Spike's Gambit
Chapter 37: High Roller
Previous Chapter Next ChapterTwilight fell asleep listening to the TV in her room, trying to learn a new way to beat Spike and recoup her losses to him.
“Forget slots, forget poker, forget craps, and forget blackjack. If you want to really make money in a casino, walk up to a baccarat table and say, ‘I want to play baccarat.’”
“Bet with the bank. Bet with the player. Nine is a natural,” she mumbled in her sleep. “Bet with the bank. Bet with the player. Nine is a natural. Bet with the bank... Bet with the player... Nine is a natural... bet with the bank, bet with the player, nine is a natural... bet with the bank, eight is a winner... Hard six coming out... Hit me!”
As she slept, playing cards spun through her dreams. She was back at her Blackjack table and Spike was seated across from her. He had slid into the table cocky and opened up with a million dollar bet.
She dealt him two cards and he said, “Hit me.”
She dealt him a third card.
“Hit me. Hit me. Hit me. Hit me. Hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me! Okay, I’m fine!”
Twilight cackled and showed her cards: two Queens.
“Twenty! Top that!”
Spike smiled as laid all of his cards (face down) in front of him. He fanned them out and turned them over with one swift wave of his hand.
“Twenty-one,” he stated.
All Aces!
“Well... ain’t that a kick in the head,” Discord said, and he started singing Dean Maretin’s song.
The cards kept getting hotter, and Spike worked his way into a groove, moving higher and higher. After nineteen rounds, Spike moved up to four hands of ten million dollars each— he got the King of Diamonds, the Four of Diamonds, the Two of Hearts and the Five of Clubs (21); the Jack and the Ace of Clubs (21), the Ten of Clubs with the Ace of Spades (21), and finally the Queen of Hearts with the Ace of Diamonds (21)—until he finally played all eight betting circles at once, taking full advantage of Twilight. He burnt through the sea of low cards—hitting over and over again through an ugly run until the count started to turn—and then the shoe burst with color: kings, queens, jacks, and aces, springing out with each flick of Twilight’s wrist.
It was beautiful!
On the last round (#36), Spike hit the limit with each of his eight hands, putting two billion in orange chips in each betting circle. He drew seven twenties and an eighteen against Twilight’s seven. She flipped her hole card, revealing a ten—and Spike won all eight of his hands! She started to pay him off, and then saw that her rack was empty. She didn’t have enough to cover Spike’s win!
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she told him bitterly.
“The very words I live by,” he replied.
After that, he played the Roulette wheel.
“Play them all, that way you can’t lose!” Twilight told him.
“Whatever you say, Doll,” he said as he put money down on all the numbers.
“He fell for it,” she thought. “Now it’s my move.”
They both knew that each turn of the wheel, each fall of the ball into a numbered slot, had absolutely no connection with its predecessor. They knew that the game began afresh each time the croupier picked up the ivory ball with his right hand, gave one of the four spokes of the wheel a controlled twist clockwise with the same hand, and with a third motion, also with the right hand, flicked the ball around the outer rim of the wheel counter-clockwise, against the spin.
Twilight spun the wheel and dropped the Roulette ball into the cone, only for it to bounce back out and into her mouth. She clawed at her throat before performing the Heimlich maneuver on herself, practically punching her own gut, and she spat the ball at a marble statue of a naked woman holding a bunch of grapes in one hand. The Roulette ball hit the statue in its knee with so much force that the leg broke and the statue fell forward, onto the Roulette table. The bundle of grapes it was holding fell and broke apart into individual pieces, and one went into each pocket of the wheel.
“Winner! All numbers!” Midnight Radiance shouted.
Spike leaned back, kicked his feet up onto the wheel—right on the Roulette wheel—and waited for Twilight to pay him off.
To Twilight, Spike was the most arrogant prick in the world. And not only that, he was invincible, physically incapable of losing. She had to resort to cash after hitting a big losing streak.
Finally, Spike approached the baccarat table and Midnight Radiance took up his position as croupier with Sassy Saddles as his banker. Generally, a baccarat table was divided into two tableaux. The banker played two games, one against each of the tableaux to the left and right of him. In the game, the banker would be able to win by playing off one tableau against the other and by first-class accountancy. It was unusual because the odds in favor of the banker weren’t so good, even though he had control of the size of the stakes.
The banker stood in the middle with a croupier to rake in the cards and call the amount of each bank and a chef de partie to generally umpire the game. In front of him, there was a shoe containing six packs of cards, well shuffled. And there was absolutely no chance of tampering with the shoe. Then the banker announced an opening bank of five hundred thousand dollars.
The player next to the banker could accept the bet and push his money out on to the table, or pass it, if it was too much for him or he didn’t want to take it. The second player had the right to take it, and if they refused, then number three and so one around the table. And if none of the players took it, the bet was offered to the table as a whole and everyone chipped in, sometimes including the spectators around the table, until the five hundred thousand was made up.
