"You fought TALIA!?" Steve jumped up out of his chair,
slamming his palms down on the table.  "Why didn't you tell me this
when you got to the door!"  His gaze flew from Annette to Tyrell and
back.  Annette pulled her knees closer to her chest, and stared out
pitifully from above them.  She knew this man was a Player, like all
the rest, no matter how nice Tyrell said he was.  The middle-aged man
was vibrant, shaking.  Tyrell noticed how Annette's reaction, and
raised his hands up in front of him to get Steve's attention.

	"Woah, calm down there Steve.  We both just freaked out so much over
your announcement I guess I forgot to mention it to you."  Steve
started to take a deep breath, and then started shaking his fists with
excitement.  Tyrell's stopped looking wary, and his smile tore through
his face, chuckling from deep within.  Steve had sheer amazement on his
face.

"What? What's funny?  Have you realized that in my years," the sentence
pivoting around that word, "of studying the Game, I have never met
anyone, anyone at all, who has seen this Talia with their own eyes? My
God!"  Steve's eyes were gleaming, seeming like he was about to cry. 
Tyrell put a large hand down on the man's shoulder, covering it.

	"Cool down Steve.  I freaked out too when I heard who had challenged
her.  But trust me, and don't get all worked up.  Here, sit down." 
Tyrell pressed down carefully on his shoulder.  Steve acquiesced, and
sunk back into the chair.  He reached across the table they sat around
to Annette.  He briefly touched the back of her neck.  At the warmth of
his hand, her shoulders relaxed, and her grip on her legs eased up. 
She looked at him briefly, but his eyes were as warm as his hand. 
Reassured, her glance slid back to her knees with a breath.

	Tyrell stood up, and took a couple steps away from his chair and the
table.  His eyes became unfocused, and he held his hands behind his
back.  Steve sat up in his seat and rested his head on his fists,
leaning forward at Tyrell.  Tyrell took a deep breath, head moving back
with the swelling of his chest.  As he let the breath out, he began to
tell Steve the story of what had happened.



=====



                                     High Stakes


		        starring:


                                  Tyrell Morgan

		          and

		 Jinsaku Nagaoka


                            Chapter Nine: Poker Face


                         by Assassin, mthrall@gac.edu

                        High Stakes started by NeoVid

                        presented by Beware the Radish



=====


	Jinsaku and Katsuya entered the hospital.  Jinsaku took a look around.
 He had long gotten used to the amount of space that American buildings
took up, but sometimes it just amazed him still.  The hospital lobby
was huge, no, sprawling compared to the ones he remembered in Japan. 
Couples clung to each other in corners, people sat, uneasily reading
magazines, and nurses filled out little bits of paperwork behind the
counter.  He took a look at Katsuya, whose techno was easily audible to
anyone within three feet of him.  Katsuya didn't look back, but just
stared at the carpet, and rocked back and forth on the balls of his
feet.  Jinsaku sighed in near contempt.  He was here by himself.  He
did not want to be here, to see another one.  He forced himself to
cross the space between himself and the counter.  The nurse, a friendly
looking girl with curly brown hair bound up behind her stopped what she
was doing and looked at him with a smile.

	"Yes sir?"  Her eyes asked the question while her mouth spoke it. 
Jinsaku fumbled in his pocket for a moment.

	"We're here to see someone called-" Jinsaku paused.  The nurse's smile
was still present, but she looked confused.  He cursed mentally.  He
was speaking Japanese, and the cards weren't translating for him.  He
looked behind him.  Katsuya was still standing there and rocking.  He
gritted his teeth and concentrated on his pronunciation. "Uhm, anoo...
Mi..chaelu," (damn), "Nevu...Neville."  Jinsaku sighed.  It was hard
for him to tell what language he was speaking sometimes, as the cards
had let him fall into the habit of slipping from English to Japanese
without thinking.

	The nurse paused, and then typed something into a small computer
terminal.  She looked back up at him, perplexed.  Her concentration
jumped somewhere else for a moment, and then she looked back at him,
and nodded.  She took out a little map of the hospital, and pointed at
a certain spot.  She scrounged around her desk, found a pencil and a
business card, and jotted down '505A' on the back of a it, and handed
it to him, pleased.  Jinsaku nodded embarrassedly, and slunk back to
Katsuya.

