Poker Night at the Boutique
You get off the bus, shielding your eyes from the setting sun. You were told that another poker tournament was going to be hosted, and you didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation. After all, you won the last one, taking home a gun, a badge, a minigun, a watch, and a pair of nifty glasses. You actually had the glasses and watch on you right now, though you weren’t wearing the glasses at the moment, for fear of looking like a total tool. Regardless, you walked away from the bus stop, looking for your destination. Unlike last time, this tournament isn’t located in a back alley with numerous pat-downs at the door. Rather, it was actually out in the open, near the middle of...
You look at the address again to confirm the name of the town: “Ponyville”. It piqued your interest, but otherwise you paid it no mind. Your destination was the local clothing boutique, where another four suckers were waiting to lose their money. You chuckled to yourself, remembering the last tournament you played. Poor guys didn’t know what hit them.
Except Heavy. Quite frankly, he scared you. You were pretty sure that Heavy scared everyone. After all, with all the security, he managed to get a freaking minigun in. Then again, just about everyone got a gun past security, so it’s probably a moot point.
Looking up, you found yourself at the door to this “Carousel Boutique”. If this is anything like at the Inventory, the others will already be there, killing time until the fifth player shows up. Opening the door, you see that, while this was a clothing store, it seemed to be made into a club of sorts for tonight’s event. A bar was set up near the back wall, manned by an orange pony, and tables were set up at regular intervals.
“I don’t even know why I keep playing, I keep getting crap cards.”
Looking towards the source of the voice, you see a blue pony with rainbow hair leaving a poker table; the one you’re looking for, you presume. Walking up, you scope out the competition:
A white unicorn, who had an air of sophistication around her. Judging by the subtle smirk on her face, she was good at hiding what kind of cards she had.
Next to her was the Medic himself, dressed in his “casual” clothes, despite him regularly performing surgery in them. He seemed to just be finishing a story.
“...and ze doctor was never heard from again!” After laughing, he added, “Anyvay, that’s how I lost my medical license!”
“You remind me of a mate I work with...” Looking to the right of Medic, you spot a man in a disheveled business suit sitting there, the source of the British voice. Notably, he was wearing a white gas mask, so it would be hard to tell what he has.
Looking again to the right, you see... Strong Bad?
He notices you at the same time. “Holy crap, it’s you!” Realizing the panic in his voice, he quickly corrected himself. “And, by ‘you’, I obviously meant ‘that cheater who won the last poker game I was in’.”
You question why he’s here again, after taking your seat.
“Well, Homestar was kind of strapped for cash, so I had to go from guest-starring in a fancy video game to guest-starring in a second-rate fanfic.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, the same host from the last game, whose name you never got, and could never remember anyway, entered the room. “Well, now that everyone’s here, we can begin. The game will be no limits Texas Hold ‘Em, and the stakes will be ten thousand U.S. dollars.”
You, Strong Bad, and Medic all wordlessly toss the bills on the table. The gas mask guy, meanwhile, seemed to be searching through his pockets. “Will you accept pounds?”
“Afraid not, Mr. Foster.”
“Bloody hell... Alright then. Can I buy in with this?” Searching through his coat, he pulled out a golden and slightly-bloodstained sword and leaned it against the table, handle up.
“That will do.” Turning to the unicorn, who had a sheepish look on her face, he began speaking again. “And what about your buy-in, Miss Rarity? You’re the one hosting this event, after all.”
“Well, assuming that bits will not be accepted...” She turned away from the table and shouted, “Sweetie Bell!”
A smaller unicorn hurried down the stairs. “What is it, Rarity?”
“Fetch my hat.” At the word “hat”, both you and Medic look up. The other unicorn left and quickly came back with a rather fruity hat, that Rarity put on. “Thank you, Sweetie Bell.”
“Can I watch the poker game?! Can I, can I, can I?!”
“No, go back to your room, this is grown-up business.”
Giving a sigh of defeat, Sweetie Bell went back upstairs.
“Now, with that in order,” the host says, “we shall begin the game.”
Looking around the table, you scan your competition. Most of them are eyeing you, since you won the last tournament, probably. Mr. Foster’s expression was unreadable, Strong Bad looked like he had a score to settle, and Medic and Rarity were both looking at you as if you were a specimen ready for dissection, or a new piece of fabric. Putting on the shades (paying no mind to Strong Bad’s ensuing outburst), you prepare yourself.
“May the best player win.”
Poker Night at the Boutique
The cards are dealt out. You look at yours: pocket sixes. Not a bad start. Glancing around the table, you see the others likewise looking at their cards, but none of them are showing any signs of disappointment or excitement. At least, none that you can see. Strong Bad is the first to make a move.