The player(s) got two cards, and the banker got two cards, and unless anyone won outright, either or both could get one more card. If the banker dealt a player two cards and they added up to eight or nine, then that was considered a “natural” and the player could turn them up and win, unless the banker had an equal or a better natural. If the player didn’t have a natural, they could stand on a six or a seven, ask for a card or not, on a five, and ask for a card if the count was less than five. Five was the turning point of the game. According to the odds, the chances of bettering or worsening your hand if you held a five were exactly even.
The object of baccarat is to hold two or three cards that when added together total nine points, or as close to nine as possible. Court cards and tens counted as nothing; aces one each; and any other card at its face value. It was only the last figure of the count that signified. For example, nine plus seven equaled six – not sixteen. In short, the winner was the one whose count was closest to nine, and draws were played over again.
“Bet, sir?” Sassy asked Spike.
For Spike, half a million was a small bet, which he immediately met.
The cards were shuffled by Midnight Radiance, cut by one of the other players, and put into the shoe in full view of the table. It would be useful, but almost impossible, to mark all the cards.
Twilight showed the Jack of Spades and the Five of Diamonds. Then Midnight Radiance showed the Six of Clubs. Twilight shook her head.
“Madame stands with five,” he said.
“You should quit while you’re still ahead,” Spike advised as he sipped a glass of Champagne.
“That’s one thing I’ve never learned,” Twilight replied.
“It’s too bad,” he said. “We share the same passions. Carte.”
Midnight Radiance slipped Spike’s cards delicately across the table to him. With his right hand, Spike picked up his two cards and turned them face up with a faint snap. They were a four and a five, an undefeatable natural nine.
He had won.
“Nine,” Midnight Radiance said unemotionally. “Madame loses.”
“Damn it!” Twilight cursed in thought. “Why are the odds so tilted in his favor? If I’m not on one Tartarus of an unlucky streak, the only answer is he’s cheating! I don’t know how, but he is!”
She looked hard at Spike and asked, “What can I do with five dollars?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” he replied. “Buy a bullet and rent a gun?”
Spike kicked back against the table as Sassy gave him a cigar and lit it for him. Suddenly, Fluttershy materialized right in front of Spike, completely naked. She pulled off his shoes and a pair of rabbit’s feet popped out of them instead of human feet. Then Photo Finish appeared camera in hand.
“Pull out his cock!” she commanded.
Fluttershy did as she was told and reached for Spike’s pants. She undid them and slipped her hand inside. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked him until he was good and hard.
“Ride it,” said Photo Finish.
Fluttershy climbed atop Spike as she guided him, teasing the tip at first, and then slammed her hips down so he was all the way inside her. Photo Finish continued snapping pictures as Twilight watched Spike and Fluttershy, unable to look away. She continued to watch as Fluttershy’s skin slowly started turning pale gold. Then her ears suddenly popped up and fur began growing all over them. Twilight screamed as Fluttershy’s arms and legs started to grow fur, too. Her feet were also changing. She could see fur growing all over Fluttershy’s body. Her once smooth legs were now coated with it. Soon her face began to grow fur, as her nose shrank and contorted into a round pink shape. Twilight watched in terror as Fluttershy’s eyebrows disappeared into the fur that was growing on her face. Finally, a big, round, white powder-puff tail popped out just above Fluttershy’s rear end, causing her to moan as the newly formed limb burst free. She looked at her now furry body; she had turned into a fully developed bunny! Not a real bunny; she kept a few of her human features, shape and size, even expanding a few certain areas. Her breasts were, indeed, larger, not just because they were coated with fur, but also because they had swelled up a few cup sizes.
Then she and Spike started going at it like rabbits... which they were. Well, at least Fluttershy was. Suddenly, the rest of Spike’s harem, all now transformed into anthropomorphic furry girls, appeared. Applejack, Adagio, Aria and Sonata were she-wolves, Fleur, Sunset, Tempest and Stellar Flare were red, white and silver foxes (vixens, technically); Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Moon Dancer, Sassy, and Coco were all cats; and Pinkie and Trixie were bunnies like Fluttershy.
“Master, we have a present for you,” they all said.
Spike stopped humping Fluttershy long enough to stand up and see what they had brought him. It was Chrysalis. Only she was an anthropomorphic dog. She was completely naked except for a silver dog collar around her neck—with the word “BITCH” engraved into it—and it was on a chain instead of a leash.
“Sit, Chrissy,” Spike commanded.
Chrysalis immediately squatted down and started panting like a dog.
“Good bitch,” Spike said as he stroked her under her chin. “Now, roll over.”
She rolled on the floor all around him.
“Good,” He reached into his tuxedo jacket, pulled out a doggie treat (which he just happened to have on him), tossed it to her, and she caught it in her open mouth. “Now show me your ass and shake it.”
Chrysalis turned away from him and started shaking her booty, complete with booty clapping.
“Play dead,”
She clutched her hands to her breasts. “Is this the end of Queen Chrysalis?”
“Now speak!”
She stood up, pulled a purple wig out of hammerspace (from behind her back), put it on... and did a perfect impression of Twilight.
