"So here's my question," Robert said, putting both hands down on the table and staring his captor straight in the eyes: "What does the Guild know about the Mark?"

The Colonel's eyes opened wide at that, and then he looked like he was going to open his mouth, but paused for a moment. Robert worried that he hadn't been specific enough, or that he'd asked the wrong question. Or maybe the guy had some kind of protection against his own Relic...?

But after a moment the other man's mouth began to move on its own volition, and Robert got his answer:

"We know that people started to see the sign... what some call The Mark... on the living around a year ago," he stated, his eyes closing as he spoke: "Our Reapers were the first to notice it, as you might expect. A single Deathmark, always in the same place, right across the forehead. And there are no other Deathmarks to be seen upon those who have it.

"The Deathmark itself is highly subjective. Each person who looks upon it sees a different thing, but the image is always one of a way of measuring time. Watches, calendars, clocks, sundials, hourglasses... anything and everything you might imagine.

"It's quite extraordinary, really. This is the first time we have ever encountered anything like it. And there are, apparently, no prophecies regarding it at all. We searched extensively - we even made discreet inquiries amongst the Delphics, but they could find nothing.

"Oh... and we can find no common link between those who have The Mark..." he went on, pausing for a moment and opening his eyes: "Their numbers are few, but steadily growing. And as none of those so marked have come across the Shroud, yet, we have not determined what The Mark could mean. It is the probability of their future, it would seem, but we cannot yet determine what end it may signify.

"We know only that all attempts to read the odds of their future, or their deaths, have had... disastrous consequences."

With that, he gave a little start, and was back to his usual self.

"I must say, I did not expect that question," he said, taking back the cards to shuffle another round: "You have also seen The Mark?"

"Yes," Robert said: "I've been seeing it for about a year, now, just like you said. I didn't know what I was seeing, at first, but once I knew what to look for I saw it more and more. And the one time I tried to read it for a Client, my Shadow bent me over and fucked me."

"What?" the Gambler paused in mid-shuffle.

"You don't understand English?" Robert asked, making obscene explanations with his hands: "Bent me over. Fucked me. Just like that one scene in 'Pulp Fic-"

"Why are you so certain it was your Shadow?" the Colonel pushed, restarting the shuffle.

"Because my client was a Pardoner," he answered, remembering how that client had to spend hours tending him thereafter.

"And he saw The Mark? How?"

"She saw it," Robert corrected, smirking: "And if I had to guess how she saw it, I'd guess that she has a little of our mojo, herself."

The Colonel snorted at that {The thought of a female Pardoner? The thought of a Pardoner with Fatalism? Both?} and put down the deck so Robert could take a card.

"We're not the only game in town, Colonel Mustard," Robert said, taking his hand in turn: "It's not like you need a license to learn an Arcanos."

"Unfortunately," the Colonel said, also taking his cards: "And if you call me by that name again, it's your neck here and now."

"So what can I call you?" Robert asked, replacing two cards: "Colonel Klink?"

"How about 'Sir'?" the Colonel pointedly suggested, leaning back and holding his cards.

"How about your name?"

"Win the hand, and maybe I shall tell you,"

"No maybe about it," Robert smirked, dropping the hand down: "Got something for a Full House?"

The Colonel smiled, and put down Four of a Kind: "Another question..."

"What prophecies have you encountered concerning The Mark?" the Colonel asked after some time: "And do you believe that any of them may be accurate?"

"The only prophecy I know about a mark on the brow is the one from the Bible," Robert said, remembering the few times he'd been in church as a young man: "I can't remember the exact wording, it's been so long. But it's the Mark of the Beast they're talking about...

"And I can't say that the Bible ever did me any good, so no. I don't think it's accurate."

And then the impetus to speak left him, and he was confronted by the look on the face of the Colonel. It was unreadable, but he was nodding.

"I thought you said you couldn't remember?" He asked.

"I thought I couldn't," he said, quite impressed with himself: "I guess I did?"

"The True Deck is true on many levels," the Colonel said: "It does not even allow for forgetfulness."

"Handy."

"Quite," he said: "And there is another prophecy regarding a mark on the brow, It is also from Revelations, though it seems to be forgotten in favor of the Mark of the Beast..."

"What is it?" Robert asked, and the Colonel coughed and replied:

"...it then goes on to give the number of those who would receive the seal," the Colonel continued: "All from the tribes of Israel, of course. One hundred and forty-four thousand in total with twelve thousand from this tribe, with twelve thousand from that..."

