Snakes and Die (Steel)

The last rays of sunlight carefully caress the edges of my wagon's window, making sure to leave the shadows as they are, unbothered and about their business. A few strings of orange light make their way through the smoke filled atmosphere of the wagon, only to paint the floor to my right with their ethereal prints. Slowly, as the train takes a turn, the rays move, dragging across the floor until they vanish, allowing the shadows to fully embrace the poor souls commuting at this time of the day.

Well, not exactly poor, but if you saw a young man with a loose shirt collar, unshaven, with near-bloodshot eyes, you'd call him poor or something close to that. Thankfully, I chose a seat far from him, and the other two equally silent figures scattered around the wagon. No, none of us is a poor soul, whatever reason we have to be out this late, we probably did something to deserve it.

Besides, there are not many in this city who have a clear enough conscience to be sound asleep. You always have some favor to repay to a friend or owe your services to a… well, not a friend for sure, and these favors and services are almost always cashed in at this time of day, or night, depending on how you see it.

The train struggles to take the next turn, rattling over the tracks like a snake hunting for its unaware prey. I gently lean against the window, looking down, below the tracks, at the rooftops and the streets that despite the absolute darkness of the night, remain lit through the power of electricity.

Next Station: Tower 18 Approach

Shortly after the sweet, monotone voice of the announcer rings, the train grinds to a halt and the doors slide open. I'm the only one that disembarks.

Behind me, the steel serpent shuts its doors and rattles away into the night for other miserable folk to ride their way into favors and services they never asked for. Don't worry, I'm no better. In fact, I'm just as shady as the rest of them, though I don't hide it, there's no point to it. Why should I hide the fact that I have three loaded firearms on my person, when everyone else has four?

Better even, why should I hide anything in a train dead station, occupied by dust and the rhythmically blinking lights of an advertisement board. The only illumination on the platform is a singular lamp, probably a decade old, that shines its light weakly, over the staircase leading down to the ground level of the station.

I check my watch, 3:45 in the morning. What a perfect time for a snack, a drink and a good game with my favorite dice.

The steel stairs creak under my feet as I make my way down, but I pay no mind, they were always like that and if they are to collapse tonight then they'd be doing me a favor. Well, the view is nice, at least…

For a moment, I stop, lean onto the handrail and gaze away into the city.

Sometimes it feels stupid, all of it, every single second of anything that will possible have to do with it. The funny part? I don't even know what it is, but when they keep sending letters about what they'll do to your daughter, pictures of her taken from afar… I'll do whatever it may be.

She's somewhere there, in the city, on her bed, sleeping. Well, no, she isn't sleeping, she rarely does that. Emilia likes the night, same as her dad, so if I'm right she'll probably be sitting on the floor, either reading a book or writing something. The girl always had a way with words…

But there's no time to think about her, not yet.

I turn away from the handrail and go down the staircase once again. With each step, the metal underneath me creaks and groans in its effort to support the weight of a man with too much on his shoulders. It holds, but barely, just enough for me to fear for my life with no real risk behind it. The lower I go, more of the vast scenery of our city is replaced with half-built brick walls and bright orange lamp-posts.

When the smell of air is finally completely replaced by the fumes of cigarettes and smog, I know I've reached the right place.

The surface was never a nice place to look at, with nothing to see there at all. That is the beauty of it to the people I'll be playing with tonight. When even the light of day struggles to reach the street, when the only building worth batting an eye for is the aqueduct, then you know that the only people coming here are the ones who want to do business.

"Lookin' for some-un'?"

I was never one to brag about my reflexes, but I was caught completely by surprise and even when I did realize I was being addressed, it took me a moment to find the person doing so. He was a short, average man like all the others, well built and probably never introduced to a razor before in his life. People in that other city down south would call him a dwarf, say he's magical or whatnot, but the look in his eyes said the only magic he had seen was a set of dice.

"Nope, I'm just here to play"

There wasn't much of a need to specify where I was referring to, since he already held his own pouch of die in his palm.

The short man turned his gaze to the sky for a second, puffed some smoke out and looked back at me, "Long night ahead o' ya, good luck"

With that, he waddled right past me, allowing my attention to fall on the establishment ahead of me. It was nothing, uninteresting and unimaginative like the rest of the surface, yet it deluded itself into being a center of attraction, with bright neon signs pointing at the entrance and an even more extravagantly bright one yelling Lucky Master at whoever passed by.

"Lucky my ass" I whisper to myself and enter.

Immediately, and I mean immediately, I am hit by a wave of smoke of so many different kinds that I got a headache from trying to understand what they came from. There was the scent of strawberry there somewhere, though.

As for the establishment itself… not much to say about it. Leather couches set in a circle around tables with green felt and numerous cards stranded on them. Groups of regulars and first-timers sat on them, eyeing each other's money like dogs who haven't eaten in weeks. Their faces, mostly hidden behind bulky sets of cards or dark-tinted glasses and thick hats, are an amalgamation of ugly beast-like men and cast-away women that haven't discovered self-worth yet.

Of course, the presence of booze is unavoidable on every table and even those few customers that don't drink have a little shot of something questionably distilled on their side… for good luck.

"Ey! Come on, don't dawdle around, we got a game to play!" A gruff, annoying voice erupted from my right, where I knew my table was waiting for me.

I didn't need to see who the voice belonged to, it was always the same woman anyway. Donning the bitch-blonde hair, straight business suit and arrogant glint in the eye, Evelina was once again there to put me down on the table and have me play 'till the sun came up. I'd say she gets a sick satisfaction out of harassing me, maybe even a fetish, but she hasn't taken me to bed yet… something I am thankful for.

So, I sit, lay my suitcase on my side and take out a set of die, placing them on the table in front of me, "Evenin' everyone" I mockingly greet her and whatever poor soul got into her trap.

She doesn't need to explain the game anymore, so she just puts the cards down and we start placing bets. The game, however, is stupid and simple, based on luck as much as it's based on cheating.

The host, being Evelina, comes up with a silly story about the rest of the group on the table, always having to do with us or our families getting hurt. We roll dice to prevent these bad things from occurring, controlling in a way, our destiny through the story. You fuck up a roll, you pay your share until you have no money with ya.

If the sun rises and you still have money left, you keep them and go home until next time.

"Ready, boys and girls? I've got something spicy for you tonight" Evelina grins as the first card is put on the table and her narration starts.

It's gonna be a long night...