“My fellow Equestrians, I am not a crook!”
Spike gave her one more doggie treat.
“Good. Now bark like the little bitch you are!” he ordered.
“Rrrr-ruff! Ruff!”
“Louder!”
“Ruffruff! Ruh-uhn-uff!”
“Louder, bitch!”
“GRR-UFF!! AH! RUFF-AHH-RUFF-F-RUH-HAH-AHH-AHH-FUH-FUCK!!”
“YES!! Now, show me what a real bitch in heat acts like!!”
Spike forced Chrysalis to turn around, holding her arms behind her back, dragged his throbbing cock achingly slow across her tight, little twat...
“Ahhh... Ooohh... S-Spikeee...”
... and then slammed it right into her ass!
“Ahhh! AhHH!! Yuh-You fucking b-bastard! UHNNN!!’”
“What did you call me?” Spike growled. “Who’s in charge here? WHO!?!”
“You are, Master!” Chrysalis whined. “I’m sorry I-!”
“Say you’re my bitch! SAY IT OR I’LL USE MY TEETH!!”
“I’M YOUR B-BIT-CH! F-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!”
Spike assaulted her from behind until he’d had his fun, then Celestia—who was a white anthro mare—pushed him back into his chair and started riding him.
“Stop!” Twilight shouted. “Please, stop! Get away from him! Spike, why are you doing this? Please stop!”
“Stop screaming, Twilight,” Discord commanded. “You’re upsetting the other customers.”
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled.
Twilight was already scared of what was happening around her... then she became mortified at what, or rather who, she saw next. It was her, and yet, at the same time, it wasn’t. It was someone who looked like her, but she was dressed in the dark blue corset teddy, cat ears and long tail that she had worn when she helped cater the A. K. Yearling alumni event. Spike’s harem forced her onto her back on the floor. Then they all started laughing at her and calling her “Mittens.”
“Meow... Meow. I’m a loser cat with a gambling addiction,” she mewed. “I lost to Spike Drake, the King of Las Pegasus, and now I’m over 300 billion dollars in the hole. How do you think I should get it back, huh? I think I should gamble more and I want to. Would anyone like to be my patron? Pwetty pwease...?”
Suddenly, Fluttershy kicked Mittens in the face.
“I’m the only one who’s allowed to be that cute here!” she shouted.
That’s when Pinkie stepped forward. She had a dark, creepy look on her face, like something out of a slasher movie. She started stroking Mittens’ hair.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said. “And so silky smooth, just like a doll’s hair. How long have you been growing it out, since elementary school?”
Pinkie grabbed Mittens by her hair and forced her to her feet. She just stood there and took their abuse while Twilight continued to watch, frozen in place, unable to do anything to stop them.
“No! Stop it!” she screamed.
Then they all pulled out pairs of scissors and started cutting Mittens’ hair. It started out as a little trim... then Pinkie pulled out an electric razor.
Twilight closed her eyes to shut out the horrific images, and when she opened them again, she was suddenly home, back in Canterlot.
“Why did you miss on purpose?” said a voice.
She turned and saw someone standing with her in her parents’ living room.
It was her brother, Shining Armor.
“Why did you do it, Twilight?” he asked again. “When you let your opponent win, that isn’t kindness. It’s completely selfish! Do you think you are better than everyone?” He scoffed. “You’re not cut out for it, Twilight! You only bring despair to those around you... even us.”
Suddenly, Spike appeared alongside Shining.
“I don’t want anything to do with you!” he said, his eyes full of tears. “With you around, I can never find happiness!”
Finally, Celestia, completely human again, was with them.
“It’s your fault, Twilight,” she went on. “You make everyone unhappy! That’s why everyone you love turns their backs on you and eventually leaves you all alone!”
They all turned and started walking away, leaving Twilight in darkness.
“Wait! Don’t leave me!” she cried.
She ran after them, and when she touched Shining Armor’s shoulder, he turned to look at her. But his eyes were gone. All that was left were two dark red sockets. Then he opened his mouth and a tide of blood red ladybugs poured from it and attacked her.
Twilight screamed as she closed her eyes again, and she was back in the Flimflam Brothers’ casino. The lights within the building turned bloody as Twilight ran away from Spike, out of the resort, and into the busy street. She almost got hit by a semi-truck and several cars honked their horns as they zoomed by her. Suddenly, the ground shook beneath her feet as the roof of Flimflam Resort was blown off the place... and a colossal purple dragon with green spikes and large, leathery, bat-like wings protruding from its back loomed up towards the sky like a king cobra rearing its head, preparing to strike. Twilight saw the malice in its eyes and ran as fast as she could.
She didn’t care about rattlesnakes or the other predators of the desert; she ran through them. She heard the dragon’s wings thrashing behind her. She ran until she fell to her knees, stuck to a giant cheese quesadilla, like a fly on flypaper, at the base of Hoofer Dam. She looked up the whole 727 feet to the top, and the dam began to break. The dam gave way and the water bore down on her, but before the water hit her, the ground beneath her suddenly broke open and she plummeted into a fiery lake of lava.
