A/N: I do not own Silverhawks or it's characters. Rankin/Bass owns them.

Playing card games were always one of the android's pastimes.

Being a robot, he was never a baby or a child, or even an adolescent, but his early years of existence were sort of like a mechanical adolescence. He had been designed and created on Bedlama years ago. His job in life was to work in a trendy hotel/casino in the planet's capital city as the manager, and, if he wanted to, a blackjack dealer. Apparently, somebody thought it would be both convenient and cool to have a robotic casino manager/gambler in the Bedlama Star Casino, especially since an obedient robot would run the place like a true professional, always making sure there was order there, and never cheating, or allowing cheating, in the games.

On one particular day when he was very young, he started to get acquainted with playing cards and dice. He was learning two children's games called Crazy Eights, and War, which also existed in a gambling version called Casino War. His part-time mentor in his pursuit of gaming was none other than Lord Cash, the owner and manager of Dolar planet, the bank planet that was the chief factory and source of Limbo galaxy money, who enjoyed showing him how to plan his strategies with any game that was not a pure game of chance.

"So, then," the android presently called Blackjack-Jack said, "In War, all I have to do is play the top card in my deck against my opponents, in order to play my turn?"

"Yes, that is right, Jack," said Lord Cash, who affectionately called his student "Jack" a lot of the time, "War is a children's game of chance, where the player with the most high cards takes the whole deck and wins. As you know, Casino War is basically the same game, except it's played by adults who gamble in the game. I'll tell you more about it when I think you're ready."

They played their game a few times. Blackjack-Jack's slot machine eyes often spun, unintentionally showing off letters, numbers, and playing card suits in front of Cash. Cash observed this, and said, "You know, Jack, I just had a thought. As 'cool-looking' as those slot eyes of yours are, I've noticed over the course of the game that they give away your thoughts on what cards you have. Your designers should have thought of that. I think you should get yourself a pair of shades to cover those eyes if you want to hope to strategize and outplay your opponents, particularly when you start playing the more serious games."

Blackjack-Jack agreed with Cash. "Yes, that is a dilemma when you play a challenging game, especially Poker, a game I'm especially looking forward to mastering. I'll get myself a pair as soon as possible. Now, how about we try Crazy Eights next? This game called War is too simple for my sophisticated tastes."

"Of course, Jack," said Cash, "I have a few tips for you when playing this game. When discarding a card, if you have the choice, do not get rid of the lower ranked cards first. Crazy Eights is like golf; if you don't win, the lower your final score is, the better. And don't always use the wild Eight cards right away. You might need one of them later in the game, when you can't play any other card."

"No problem," said the dapper robot, "I think I can handle a strategy as simple as that."

"Very good," said Cash.

"Of course, I hope it won't be too long before you can present me with a card or dice game that really challenges my advanced brain," said Blackjack-Jack, "like Gin Rummy, or if two extra players are available, Bridge, and I'd even like to try my smooth hands at trying some Solitaire games, especially the more complex ones."

Cash smiled. "Patience, Jack," he said, "You'll be playing those games soon enough, and not long after, the casino games, and then you'll have your career at last."

"Excellent," said Blackjack-Jack.

Mob member Poker-Face sat in his office at his own private gambling establishment, the Starship Casino. Muscle-man Mumbo Jumbo stood in the shadows near the door, serving as Poker-Face's bodyguard. Poker-Face was contemplating that pastime with Lord Cash in the Bedlama Star Casino. Cash certainly had done his job of mentoring his vocation, if running a casino could be called a vocation, but Cash and Poker-Face's designers had made a serious mistake when they had constructed him.

Though technically a robot, Poker-Face was programmed with a soul, perhaps because they wanted him to feel like a living being among all the flesh-and-blood citizens of Bedlama. He didn't know what it was, exactly. Religious people said that the soul was a spiritual entity that gave true life to all sentient beings. Some others, however, like the long-deceased Earth philosopher, Daniel Dennett, believed that sentients had souls that were made up of lots of tiny robots, but still gave life in a manner of speaking. Poker-Face guessed that the latter theory was probably correct in his case, and probably also with Mumbo Jumbo and all the other robotic members of Mon*Star's Mob.

Anyway, this "soul" had given the robotic card shark the ability to think for himself, and to choose between right and wrong, and Poker-Face had grown to want more out of life than just his predestined career. He didn't think it was fair that his life should be decided for him, especially when he had a soul of his own, and he wanted freedom. So one day, while he was doing his job, he suddenly left the gaming room, packed his personal things, and caught a star liner out of the planet.

He had hoped to set up shop in a place that was beyond the jurisdiction of the Limbo police, led by the grizzled Commander Stargazer, like the Light-Year Limit. The problem was, he wasn't altogether rich enough to be able to do anything by himself, and though he was somewhat mechanically inclined, he couldn't construct his own new office all on his own. He had tried to get Stargazer's help with his situation once, but Stargazer said that as a police commander, it would be against both the law and his ethics to help anyone build a private gambling business outside of his jurisdiction. Lord Cash wouldn't help, either. He also couldn't do anything outside the Light-Year Limit, and he said that he felt betrayed by his old friend for being left in the dark about Poker-Face's independent spirit, and couldn't trust him anymore.

Poker-Face didn't know where to turn.

