Poker Night at Billy Ray's (Solitaire)

There was a place in Chicago that metahumans local and visiting could learn about by word of mouth. A special, hidden place where metas could go for either a drink or food, and information about the meta community. It was called Billy Ray's.

The alley was strewn with trash and filth, and smelled of dog poo. Graffiti was strewn all over the walls, and what looked like bloodstains and bullet holes were becoming visible on a part of the wall when sunlight was just starting to illuminate it. There also seemed to be a roughly body sized pile of rags in the corner- no telling if it was a body or garbage, but smelled even more foul than both when approached.

The rear entrance was small, no more than fifteen feet wide and raised from the ground line by a few steps. The windows were shut with nailed planks. Country music played from inside. There was a small plank board sign that read “Billy Ray’s”, and scrawled under it was “Absolutely no fighting inside” in rather poor penmanship and messy paint. The reinforced door was guarded by a most stout and muscular humanoid figure, who was roughly four feet tall and as wide. His arms were as thick as his stocky legs, sported a full long beard, and a mighty beer belly. One might describe him as a dwarf.

When approached, he would take a good, long look at the person, and speak. “Weclome to Billy Ray’s, how meta are ya? Science, magic or good breedin?” He would ask, his deep voice seemingly marking him as from New York, probably the Bronx, or Brooklyn.

A pair of red cowboy boots splashed into a puddle. Solitaire sighed. His dapper boots, wet in a Chicago puddle. It probably wasn't even water, more likely to be siphoned petrol and blood. This was one of his least favourite cities. It always smelt like someone was getting mugged. The figure pulled his hat down hard onto his head and continued walking. Although, despite his hatred for this place he had heard of a most fun sounding place. Billy Ray's. A bar for people who are abnormal. Solitaire, despite his charm, wit and incredible proficiency and card tricks was human and enjoyed a drink as much as the next guy. But normal bars were always the same.

It didn't take him too long to find out where the place was. Songbird Charlie seemed to know a lot about it. Told him exactly where to find it this time off year. Unfortunately that 'where' was well... Solitaire looked around. Was that hobo sleeping or dead? Ugh. That 'where' was a shit hole. He dusted off his coat. Even being here made him feel dirty. You'd never think he'd grown up surrounded by dirt and nature but now he'd grown accustomed to certain levels of cleanliness. You could argue that living in the cities had made him soft. Solitaire preferred to say it had made him Pretty, and pretty things avoided dirt. He found the place he was looking for, and analysed it quite quickly. Signs and dingy boards. Could this place really be that great?

He approached the door and what he'd thought was a confused hobo turned out to be a bouncer of some sort. He looked Solitaire  up and down and Solitaire looked him well... down. He was too short to look up. Grumpy Smurf then asked how 'meta' he was. The question confused Solitaire at first but he eventually worked out what he meant. "Magic." He handed the dwarf a card, and had it change suits in his hands before it settled on the Jack of Spades. Solitaire smiled at the man before making his way inside. He could smell something, something subtle and quiet, something underneath the alcohol and noise.

He could smell playing cards!

The Dwarven bouncer looked at Solitaire with little interest or awe. He acted like he'd seen it all, and a magical Card Shark hardly qualified as surprise. Still, he politely opened the door while hafting his... rune inlaid battle axe. "Looks like you're here for poker night then. Head right in."

Country music, the sad depressing kind, played in the background while the air smelled of tobacco and booze. The walls were decorated with old supervillain and Renegade costumes, and pictures of old henchmen crews were strewn on the photo wall. At, least half of the place was- the other half had been semi-converted into a decent family restaurant setup, but the crowd was the same.

Most of the clientel were a bunch of old souls who'd hung up their crime fighting or crime committing days to be normal people who held jobs and come here to be Bikers- or family men. Yes, there were a number of oddly sized and oddly appearing souls, metahumans whose power manifested with bestial looks as much as abilities. And yes, there were a few odd kids in the non-smoking and non-drinking section of the place.