Twilight woke up half out of bed, panting, the covers pulled loose and wound around her neck in a noose, clawing at her mouth and her hair. It took several seconds for her to calm down and realize that it had only been a bad dream. She lay back down; convinced there would be no more sleep for her that night. Yet she dozed off again.
She didn’t even feel the blast of a terrific explosion, very near (a few blocks away), that rocked the resort hard enough that bottles slowly toppled off the shelves behind the bar in the casino.
Spike awoke to the smell of bacon. He got out of bed, still naked, and followed the aroma to the kitchenette. Applejack, in the white tuxedo shirt Spike had worn at the Craps tables the night before, and nothing else, was standing with her back to him, flipping the bacon and scrambling eggs. The radio was playing smooth jazz. Her long blonde hair fell freely down her back, reaching her ass. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, just below her breasts, and nuzzled her neck.
“Well, good mornin’, Sugah,” Applejack smiled. “Whoa!”
Spike picked her up, swung her around twice, and kissed her heartily on the mouth. He looked deeply in her eyes and playfully brushed his nose against hers. After they enjoyed breakfast together, they joined Sunset and Zephyr Breeze for their afternoon of relaxation with the L’Oranges. When they got to the spa, five Kirin women—Fern Flare, Spring Glow, Winter Flame, Sparkling Brook and Maple Brown—and three men—Forest Fall, Autumn Afternoon and Pumpkin Smoke—were on duty.
“Two gentlemen’s respites, my good woman,” Spike said to Fern Flare. “And please, no other attendants besides Aloe and Lotus Blossom,” he added. “I want women who don’t respect boundaries.”
Fern Flare nodded as Spike and his friends wrapped themselves in white towels and assumed positions on the massage tables, and Spike’s stress and tension melted away as Aloe and Lotus Blossom slowly rubbed his back.
“Drake, how you enjoying that massage?” King L’Orange asked.
“I’m enjoying it, King,” Spike replied. “I really am.”
“That’s your problem, Spike: you’re wound way too tight for a guy your age. You gotta learn how to loosen up, relax,”
“You’re right, King. I do,” Spike admitted. “A little harder on the shoulders, please, Aloe.”
“That’s it, kid! Now that you got that, all we gotta do is teach you how to dress properly,”
“Don’t you ever get tired of massages?” Aloe asked Spike as she kneaded his shoulders. “Ever since you laid eyes on my sister and I, you’ve had us pound away at you.” She leaned in close so that her lips were almost touching his ear, and added in a whisper, “I would like you to pound away at me for once.”
Spike raised his head to answer. Then his eyes went wide and he motioned for Aloe and Lotus Blossom to stop massaging him.
“Spike, what’s wrong?” Zephyr asked.
Spike was staring at a man on the far side of the spa—a man who radiated a unique blend of sophistication and brutality.
“That’s Dragon Lord Torch!” he breathed.
Torch was absurdly tall for a crime lord. At eight-foot-one, he towered over everyone else in the room. With angry black brows and a ruthless jut to his jaw, it was impossible for him to vanish into a crowd, and he couldn’t wander unnoticed through an airport. If someone was looking for him, they’d find him—in a club, in a bar, in a crowded casino.
Torch controlled all the Dragonese in Equestria. Some existed poorly, and their rivalries often came to violence. But the claim of each Dragon Lord was that the role was established solely to look after the welfare of his family’s individual members. In fact, they derived their income through control of prostitution, gambling, and the sale of weapons—among other equally lucrative rackets.
“That’s Dragon Lord Torch?” Sunset asked. “That’s a giant in a bathrobe!”
“Stay here,” Spike told them.
“Spike, the man is eight feet tall!” Zeph said. “And even if he wasn’t, you do not interrupt another man’s massage! That is just one thing you do not do!”
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
Spike got up from the massage table, rewrapped the towel around his waist, and approached the Dragon Lord. Torch looked at Spike and a wide smile broke across his face.
“Saluton, mia filo, kiel vi fartas?” Torch greeted him. “Mi ĝojas vidi vin. Mi bezonas paroli kun vi.”
Spike looked into Torch’s dark eyes and replied, “Kio pri?”
“Iu ekiris bombon en unu el la hazardludaj trunkoj de Impossibly Rich,” Torch said. “Du el ŝiaj dungitoj estis mortigitaj.”
“Ĉu vi estis?” Spike asked.
“Mi festas en la Hard Rock Club venontan monaton, kaj la tuta Drako-Mafio estos tie,” he said. “Se vi ne volas veni, mi komprenos.”
“Ne, bonas,” Spike replied. “Mi estos tie.”
A nod of Torch’s head, and ten large men in robes suddenly sprung out of reclining chairs all around the room, and Sunset and Applejack were struck by how huge they all were. They made Spike look like a doll.
Torch placed his hands firmly on Spike’s shoulders. Then he kissed Spike on both cheeks, like a father to his son.