	"C'mon," he muttered, and grabbed Katsuya by the arm.  He dragged him
into an elevator, and punched the button for the fifth floor.  Katsuya
was almost motionless, a dangling puppet with all of his strings cut. 
Jinsaku cursed, and slumped against the elevator wall.  He had been
questioning why he had come here.  He didn't know the girl, Rachel, or
whatever her name was.  Everything he knew told him not to get
involved, but there was some part of him, deep within his chest,
compelling him to go forward.

	The elevator binged, and the doors slid back.  Jinsaku took a cautious
step out, dragging Katsuya with him.  He looked down at the business
card in his hand, and back up at the doors lining the hallway down in
each direction.  He turned left, and started down the hall.  After a
moment, he looked up to see 505A inscribed into the plate next to the
door, and a small chart attached to the board.  He took a deep breath,
and reached for the handle.  Katsuya stopped being pulled by him. 
Jinsaku gave his arm a pull.

	"I'm not going in there," Katsuya stated quietly.  "I don't want to
see anyone else like me."  His head was hanging down loosely, but his
feet were one with the floor, and could not be moved.  Jinsaku released
his grip slowly, and turned back with a grim expression.  Resolving
himself, he turned the handle, and pushed the door open.

	The girl, Rachel, was next to the guy, Michael.  He was lying in a
hospital bed and she was sitting in a chair next to the bed, and had
her head laid down upon his chest with her arms around him.  Gauze
bandages covered his face, and he was set up with an IV drip running
into his arm.  The only sound in the room was the slight beeping of the
monitors that surrounded them, and her breathing.  The pulse monitor
assured him that Michael was still alive, but Jinsaku could barely see
him breathing.  Jinsaku released the door handle, and it snapped back
into place.  Rachel jerked her head up from Michael's chest, a lock of
hair falling across her face.  She swept it back, and Jinsaku could see
from her bloodshot brown eyes that she had been crying.  He cringed at
the sight.  For a moment he wondered what it would have been like if
this had been Katsuya.  His fingers trembled for a moment, and then he
found the door, to shut it behind him.  Taking care to be quiet, he
walked over, and took a chair next to Rachel, and offered a comforting
look.

	"I'm fine, I really am," she said, looking down.  In a voice just
above a whisper: "what happened?"  Jinsaku grimaced.

	"You showed him a Minion," was the simple response that came to his
lips.  'You made the same mistake that I did,' was the one that echoed
in his head.  Rachel just shook her head.

	"You're a Player too... I thought so.. what about your pal?  The one
who was screaming? Is he alright?"  She gripped the armrest of her
chair suddenly.  "God, I didn't do this to two people, did I?!"  Her
face was wild.

	"No," Jinsaku reassured her, "no... he's.. he's seen one before.." 
Flashes of that moment washed up, but Jinsaku let them slide over him. 
He dropped his head into his hands for a moment, and Rachel paused for
a moment.  Then her expression changed.   Jinsaku didn't know what it
meant, but he thought that maybe she understood.

	"B-but he is ok?  He looks ok.  So Michael won't be..."  She let the
rest of the sentence go and gritted her teeth.  "The doctors said that
he went into some kind of shock."  Her voice got low.  "He was always
reading.. he always thought he knew what was going on.. I was always
getting pissed at him because he was so set.. I was angry, I wanted him
to be wrong this time.."  She rubbed at her eyes so it would look like
she wasn't crying.

	"How is his face?"  Jinsaku said softly.  For a moment he questioned
why he was being soft, or even being around.  Maybe it was that he had
been in her place, but couldn't do anything, or talk to anyone about
it.  He had been alone in a country where he had no home.  Maybe he
could be here for this girl.  He figured he was just trying to ease his
own guilt about the whole Katsuya event.  But what the hell, couldn't
even he do a good deed for once?  She had been screaming after the guy
started clawing at his face.  Jinsaku had wanted to slap her good and
hard for what she did, but between her, Katsuya, and Michael, he
figured he had to damn well do something.