“I call.” Without much enthusiasm, he tosses a pair of chips into the pot. You had the $200 blind, so you simply check. Rarity also calls, as does Medic and Foster. You all look to the middle of the table to watch the flop:
Two threes and a four. Not bad; you had something to go with your sixes. But if anyone had their own three, then they could beat your hand. And who knows, you could get a full house off of the other two cards. Maybe.
Foster checks. Strong Bad looks like he’ll check as-
“I guess I’ll be the one to throw some money in the pot. Buncha babies...”
Well, looks like he didn’t check. You look at the added money. It’s not much. You could easily call it with little consequence. So you do so.
“Really, I would have thought that I would have to call a slightly bigger bet, given the circumstances.”
“Ach. I fold.”
Looks like Medic’s out. Foster simply called the bet. And here comes the next card:
A six. Awesome.
“I’m not one to brag, but this is a lot of money. You could say it’s loads of money.”
Foster just put in nearly half of his funds. Amidst the reactions of the others, you study him. You can’t read his face, because of the mask, but his fingers are drumming against the table. It could mean he’s bluffing, or it could be something he always does.
“Yeah. No.”
Strong Bad’s out, but you’re not sure you should follow him...
Oh, to hell with it. You call.
“As a lady, it’s only right to fold while you ruffians throw money around like mud.”
It’s just you and Foster now. You both stare intently at the center of the table, where the next card is revealed:
An ace of spades. Nothing to add to your hand, but something that could be your downfall, if Foster has something like pocket aces. Slim chances, but still a threat. Looking up at him, you see him think to himself, before checking. Likewise, you think over your options. You could bet high, and try bluffing him to fold, or you could check, and let the cards make or break you. Choices, choices...
Checking it is, then.
Without a word, Foster reveals his cards, and you do the same: he has a two and an ace, which doesn’t seem so bad until you realized that he had a flush. But then you realized that you won the hand, anyway, and raked in your winnings.
“Bloody hell.”
A new hand is dealt, and you look at your new cards: a five and a jack, both suited. Not bad.
“So, Rarity, vas it?” Medic begins talking.
“Yes?”
Strong Bad called, as did you.
“I vas wondering, vhat is it about unicorns that let them perform zis... magic?”
Rarity checked, and Medic called.
“Well, it’s our horns.” She removed her hat, gesturing to the one on her head. “If you’re asking how exactly they work, I haven’t a clue, to be honest.”
Foster raised modestly.
“Why do you ask?” Rarity continued.
Strong Bad folded (without “giving the cards the dignity of his sweet touch”).
“Vell, I am curious about you... ponies. Perhaps I shall find a specimen to inspect...”
You call, giving Medic a slightly worried look. Rarity does the same.
“...you’re not going to kidnap a pony and dissect them, are you?”
“Vhat? No, I wouldn’t do zat.” He calls. “I would lure them into a false sense of security. I do not just kidnap.”
While everyone at the table looked at Medic uneasily, the flop was revealed:
An ace, a king, and a four. None of them had the same suit as your cards, so a flush was out. Everyone checked, so the next card was dropped. It was a jack. If nothing else, you had a pair. Perhaps you could make them believe it was more than that...
After Medic and Foster checked, you bet a somewhat hefty sum of $1,500.
“I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish with that meager sum, so I’ll raise.” Not quite what you were going for, but this can still work.
Medic looks at his cards again. “My skill is vasted on zese cards.” He folds.
“Sure, mate.” Foster calls. You do the same, not wanting to bluff away everything.
The next card is another jack. While you have three of a kind now, this could also potentially give someone else a full house. Still, you check, hoping that Rarity won’t-
“I’ll bet.”
Oh god dammit.
Foster calls, and when it’s your turn, you raise in desperation. “Pot like that could buy a lot o’ guns,” he comments.
Thankfully, your bluff worked. Both Rarity and Foster folded, leaving you to the pot. By now, you had a vast majority of the chips. A new hand is dealt, and you remain stoic in the presence of your pocket aces. Maybe you could go this whole game without losing a hand.
Strong Bad bets, and everyone else calls.
While the flop hits, Rarity starts up conversation. “Mr. Foster, you said that Medic reminded you of someone you work with?”
A queen, a three, and a two, all spades. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, what exactly is your job? You have a rather nice suit-or, at least, it used to look nice, probably—yet you insist on wearing that mask.” She checks.
“Well, it ain’t much o’ an official job, but it’s somethin’ I’m committed to, I guess you could say.” Medic also checks.
“Then what is it that you do?”
Foster checks before continuing. “I help protect what’s left of London with some blokes.”
“Protect? From what?” Without warning, Strong Bad goes all in, nearly derailing the conversation.
“Oh, just some zombie-clone things.” With your massive funds, you call no problem. “Buncha nasty wankers, them.”
“Oh... well, sorry I asked.” She calls, leaving her with only a few chips left.
Medic simply let’s out a groan of frustration as he folds.