“Have a good day,” he said to Spike and his ten bodyguards followed him out of the spa.
Zephyr, Sunset and Applejack approached Spike.
“Spike, what language was that?” Applejack asked.
“Dragonese,” he replied.
“What did Torch say to you?” Sunset asked. “Did he threaten you?”
“No,” Spike promised.
“Then what did he say?”
“He invited us to a big party at the Hard Rock next month,”
“A big party at the Hard Rock?” Zeph repeated. “You better not be lying to me!” he said. “I will slap you so hard that you end up back in the 19th Century! I mean it, man, I will send you back to the Dark Ages! A big party?”
“Big one,” Spike stated.
Zephyr smiled, as did Sunset and AJ, and they returned to their original spots and enjoyed the rest of their spa day.
High rollers didn’t take cabs from the airport. They didn’t carry their own bags. They never waited on check-in lines. They stayed in rooms with Jacuzzis, circular leather couches, wide-screen televisions, and magnificent views. And they wore whatever the Tartarus they wanted, no matter how ridiculous they looked.
Spike came out of the changing room in a new black suit and a clean, silk emerald-green shirt. He had exchanged his shoes for shiny black leather designer boots, and his hair was slicked down with so much mousse that the outline of his skull was visible. With the hair and flashy clothes, he could have easily passed for a rich kid from Jockeypan.
Major L’Orange laughed out loud, his feet thrust up on the glass coffee table in the center of the lavish store as Sunset, Applejack and the rest of the L’Oranges nodded at Spike approvingly.
“Are you sure this looks good on me?” Spike asked them.
“Are you kidding?” King L’Orange asked. “Every girl’s crazy about a Sharp Dressed Man!”
Vinyl Scratch must have had superhuman hearing, or a psychic sense of some kind, Spike thought, because as soon as King said those words, the song by ZZ Top started playing over the resort’s sound system. And, like many of the songs he’d heard during his stay, Spike found himself agreeing with the lyrics: everything from the white gloves and top hat to the silk suits, new shoes and shirts. These were not bargain-counter shirts: these were custom-tailored, made to Spike’s measurements and bearing Mr. Drake’s monogram on the breast pocket. He didn’t worry about the cost of any of it because his wallet was fat! And no matter what he chose, Spike always looked his best.
He swaggered through the casino like he was untouchable; he almost always brought Sunset and/or Applejack with him and sometimes he let them carry some of the cash. He had become a fixture at the Flimflam Brothers’ casino—as well as the Stardust, the MGM Grand, and the Mirage—and many of the pit bosses, including and especially Sassy Saddles, thought of him as a friend. Except for Sassy, none of them knew who he really was, but they knew he was rich and liked to make big bets, and on Friday nights he liked to party. Everyone smiled when they saw him, and he felt more and more at ease.
After Spike had had his fun for the day, he changed into his dealer’s uniform and slipped behind one of the blackjacks tables just as Twilight entered the casino, as a customer, with a big wad of cash in her hand.
“He is not going to win this time!” she said.
“I don’t know,” Pinkie, who was bussing drinks as a Bunny Girl, said. “He sure looks like a big winner to me.”
“Payback time,” Twilight said to herself.
She approached Spike’s table and sat down.
“You really don’t know when to quit, do you, Sparkle?” he asked her.
Twilight counted out five hundreds, set them on the felt, and watched Spike recount them and exchange them for five black chips. The other girls watched the transaction.
“Here’s an idea,” Spike suggested. “Why don’t you give me half the money you were going to bet, and we’ll step out into the alley, Sunset will kick you between your legs, and we’ll call it a day?”
Twilight placed a single chip in the betting circle and scowled at Spike.
“Now, now, don’t scowl,” he said as the cards came out and he dealt the first two to her, the Six of Diamonds and the Ace of Clubs. “It makes you look old.”
He showed the King of Hearts.
“Do you hit or stand?” he asked.
“I’ll hit,” she said.
He dealt her the Four of Hearts. Then he revealed his second card—the Three of Spades—and dealt himself a third card, the Eight of Clubs—Twenty-One for both of them. It was a tie! A push!
Spike dealt again and showed the Ace of Spades. His second card was the Nine of Diamonds, for a solid twenty, beating her seventeen. He flipped out two more cards to her and then gave himself two. Twilight glanced at her two cards—sixteen. She looked up at Spike and shook her head. He turned up a Jack and a ten. Then, she had twelve and drew a three and then a nine – twenty-four—and busted. He had seventeen. After that, she had seventeen and he had nineteen.
“So close,” he said.
But Twilight didn’t care about those hands. She was running the cards, counting down based on Spike’s deal. She was trying to control the deal so that a specific card would be dealt to her.
Her heart thumped as she drew a pair of nines against Spike’s five. It was the most beautiful hand she’d seen since he’d arrived. She split the nines, and drew eights on both. Then her stomach dropped as Spike turned over his bottom card to reveal a six. Spike flipped the next card, a ten, for a twenty-one. Twilight’s ears rang as he swept her fifty thousand dollar bet off the table.