	"He'll be ok they say...  They don't think there is any damage to his
eyes.. he just needs to wake up...  Thats all."  She faced him, her
face full of fear.  "You said you were.. Jin-?"

	"Jinsaku, " he said, reaching out his hand.  "Jinsaku Nagaoka, but
just call me Jin."  She took his hand gingerly,  and shook it. 
Suddenly her eyes weren't so soft anymore.

	"Don't think I'm all teary and vulnerable pal," she warned him.  "Just
because I'm talking to you here doesn't mean you can get in with me or
anything."  She looked dangerous for a moment, like a sleeping lioness
that has been poked with a stick.

	"Don't worry girl."  Jinsaku met her glare evenly, but a smirk
twitched at the edges of his mouth.  "I just don't want to sit here and
listen to you go through five different versions of my name.  Jin is
easier for now."  She nodded hesitantly.  Overall, she seemed more
composed, like she had been snapped back into some natural shape.

	"Ok, Jin.  Anyway, I dunno, he was nice to me.  Always doing his work,
and tried to get me to do mine.  But we're Players, right?  It's all
about the Game, not schoolwork."  He almost nodded unconsciously. 
That's the way he had felt for a very long time.  "I've just been
sliding by," she continued, "all thanks to these little cards.  Didn't
have to ever worry about my grades, my scholarship, been doing fine
without doing a thing.  Till now.."  The air grew heavy again, as they
looked at the prone form of Michael.

	"Rachel," Jinsaku said, "the cards aren't life.  This is life."  He
pointed a finger at Michael.  "This is what is important, not some
damned game and fighting other people for the sake of getting more
cards."  He was being a hypocrite, he realized.  But seemed true to
him, in spirit if not in practice.  "Thats all I can say.  The people
are real."  Where this speech was coming from was beyond him.  Maybe he
had been hanging around Tyrell too much.

	"He was nice to me," she said again.  "Always nice."  Jinsaku stood
up.

	"Good luck Rachel.  I hope if I see you again, its on the same terms."
 She nodded softly.  Jinsaku turned away, and walked out.  Katsuya was
standing there waiting for him.


			*****************


	Tyrell finished the story.  Steve was noting things down on a pad of
paper.  When Tyrell had finished, Steve had just one word to describe
his feelings.

	"Unbelievable."  Tyrell nodded.

	"And that is where she got that card.  Mind if I go get a glass of
water?"  Tyrell glanced over at the kitchen.  Steve shook his head
absentmindedly.

	"Go ahead."  He was busy making more little notes on his paper. 
Annette, who had since relaxed, peered at them.

	"So have you ever heard of minions acting that way?  Wanting hugs?" 
Her voice still couldn't contain the wonder she felt at the behavior of
the Minions.  He shook his head briefly.

	"Not acted I think... reacted," he said, finishing his notes.  He
looked up and saw that Annette was confused, so he waited for Tyrell to
return, and then began to explain.  "I have a theory about the cards. 
I believe that they react to their owner's subconscious wishes when the
Player needs it.  I believe Chase Campbell's success in the business
world is based off of Player's luck. "  Tyrell took a long sip at his
water.

	"But Player's luck only gets you what you need," Tyrell said.  Steve
looked at him with a confident smile.

	"Thats what you believe.  And I'm sure Campbell has a different idea
of what just getting along is.  But anyway, given the description you
gave of Talia, her psychosis could be to the level that it has affected
the way her cards act even moreso than others.  They express a need for
affection."  Steve ran a hand back through his hair, inspecting the
sheet of paper.

	"Thats some theory there," Tyrell said, contemplating, "does that mean
that if I decide I can't live without a million dollars, the cards will
win the lottery for me?"  Steve chuckled and shook his head.

