What drives me to play poker? Every time I learn a new skill or concept, my vision expands. I often grow more and more amazed at the game's limitless depth.

Joey awoke staring at the ceiling. Arms behind his head, he was lazing about. His mind wandered between yesterday's events and the nonsensical dream rapidly fading from his memory.

'Alright, let's get to school. It's not like my ceiling has cable.'

Walking through school, Joey noticed several interesting changes today. It seemed rumors had spread of him as some sort of dark lord. The entire football team avoided him like he was a necromancer.

On several occasions, he crossed paths with his precious Pokemon, all with panda eyes or varying degrees of visible damage. Upon seeing him, their faces instantly turned pale and they jumped into the nearest open classroom or hallway.

'These Pokemon never lost their habit of hiding in bushes. That's alright. They fought so hard for their master, they deserve a rest now.' Joey's heart bled for his creatures.

After school, it was back to Angelo's. Joey just hoped this time he might get to actually play. Although dealing is a safe and stable income, compared to what he had made last week playing poker, it wasn't worth mentioning. More importantly, it didn't give him that feeling he craved.

Today's crew was Andrew, Pedro, and Amy. Joey arrived slightly late today so the game was already in session. It was shorthanded though, with Andrew filling in as a player.

'I remember Amy told me Andrew's a serious player. I should see what serious looks like...' Joey went over and observed the game from the side.

Andrew listened to music through his headphones, while grinding through hands. Joey decided that unless a good target showed up tonight, he would focus his observations on Andrew to see if there was anything he could learn.

"Are you looking for your next human puppet?"

"AAH!" All the players glanced in Joey's direction, startled, before soon returning to the game.

Joey was spooked by a voice to his right that came out of nowhere. Amy had creeped up behind him. "...What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You're clearly standing here watching these people, flesh bags in your eyes, observing the quality of their bodies to find a suitable puppet soldier."

"Flesh bags? Puppet soldiers? What are you on about?"

"I saw your mighty battle last night with the bandit named Marco. You skillfully controlled and commanded your team of human puppets to gain victory in mortal combat. The degree of control you displayed couldn't be gained in only a year or two of training. I admit...I was slightly jealous of your talent."

Joey gulped.

"Game recognizes game. Let's talk shop." She returned her gaze to the poker game as Joey shook his head. "If it was me, I would choose Andrew as my next puppet."

Joey closed his eyes, trying to find a way to embrace the suffering. "Why Andrew?"

Amy watched Joey close his eyes. Her eyes thinned and her mouth turned into a Cheshire grin. "'You think darkness is your ally. But you merely adopted the dark; I was born in it, molded by it...'"

'ANDDD now she's channeled Bane...' He kept his eyes closed, going back to his happy place. 'I'm just going to stay here forever...it hurts less...'

...

Sensing no biters, Amy returned to the topic at hand. "Unlike these other flesh bags, Andrew can at least be used to farm money. Just puppet him to a poker table and he'll do his job."

"So he's a winning player?"

"Yes, he's been winning for some time and with reason. He has the skills."

"What skills exactly?"

"All of them. He's well rounded, a solid player. For instance, he makes good laydowns."

"Laydowns?"

"Good folds. In spots that most others couldn't fold decent or good hands even though they're beat, Andrew can find thin folds and save money. One way to look at poker is that to play well, you need to lose less when you're behind, and win more when ahead. Making laydowns is losing less when behind. He's also good at value betting."

"Value betting?"

"Value betting means betting with the best hand and thus making money when someone calls you. It's an example of winning more when ahead. In poker you can win a pot in two ways: getting everyone else to fold and gaining the pot by default, or having the best hand at showdown. Being good at value betting makes the pots that you win bigger in both cases."

"You see, it's easy to play cards that are either garbage or very strong." she continued. "Everyone plays them the same way which is betting when strong and folding when weak. However, it's the spots in the middle where the good players shine."