Her hands were shaking as she moved three stacks of chips into the betting circle. He dealt her a twenty, an ugly fourteen, and two seventeens, then pulled the worst card in the deck, a six.
Spike flipped his bottom card, revealing a queen. He now had sixteen, the worst possible hand. Twilight was actually smiling again as Spike drew his next card. Then the entire crowd that had amassed around the table gasped.
A five.
Spike flipped a damn five for another twenty-one! Twilight had lost no less than a hundred million dollars in ten hands. She sat there, frozen, as Spike swept away her money. For the rest of the shoe, Spike played perfectly, growing more powerful with each hand until he busted her down to her last quarter—you can give me that tomorrow, he said—and that was that.
Shuffle tracking, a basic probability-distribution exercise. Players could calculate the percentage of low-card infiltration into the run, caused by the dealer’s shuffle. After that, it was only a matter of practice. Really good players could track a group of 15 cards with a six-deck shuffle without breaking a sweat.
It was not magic, just math.
Twilight rose and stumbled to the elevators, her face numb.
After exiting the elevator, she continued to stumble down the hallway to her room. She laid on her bed, arm outstretched, staring at the ceiling. A hundred million dollars in ten hands... She could have paid the money if she really wanted to, but the truth was she would never regain the advantage she’d lost. Twilight had convinced herself that she had challenged Spike simply to restore her wounded pride, but if that was all she wanted, then she shouldn’t have needed to and shouldn’t have dared to play a game with such disastrous consequences.
“I never should’ve tried to play against Spike,” she thought. “It was stupid to believe I might be able to get my old position back. And, more than that, going up against Spike Drake was the biggest gamble of all. You go up against him, and you will always lose!”
It was a good 20 minutes before Twilight finally fell asleep.
That night, Twilight had more horrible nightmares and no matter how many times she woke up, Spike found his way back into them. Over the next few days, the nightmares got worse. She’d wake up, half-expecting to find clumps of her hair missing and her scalp bleeding. She chalked them up to stress and feelings of guilt about wanting to do something bad to Spike. She wanted the nightmares to stop, but even if they did, she couldn’t escape the darkness of her past. She hoped never to have to heave her squirming nakedness before the eyes of strangers ever again.
Spike was still very handsome, she thought. He always had his quick smile ready, and he was ever courteous. Sometimes he could still make her heart flutter, and he could make the other girls laugh when they were low. But something about the way she felt about him was changing, and it had been doing so for a while now. Whether she was hating him or longing for him, he was always on her mind, a strong, definitive presence, and one that she could not shake.
Meanwhile, the past three weekends had been the best of Spike’s life. He’d spent most of his free time with his harem (mostly Celestia or Applejack), using the Keys to the Kingdom and his favors at the various establishments to sweep them off their feet. They’d spend half the day in bed. Then they would hit the pool, a swank bistro, and a posh nightclub. He had standing reservations at the fanciest restaurants and hottest clubs, and front-row tickets to all the sold-out shows. The only thing stopping him from truly embracing her fully was Twilight Sparkle—her very presence was a dark storm cloud hanging around him, ready to pour down on his head—and he was looking for the perfect opportunity to cut her loose.
As for Applejack, she had never been happier. Every night and each time Spike touched her, she grew more sensitive to him. Sometimes she ached for his hand before it came to her flesh, and she despised herself for such weakness. Then she remembered how no other guy had ever made her feel that way, and she knew that made Spike extra special. He even started doing her laundry for her; mostly her panties. One time, they even made out with her sitting on one of the washing machines in the staff laundry room before he dropped his pants and started doing her on the machine while it ran. He set her upon the washer, adjusted no more than his shorts, and drove into her with the velocity of a summer storm. They only stopped when Coco walked in on them as the machine went into its rinse cycle.
“Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t realize anyone was--I’ll come back later... much later!”
But Spike grabbed her wrist and invited her to join them... and she did.
The following night, Spike and his harem (minus Sassy) sat down for dinner. As usual, the casino was surging with visitors from all over the Northeast. It was an amazing thing to comprehend, considering that Las Pegasus was located in the middle of nowhere. The restaurant was small and dark, lit only by candles in gilded candelabras whose warm light was repeated in wall mirrors set in gold picture frames. The walls were covered in dark red satin and the chairs and ‘banquettes’ in matching red plush. In the far corner, a quintet consisting of Frederick Horseshoepin on grand piano, Octavia Melody on her cello, Wolfgang Canter and Symphony Song with their violins, and Parish Nandermane on harp, was playing the Gamblers’ Waltz with muted sweetness. Seduction dripped on the quietly throbbing air. It seemed to Spike that every woman was touching him with passion under the table.
“Have you made your decision on what to drink?” their waiter, a snooty man with pale cream skin, slicked back blue hair and brown eyes, asked after he’d offered Spike the leather-bound wine list.
“We would like your finest Champagne,” Spike said, with his finger on the page. “The Trottinger ‘45.”
