Mardock Scramble

sown.

Oeufcoque explained that it was only natural for the dealer to assume now that the two other mechanics were taking advantage of him, cutting him out and somehow using Balot to defraud the casino. At the same time, from the perspective of the two mechanics who were playing, it looked like the dealer was deliberately manipulating the cards in order to sting them and drive them from the table and out of the casino so that he could keep all their ill-gotten gains for himself.

–Let’s have the Doctor win a round now.

Balot knew her cue when she heard it and gave a cue of her own in turn.

–You need to show a bit more courage, Uncle—you’ll never win anything unless you keep betting lots right to the end of the hand.

She had her impression of the eager niece down to a tee—how could anyone imagine in a million years that she had just given the Doctor his cue to bet heavily on his next hand?

“You’re right! Well, it seems to be working for you, so let’s see if I can ride your coattails.” The Doctor understood her perfectly.

The game commenced, mutual suspicion swirling around the three mechanics.

Balot’s cards were 8

and 7

.

The flop was K

, 8

, and A

, and the suit was the blind better.

There were a number of raises and calls. The cowboy, evidently shocked back into a measure of cool- headedness by the two straight flushes on the trot, folded without a second’s hesitation.

The potbelly, on the other hand, was doing everything he could to catch the dealer’s eye to try and communicate his intentions.

–Look, the dealer’s started cheating, so he’s committed—might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. You’ll see he gets increasingly bolder now.

And, sure enough, Balot clearly caught the dealer as he dealt a card from the bottom of the deck in the card shoe.

The turn card was 8

.

Amid the melee the potbelly folded, followed by the old gentleman.

They moved on into the final round, and the river card was revealed. At the very same instant Balot interfered with the overhead cameras again, snarcing them, and Oeufcoque pounced. In a movement that was too fast for human eyes to pick up on, he switched one of the Doctor’s cards, then:

–Time to fold.

The river card was A

.

The suit raised, and the Doctor raised again, and at this point Balot folded. The dealer and the two mechanics seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Then the betting was over, and the hands were revealed.

The suit had A

and K

. Another full house. The best full house there was, twice, back to back. Even the cowboy seemed suspicious.

But all that was put aside in the next moment. The Doctor paused for a beat, then said, “Hmm, looks like I might have won.”

The suit had his hands over the chips again, but all the strength seemed to flow from his body when he heard the Doctor’s words, and he almost swooned as he turned to look at the bad news.

8

and 8

.

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, and if you can’t join ’em, beat ’em. There was no way the Doctor could have had a better full house, so he had gone one better—four of a kind.

–Their system is quite a simple one, really, and it’s just based around getting high-scoring full houses. They haven’t really planned ahead as far as being able to deal with hands such as a low four of a kind or straight flushes.

Oeufcoque had nailed it. From that moment on, either the potbelly or the suit always seemed to turn out a full house of one shape or another. No thought for averages or odds. Caution was thrown to the wind, prudence out the window.

The cowboy went into a sulk, throwing chip after chip at the table. And it only took another hand before the old gentleman reached his limit; the old man silently stood up and walked away from the table.

Neither the dealer nor the two other mechanics had any idea what was going on. They grew impatient and frustrated, and were exactly where Oeufcoque wanted them, dancing to his tune.

They had been doomed to failure from the beginning. However good a poker face was, there was no human being on this planet who could control their body odor at will. Oeufcoque read their emotions precisely and to the most minute of details, and Balot almost started feeling sorry for the mechanics, as their very essence seemed to be, layer by layer, exposed raw.

The cowboy’s chips ran out mid-hand, and as he was now all in, a second pot was created in accordance with the tap-out rules. In the end, he lost.

The cowboy left the table, spitting in disgust, and it was all the mechanics could do to watch him as he disappeared.

Other customers milled around the area, but none of them came near the table directly—there was a general sense that all was not quite right with the table. So now it was just Balot, the Doctor, and the three cheats.

Before long, though, the dealer stopped paying any attention to the other two mechanics. And soon enough, one of the remaining mechanics slipped up with a hand signal—or was it the other one who misread it?—and the trust between them completely broke down. All three mechanics were fit to burst. Oeufcoque noted everything, sliced away at their innermost feelings, and ruthlessly took their chips.

It wasn’t long before the potbelly was out of chips. He rose up and left the gaming table without a word.

The suit watched him go before getting up himself, his handful of remaining chips clenched tightly in his