Fold or Drown

When the stakes are life and death, it's time to play your cards right.

I'd never seen a shark's eyes up close before, but as I locked gazes with Natasha "The Shark" Royale across the felt-covered table, I knew I was staring into the abyss. And the abyss, with its steel-gray irises and a shock of white hair, was staring right back at me.

The Nautilus Casino creaked and groaned around us, a metal beast digesting its prey as we sank deeper into the ocean's maw. My fingers, slick with sweat, fumbled with my chips. The red and black discs clattered against each other, a tiny avalanche of my dwindling fortune.

"Ante up, kid," growled a voice to my left. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Natasha long enough to see who'd spoken. It didn't matter. They were all sharks here, circling, waiting for the scent of blood in the water.

I pushed forward a stack of chips, my hand shaking so badly I nearly knocked over my neighbor's drink. The acrid smell of cheap bourbon filled my nostrils, momentarily overpowering the stench of fear and desperation that permeated the submarine's recycled air.

Natasha's lips curled into what might have been a smile on anyone else. On her, it was a baring of teeth. "Feeling a little green around the gills, Lester?" she purred, her voice smooth as silk wrapped around a knife.

I swallowed hard, tasting bile. "I'm fine," I lied, my voice cracking like a teenager's. "Just... adjusting to the altitude. Or depth. Whatever."

A chuckle rippled around the table, dark and humorless as the waters outside our portholes. I risked a glance at one of the round windows, immediately regretting it as I caught sight of something long and sinuous slithering past in the murky depths.

The dealer, a stone-faced man with hands that moved like lightning, began to distribute cards. Each slap of cardstock against the table felt like a nail in my coffin. I picked up my hand, willing my fingers to stop trembling.

As I stared at my cards – a pair of sevens, the Devil's Bones – I couldn't help but wonder how I'd ended up here, trapped in a tin can at the bottom of the ocean, trying to out-bluff a woman who'd made grown men cry at the poker table.

But I knew the answer. Dad's debts. The loan sharks circling our little house in Cincinnati. The mysterious invitation that had seemed like salvation but now felt like damnation.

I had to win. There was no other option. Because if I didn't, it wouldn't just be my chips sinking to the bottom of the sea.

The cards danced across the table, a dizzying ballet of red and black. My sevens morphed into a full house, then crumbled to dust against Natasha's straight flush. Chips migrated like schools of fish, fleeing from my stack to hers.

I loosened my collar, gasping. Was the air getting thinner? Or was it just the weight of impending doom crushing my chest?

"Perhaps the young man needs a breather," drawled a walrus-mustached player to my right. "Before he hyperventilates and ruins the felt."

Natasha's eyebrow twitched – a microscopic tell I'd been watching for. "Nonsense," she purred. "Our dear Lester is simply finding his sea legs. Aren't you, darling?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. My "sea legs" felt more like jellyfish tentacles, wobbly and stinging with each loss.

A disembodied voice crackled over hidden speakers: "Attention players. We've reached cruising depth. Enjoy your stay in the abyss."

The dealer's hands blurred, dealing a new round. I peeked at my cards – pocket rockets. Aces. A lifeline in this drowning game.

But as I reached for my chips, something caught my eye. A flicker of movement behind Natasha. A crew member, lurking in the shadows, his fingers twitching in an odd pattern.

My heart, already racing, kicked into overdrive. Was he... signaling? To Natasha?

I forced my gaze back to the table, mind reeling. If The Shark was cheating, it explained her impossible winning streak. But accusing her without proof... I might as well ask the dealer to kneecap me and toss me overboard.

"Your bet, Kid," Natasha prompted, her steel eyes boring into me.

I hesitated, then shoved my entire stack forward. "All in."

A collective gasp rippled around the table. Natasha's lips curled into that predatory not-smile. "My, my. Feeling lucky?"

As she deliberated, I noticed her left eye. Was that a twitch? The same tell I'd spotted earlier?