“A fine choice, sir,” said Savoir Fare. “But if you will permit me,” he pointed, “the Flanc de Flanc Brut 1943 of the same marque is without equal.”
Spike smiled. “So be it,” he said. “And bring plenty of toast.”
Savoir Fare bowed as he went to get the wine.
“That’s not a well-known brand,” Spike said, “but it is probably the finest Champagne in the world. And the trouble with caviar is not how much you have, but how to get enough toast with it,” he explained to the women. “Forgive me, but I take ridiculous pleasure in what I eat and drink. It comes from being a bachelor for so long, but mostly from a habit of taking a lot of trouble over details.”
“Well, I like doing everything fully,” Fleur replied, “getting the most out of everything one does. I think that’s the only way to live.”
The bottles of Champagne arrived in their bowls of crushed ice and the waiters filled their glasses.
“Have you decided what you would like to have for dinner?” Savoir Fare asked when he returned.
“Please be expensive,” Spike said as he sensed the girls’ (particularly Applejack’s) hesitation, “or you’ll let down those beautiful dresses.”
They all smiled at him as they finished deciphering the maze of purple ink which covered the menu.
“I’d make two choices,” Fleur laughed, “and either would have been delicious. Behaving like a billionaire occasionally is a wonderful treat and if you’re sure... well, we’d like to start with the caviar and then have a plain grilled ‘rognon de veau’ with ‘pommes soufflées’. And then I’d like to have ‘fraises des bois’ with a lot of cream. Is that very shameless to be so certain and so expensive?”
“I myself will accompany the Mademoiselles with the caviar, but then I would like the ‘tournedos’, well done, with Béarnaise sauce, and scrambled eggs with bacon,” Spike added. “While they are enjoying the strawberries, I will have the salad with a little Ranch dressing. Do you approve?”
“My compliments,” Savoir Fare replied.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the music, none of them smoked. Then Spike talked of other things while the women sipped their Champagne.
“When my mother died, I felt so lost and hopeless,” he said. “Every night I’d cry myself to sleep. It felt like each day that went by was another day lost. I didn’t care whether I lived or died. But one day, I was walking along and I saw someone dancing in the street, not a care in the world. And that’s when I realized something: I wasn’t really living. When I thought about you before falling asleep, I noticed I wouldn’t have nightmares. I began looking forward to seeing you again. It was like, for the first time, I was glad I was alive. You girls are everything to me! You are what the last two months have been about! You’re proof that I’m alive! Why’d I get in the limo and come to Las Pegasus that day? It’s obvious: so I could come here and meet all of you! I’m still alive and I have something to live for!”
Suddenly, Spike felt he had said too much, but the women appreciated the intimacy of his words. They were tempted to run their fingers through his hair, but many of them bit into her lower lips and held back, afraid of the very depths of the thing that raged between them. They could hold nothing back from him, and that was frightening, while he still held so very much of himself away from them.
Savoir Fare returned with the caviar and a mound of hot toast. Spike started heaping the caviar onto their plates. Savoir Fare supervised the other waiters’ serving of the second course and the group ate the delicious meal.
And all of this was witnessed by the Flimflam Brothers via the wall of monitors in their high-rise office.
“Ah, young love,” Flim said. “It’s a shame it won’t last.”
“This boy is our puppet, and we have barely begun to pull his strings,” Flam added as he and his brother turned from the monitors to Sassy Saddles.
“I don’t like this,” she told them. “He’s a lot smarter than you give him credit for.”
“What do we have to do to convince you?” Flim asked. “Diamonds?”
“A Maserati?” asked Flam.
“Your own show in the Midnight Lounge?” they both asked.
“It’s a start,” Sassy replied. “But you know I prefer cash.”
“What a coincidence,” a bittersweet voice said, “so do we.”
The Brothers and their #1 pit boss turned to face the doors and saw two familiar girls in purple suit jackets and plaid skirts standing across the room.
“Ah, Sour Sweet and Sunny Flare,” said Flim.
“Our two favorite enforcers from across the street,” added Flam.
“What can we do for you... ladies?” they both asked.
“Our boss wants her money,” Sunny Flare said.
“She’s starting to think that you don’t even have it,” Sour Sweet added.
“That’s... not entirely true,” Flim replied.
“Nor is it entirely false,” added Flam.
“She doesn’t care, either way,” Sunny Flare said. “If she doesn’t have what you two owe her by the end of the month... She starts by taking your resort.”
“And breaking your legs!” Sour Sweet added.
They took their leave and the Brothers continued watching Spike until he finished his drink and called for the bill. After he paid the check and gave a handsome tip to Savoir Fare, he rose and left the restaurant.
“And as for you, Twilight Sparkle, you’ve lost your friends,” Flim said, switching the monitor from Spike to her. “Now it’s time to lose everything else.”
After dinner with Spike, a few of the girls saw Twilight gambling and found themselves compelled to watch her. She had spent the past several hours playing, and no matter what she tried—Roulette, Craps, Poker, Blackjack, or the slot machines—she always lost. She was currently showing the Queen of Hearts, Nine of Diamonds, Seven of Clubs, King of Spades, and Six of Spades—Nothing.
