[ WP ] A man down on his luck realizes he has psychic mind reading abilities . He improves his life by playing poker . Everything goes really well for him until one day he comes across another psychic at the tables . Epic mind games ensue .

`` Would you like to call sir,'' the dealers' voice became sour. 
 
 `` Yes, yea, sorry.'' My eyes could n't peel away from his smirk. 
 
 The turn came out, showing a 4 of spades. My hand was trash and he knew it. 
 
 The fact that he was able to spot my bluff was special in itself. I learned to lean back, act like I was out of the game. As soon as the river pulls, I nonchalantly act like I've hit, and bet. 
 
 But he saw it. He new what cards I had, and I knew what cards he had. As if the stars had aligned and brought to me another with the sight. 
 
 Out of all the chances for this guy, he decided to show up on my table. Did the sight send him? 
 
 Or was this just dumb luck? 
 
 First I thought of doing a traveling sideshow, but like many who probably had the gift, they were cast away as a joke. Poker was my solace, and I did well with it. 
 
 I decided to sit out a hand, let the others at the table go against this guy. Unexpectedly, they all walked out into the middle of the field for slaughter. He called, and raised, and clicked together all of the chips that were coming his way. It was like shooting fish in a big frozen block of fucking ice. Nowhere to move. 
 
 One after the next stood, and left. He lost some of course, lest he be noticed by the casino's and hogtied in the back. But for the most part he diligently swept the table, until it was me and him. 
 
 I looked into his eyes, focused and sharp. His hair was brown, and slicked back with some sort of gel. He wore a black blazer with red tones and a vest. His eyes were either black or a shade of brown so dark i could n't tell. 
 
 My hand was dealt. Ace, queen of hearts. Perfect. 
 
 His hand was dealt. I began to hone my gift, peering through the back of the cards to see what they were. 
 
 He drew an eight of spades and a four of clubs. Not the best hand. But he held on to it. He knew something I did n't know. 
 
 As the river turned, a six, seven, nine, ten, and a jack all came out. I raised the pot a couple thousand. He looked at me, smiled and folded. 
 
 This guy was playing tricks on me. I barely got the small blind. He was baiting me. Testing me. 
 
 I stood up to leave, thanking the dealer, and turning to walk away with my chips. 
 
 A massive clap hit me in the side of the head. I went down hard, chips flying. 
 Before I knew what was happening, three big guys in black suits had me bound up. 
 
 Fuck. I knew it. 
 
 The man walked up to me, before i was dragged away, and whispered into my ear, `` Looks like I sank the table,'' his voice was sour and smelled of cigarettes. 
 
 `` When your done with them, try to find me.'' His eyes blazed with excitement, `` I've got something to tell you.''