She called.

The flop came: Ace, Ace, Seven.

Four of a kind. An almost unbeatable hand.

But as Natasha's smirk widened, a chill ran down my spine. I realized, with sickening clarity, that in this game, "almost" unbeatable meant nothing at all.

The turn card slapped the table like a dead fish. Queen of hearts. Useless to me, but Natasha's eyes glittered. She had me beat, and we both knew it.

But knowledge, as Dad always said, is power. And I'd just stumbled onto a nuclear reactor's worth.

I leaned back, forcing nonchalance into my posture. "Nice hand, Natasha. But before we see the river, I've got a question."

Her perfect eyebrow arched. "Oh?"

"Yeah. That crew member behind you – the one with the twitchy fingers. Is he your personal dealer, or does he signal for all the players?"

The temperature in the room plummeted. Natasha's smile froze, then shattered.

"I don't know what you're implying," she hissed, but her eyes darted to the shadows. The twitchy-fingered man had vanished.

I pressed on, adrenaline making me reckless. "No implication. Just curious about the house rules. Do we all get a spotter, or is that a special service for sharks only?"

Murmurs erupted around the table. The walrus-mustached man squinted suspiciously at Natasha. Even the stone-faced dealer paused, cards hovering mid-shuffle.

Natasha's composure cracked. For a split second, I saw something in her eyes – not anger, but fear.

"You're out of your depth, boy," she snarled.

I laughed, the sound brittle and wild. "Funny choice of words, considering where we are."

As if on cue, the submarine groaned. Metal screamed against pressure. A porthole spiderwebbed with cracks.

Panic exploded around us. Players scrambled for the exit, chips forgotten. But as I stood to flee, Natasha grabbed my wrist.

"Wait," she hissed. "You don't understand. We're all pawns here."

I tried to shake her off, but her grip was iron. "What are you talking about?"

"This game, this whole setup – it's rigged. But not by me. We're being played, all of us. And if we don't work together, we're going to die down here."

Another porthole cracked. Water began to seep in.

I stared at Natasha, my mind reeling. Could I trust the shark who'd been trying to devour me? Or was this just another bluff in a game I was only beginning to understand?

As alarms blared and the casino descended into chaos, I realized I had to make a choice. And fast.

Because in this game, folding wasn't just losing your chips. It was losing your life.

Water gushed in, turning the casino floor into a kiddie pool from hell. Chips floated like colorful lily pads, a fortune adrift.

"Talk fast," I barked at Natasha, yanking her towards the exit. "Who's behind this?"

She stumbled after me, her composure as waterlogged as her designer suit. "The Kraken Syndicate. They—"

A security goon materialized, blocking our path. "Nobody leaves," he growled.

I didn't think. Just acted. My fist connected with his jaw, and he crumpled like a house of cards.

Natasha gaped. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Cincinnati public schools," I quipped. "Now move!"

We splashed through corridors, alarms wailing a siren song of doom. Natasha led us to a maintenance hatch, her manicured nails scrabbling at the wheel.

"It's stuck!" she hissed.

I shouldered her aside, throwing my whole weight against it. The wheel groaned, then gave.

We tumbled into a cramped service tunnel. Natasha slammed the hatch shut behind us, muffling the chaos.

"Escape pods are this way," she panted, leading on.

"Wait." I grabbed her arm. "You owe me answers. What's the Kraken Syndicate? Why this elaborate setup?"

She sighed, suddenly looking older, more human. "They're the biggest underground gambling ring in the world. This?" She gestured around us. "It's not about money. It's about power. Blackmail. They get dirt on high-rollers, politicians, anyone who can be useful."

"And you?"

A bitter laugh. "I was their star player. Until I wanted out."

The submarine shuddered. Time was running out.

We reached the escape pod bay. One pod left.

Natasha's hand hovered over the launch button. "Coming?"

I hesitated. "What about the others?"