	"Sorry Tyrell, its not that easy, trust me.  If it was, I would be in
a better place than this," he said, spreading his arms to indicate his
house.  "I think that deep within your psyche you have a set idea of
what you want as a basic level of how you can survive.  When I
graduated from college, I felt I had to get a Masters degree, and a
PhD. so that I could live in my own house.  That was before the Cards,
but maybe Player's luck helped me keep in when I got them, and my life
turned upside down.   Anyway, its only a theory, something I thought up
very late at night, and after having a few glasses of wine."  Annette
looked around.  It was a nice place, with thick carpeting, and a
fireplace.  Above the fireplace she noticed a large oil painting.  It
was of a card.  Steve followed her eyes up.  "I see you've noticed that
old thing," Steve said in an apologetic tone, "painting is a little
hobby of mine from when I was in college.  That is a painting of my
first Minion."  She leaned a little closer to make out the details. 
"Get up," he said, "I'll show it to you."  He offered her a hand up,
which she took, and the two of them walked over with Tyrell trailing
behind.

	The painting was large, and showed some talent.  The Minion was a
swirling blue-grey whirlpool, with no discernible features.  The colors
of paint swirled into each other, circling down to the black pit in
it's center.  Annette felt she was being drawn into the center, and had
to put a hand on the mantle to steady herself.

	"It's very good," she said, "it's powerful."  Tyrell grunted in
agreement.  There was a small gold plate attached to the frame. 
Inscribed upon it was the word Typhex.  Steve gave a joking bow.

	"I thank you for complimenting my humble work.  Back then I was
obsessed with the game.  I even summoned up the minions so I could
paint them.  But their brilliance always escaped my brush," he said,
making a little motion as if to say 'ah well'.  He studied the painting
for another few seconds, and then drew himself away from it.  " I could
bore you all night with the years of my past.."  Annette smiled at
him.

	"Tell me, Steve.. do you have any theories about why we were selected
as players?  Why us and not others?"  Annette looked at him with
interest.  Maybe he would know why so many of the players she had been
battled had been so.. rude.  To her disappointment, he only shrugged.

	"Who can say why that but the Cards, and they certainly don't answer. 
I personally have no idea."  Steve frowned briefly.  "I've heard a
million theories as to what the Cards are, and why they are here, and
why we have them...  For all I know its a big card game of the Gods. 
But tell me Annette... do you know of anyone who has gotten new Cards
since the game began?"  Annette shook her head.  Steve just nodded
somberly.

	"Lets have some dinner then," he suggested.  Without speaking more of
the Cards, the three of them started discussing what to eat.


			*****************


	Meanwhile, beyond the house, up in the compound that Chase Campbell
called 'house', he was waiting.  He sat behind a huge desk, the surface
of polished ebony.  Three cards were laid out on the table, side by
side.  It was time bring Jinsaku to the ground.  He wanted to fight. 
His cards wanted to fight.  He just needed them to make the challenge. 
He sat there, thinking only one thing, a meditation upon hate.  He
concentrated, as he had for the last hour, upon the thought of Jinsaku,
falling to the floor, losing all his cards, being destroyed as Campbell
laughed down at him.  He needed them to challenge him.  It was all he
needed.


			*****************


	Jinsaku was almost home when his vision failed for a moment. 
Campbell.  Again.  That bastard.  To express himself, Jinsaku started
kicking at a nearby telephone pole.  At least Katsuya had decided to
stay at the hospital, despite what he had said.  Damn Katsuya.  Jinsaku
had almost begun to like the old Katsuya more.  At least he had been
predictable.  To make it worse, the challenge was at midnight, two
hours from now.  How the hell was he supposed to make it all the way to
Campbell's place in two hours on a busy Seattle night?  In answer, the
wind kicked up a couple twenties from the street, and landed them at
Jinsaku's feet.  The cards win again.

	"Fuck'n Taxi!" Jinsaku yelled out into the night.  A passing yellow
car zoomed up to the curb, and spread rubber all over the pavement as
it squealed to a stop.  Jinsaku smirked, and hopped into the back seat.
 Giving some quick directions to the driver, he slammed the door shut,
and they zoomed off into the city.


			*****************


	Dinner was served.  Everything seemed better with a couple helpings of
Steve's chicken pasta alfredo.  Conversation was light for a time,
joking over sports events and recent movies.  The three of them seemed
like friends chatting normally, just as any three friends might.  After
a while, the conversation ran thin, and they just enjoyed the meal. 
Steve's cooking was good, and the evening had been fine.  After a
while, the food was gone, and the philosophy began.

