Work Text:
Somewhere in that in-betweeny space where crossovers happen, there was a bar. A relatively high class establishment, it has been treated as a neutral zone where heroic and villainous (and anti-heroic and anti-villainous) characters could kick back and relax with a reasonably priced drink, provided they didn’t start any trouble.
At one of the tables, four unlikely acquaintances were playing Texas Hold’em. Initially paired together by chance, the group ended up striking a rapport and have been semi-regularly meeting up for a game of poker. The stakes were rather low, but still present – two of the players bet about fifteen thousand yen each, the third bet a few golden coins with CAESAR DICTATOR written on them, and the fourth bet a heavy sack filled with small change that – according to him at least – added up to a hundred US dollars.
The owner of the establishment approached the table in question. “Any drinks, gentlemen?”
A teenager with neat brown hair, in a beige double-breasted suit and gloves, replied: “Coffee. Black and bitter.”
A boy just a bit younger than him, in a reddish-orange shirt, purple shorts, and a black cap, replied: “Grapefruit juice.”
A man in his thirties, wearing glasses and a dirty labcoat with a circled cross emblem on its shoulder, replied: “Sarsaparilla, if possible.”
A man a decade older, in an unbuttoned red suit and with a hairdo best described as a mop, asked: “It’s a tall order, but you guys got fin sake?”
“Can I just say,” Arcade remarked, tapping the table to mark a check, “I am impressed by both Goro and Ichiban's English? I have tried to pick up a second language, and it’s remarkably hard.”
“I had to learn quickly,” Ichiban checked as well. “I ended up in Hawaii for… family business, and while a lot of folks there speak Japanese, not all of them did, so you gotta learn.”
A fourth card was placed on the table - a 6♠, next to an A♠, a 4♥, and a 7♠.
“I raise,” Akechi proclaimed, pushing a few chips towards the middle of the table.
“I call,” Edd said, doing the same. “Do you have a story explaining your knowledge of English, Mr. Akechi?”
“Well, once upon a time I took extra classes. The end.”
“Riveting,” Edd snarked.
Ichiban and Arcade had folded, and the fifth card was revealed as a 5♠.
Edd revealed his hole cards: a 4♣ and a 4♦. “Three of a kind.”
Akechi smirked. “Call this your third season,” he said, revealing an 8♣ and a Q♥. He had a straight. “because you don’t get a dub.”
With a scowl, Akechi tossed his cards a bit forward to signal he’s folding. “I am shocked you’ve tolerated me so far, considering my rap sheet.”
“I’m a ‘live and atone’ guy, and not a ‘die to erase the shame’ guy,” Ichiban commented, as Edd pushed a few chips into the center of the table. “And I’ve been an angry orphaned teenager myself. If a god gave me magic powers and told me to wreck shit, I wouldn't have fared any better.”
Arcade waited for him to finish before folding. “Frankly, my work has left me with... more flexible moral standards than what you three might be used to.” He watched as Ichiban reraised the bet. “At least you haven't called yourself Mitsuhide and rounded up a bunch of brainwashed tribals to go to war.”
“I probably could claim high ground, but I don’t want to ruin the atmosphere,” Edd remarked. “Also, I fold.”
“I win!” Ichiban grinned, raking the chips towards himself.
“What would Eddy do?” Edd muttered to himself. “...cheat, probably, but I’d prefer not to.”
“I know we’re not playing for huge cash,” Ichiban remarked, “but how can you two kids consistently afford to buy in?”
“I’m not a kid,” Akechi raised the bet a fair amount. “A friend of mine is giving me that cash, reasoning that it’s good for me to socialize with other people.”
“That explains your playstyle.” Edd folded. “As for me, I occasionally sell weaponry to a paramilitary organization of minors fighting against the tyranny of the adults.”
“Sounds like a good cause,” Ichiban said. “Do they take donations?”
“If you were RPG characters, what classes would you be?” Ichiban asked, dealing the cards.
