Eight elite poker players gathered together from all over the country tonight, by anonymous invitation, for the highest-stakes game of their lives. With the prize pool taken from a ten million dollar buy-in (each), who could resist? There was Chip Trehorn, chewing on a toothpick and hiding his twitchy eye tell under a Stetson hat, Black Jack with the scarred cheek, the twins, Rocky and Rolo, and Lady Cooper, who was not really named Cooper nor, by all accounts, was she much of a Lady either.
The stacks of chips grew and shrank for hours among the evenly-matched players. Nobody looked set to pull ahead until the Ginger Ninja, in his bright orange hood, bluffed on a pair of sevens and lost it all. Slowly, the players were knocked out one by one, and by the time the sun rose on that dim, smoky club, Lady Cooper had emerged victorious, to the reluctant congratulations of her fellow players. It was only then that they discovered the club's mysterious owner was nowhere to be found, and neither was their collective eighty million dollars of buy-in cash.
Mokalus of Borg
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