	"Annette," Tyrell said, "you asked why we're the players, right?  I
had some idea.. its not really a theory, just my thoughts."  She nodded
attentively towards him.  "Well," he continued, "I think we're like the
new shamans or something."  Annette looked at him oddly.

	"Shamans?  Like those guys who go into trances, and do all that spirit
healing stuff?"  Her interest went up.

	"Yeah," Tyrell smiled.  "Those guys.. but lemme tell ya a little more.
 Way back when, some guy named.. uhm, Shirokogaroff went off into
Siberia to find stuff out about the culture.  I might be getting some
stuff wrong here, its been a while."  Annette smiled gently, and nodded
him on.  "So anyway," Tyrell scratched his chin, "he found out about
these guys called shamans, who were 'masters of the spirits', and how
they could travel to the spirit plane, and use spirits to help them,
and all sorts of stuff.  They helped the society.  So this guy wrote up
a book on the stuff, and pretty soon guys all over the world were
saying how they found the same thing in other places, only this was
that, and other little things were different.  But it was basically the
same idea."  Tyrell paused for a moment.  "But anyway, it turns out
there is some basic belief in this thing where there are three worlds,
and we're in the middle.. there is the upper world with good spirits,
and the lower world with evil spirits.. this stuff is really old, from
the beginnings of civilization."

	"So these shamans could travel to the different worlds?"  Annette cued
him slightly.

	"Right," he said.  "They could do all sorts of healing and magic. 
What I think is that the cards are like those spirits."

	"But," Steve interrupted, "all the cards do is hurt people, and
fight... they're certainly not aiding our society.  And from what I've
heard, if we loosed one in public to help, it would just drive people
crazy."  Tyrell sipped at a glass of red wine, and his face soured.

	"Man, how do you people drink this stuff?"  He brought the glass up to
the light and looked at it.  Annette giggled, and Steve let out a
chuckle.  "Anyway," Tyrell continued his train of thought, "I've been
thinking maybe thats because we've been using them wrong.  And maybe
America has gone too far.  Other people way out in the bush still
believe this stuff.  A lot of anthropologists believe that they have a
whole different perception.  Maybe.. maybe if we show them the cards,
they'll just say 'oh, thats what we've been telling you all the time'. 
Maybe if we can get it so the cards are worth something other than the
Game, we could be like the new shamans."  Steve let out a thoughtful
hmm.  Annette rubbed her thumbs together, as she often did while she
thought.  Tyrell grinned way across his face.  		"Or something.. bet
you just thought I was a mechanic, eh?"  He teased Annette who gave him
a smile.

	"I don't think I've heard you talk so much at one time ever Tyrell." 
Annette smiled politely.

	"It's the Cards..." he said.  "I love thinking about what they could
be, if they're from another dimension, or whatever.  Besides, that was
all just old class notes."  Tyrell winked jokingly.  Steve and Annette
grinned back, but then Annette took a look at her watch.

	"Ah, its getting late.  I need to get home and feed Tuppins."  Tyrell
raised his eyebrows, and Annette explained: "He's my puppy.  My only
friend and family, and I'm sure he is wondering where I am right now." 
Tyrell smiled.

	"Not your only friend anymore I hope," he said, and Annette blushed a
little.

	"Right," said Steve, "we should do this again sometime."  The three of
them agreed.  Then it was time to part.  They took their coats, and bid
farewells, promising to return again for another night of talk.  Tyrell
opened the door, and let Annette into his piece of junk, and drove off,
leaving Steve thinking by himself.


			*****************


	Jinsaku stood in front of Campbell.  Campbell was still sitting at his
desk, leaning back, with the three cards in front of him.  Jinsaku was
at the other end of the room, not moving.  The two stared at each other
for a minute, before Campbell spoke.

	"Good to see you again."  Jinsaku spit.  "Now, now," Campbell
continued, "you'll have more reason for that after I defeat you.  I
would like to show you something," he said, lifting the rightmost card
up to face Jinsaku.  "This is Prismatic."  The card flashed, and the
great crystalline giant stood before Jinsaku.

	"Fine!" Jinsaku shot, "lets get this done."  He whipped a card out of
his pocket.