"Welcome to Billy Ray's, I'm Golda. You want something to eat, drink or here for poker night?" A waitress came up to Solitaire, seeing him being a new soul in this old place. She was a young lady with fiery red hair and... shining golden skin, wearing an old fashioned diner waitress get up. "We've got buffalo wings so hot they'll knock out your ice breathe, and drinks so strong they'll blow pass your invulnerability." She finished her pitch, then would lead Solitaire to wherever he needed to be.

A large circular table with a fine green table cover was assembled in the center of the place. A few people were already playing cards- a Shark man in a black suit, a mature brunette femme-fatale lady in a red dress, A giant... iron golem in a blue suit, and a latina lady with piercing green eyes.


"Damnit Shauna. You looked at my cards again." The Iron Golem said, folding, as the green eyed gal took her winnings.


"The cards were lead lined since last year, Sam. Don't be a sore loser." Shark dude said with a guffaw and a very toothy laugh.

"Ah shut up, Karl." Iron Man stood up and headed for one of the extra-wide booths to drown his sorrows. He was served a complimentary drink after losing all his winnings.


"Haha yeah. That first game with Billy Ray was a real hoot. Wasn't it, Mira?" Shauna said, as everyone turned in their cards and the deck was being shuffled once more.

Femme-Fatale lady said nothing to Shauna, but eyed Solitaire as he arrived. She threw a flirty wink. "Well. Looks like we got ourselves a newcomer."

Shark dude Karl gave him a look too. "Oooh look out. Cougar got claws. hahaahaha!"

After being approached by the golden gal, Solitaire ordered a regular Desperado, beer with Tequila in it. He followed his nose and moved over to the grassy green table, which a varying cast of characters sat around. He politely took his hat off and placed it onto a shelf, revealing his platinum blond hair and milky white eyes. He put his coat over one of the seats and sat down, wearing a shirt and waist coat. He took advantage of the fact his pupils were invisible to secretly examine everyone. They may all act friendly but when it came to money and cards, everyone was both predator and prey and he had to work out everyone's weak spots.

They addressed him and he raised an eyebrow to the brunette who winked at him. He grinned. She hadn't responded to the Tanned Lady's question. They probably fell out. Did they mention lead laced cards? He was certain there was an anecdote about how someone had cheated with X-Ray vision but in all honesty, he didn't care. He crossed his legs under the table and smiled.

"Hello. My name's Jack." He didn't really know why he was lying, he did it all the time. He liked to consider it practice. He squinted at the femme fatale. He knew her type. "You're Mira." He'd heard the... eerily familiar Latino woman address her by that name. He squinted at aforementioned latina.

"And you... Shauna, is it? I have definitely seen before. Hm."  

His eyes looked to the other player, the Shark Man. "Karl, right?" He tapped his fingers of the table.

What a pleasant little assortment of freaks. He quite liked this bar. It felt quaint.

"Are we dealin' or are we sittin' down cause are legs are hurtin'?"

He almost felt bad about how he was going to rob its customers blind.

Owner Billy Ray himself graced the poker table, Shauna passing him the deck. The cowboy owner was really in character, having a hat, a poncho and a beard, not to mention a deep, gravelly voice as he spoke with his guests.  The wall behind the main bar had his six-shooters on display, showing his retired state.

In particular he placed a hand on Solitaire's shoulder, admiring his fashion sense. Unfortunately when he opened his mouth, it took a very keen ear to catch everything he said. "Welcome to my bar... *mumble mumble*... Cheatin'... *mumble mumble* fair game. *mumble mumble* enjoy yourselves."

Golda meanwhile comes by with the drinks, with 'Jack's' Beer and Tequila in a pint glass. Everyone else got their complementary bottles of some German beer. Billy Ray cuts the deck. The players all look at the cards they're dealt and put on their poker faces, while downing their pints of draft beer. The game starts, everyone playing around or shuffling around with their dealt cards.