"Most of the time you actually have a hand that's only slightly weak or slightly strong. It's in that gray middle ground where the player that makes better decisions will come out ahead over the long term."

Amy looked at her pupil to make sure he was paying attention. "So let's say you have a hand that if you bet, you believe your opponent can't raise, and that he will only call or fold. You also believe that when he calls, your hand will win 60% of the time. Many players merely check there in spots like that because they feel the bet is too thin. It's uncomfortable for them"

"Good players find bets there and win slightly more often than they lose in those spots. That's called a thin value bet. For a good player, those small gains add up and snowball into large wins over time. Of course, things can get much more complicated than that, especially when considering potential check/raises from the opponent."

"Check/raises?"

"That's just when someone checks, then the opponent bets, and the original checker then raises. Usually, when a player is slowplaying, they're looking to do a check/raise at some point in the hand."

"I'm all in." At this moment, Andrew was involved in a big hand. He moved all in and was called by someone with a slightly worse hand than him. He doubled up.

New players were coming in now so Angelo asked Andrew to give up his seat for a player. His playing session ended on a high. He got up and went to greet the other dealers.

"Nice hand man," Joey congratulated.

"Thanks," Andrew replied as he removed his headphones. He was satisfied with the good session.

Joey looked to the side and Amy had shadow sneaked away somewhere.

"How's playing been going lately?" Joey questioned.

"Good bro. I ran pretty well last week. This other club I play at has a great game...Pocket Rockets Club, you been there?"

"...Pocket Rockets? No..." Joey knitted his eyebrows. It sounded like some sort of S&M club.

Andrew noticed his misunderstanding. "Haha, it's just a nickname for aces preflop. Pocket refers to your two private cards. It's a poker club. I'm going tomorrow. Want to come with? It'll be good to have a familiar face around."

Joey remembered Amy mentioned that Andrew played somewhere else last week. His heartbeat sped up. 'Is this the feeling of discovering a new map?'

"Definitely! Just let me clear it with Angelo first." He walked over to the office and knocked.

"Come in." Angelo was inside, squinting through his glasses at an excel sheet. He looked like a 70 year old who just discovered the magic of the Internet.

'Mobsters do excel now...What is this world coming to?'

"Hey Angelo, can I get a day off tomorrow?" Joey could tell he was barely paying attention. "I need to go poison the city's water supply."

"Yea sure Kid, go for it."

That was that. Joey walked back over to Andrew and exchanged contacts. The new club was in a different neighborhood but not too far from his school. They agreed they would meet outside the club tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night at Angelo's passed quickly. Joey got to play for a short while but he ran somewhat badly and ended up only breaking even. He was more concerned about what the new club would be like...

***

The next afternoon, Joey left school and walked to the address Andrew gave him.

'Let's just hope it's really not an S&M club.'

When he arrived at the cross street, he noticed it was a barren industrial area pretty far off the beaten path. There were no pedestrians or cars parked.

*Squawk* A group of vultures circled above.

'This is the rhythm of getting your organs harvested,' he gritted his teeth and kept walking.

'Having two kidneys is really wasteful anyway.' Rationalizing losing his organs to go gamble. He was entering the middle stages of degeneracy.

"Joey!"

"He heard a shout and saw Andrew waving to him from the side of a large, two-story gray building. He went over.

"You made it. Come on, let's go inside." At the entrance, Andrew rang a buzzer and showed his face to a black hemispherical camera attached to the ceiling corner. The camera glowed with a bright red light in cold, calculated observation.

Buzz

Andrew pulled open the door and led the way. They climbed a flight of stairs to a doorway that was already open and entered.

The light smell of synthetic plastic. The sounds of clashing poker chips in neverending war. The sight of rows and rows of poker tables, filled to the brim with players.

Filled to the brim...with opportunities.

Joey's pupils shrank as an enigmatic feeling overwhelmed him. This was the feeling a predator gets when he smells his prey approaching.

'It's time to eat.'