Scene 1: The Back Room at Dukes

Dukes' is a regular hangout for the working class denizens of The Boroughs. It's small, dark, a little dank, a little smoky and overly warm most of the time, but something about the place makes it perfect for enjoying a cold beer at the end of the day. Fred Dukes, a rotund ex-boxer, owns the place and fancies himself a petty king of The Borough. Fred employs two bartenders, his buddy from high-school St.John Allerdyce and friendly rival from his boxing days, Dominikos Petrakis. Fred and Dominikos handle security while St.John is usually the friendly face and often the voice of reason.

There are a lot of things that keep the patrons of Dukes' coming back besides the cheap beer and spirits. There's a band called The Marauders that plays a regular gig, and a few other random groups or single artists. Allison Blaire once sang on the small stage before she hit it big. Comedians are few and far between in The Borough but they've all done their tight 5 at Dukes' in the past. The big draw is the monthly poker tournament. And that is what has drawn many here tonight.

Victor Creed, foreman at The Borough's Steel Mill. Twice divorced, father of two. He's a hard man to know, but harder on himself. Tonight he is doing his best to earn a little extra scratch to make rent. Hours at the mill have been cut recently. Being a leader, Victor took the hit right along with his workers so no one suffers more than another, not even the Captain.

Jamie Maddox runs Always There Express, The Borough's premier delivery service. Business is pretty good, but it could always be better. He's married to a Layla Miller-Maddox, and they have a son named Davey. He coaches Davey's little league team, and organizes a community garden. He is often heard saying, "Life would be easy if there were just a few more of me." Tonight he's just hanging with his friends and neighbors, enjoying a little freedom from responsibility.

Kurt Wagner works for Jamie Maddox at Always There Express. He's a delivery driver and very popular around town, and a lay-minister at the neighborhood church. Being here tonight was not Kurt's idea, his boss Jamie had invited him. Besides the book never said gambling specifically was a sin, as long as you didn't let it consume you. If he wins any money, he can always give it to charity.

Ilian Lovecraft attends classes at Borough Community College, Go Acorns, but she should probably be teaching, or maybe attending the more prestigious Xavier University uptown. Of course you need money to go there, cash works in a pinch, since scholarships never seem to manifest.

Remy LeBeau wasn't exactly welcome at Dukes' most days. He'd always been good at pool and darts...and cards. In the past he'd scammed a little to hard and called down the proprietors ire. Tonight he had to win it all and give Dukes a hefty kickback. He did it for a good cause though. Sharking was easier than holding down a real job.

Wanda Wilson, the local barfly used to have a decent job as an executive secretary for a VP at the Steel Mill. She was fired two months ago in the first round of non-union layoffs. Her pathetic severance had nearly dried up and she was starting to get desperate. This poker tournament wasn't going to save her, but it gave her time wit Victor. He was a good man, and a hard worker, If she could hook him, he would take care of her, right?

The last player at the table was a woman none of them knew well. She'd become something of a regular at Dukes in the past couple months, but she hadn't quite integrated herself very well. She came across as a moneyed individual. Someone born to privilege. Just not from around this part of The Borough. She dressed in weird crimson and black body suit. And while her purple hair wasn't anything to get worked up over, the little purple butterflies that seemed to flit around her head were distracting to say the least.

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TAP!!!

Each of you feel tug in your brain. Suddenly you remember that none of that stuff about you is true. The names are right but the lives they described aren't true. You remember those lives, but they aren't your own. This place, The Borough, is not the world you remember. Looking around the room you see some familiar faces, but everything is off somehow.

In your head you hear a voice with a worldly, slightly British accent. It's coming from Betsy"I can explain...well...not everything...but most things. First, act like nothing is wrong, we don't want to start a panic. Just play poker. So. My name is Elizabeth Braddock. I'm speaking to you telepathically. Thank you Ilian for understanding. It's not important now as I only have a few moments before our captors notice." She peers around the room but no one seems to have noticed. "As you have probably realized this world is not out own. And by "our own" I mean none of us are from this world, and many of us do not share a world of origin. We have been plucked by some force from across the multi-verse and put here, given new lives. I don't know why, I don't know how. I only know I woke up thanks to the help of a man named Vance Astro, who has sense vanished. I hope he escaped somehow, but fear something worse has happened. We were trying out figure out what was happening and split up to more support. He did not return."