Foster looks at his cards, before sliding them across the table. “I’d rather take on an angry flesh pound with a knife.”
Another ace. Wonderful. You bet just enough to force Rarity to go all in. Time for you to get a new hat.
The three of you put down your cards, and you look at what they had. Strong Bad had a two and a king. No threat at all. Rarity, meanwhile-
...Had a jack and an eight. Both spades. She had a flush the whole time. Damn. Your only hope now is if the last card is the fourth ace...
It’s not. It’s a two. Strong Bad starts to celebrate, then stops when he sees Rarity’s cards. And just like that, you and Rarity were nearly equal in money, and Strong Bad had busted out.
“Whatever. I’ll just... go home and play some Snake Boxer 5. That always makes me feel better.” He gets up and walks away from the table, heading out the door. One down, three to go.
As a new hand is dealt, Medic starts up conversation again. "So, Mr. Foster, you mentioned a 'flesh pound'... Vould you care to elaborate?"
A nine and a queen. Not bad. "Sure. It's this huge bugger, all lit up and lumberin'." He checks. "At least, 'til you make it mad. Then the bastard flies at you faster than you can run. Me and my mates only survive by shooting the shite out of it."
You call. So does Rarity and Medic. "Fascinating... Anyzing else?"
A five, and a pair of threes. You've seen worse flops. "Course. There are these crawling zeds... They're literal buggers, them. Part spider, part human, all annoying."
Rarity visibly shivers at the word spider. "I can't stand spiders. They're just so creepy, and crawly, and..." She shivers again.
Medic bets. "Do not vorry, Fraulein Rarity. Spiders are much more afraid of you than you are of zem." While Foster calls, Rarity sighs with relief. "Of course," he continues, "if ve are talking about ze spiders in Australia, zen they aren't afraid to attack you."
Rarity gulps audibly as you call. "W- Well, at least they aren't poisonous, then..." She calls as well.
"Oh, nein, fraulein, zey are very poisonous. Can kill a human in a matter of an hour, at most, so I do not expect ponies to last longer zan zat."
Another nine. Decent. "And don't get me started on those weird circus blighters," Foster adds. No one questions him further.
"Just because I'm not betting, doesn't mean I am quitting this hand."
"In my professional medical opinion, I believe zat a bet of approximately zis amount shall be sufficient for the situation at hand." He moves a hefty amount of chips into the pot. What is he hiding...?
"If you wanted some o' this, mate, then you got it." Foster calls, leaving hardly any chips in his possession. You call as well. Rarity folds.
The next card is a queen. Nice.
Medic and Foster both check, as do you. As you all put your cards down, you look at the others’:
Medic has a three and a queen. A full house. Shame. Foster, meanwhile, had two pair, like yourself. Laughing, Medic rakes in the pot. “If you vant a second opinion... you are also all bad at playing cards!”
The blinds go up as a new hand is dealt. Because of this, Foster is forced to go all in from the get go. Sucks for him. You look at your cards: a six and a seven. Maybe you could shoot for a straight this hand. You kick things off with a meager bet.
“Come now, let us raise the stakes, shall we?” Rarity moves a large set of chips in. She also began filing a hoof, something she hadn’t done before... you think she’s bluffing.
Medic seems to have similar thoughts. “I call.”
You do, too. Looking at the flop, you drum your fingers on the table. A five, a nine, and a ten. That straight may just happen yet. Still, you check.
“I check.”
“Let’s see ze next card.”
An eight. Yep, you got a straight. Notably, all of the cards on the table are hearts. Not the same suit as your cards, though, so not quite a straight flush. Still, a straight is nothing to scoff at. You check, and so do Rarity and Medic.
An ace. Nothing to add to your hand. But they don’t have to know that. You bet. Rarity and Medic both call. The pot is decently sized now. You all show your cards. Rarity has two pair, and Medic has a full house. Well, there goes your victory for this hand, and Foster’s sword as a result. There’s no way his hand could win this one-
...unless it’s the exact same thing you have. Only they’re hearts. He has a freaking straight flush. Medic and Rarity are equally in shock.
“All fur coats, no knickers,” Foster comments as he pulls in the pot.
A new hand is dealt again. You have pocket twos. It’s something to fall back on, but probably not anything to win with. Medic kicks things off by calling. While Foster also calls, he starts talking again. “Rarity, would you object to coming out to London some time?”
You check. “Well, after hearing about the state it’s in, I’d have to politely decline.” She calls. “But I must ask, why the invitation?”
A two, a four, and a king. “I figure it’d help with my mates’ moral. There’s only a couple o’ lasses with us, and one’s an army officer while the other sells us all our guns. Another member o’ the opposite sex could lift their spirits, even if you are a unicorn.”
Rarity checks. “Well, I’ll still have to decline, what with those... ‘creatures’ apparently roaming around.”