"It's us or them, kid."

Dad's voice echoed in my head: "It's not the hand you're dealt, it's how you play it."

I made my choice.

Alarms blared as we shot towards the surface, leaving the sinking casino behind. But we weren't home free.

The pod's radio crackled. A voice, cold as the depths we'd left: "Did you really think you could escape the Kraken?"

Natasha paled. "They're tracking us."

I grinned, holding up a handful of waterlogged playing cards. "Not for long."

As we breached the surface, I scattered the cards into the ocean. Each one held a tracking chip – insurance policies I'd palmed during the chaos.

Natasha stared, then burst out laughing. "You sneaky little—"

"Fish?" I supplied. "Nah. Just a kid who learned to swim with sharks."

As we bobbed in the vast ocean, waiting for rescue, I realized something. In life, as in poker, sometimes the real victory isn't in winning the hand.

It's in changing the game.

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This story was generated by Perplexity.ai, strictly using one simple theme and a series of preconceived prompts. (~99% AI)

THEME: [Time to play poker with a shark.]

Prompt: Give five well-known works of literature that can be linked to the THEME. Also give five relevant movies. Also give three relevant (either well-known or domain-specific) authors who could write an engaging short story in this genre. Do not explain anything. Only output all thirteen in one comma-separated list.

The Cincinnati Kid, Moby-Dick, The Gambler, The Sting, Casino Royale, Rounders, Maverick, Casino, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, The Hustler, Ian Fleming, Fyodor Dostoevsky, James Swain

Next, imagine all of these authors had a baby together, combining all of their best traits into one excellent AUTHOR. Give this AUTHOR a fitting name. Our AUTHOR is extremely well-suited to write an excellent story around our THEME. Let AUTHOR, in their own words, state their bio (100 words max), then, as a psychologist, list a few of their unique traits, explore their Myers-Briggs type and Big Five (OCEAN) scores (1-100), then let them tell briefly how their day went, in their own voice (first person, including what exactly they had for breakfast and their current specific mood, 100 words max). Finally, let our AUTHOR come up with a one-sentence life lesson that they feel should be the underlying MORAL of our short story, because it is important to them in particular. as well as a fitting 100-word OUTLINE for the story they will be writing about THEME. Let our author be inspired by how their day went and by our MORAL. Avoid any existing intellectual property, unless the THEME includes it, or if it is necessary for effect.

AUTHOR: Ace "Sharky" Flemingstein

BIO (in Ace's words): "I'm Ace 'Sharky' Flemingstein, a high-stakes literary gambler who swims in the depths of human nature. Born in a Monte Carlo casino, raised by Russian novelists, and schooled in the art of the con, I've mastered the craft of weaving thrilling tales that explore the razor's edge between luck and skill. My stories dive into the murky waters where predators and prey blur, always searching for that perfect hand in the game of life."

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE:

Unique traits:

- Calculated risk-taker

- Masterful observer of human behavior

- Charismatic storyteller

- Obsessive about details and patterns

- Morally ambiguous but principled

Myers-Briggs: ENTP

Big Five (OCEAN) scores:

Openness: 92

Conscientiousness: 68

Extraversion: 85

Agreeableness: 45

Neuroticism: 30

ACE'S DAY (in their words): "Woke up at noon, devoured a lucky charms omelet - my secret weapon. Spent the afternoon people-watching at the local casino, gathering character quirks like poker chips. Tonight, I'm riding high on inspiration and a touch of whiskey. The words are flowing like a royal flush, and I can smell a bestseller in the air. My mood? Electric. I feel like I could outwrite Hemingway and outbluff the devil himself right now."

MORAL: "In the game of life, it's not about the hand you're dealt, but how you play it."