"What needs to happen now, is you need to follow me. There is a structure under The Borough that seems to be out of view of our captors. We can plan and strategize from there. You will also find personal items there that you may find useful. While we travel bee on the look out for these." An image slides into your minds from Betsy's. "These robots are somehow connected to what is going on. They seem to relay the signal that keeps us under control. No one seems to notice them unless they've been woken up. Vance said he had another ally, a man named Logan, who tried to fight one. It called in support and once enough machines were present, they fired a ray and Logan vanished."

"We need to do this casually. We can't all run out of here at once, but you should have access to your powers. You have access to the false memories you were implanted with. There is an alley near 3rd Avenue and Yancy Street. Down that alley is a door that will take us to the safe space. Don't try to fight the robots, it will only raise the alarm and make our escape more difficult. Just ignore them."

"Any quick questions before we go?"

"Y'know this's a lot to take in," Victor thinks in response, outwardly fidgiting with a stack of poker chips so as to appear normal. "Let's say we check out this alleyway. Is it safe to assume there's more evidence? Because right now, with you pokin' around in my skull, how do we know you ain't the source o' the false memories?"

"Your skepticism is understandable Captain America, and prude t perhaps, but yes you will have enough evidence to fill a lorry and some time to decide for yourself what you believe. But we have to move soon or we will all be captured and either put back under the spell or made to disappear like my Mr. Astro."

"@#$&!...@#$&! @#$&!" Ilian swears telepathically. Her cold blue eyes narrow over the fan of her cards, giving her poker face a slightly more menacing hint.

Victor chews his lip a bit, the oversized canine tooth noticable for a moment as he ponders what to do next. "Givin' ya the benefit of the doubt lady," he thinks, eyes narrowing to a menacing squint, "so God help ya if you're scammin' me... I don't much care for throwing a hand."

The man pushes all his chips into the center of the table. "Alright boys," he says aloud, a hint of a growl to his voice as his lips curl back into a smile that seems almost threatening, "let's cut the bullshit and get this game started off right... if y'ain't here t' win, get yer ass off the table. Go big, or go the #/<% home. Who's in?"

He does not expect to win with his trio of sevens. But if he loses it all right now, walking off from the table won't seem out of place. If he wins... well, he can cross that bridge when he gets there.

Remy makes a poker chip dance along the back of his knuckles from index to pinky and back again. He keeps his cards face down, not needing to look at them, the faces already memorized. Then he feels the tug in his head, the memories of another life fighting for space with the memories of his current life. It catches him off guard and the poker chip tumbles onto the table and rolls to the center where it falls over among the other chips in the betting pool.

"I, uh, meant to do that," he says. Then the voice starts.

When it's finished, he notices a few other bar patrons have also gone quiet, a far-away look in their eyes. Hearing the name 'Logan' also stirred something in him, a faint impression of a hairy short man with a grumpy attitude. Then it was gone. When asked if he had any questions, Gambit thinks Non.

He waves his hand in the air as if he's brushing away a fly and says, "I'm in. Let us see what you got." Gambit plans to be the last to leave, as he expects to be the winner.

Jamie was a very responsible gambler, even as he allowed himself an indulgence now and then. He was a good family man, storing up for a rainy day, hedging his funds, pretty much the same way he played poker, hedging his bets, taking only very small risks, usually satisfied with a good night's worth of gaming if he walked away just slightly more than he came with. Certainty was a hallmark in his life; after all, he had no one else to rely on to take care of his family.

The voice in his head and the sudden revelation shook him. "Deal me out of this round, I need a fresh one." Jamie got up to head to the bar counter. He couldn't trust himself to keep steady after Elizabeth spoke in his mind, not because of the shock of the message, which was disconcerting enough. What was nearly psychically overwhelming for him was the sensation that he wasn't alone, that there was more of him out there in the Boroughs. For the first time he felt somehow connected to other selves, other Jamies? He tried to steady his nerves with the bourbon that St John just served up to him, but he couldn't fight the feeling that he was now somehow incomplete, a fragment both physically as well as mentally. He kept quiet and wondered what he ought to do next.

Wanda froze with the cards in her hand, then held up a finger, as if to attract the attention of the other players.