Then suddenly, salvation came in a surprising form. Mon*Star, the Planet Master, a very dangerous criminal and mob boss who operated on the planet Brimstar, had somehow learned of the hapless gambler's predicament, and offered to help him build his own casino on a large rock outside the Limit. Mon*Star also assisted Poker-Face with building the owner's office and set up all the Poker, Blackjack, Baccarat, Let it Ride, and Craps tables, the Roulette and Big Six wheels, the Keno lounge, and the Video Poker and slot machines, and even sent out mail to some of the dirtier citizens of Limbo, encouraging them to try out Poker-Face's new Starship Casino. Finally, Mon*Star offered to let Poker-Face use his strongman, Mumbo Jumbo, as casino security part-time.

In return for all this, Mon*Star wanted Poker-Face to join his criminal Mob, and to help support the Mob and provide it with tools and weapons that could get them valuable treasures and wreak havoc across the galaxy, and Mon*Star promised to pay him billions of Limbo dollars and coins personally whenever he made a good tool or weapon. Poker-Face hadn't originally intended to get involved in crime, but Mon*Star was very generous for a mad criminal, and he had some impressive cronies in his Mob. He especially liked Hardware, who could invent the most amazing weapons, and Melodia, whose keytar, or Sound Smasher, made the most deliciously destructive music he had ever heard. Besides, she was quite a looker, too, especially considering she had two-shaded green hair.

Ever since then, he had shed his birth name of Blackjack-Jack and taken on his own choice of a name, Poker-Face, because of his personal preference for the game of Poker, which even Mon*Star rather liked. He had also constructed a golden cane decorated with playing card suits from some tools and parts Hardware had lent him, and made it a weapon that could shoot playing card suit-colored laser blasts at enemies. It was good for both offense and defense. But sometimes, as he looked back on his past on Bedlama, he wondered if that might have been the better life for him, after all. Poker-Face loved getting rich, of course, even if it meant causing some suffering, and the Mob offered him a lot of free gifts. But still, he knew how to do the right thing as well as the wrong thing, and despite his precious casino and money, he sometimes felt a twinge of guilt for getting involved with the underworld.

He took off his shades and turned to Mumbo Jumbo. "Tell me, Mumbo," he said, "Does Mon*Star have any special plans for my future after the Silverhawks are defeated and Limbo is ours?"

Mumbo Jumbo grunted and rumbled nonchalantly. His only intelligible word was, "Mon*Star," but Poker-Face understood everything he said.

Poker's slot machine eyes spun, and stopped on two exclamation points. "You're not sure, but the boss might put me in charge of financing Dolar in Lord Cash's place?"

Mumbo Jumbo nodded.

Poker-Face would've paled if he had been flesh-and-blood. As it was, the "sweat" lights on his high forehead lit up and flashed. That was all he needed. He didn't like being told by his former friend that Cash felt betrayed by Poker-Face, but for some reason, it didn't bear thinking about, executing Lord Cash in cold blood in order to run the bank planet. Poker-Face felt the part of his soul that he usually neglected after joining the Mob, his conscience, telling him that this was all wrong, and that frankly, it might have been better for him if he had remained on Bedlama and used his independent ambitions to find a new life there, rather than joining the menacing Mon*Star and murdering innocent people with his Planet Smasher slot machine.

He wondered if any of the other members of the Mob ever had conscience attacks like him. Mon*Star's conscience was evidently dead. Most of the others seemed more interested in their material gains and killer machines than in considering the wrongness of their actions. Yes-Man was relatively decent, but Mon*Star's influence had made even him goaded to fury against the galaxy and the Silverhawks.

"Mumbo Jumbo, another thing," he inquired, "Do you fully enjoy being a killer criminal? Do you feel fulfilled by the Mob's actions, or do you sometimes feel a little guilty about what we do in order to get our loot?" Mumbo Jumbo wasn't very high on intelligence, but even he had feelings, or at least he seemed to. Only Buzz-Saw seemed to utterly lack feelings out of all the Mob's members.

Mumbo tried to think about it, and replied in his usual ox-like growling.

Poker-Face's eyes spun around to form the word, "OH." "Well, sometimes I do too, Mumbo. Sometimes I do, too."

Poker-Face looked around his fancy office. He looked down on his elegant tuxedo. He examined his cane weapon. He fiddled with a deck of cards and three dice.

Apparently, though he still loved his wealth, and enjoyed working with the other colorful members of the Mob, Poker-Face still believed that if he stuck with this for the rest of his life, sooner or later, he was going to get in really deep trouble. Could it be possible to find redemption after all he had done? Perhaps. But then Mon*Star would be the one who'd feel betrayed, and he didn't take kindly to betrayal at all. The Planet Master might even decapitate him and keep his head as a trophy in his throne room on Brimstar. And what about the Silverhawks? Even if they, and Commander Stargazer, forgave him, he would still have to do time on the Penal Planet, and that was such a boring life. It almost wasn't life at all.

Mumbo Jumbo broke him out of his thoughts, growling and grunting a statement to him.

"The Space Bandit and his pals, Rhino and Cyclops, are bullying a young woman in the Keno lounge?" Poker-Face interpreted.

Mumbo nodded again.

"Fine, we'll take care of it," he said. "Come on, Mumbo Jumbo."

The two Mob criminals left the office to take care of the disturbance. Poker-Face thought, Good. Maybe losing myself in my work will relieve my mind of these pesky trips down memory lane. Of course, the problem will be there again, after I'm finished doing my work.

Unfortunately...