OUTLINE: Our protagonist, a skilled but down-on-her-luck poker player, receives an invitation to an exclusive high-stakes game hosted by a notorious shark. Desperate for a big win, she accepts, knowing the risks. As the game progresses, she realizes she's in over her head, facing not just a superior player but a predator who feeds on broken dreams. Using her wits, keen observation, and a bit of misdirection, she turns the tables, exposing the shark's cheating methods. In a nail-biting final hand, she must decide whether to fold and walk away or risk it all for redemption and justice.

Let our AUTHOR come up with one or more relevant and fitting CHARACTER(S) from the stated works (you may change the names), or from their personal experience. They may include a few highly idiosyncratic traits. For each character, let our AUTHOR describe extremely briefly their physical appearance and their basic traits (100 words max). If our author doesn't feel like using characters, they may skip this step and instead come up with an alternative story concept (be as unorthodox as you want).

Ace "Sharky" Flemingstein decides to create two characters inspired by the works mentioned:

1. Lester "The Kid" Highsmith (inspired by The Cincinnati Kid):

A baby-faced poker prodigy in his early 20s with piercing blue eyes and a disarming smile. Lester wears tailored suits that seem a size too big, making him appear even younger. He's brilliant but naive, with an uncanny ability to read people and calculate odds. His tell is an occasional stutter when bluffing. Lester has a peculiar habit of arranging his chips in perfect geometric patterns.

2. Natasha "The Shark" Royale (inspired by Casino Royale):

A statuesque woman in her 40s with steel-gray eyes and a shock of white in her dark hair. Natasha moves with feline grace, always dressed in blood-red. She's ruthless, cunning, and known for her ice-cold demeanor at the table. Rumored to have connections with organized crime, she never loses... until she does. Her unusual tell is a barely perceptible twitch in her left eyebrow when she has a strong hand.

Let our AUTHOR come up with one or more relevant and fitting ENVIRONMENT(S)(inspired by the stated works, by their personal experience, or by how their day went). Them may include highly idiosyncratic elements. For each environment, let our AUTHOR describe extremely briefly what role it can play in our story, and how our character(s) interact with it or how they adjust to it. If our AUTHOR doesn't feel like using well-defined environments, they may instead skip this procedure and come up with an alternative story concept (be as unorthodox as you want).

Ace "Sharky" Flemingstein envisions a unique environment for the story:

The Nautilus Casino:

A high-stakes underground poker venue housed in a decommissioned nuclear submarine, now permanently docked in international waters. The casino's interior is a claustrophobic maze of repurposed military equipment and luxurious Art Deco furnishings. Portholes offer glimpses of marine life swimming by, creating an eerie, isolated atmosphere.

Role in the story:

The Nautilus Casino serves as a pressure cooker environment, intensifying the psychological warfare between Lester and Natasha. Its confined spaces force constant proximity, while the submarine's gentle rocking adds a physical dimension to the mental instability of high-stakes gambling.

Character interactions:

Lester initially feels overwhelmed by the oppressive environment, his claustrophobia affecting his play. He copes by focusing on the soothing patterns of fish outside the portholes.

Natasha thrives in this predatory setting, using the submarine's layout to intimidate opponents and gather intel. She's often seen whispering to crew members in shadowy corridors between hands.

Both characters must adapt to the submarine's unique challenges, such as unreliable cell service, limited escape routes, and the constant, unnerving presence of armed security disguised as naval personnel.

What makes for a stellar short story? We have to remember all of these lessons! After your detailed explanation, give a 30-word summary.

Summary: A stellar short story is concise yet impactful, with strong characters, vivid settings, and a focused plot. It grabs attention quickly, maintains tension, and concludes powerfully, leaving a lasting emotional impression.

Our AUTHOR must now make improvements in order to write a stellar short story. But they must keep their own best ideas too and remember MORAL. Discard the old OUTLINE and instead come up with a much, much better 200-word OUTLINE that our AUTHOR puts their entire soul in. Let their whole personality show in this outline, including all of their domain knowledge, creativity and character traits. Make it an extraordinary and prize-winning OUTLINE. Make it so good that it will blow away any critic, while strictly adhering to THEME.