	"Wait!"  Campbell smiled a cat's smile.  He held up the middle card
with his left hand.  "Prismatic, return."  The giant shimmered and
vanished into fading mist.  "This other card, is known as Fimbul.  A
recent victory from a little bitch who was almost more trouble than it
is worth to destroy you."  There was a shimmering light, and the card
in his left hand vanished.  Campbell smiled.  "Now we have something
different.  Oh, and one more thing," he said picking up the third card.
 "This is my favored servant, Plasmoid.  Plasmoid will be joining his
brother.. in the creation of a new weapon!"  There was another flash,
and again there was only one card remaining.  Campbell released a long
string of laughter.  Jinsaku's mouth fell slightly opened.  He knew
that the former Minion was compound, but to fuse it with another two as
well?  Campbell's laugh echoed across the floor, and died out.  He
smiled again, and looked down at his new card.

	"Hmm... Plasmatic.. looks interesting.  Lets take a look, shall we?" 
He held up the card, and a burst of flame flew out of it.  The flame
grew and continued.  Deep within it, Jinsaku barely made out a thin
crystalline form.  The flame danced in the skeletal being, making it
glow orange.  It was human in shape, but twice as tall.  It raised a
taloned hand, and swiped it through the air, screaming.  Jinsaku
covered his face from the heat blast.

	Campbell kept grinning.  His new killer was beautiful.  Thin, fast,
and covered with spiked and bladed protrusions.  The monster from his
deepest dreams.  It was beautiful.

	"This is your opponent!"  Campbell was elated at the emergence of his
vision.  This was what he had dreamed about since the day he last saw
this pitiful player.  The ultimate minion to destroy him.  "This is
your doom!"  Jinsaku couldn't take his eyes away from the thing.  Then
his brain started to work.

	'Check the stats,' he thought to himself.  He glanced down at the
first card he had grabbed, Hydrazen. 
Fire/Air/Ice/Water/Earth/Blood/Lightning, 500/3000.  The offensive
capability of that was beyond anything he had seen.  But the defense..
it was so low that Jinsaku almost believed he had a shot.  If he used
Shade... no, he had sworn he would not do that again.  He would use
every other minion he had in succession.  He might lose again, but that
would be that.

	"Hmph," Campbell snorted, glancing at Plasmatic's card.  Jinsaku took
a breath silently, and made himself laugh.

	"Campbell, I remember back when I was in Japan, and I was learning
history from this weird old Japanese guy.  He had been in the war, and
was a nationalist still.  But he was tenured and so the faculty
couldn't get rid of him, even though he was a maniac.  Everyone said
that he must have done some serious bribes to get tenured."

	"What's your point, Nagaoka?"  Campbell's voice gained an edge.

	"My point," Jinsaku smiled, "is this.  He was always going on and on
about the virtues of the Japanese sword, how it was the ultimate
evolution of steel.  Nothing could beat it, he said, over and over.  He
took an entire week to lecture on it's creation.  And one thing I
remember from that damned lecture is that he said that if you folded it
too many times, the steel would be sharp, but the blade would be weak. 
It could kill someone, but it would shatter as soon as it hit bone. 
Thats what you've got there.  An overfolded Minion.  In your quest for
a killer, you thought you'd mix all the elements together.  But they're
weak against each other, and so you just got a Minion that can dish it
out, but can't take it."  Jinsaku was bullshitting mostly, as one hit
from that monster would take out most of his own Minions, but he had to
get to Campbell's mind, or he would lose.

	"You're the one who'll need to 'take it'.  Lets end this," Campbell
said, standing up from his chair.

	"Hydrazen," Jinsaku shouted, "come forth!"   A sphere of water emerged
from his card, and sculpted itself into Hydrazen.  The bird brought its
beak up and preened itself, shaking little water droplets onto the
floor.  Campbell smiled.

	"Plasmatic!  Hellfire!"  The demon screeched, and thrusted a burning
and taloned hand forward.  Spitting out of it's fingers came flaming
shards of crystal that screamed through the air at Hydrazen.