Arcade and Akechi looked at him funny.
“You know what I meant.”
Arcade tapped the table to mark a check. “Combat medic, with preference for energy weapons.”
Akechi watched Ichiban check as well and then called. “I’m not an RPG enthusiast, I prefer first-person shooters. Whichever class comes with the biggest gun, I guess.”
“I… don’t know, truth be told,” Edd said, checking.
“How about ‘Dork’?” Akechi quipped.
Edd turned to him as Ichiban dealt the flop. “Mr. Akechi, I have seen the edgy tokusatsu costume you fight in; to put it bluntly, it takes one to know one.”
“You could be an artificer or thereabouts.” Arcade checked. “From what I’ve heard you’re quite the tinkerer.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Edd waved him off. “I mostly construct whatever’s necessary for the scam of the day out of assorted waste.”
“And that is supposed to be unimpressive?” Arcade replied, as Ichiban checked. “Half of the Followers’ operations in the Mojave hinge on recycling what we have. There’s only so much you can scavenge from pre-War hospitals.”
“I fought alongside a guy like that once,” Ichiban said. “He had this cool attack where he pulled out a car battery and zapped enemies in an AOE!”
“I will not lie,” Akechi checked again, “that does sound cool.”
“Um, Gannon-san,” Akechi asked, “what is that weapon you have on your belt?”
“A Glock 86 plasma pistol,” Arcade replied. Noticing Akechi blatantly staring at it, he added “I checked in the ammunition at the door, it’s not loaded.”
“No, no, that’s not what I’m implying,” Akechi raised his hands a bit. “I just think this weapon is fucking awesome.”
Edd winced. “Is that language necessary, Mr. Akechi?”
“Yes, it is,” he retorted. “Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits.”
“Good lord…”
“It’s just a normal energy weapon though,” Arcade said, trying to change the topic. “Don’t you have those in your world as well?”
“Not really,” Akechi said. “Well, there are toys that can work like quote-unquote real energy weapons in the cognitive world, but other than that, we still use conventional firearms.”
Ichiban smiled at him. “And you’ve mocked me for my imagination, Goro.”
“How would Joker play this…” Akechi muttered, then scowled. “He’d probably get better fucking hole cards, the lucky piece of- I fold.”
“Out of morbid curiosity,” Arcade said, dealing the cards, “are there any other, um, queers by this table?”
“Isn’t that word offensive?” Edd asked.
Akechi shrugged.
“He’s not using it as an insult,” Ichiban pointed out, checking his cards. “I wouldn’t nitpick about his word choice.”
“Point taken,” Edd said, folding. “And to answer the question… this is fanfiction, so the three of us are probably all bisexual or equivalent.”
“I’m mostly straight, I think,” Ichiban said.
“After eighteen years in prison?” Arcade asked, calling.
“There were people that had, ahem, arrangements,” Ichiban explained, calling as well, “but I wasn’t really popular behind bars. People thought I was a weirdo.” After a beat, he smiled and turned to Akechi. “Come on Goro, I know you have a quip locked and loaded.”
“Eh, too obvious,” he said, checking.
“Well, I for one find you charming,” Arcade said, dealing the flop.
“Thanks,” Ichiban smiled. “Though I gotta warn you, I’m off the market.”
Arcade repressed a frown. “Congratulations to the lucky girl then.”
“You know, Goro,” Ichiban said, “you sound like a good friend of mine.”
“I do?” Akechi raised an eyebrow. “We probably share voice actors or something. Who’s the guy?”
“Zhao, he’s a chef,” Ichiban replied. “If you ever end up in Yokohama, hit up You Tian. It serves fantastic Chinese food.”
“I see. If we’re recommending eateries, Leblanc in Tokyo serves phenomenal curry and coffee. One of the few places there that doesn’t deserve to get firebombed.”
“Don’t cut yourself on that edge, Goro,” Arcade snarked.