“How?” Twilight asked. “How?”
Midnight Radiance, who was the dealer, shook his head as he showed the Five of Diamonds, the King of Diamonds, the Six of Diamonds, the Two of Hearts and the Two of Spades.
“Seriously?” Twilight thought. “Is this for real?”
“A pair of twos?” Starlight asked. “That’s the weakest hand in poker!”
Twilight got clobbered.
Her luck had finally run out.
“That’s it, I’ve had enough!” she said as she turned her back on the table. “I’m out of here.”
“Twi, why don’t you just call it a night, head up to your room, and lick your wounds?” Applejack asked her.
“Wait, is that Spike... with Countess Coloratura?” Fluttershy asked.
“What would Spike be doing with Countess Coloratura?” asked Sunset.
“That’s not Spike,” Rainbow Dash said. “Spike went to sleep hours ago.”
“He must be one Tartarus of a sleepwalker,” Applejack said as she pointed across the casino.
It was Spike. He was sitting at a table in the back of the dining area with Countess Coloratura, talking with her. Since they met, Coloratura had started playing what pleased her, not necessarily what the people wanted. Usually, when she played a spot, no matter how noisy or rude the clients, she wore a smile that eventually conquered even the most antagonistic audience; she projected her very real love of people, bathed the customers in it until they succumbed to her charm and responded. But now, she just didn’t care.
“Being an idol isn’t always fun,” she confessed. “Lessons are tough, and you don’t have a private life. And of course, romance is out of the question.”
Spike continued to listen carefully as she spoke about one of her songs.
“It’s about a lot of different things, but the main idea behind it was sex and gambling,” she explained. “I gamble, and I know several people who are really into sex and gambling, so I wanted to write something that they would like too. To make a long story short, that’s how they came up with the title ‘Poker Face.’”
“Because the same principle applies -- How to bluff... Or fake it,” he said.
“Exactly,” Coloratura smiled.
“And you recorded that in 2008?”
She nodded.
“Spike?”
He looked up and saw Twilight and Applejack standing by the table.
“What are you doing up?” Applejack asked. “I thought you went to bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied. “You remember Countess Coloratura?”
“Twilight Sparkle,” Coloratura said. “I hear you used to be the top cat around here?”
Twilight went a little pink in the cheeks at the reminder.
“As I was saying, I would like to have lunch with you tomorrow,” Coloratura told Spike.
“I’m sure he would love to, but he has a lot of plans,” Twilight interjected. “Don’t you, Spike?”
“No, I don’t,” he said at Twilight. “I would be honored,” he told Coloratura. “Let me just tip Octavia. She was marvelous.”
“I might have... I’ve got something here,” Twilight mumbled as she sifted through her pockets.
Countess Coloratura dipped into her purse and gave Spike the cash.
“Oh, thank you,” he said gratefully. “Thank you very much for the drink, Rara. Good night.”
And he left them.
“Would either of you like to sit down?” Coloratura offered.
They both did.
“Very special guy,” Coloratura said.
“I know,” Applejack replied. “That’s why I started dating him.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Coloratura told her. “You know, AJ, I love men. I observe them. I cherish them.” She took AJ’s hand in hers. “Don’t let him get away. Or I just might steal him away myself.”
Coloratura spoke to Applejack like an old friend, but she sounded as though she meant it. When she spoke about Spike, AJ sensed that Rara really loved him.
Just then, Pinkie Pie popped out of nowhere.
“Oh, my Faust!” she exclaimed. “It’s Countess Coloratura! I’m a fan!” she said as she shook Rara’s hand. “I can’t believe I’m standing next to you!”
“Well, here, take my seat, Pinkie,” Twilight offered.
Pinkie gladly did, and she stared at Coloratura for a whole 20 seconds before asking, “Do you need a bodyguard? I’d die for you!”
At a quarter to midnight, Twilight returned to her room.
She didn’t sleep well at all that night.
As she lay in her bed, she experienced a sudden sense of melancholy. Was this where she belonged? Was this who she had become?
As she drifted off, she realized that she had no one to hug or kiss or laugh with. Instead, she had coworkers in a casino that seemed to gravitate toward the man who she saw as her sworn enemy.
She had a family back in Canterlot who didn’t know her anymore, including an older brother who worked for the Equestria Secret Service; and ex-boyfriends who had broken her heart because they didn’t play blackjack.
“Spike has stolen my job, my friends, and my life! Wait! Is this who I’ve become?” she wondered.
Every time she thought of Spike, she thought of him with malevolence. There had been many long, sleepless nights when she thought he deserved something bad—something really bad—to happen to him for the way he hurt her. Then Twilight felt the familiar twist of jealousy.
Had she wanted to think Spike was to blame?
Was she that jealous?
She had never even given Spike the benefit of the doubt. Not the smallest. Twilight felt her face burn yet knew with helpless finality that if the whole thing were to be played over again, she would think act and the exact same way.