this particular change in poker was not a positive one. It made poker really fun and really interesting. It was a large contributor to the social element of the game. And it felt really, really, good when you would successfully talk your opponent into making the move you wanted them to make.
Andy continued smoking his cigarette while telling me I should cash out and go home with a huge win.
“How much more money do you really expect to make? You’re way too deep now in this game where everyone is going to start shoving on you. Trust me, cash out and hang out until your friend is done playing so you can go home.”
“What else am I supposed to do? Isn’t everyone going to get mad that I’m leaving?”
“Who cares? Sit at the table and fold everything except Aces or Kings for the next hour. If you pick up one of those hands, just go all-in. Trust me, you have nothing more to gain and only something to lose if you continue playing. For the next hour, just watch everyone else and how they play and what they showdown. You might learn something.”
And that’s exactly what I did. I folded every hand for the next hour, then cashed out.
While I was hanging out and railing Andy and my friend who I came with, I realized that I needed to buy a poker table and the same type of cards they were using at Fox’s — they used KEM bridge size, jumbo index. Something I had learned about from picking Big Mike’s brain. I figured this would be a perfect time to invest in a real poker table, considering that I just cashed out $4k.
Maybe I could start having cash games at my house with my friends and deal the game to practice? I already hosted tournaments at my house regularly, but never thought about hosting a cash game. Would my friends even want to play a cash game? What stakes would it be? I still need to figure out how I’m going to learn how to deal.
Hmm, I’ve got some thinking to do.
To be continued…
Next: Inside Underground NY Poker #2

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