By Conrad Davis

"All in favor of the new name, raise your hand."

Five hands rose, although the lone woman took a while before agreeing with the men. She had argued the longest against changing the organization's initials.

"Motion is carried. We are now officially the Royal Flush Cabal." Mark 'Ace' Little smiled and looked happily at his compatriots in arms. He had to admit, the new costumes could use a little work, especially the queen's. It was hard fitting a suit that looked like a puffy accordion over a woman shaped like an apple, but they had managed. The effect was less than inspiring, though. At least Lewis Carroll couldn't sue them. He hoped.

"All right, folks, anyone have any business before we start in on the important stuff?" Much to Ace's surprise, Ten raised his hand.

"What is it, Ten?"

The muscular young man rose to his feet. "Dammit, my name's Eric. That's what I wanted to talk about. Why am I stuck at number ten? There are four suits in a deck, and we all dress like spades. I wanna be the king of clubs. I could carry a big stick and smack people with it. Get it? King of clubs?"

The other four rolled their eyes, almost in unison.

"All in favor of Ten's stupid idea?"

"My name's Eric!" Ten said, raising his hand.

"Anyone?" Ace looked around the room, pointedly ignoring Ten's raised hand.

"Okay, all opposed?" Four hands rose.

"Motion denied, Ten. You stay Ten." The disgruntled man sat down and crossed his arms, mumbling something under his breath.

"Now, on to important business. I had an idea." Ace waited a beat to let that sink in. "I've been talking around, trying to hire us out as muscle to folks who matter."

"What folks?" Jack asked.

"Folks who matter."

"Yeah, but what are their names? What folks?"

Ace narrowed his eyes. "I'll tell you when you need to know, Jack."

Jack put his black and white booted feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair. "I don't think there are any folks. I think you made 'em up."

Ace was beginning to get a little hot under the collar. "I didn't make them up, Jack. They're folks, and they matter. Now shut up and let me get on with it!"

The king chimed in, singing Ace's tune as always. "Yeah, shut up!"

"Oooooookay," Jack replied.

"Good, now that--"

"I'll be quiet."

Ace glared at Jack for a long second. "Like I was--"

"Not a peep from me."

Ace let out an angry growl. "You part of the Cabal or not, Jack?"

"Yeah, you in or you out?" King asked.

"Oh, I'm in. I'm in."

"Okay, then as I was saying--"

"In like Flynn, that's me." Jack was grinning broadly.

Ace turned a lovely shade of red. "I swear I'll kick your ass, Jack!"

"Yeah, Jack, he'll kick your ass!" King echoed.

Jack raised his hands defensively. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

"Okay, as I was saying?" Ace stopped and stared pointedly at Jack, who looked back with feigned innocence. "As I was saying, we need to make a name for ourselves before any of the people who matter - the really real, I'm not making them up, people who matter - will even think of hiring us." He paused and looked around the room again. "Now, what's our number one problem, from a public relations standpoint?"

"Queenie's outfit," Jack remarked with a smirk. Ten, instantly brought out of his funk, practically choked trying not to laugh. King looked at Ace before deciding that Jack wasn't funny.

"You jerk!" the queen retorted. "It's not my fault I'm big boned!" It was her turn to sulk.

"Awfully big bones," Jack said to Ten in a stage whisper.

Ace smacked the table with one of his palms, cracking its surface and filling the room with a resounding bang. "Cut it out, Jack! This is important!"

"Yeah, Jack," the king accused.

Jack sighed and straightened his ridiculous frilly tabard. "All right." He added, quietly, "Sorry, Queenie." She shot him a sulky, hurt look.

"That's better. Now, what's our number one public relations problem?" The room remained silent as everyone looked at something other than Ace.

"Do I have to do all the thinking?" he asked plaintively.

"Yeah, does he have to do all the thinking?" the king asked.

"For God's sake, shut up, King!" Ace cried. King vainly attempted to make himself inconspicuous.

"All right, I'll tell you. We've tried two major heists, and we've failed each time. Do you guys know why?"

Jack was the only one with enough backbone to speak. "I'd say lack of planning."

Ace's eyes narrowed to slits and he spoke through clenched teeth. "Well, you'd be wrong. It wasn't my planning. It was a guy named Morningstar. Got that, Jack?" His voice was low and full of menace. Jack swallowed.

"Uh, yeah, I got it, Ace."

"Good. Don't lose it again." Ace stared at Jack until the smaller man looked away. "Now, we need to do something to show the folks who matter that we can hack it. How do we do that?" This time, Ace didn't even bother waiting for someone to answer. "We do it by killing Morningstar."

Jack looked queasy. "Uh, don't you mean teach him a lesson? You know, publicly humiliate him or something?" The others looked like they shared his distress.

"No, Jack. We're not going to beat him up. We're not going to kidnap his dog. We're not going to call him names." Ace was really scaring them now. "I said I'd nail his head to a wall, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do." He reached under his fashion faux pas of a cloak and withdrew a large railroad spike. With one blow of his fist, he pounded it through the table. Nobody said anything for quite a while afterward.