	'Morph!' Jinsaku thought to the card, and Hydrazen complied instantly.
 Its form split into thin rods of water, barely a finger thin, forming
holes in the places where the bullets sped towards.  The crystal shards
embedded themselves in the stone wall behind Jinsaku.  Hydrazen had
dodged, but he saw from the card that it had not dodged them all.  Its
life had gone down to 300, from just a wing shot.  Jinsaku resolved
that Campbell could not know what he was doing.  He shut his mouth and
ordered, 'Hydrazen, Tsunami Slap.'  The bird glowed, and the moisture
left the room.  The great wave which it formed rose up below Plasmatic,
and roared over it with a great hiss.

	"Not enough Nagaoka," Campbell shook his head.  It was true, Plasmatic
had only lost 50 hitpoints somehow.  The fire could have evaporated
most of the water, but that was absurd.  Jinsaku shook his head in
disbelief.

	'Hydrazen, Aqua Whip!'  Hydrazen shot out a small beam of water, which
grazed Plasmatic, but only did another 20 damage.

	"Plasmatic, Fires of Damnation!"  Campbell still looked confident. 
Plasmatic reared back with a scream, and shoved forward a ten foot tall
wave of fire towards Hydrazen.

	'Hydrazen, RETURN!' Jinsaku shouted to his minion.  The wall of fire
flew towards the tiny bird, and hit the wall behind him.  The stone
wall shattered, and fell to the floor in hunks as big as a man. 
Jinsaku looked down at his card.  Hydrazen was ok, but he wouldn't
fight again in this battle.  He heard Campbell laughing.

	"Trying to slow me down, Nagaoka? I hope you save your best minion for
last, so I can see the look on your face when I hold it in my hand." 
Campbell grinned, the fires of Plasmatic's body burning in his eyes. 
Jinsaku gritted his teeth, and brought out another card.  Aquazor would
have to work.  He would save Carapace and MechaPug for last, as they
would take the least damage from the fire.

	'Use me.'  The words appeared before his eyes.  He did not have to
question who they came from.  The grinning skull was in the back of his
mind, staring him down.

	'Shut up,' he thought, and then: 'Aquazor, come forth'.  The water
began pouring out of the card, with large cut pieces of ice floating in
it.  Soon it was Aquazor, waiting for his command.  'Aquazor, Washout.'
 The Minion's chest opened up, and a deluge swept out towards
Plasmatic.

	"I've seen it all before Nagaoka!"  Campbell's Minion leapt over the
flood, and landed on Aquazor.  It grasped the ice which made up
Aquazor's head, and began to rip it off.  In a panic, Jinsaku checked
Aquazor's stats.  750, 700, 600, 300.  His eyes widened with each
change.  With a silent, panicked command, Aquazor brought it's great
ice hammer up to bear, and slammed it into the crystalline mask of
Plasmatic.  The creature received the blow squarely, and flew back,
crumpled up on the ground.  Now it was Jinsaku's turn to smile.  100
damage done, and Plasmatic was brought down to 330.  But Aquazor was
still hissing with steam, and was down to 260.

	'Use me!' The voice was in the back of his head again.  Jinsaku tried
to ignore it.

	'Aquazor, Glacier Press!'  The attack was slow, but it had power. 
Aquazen raised its arms, and a large ball of ice formed before it.  As
it began to roll towards Plasmatic, the creature propped itself up on
its elbows.  The ball of ice grew larger as it covered the distance,
and soon was taller than the monster itself.

	There was a bang as the boulder-shaped ice slammed into the thin
skeletal minion.  Jinsaku laughed.  Plasmatic was now at 110.  But then
it stepped through the boulder.  Before Jinsaku could react, Plasmatic
began shooting more crystals at Aquazor.  The bolts shot all the way
through its body, leaving small steaming holes.  There was no time for
strategy.  Jinsaku grabbed for Carapace's card in his pocket.

	'Come forth!' Jinsaku thought.

	The room turned black.  Jinsaku froze.  The beam of light shot out of
nowhere, hitting the floor.  Shade arose.  Terrified, Jinsaku glanced
at the card in his hand.  It was Shade.  But he couldn't have grabbed
the wrong one, could he?  The answer gazed back at him as black holes
in a glowing skull.  It was too late.  If he didn't want to lose, he
had to keep all his options open.  It was too late for going back, if
the Minion was out, he may as well use it.  Jinsaku bit back a curse
for the creature that stood before him and steeled himself to use it.