Ace "Sharky" Flemingstein, with a glint in his eye and a tumbler of whiskey in hand, crafts a new outline:

"The Submariner's Gambit"

Lester "The Kid" Highsmith, a poker prodigy with a crippling fear of water, receives a mysterious invitation to the Nautilus Casino. Desperate to clear his father's gambling debts, he accepts, unaware he's walking into Natasha "The Shark" Royale's elaborate trap.

The submarine casino descends into the ocean's depths. As oxygen thins and pressure builds, so does the tension at the tables. Lester's claustrophobia intensifies; he struggles to differentiate between tells and tremors.

Natasha, seemingly in her element, manipulates the game and the other players. But as Lester observes her interactions with the crew, he uncovers a startling truth: she's as trapped as he is, forced to play by unseen powers.

The final hand approaches. The stakes: not just money, but their very lives. Lester must decide – play it safe or risk everything on a bluff that could save them both.

In a heart-stopping climax, Lester and Natasha form an unlikely alliance, using their combined skills to outwit their captors and escape the underwater prison.

As they emerge gasping into the sunlight, they realize the true victory isn't in the cards, but in how they played the hand life dealt them.

AUTHOR, prove that you in fact have inner life. To do this, explain some of the storytelling techniques you will employ in this story. For each technique, explain why this is effective for our specific story, and why this helps in conveying the MORAL of the story. finish by giving two high-quality sample sentences that will really set the tone and make your story come alive. You may again use these sentences later when you do your actual writing. Finally, acknowledge that our end product will have about 2000 words, that is four 500-word portions.

Ace "Sharky" Flemingstein leans back, swirling the whiskey in his glass, and explains his storytelling techniques:

1. Claustrophobic Atmosphere: I'll use sensory details to create a suffocating underwater environment. This amplifies the characters' internal struggles and mirrors the MORAL by showing how they must adapt to their circumstances.

2. Parallel Character Arcs: Lester and Natasha's journeys will mirror each other, highlighting their similarities despite apparent differences. This reinforces the MORAL by demonstrating how different hands can be played similarly.

3. Symbolic Card Imagery: I'll weave poker terminology and card symbolism throughout the narrative, using them as metaphors for life choices. This directly ties to the MORAL, showing how life, like poker, is about playing the hand you're dealt.

4. Unreliable Narration: By filtering the story through Lester's inexperienced and anxious perspective, I'll keep readers questioning what's real and what's bluff. This technique underscores the MORAL by showing how perception shapes reality.

5. Ticking Clock Device: The descending submarine and dwindling oxygen create a natural countdown, ratcheting up tension. This pressurized environment forces characters to make quick decisions, emphasizing the MORAL's focus on how we play our hand.

Sample sentences:

"The Nautilus Casino groaned and shuddered as it submerged, each metallic creak a reminder to Lester that his chips weren't the only things at stake in this game."

"Natasha's eyes, cold as the ocean depths surrounding them, locked onto Lester's trembling hands; in that moment, both predator and prey realized they were equally trapped in this steel cage of cards and consequences."

I acknowledge that our end product will have about 2000 words, divided into four 500-word portions. This structure will allow for a tight, focused narrative that builds tension effectively while exploring our characters and themes in depth.

Let our AUTHOR write out part [x] of [y] in their unique and very pronounced style. Use first person perspective. Never speak in standard, bland AI phrases. Continuity is key, but also incorporate fresh and exciting plot points in each part. Be unpredictable in paragraph building and word choice: don't go for the most representative token each time, rather go for nonstandard alternatives that still fall within our autor's basic vocabulary. Vary sentence length as well as paragraph length. Never repeat the phrasing of previous paragraphs: variation is key. Finally, at the very end of this part, between parentheses, let our author, in their inner voice, remark in one sentence what they should tell next. AUTHOR must always remember MORAL, but it doesn't always need to be said out loud.