Medic checks too. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much. They only really seem to like human flesh, so you should be fine.”
“Human... flesh?”
“Yep.” Foster points to the many cuts in his suit. “That’s why I got these scratches from those invisible bitches.” Wordlessly, he goes all in. Surprisingly, it doesn’t get much reaction.
“Invisibility?” Medic asks. “How is such a zing possible?”
“I dunno, something to do with technology and cloning. Really, those Horzine blokes were a right bunch of blighters. Especially their CEO.”
You call. “Why?” Rarity inquires while folding. “Did he release those things into the world?”
“Yes, actually. Plus, it doesn’t help that the bloody nunce gave ‘imself a machine gun and rocket launcher for an arm.”
Medic calls. “Vell, at least you did not have to fight un vizard at Halloween.”
The next card is a jack. “No, mate, that’s because last Halloween, we had to go across the pond and fight some inbred zombie Yanks.” He chuckles. “Sometimes, it feels like my life is just one big game.”
“I know ze feeling.” Medic checks.
“Really now?” Rarity says. “Because I feel like I’m an actress on a stage, performing for the enjoyment of several strange individuals, sometimes.”
While you check, you comment about how you occasionally feel like an empty shell of a man, just a vessel for some kind of power beyond your comprehension. This gains a few strange looks around the table, and the subject drops.
The next card is the last two. Well, dang. Four of a kind, with the lowest card, too. Looks like you earned yourself a golden katana.
Wanting to coax a few more dollars out of Medic and Rarity, you bet, taking care to not go too high. It works, as Rarity calls, and Medic is forced to go all in. As their cards are revealed, they slowly realize that you had beat all of them. You rake in the chips, basking in your victory.
“Well, have fun with it, mate. I can just buy another.” Foster tosses the sword to you, which you catch and lean against the table. As he walks out the door, Medic gets up, too.
“Vell, I suppose zat money vould be spent on various body parts, anyvay.” He walks over to the bar and sits down. The orange pony you saw earlier slides some kind of drink over, and he takes it.
Turning your attention back to the table, you pick up your new cards: a six and an ace. With just you and Rarity left, you’ll have to focus all of your attention on her. Every little thing she does could potentially be a tell of her’s. You check, not wanting to bet until the flop. Rarity does the same. The flop lands:
Ace, two, four. A pair of aces is passable. Rarity checks. You do the same, and the next card hits: a king. Rarity looks at her cards again, and you spy the slightest of a smirk on her face. She has something, you can tell. But you can’t tell if it’s simply a pair of kings, two pairs, or even three of a kind. To be safe, you check.
“I shall bet.”
You were afraid of that. Still, she didn’t bet too much, so you call. Hopefully, the next card is something that could give you an edge...
A seven. Not quite what you were hoping for. Still, you could very possibly win with a pair of aces, as long as-
“Please excuse my language, but I feel it is appropriate to say, in this situation...” She clears her throat. “...’I’m going all in on your ass.’”
Well, shit. You had more chips than her, but only just. Not wanting to lose everything now, you fold. Smugly, she rakes in the pot. Now you wanted to win just to wipe that look off her face.
You look at your new hand. Suited three and jack, diamonds. You look up as Rarity checks, and you call. Time for the flop:
Jack, king, and a ten. Again, a decent starting hand. Plus, the king was a diamond, so there’s still the possibility of a flush. With that in mind, you check.
“I will bet.”
That’s quite the bet, but you’re not one to be outdone. You raise.
Rarity thinks for a bit, before looking at her cards again. “I’ll re-raise.”
Well, you weren’t going to bluff her out. Of course, you both had almost exactly the same amount of money at this point...
You know what? Screw it. Time to piss in the wind. You go all in.
“Oh, my.” Again, she thinks over it, before lowering her head in defeat. “Well, I guess I have no choice but to go all in, as well.”
Yeah, you won this- Wait, what?!
Yep, she just went all in, too. This does not bode well.
With no one else to bet, you both show your cards. She has a king of hearts and a four of clubs. If you don’t get this flush, or maybe another pair, or a third jack, you’re done.
You both look intently at the table. You can almost hear a drumroll in your head as the next card is revealed:
Ace of diamonds. Just one more diamond, and the flush is yours. Rarity, meanwhile, only needs anything that isn’t a diamond to win. You’ve come too far to lose now.
You hold your breath as the last card is revealed:
Four of diamonds.
“...Oh.”
You did it. For the second time in a row, you’ve won a poker tournament, and reaped the rewards as a result. Today is a very good day, indeed.
Sighing with defeat, Rarity levitates the hat over to you. She actually looks rather sad, come to think of it. Maybe you should let her keep the hat...
...Nah. You earned that fair and square, you’re not going to just give it back. Looking at all of the chips in front of you, you simply bask in the glory that is your total victory.
It’s good to be on top.