"Excuse me, Do you mind if I google something on my phone? I need to know if, when you hear voices in your head, it's supposed to be schizophrenia or psychosis or something like that."

She started rummaging through her purse.

"Also, I need to look up how to play poker, really fast, because I just forgot. Pro tip: Five tequilas before playing cards might be too much."

She put the purse on the table, resting both hands on top of it and looks thoughtfully at the people around the table.

"I mean, I remember some things from the movies, like I'm supposed to bluff until one of you puts his cards down and gives up and then I put mine down and show him that my hand was worse than his, or something like that. Then I take the chips with both hands, with a smirk, but one of you accuses me of cheating, throws the table and we fight. I'm pretty sure that's how it works, but I'd appreciate if someone can confirm that for me."

Kurt puts down his hand of cards in disgust, looking around. He suddenly realizes that he's been wearing something on his belt loop, something he's never noticed--an image inducer, of a kind he's been familiar with for years, just that now, in this false life, he's been wearing it without noticing it.

He growls at the idea of having been a lay minister. What good had God ever done for him in the terrible world he's used to?

He looks around the bar now with new eyes, seeing everything that was previously hidden in shadows. There's Fred Dukes--the man who killed his wife, back in his own world. Was this the same Blob?

His distrustful eyes turn to Victor and Remy--at least these two he could trust. Or could he?

As for Madrox... his face and name were familiar. Too familiar.

And what about the others?

He sighs and stands up, shaking his head. Stealth is not something unfamiliar to him. He stretches and yawns.

"Sorry Jamie, time for me to turn in. Can someone tell... Fred... to close out my bar tab? I'm heading home to, ach, hit the hay as they put it."

At least his past memories had him down as a German immigrant, so his accent would not reveal him.

Out loud Betsy says "Don't worry Wanda, there won't be any fighting at this table. She smiles as she pushes her chips into the center of the table to match Creed and LeBeau. She looks in Nightcrawler's direction and mentally asks, "We will be seeing you later, elf?"

At the bar, St. John looks Madrox up and down. "You ok pally? Looking a little down for the first hand. Can't have been that bad."

From his spot at the end of the bar Fred Dukes looks over, "Just a reminder folks, walking away from the table too long forfeits you'se hands and the house settles your tab outa' your entrance fees. As in the chips won' be goin' to your fellow players. They come ta me!" He eyes the two men at the bar suspiciously.

Ilian takes a quick peek at her cards again. Hard to keep focus with all the yammering in her head. "Someone needs a one way trip to Limbo-land for this insult." She thinks so loud it nearly hurts. She sees the Red Queen, the queen of hearts, staring back at her from the trio of ladies in her hand and that damnable black Ace-hole after them. Memories of her time with Katlyn rushes into her mind from the imprisoned shadows they have been chained within. For how long? "No! @#$& it! Limbo is too easy for the likes of them that's done this. Their @#$&'n souls need pruning and I've got the perfect trimmer!"

Betsy reveals her hand.

Victor's Hand

Remy's Hand

Ilian's hand

Wanda's Hand

Victor wins with just a pair of 5s.

"Ohhh, you got my 10 Victor. Good game fellas. Sorry to cut and run, but I have some business that just became more pressing. Have fun. Betsy says as she gets up and heads to the door. She drops a 20 on the bar as she walks by.

"Sunnuva..." Victor seems stunned for a moment. I tossed my three of a kind to try and throw the hand... of all the crazy...

He starts to laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh. "Never woulda guessed in a million years, but I'm no fool -- I know how to cut while my luck is still holding. Gonna cash out and call it a night. Been a pleasure."

Still chuckling as he approaches the bar, he calls out to Fred. "Hey Dukes... a round for the table so there's no hard feelings, and a little somethin' for the house to show my appreciation!" He squares up with the bar, grabs his jacket and heads out into the night air.

Next stop... an alleyway off of Yancy Street.

"I lost, right?" Wanda asked.

She grabbed the edge of the table with both hands, as if she wanted to lift it up, but she sighed wearily and released it.

"I'm too drunk to throw the table and I love you all too much to fight with you."

Wanda rested one elbow on the table and her chin on the palm of her hand.

She looked seductively at Remy.

"Hey, Remy, honey. I'm in no condition to drive. Could you be a sweetheart and give me a ride home?"