	'Shade, Death- he began to think.  But it was too late.  Shade
launched itself at Plasmatic, cloak billowing behind it.  It raised the
scythe high, and hurtled at the fiery minion.  And passed it up.


Campbell's hand hit the floor.


And the room was filled with his scream.


	The next moment moved for Jinsaku like everything was underwater,
moving slowly through the air.  Shade towered over Campbell.  Campbell
clutched at the his wrist, now lacking a hand.  Shade raised his scythe
far over his head, Plasmatic coming up behind him.  Jinsaku found
another card.

	There was a flash of light.  Shade's scythe was falling towards
Campbell's head.  Plasmatic was behind Shade, about to tear into him. 
The gleam blinded Jinsaku, right before everything hit.


			*****************


	Tyrell woke up.  He got out of his room, took a shower, brushed his
teeth, and got ready to go to work.  He opened the door to go get into
his junkpile, when he found Jinsaku sitting on the front step, head in
his hands.

	"Morning Jin," Tyrell cautiously offered.  "Are you ok?"

	"I fought Campbell last night."  Jinsaku's words were brittle.

	"Oh," Tyrell said, "how'd it go?"  After recent events, Tyrell almost
expected Jinsaku to tell him that he had taken Campbell out of the
game.

	"He won," Jinsaku said.  "I lost MechaPug."  Tyrell patted Jinsaku's
shoulder comfortingly.

	"Sorry to hear that man.  At least it wasn't your favorite."  Jinsaku
gave a hint of a nod.  His eyes were staring out at the horizon.

	"Ty?"  Jinsaku's voice sounded like an old man's.  "I found some
money.  It was probably stolen or something.  I think I'm going to go
out somewhere for a while.  A month-long cruise, or something like
that.  One of those things you gaijin dream about.  Somewhere with no
players."

	"A vacation?"  Tyrell offered.  Jinsaku nodded.  "It would do you some
good I think pal," Tyrell smiled.  Tyrell wouldn't ask about the money.
Player's luck.  And Tyrell thought he understood, from hearing that
voice.  Sometimes people needed breaks.  "If you're gone by the time
I'm back, Jin, have a good vacation."  Jinsaku merely nodded again. 
Tyrell walked out to his car, and dawn broke in Jinsaku's eyes.


			High Stakes Episode Nine: End


********************************************************************

Author's Notes:


	I'd like to thank BTRadish and the Academy for nominating this for the
"Best Chapter Written by Assassin So Far" category...  Seriously.. I
hope this was a decent chapter, seeing as I really do think I did ok. 
Please tell me I did ok... GOD NO, NOT THE WHIP AGAIN!  AIEEEEEEEEE!!

	No, seriously.. as usual, I tend to grab the plot by the... leg, and
yank some.  I tried to tone this down in editing.  Remember that Tyrell
has an Anthro degree, so what he's saying is just that, and Steve? 
Steve already said he had a couple glasses of wine that night he
started thinking about this.  Basically they are just theorizing.  Work
with it if you want, just as you can work with what Talia believes. 
They're just viewpoints from each player's own mind.

	Poor Jin.  I think Jin needs a vacation, don't you?  Maybe some fresh
sea air will do him good.  Anyway, to wrap this up, I do want to thank
John Evans for looking through this story, and reminding me the English
language does have some rules, as well as editing suggestions.  I'd
also like to thank my friend Clint Milton for his ideas, and my friend
Ian Heafer, even though I didn't get the story out to him in time to
get it back.  Finally thanks to NeoVid for writing High Stakes, and
providing me with some help at the beginning.  Anyway, it's been fun
writing.  Send comments to mthrall@gac.edu.  Write me reviews.  Please
write me reviews. I will love you if you write me reviews.  For the
love of god, please write me-  NO, NO, NOT AGAIN!!!
AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!


Assassin, 3/27/00, after bedtime.

Beware the Radish
http://www.mit.edu/~johne/btr/