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Ace Of Spades

Extracts from this document...

Introduction

Ace of Spades Isn't it amazing how the human mind works? 80% water and 20% pink goo, yet this simple combination can condemn millions, or even save millions. Good and evil. Just a couple of twisted wires. One twist, one turn can be salvation.....or damnation. Southern London wasn't exactly Europe's hot-spot tourist destination, but the sheer density of people in The Wet Dog made it seem so; but maybe the blame lay firmly with the weather in that respect. The moon seemed to hold sway, his eerie opal light cheerily taking over from the clearly abused streetlights. In his elation at being the only light source, the moon failed to notice the clouds, which were hanging over him like a pestilence, slowly soaking up his light, and so, the streets of Southern London became dark and senseless. The wind though, wasn't affected, she swept past The Wet Dog humming her sad lament, and picking up various beer cans and throwing them a good few yards, one hit the door of The Wet Dog, which went unnoticed by the crowd inside The Wet Dog. The Barman of The Wet Dog was a simple soul. He had the full package, good job, nice house, free beer, and of course, complete with a stamp and a good portion of yellow ribbon, kids and a wife who seemed to exist just to clean up his and the kids mess. He liked his punters; not just because they gave him fistfuls of cash, he felt he could relate to them, he was the sympathetic ear, the calm in the storm, the golden hand to reach out and give salvation to the damned; he emitted comfort, kindness and friendly love. He looked out from behind his bar at his pride and joy. And he saw it was good. A little empty tonight, but still good. He nodded to himself happily, before turning to wipe the dirt more evenly across the oak surface. ...read more.

Middle

He looked in his twenties and his straw coloured hair was stealthily sneaking towards his eyes which were a striking hazelnut brown, he wore a black tuxedo and black jeans; he smiled slyly at Jax as he sat down. "Where's everyone else?" Jax asked. "They didn't show up" shrugged the man. I guessed. "Guess it's just the two of us then?" "Looks like it" After ordering as pint from a rather greasy looking brunette, he sat back down. "Jax" "Duivel" smiled the man. Duivel dealt, and Jax picked his cards up, while throwing in his blind. Two of diamonds and two of clubs. A pair. Ducks. Jax calmly pushed forward a few chips "Bet 10" Duivel rose to twenty. The flop was turned over. Jack of diamonds, 5 of spades, 2 of clubs. Well, that certainly improved the twos. A single bead of tell-telling sweat trickled down and joined with the one already stained down his shirt. Jax was going to be evil, hell he felt lie it, he'd had an evil day, he almost drew another cigarette out of his packet, he tutted to himself. Hell, that s a reflex action...not good. He pushed a few more chips forward. "Bet 40" Duivel smiled in quite a mysterious manner, before calling him. The turn card: 10 of diamonds. "Bet 60" "Raise 70" River card: Ace of spades "Bet 100" "Check" Hell. Jax's eyes boggled at the pile of chips on the table, most were his chips. Oh god...he's raised me all the way. He's got something... Jax tuned over his cards. Duivel's face fell, Jax bit his lip to restrain his traitorous smile, then, in an almost hypnotic manner, Duivel turned his cards face up. King and queen. Jax swore angrily, Duivel smirked at him smugly. Jax felt his hackles rise up, hell, he actually snarled at Duivel, before roughly grabbing the pack and dealing it, throwing the cards rather too aggressively on the table. He picked up his own cards. Ace and King. ...read more.

Conclusion

The fight continued, with Jax weaving and dodging, trying to wear his opponent down, which seemed to be working, Duivel was sweating quite profusely. Jax had found the perfect moment, the most perfect moments could be, he was sure of it, no, he was certain of it after the next punch had come his way, he was going to take a gamble. A very big gamble. In mid manoeuvre of the 'perfect move at the perfect moment', a distant, slightly rusty cog in Jax's brain began to turn, and with that, came realisation, but thirty seconds too late. Duivel could read his mind. Jax's attack was foiled, and Duivel had him flat on his back in seconds, as he panicked as Duivel's hands reached for his throat, he remembered something, something silly, beyond silly even, utterly ridiculous, 'stare your opponent down'. He'd obviously heard it from some kind of cheesy boxing movie, but as he gasped for breath and his windpipe started to cave in, he decided it was worth a whirl. So he stared. Duivel's eyes were no longer hazelnut, they were red. Blood red. So Jax stared at the eyes, and there was a link between the two men, it was brief, but enough, Jax had seen what he had been and still was, and Duivel knew that. And it worried him. Jax wriggled and wrestled and wrenched himself free, and the tables were turned. Duivel was in Jax's mercy, but Jax was beyond mercy, he punched, he kicked, he grabbed hold of his victim's jacket lapels and smashed his skull against the hard oak floor, and. there was blood, the beast within him roared in victory, he was crazed. He was mad. Sofia's screams were drowned out by Jax's own heartbeat. Derdum.Derdum.Derdum.Derdum. Somewhere, in the endless abyss, a woman was yelling. "Jax! He's dead!" Jax looked at the woman, before calmly letting go of the bloody mess, and striding out of the room, then the house, leaving the woman and the carcass alone. By Natalie Beard 9AT ...read more.

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