Better Luck Next Time, Mister Fisk

By the 21st century, what started out as a casual get-together of super-heroes for a friendly if competitive game of poker was now in full swing and a fairly regular occurrence, with word of mouth (and different writers) bringing in a rotation of new heroes who kept the game lively for readers. And while it was often Ben Grimm who organized these gatherings, from time to time (depending on whose book you were reading) there might be other characters whose chips would be getting a bigger share of the action.

In a 2005 story, the game itself has a new twist to it, with our players anteing up for an annual charity game with the proceeds going to the winning player's favorite charitable organization. And at this year's game, the table has some flush players in attendance--with the exception of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, which might explain the $20 limit.

The fact that Dr. Strange is clueless (if enthusiastic) when it comes to poker is a true delight to watch in this game, with our Sorcerer Supreme having no familiarity at all with the phrase "know when to fold 'em" and thus staying in until the showdown--at which time he triumphantly lays down his cards only to be told he has basically nothing. Of all the things for the Ancient One to have neglected in his instruction.

Inevitably, however, it will be Spider-Man whom our attention will focus on. We don't know when Peter Parker became so adept at poker, as strapped for funds as he usually is; things don't generally end well for people living from paycheck to paycheck (if that) who turn to gambling. Regardless, his perspective in sizing up tonight's players is welcome, though he tips his own hand in an admission of just how he manages to stay in the game.

With a $20 limit, these players might have a long way to go tonight if they want to end up making a sizable donation to charity. But a surprise guest will change the stakes of this game considerably--win, or lose.

Oh, now it's a party.

The reaction to the arrival of the Kingpin of Crime is as you'd expect:

As for why the Kingpin would go to the trouble of crashing this game, well...

I'm not sure what profit the Kingpin is referring to, should he win--after all, everyone is betting with the man's own money, so should he be the evening's winner he simply comes out even (unless my math is off here), though he'll walk away with considerable bragging rights.

Nor does it occur to Spidey and the others that, should they win, they'll be accepting and subsequently donating dirty money. Instead, another chair is added to the table with little discussion--and one of the most unusual poker games to date commences.

*sigh* Mr. Fisk, nobody's dictating any restrictions on what can be done with your body--just where you're allowed to light up. If you're going to keep getting your facts wrong, you'll be out over $350K in no time. On the other hand, with a man like Strange at the table, you just might be making a profit tonight, at that. But the night is young.

Fortunately, what could have been a tense game with the Kingpin in attendance is instead quickly becoming one of comic relief.

But just after midnight, the game comes down to the two players well suited to be the ones facing off against each other in a high stakes game. (Too bad it wasn't Ben and Fisk, eh? How cool would that exchange of dialog have been?) Not surprisingly, the Kingpin twists the verbal knife as deftly as possible, in a way he always came to regret in physical conflicts with Spider-Man--making it clear in so many words that he has the greater strength of will here, the strength of character, the power that Spider-Man could battle but never aspire to.

Fisk's display is almost pitiable--this is a card game, after all, with the others in the room probably wondering what is up with this man and all the feelings bottled up behind this mask of power and control that he wears. For Spider-Man's part, all eyes now shift to his own status--a make or break moment where this game literally pays off for either the confident Fisk or the man who, behind his mask, is either crestfallen or cool as a cucumber. Before Fisk departs this evening--or, rather, this morning--his own mood will reflect one of the two.

Oh, Strange. Such insight, however charming. And you guard our dimension.

Like the X-Men game in Soho, this one has gone the distance, though this time with the reader likely breathing as much a sigh of relief as our departing players. (And by the vapors of Valtorr, what a tax write-off this will be for Strange.)

You may have noticed that Spidey doesn't need to get around by cab; instead, that "Jackson" went toward a fresh bouquet for Mary Jane, who is in for quite a story.