"Which neither of us believes in, anyway," Robert said.

"No," the Colonel said, quite decisively: "Not a bloody word of it. But if it were true, do you think it would be The Mark of the Devil, or The Mark of God,?"

"Why don't we put it in terms we do believe?" Robert asked: "Is it The Mark of Oblivion or The Mark of... whatever?"

"You're not a Believer," the Colonel stated, taking the cards back for another shuffle.

"Can't say I am," the Oracle answered, watching the cards slip through the other man's fingers: "I know what I saw that day on the Isle of Sorrows, and I know what they say it was, but..."

"You don't believe their take on it," he stated again. Obviously, this was old news to him.

"I don't believe we went to all that trouble to get Charon back just to have him vanish on us," Robert admitted: "That's what I believe. And I know it hasn't made me too popular, either... but fuck it. It's not like I'm the only one who thinks we got ripped off."

"Which is a valid viewpoint, but not truly central to the argument at hand," the Colonel said: "Transcendence: Yes or No?"

"No. Unless Charon wasn't the only one who could pull the reincarnation trick, which I think he was, if that was him, then... I think the only way out is down. And I really don't want to go there..."

He paused, looking at his opponent, who said: "You will."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"It must be a terrible thing to lose control so vividly," the ugly man said, putting the now-shuffled cards between them, as before: "But you should know all about that, by now? You and yours say that there is no control. You are all slaves to Fate..."

"We're all slaves in someone's galley, pal," Robert snorted: "We just get to see which way the ship's heading, and maybe brace ourselves for impact. That's it."

"What a horridly limited point of view."

"I prefer to call it realistic. Anyway, can I get a free question?"

"That depends what it is," the Colonel asked, taking his hand away so Robert could draw.

"How about that name?"

The Colonel laughed. It was as ugly as his face, and maybe moreso.

"Why should I give you that?" the man asked, taking his own cards in turn: "No. You will have to win that from me. And even if you did win it, you still may not address me as anything but Colonel, or Sir."

With that, he put down his hand: Three of a kind.

Robert looked at it, looked at his own hand, and then put his cards down, smiling. He had a Full House.

"So tell me... Mr. Colonel Sir," Robert said, leaning forward over his cards: "Since this is the first time anyone acting on behalf of the Guild's leaders has told me about what I've been seeing for the last year... what is the Guild's current position about this Mark, and what is the Guild planning to do about it?"

"The Guild's current position is that we have not seen it," the Colonel replied, fixing an angry glare at his petitioner: "There is no Mark. It does not exist. It is, therefore, foolishness to speak of it, and any who do are being counterproductive.

"As for what is being done about it, you can glean that from our presence, here, To put it in plainer terms, however... any who have seen The Mark and speak of it to others are being silenced for the good of the Guild.

"For The Mark, much like the Red Star and some of the other prophecies we have spoken of are all associated with Doomsayerism. And there is no cause to believe that Doomsday is truly coming - none at all.

"So I and my men have been sent forth to deal with the Doomsayers and their treachery. And we must also confront and contain any who might aid them in that treachery, however unknowingly No one must believe that the End Times are coming. This is just another Maelstrom, and we can outlast it as we have outlasted all the others. To say different is to sow fear and panic, and undermine not only the Council of Guilds in its mission to promote order, but also the Oracles Guild in its quest to provide a unified front.

With that, the Colonel's voice returned to his own control, and he reached out slowly to take the cards back: "And so you have your answer, Robert. By speaking with Mr. Greely, you have aided the Doomsayers in their treason against the Guild. That you did this unknowingly is no defense."

"Well, if the Guild had fucking told me-" Robert started to protest, but he was silenced by the Colonel's upraised hand.

"That we did not is regrettable, but even then I think we can agree that you are not a suitable keeper of secrets?"

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I believe the Oracle told Her petitioners to know themselves, did she not, Robert? So, is it not true that you were never good at keeping secrets when you were a child? Is it not also true that you were never good at keeping them as an adult, either? Or now...?"

Robert nodded: "But you can't keep secrets either, can you?"

"And there you have me," the Colonel said, a sad smile etched across his ruined face: "But as I tell them only to the condemned, it matters little, yes?"

And at that moment, the knives were once more crossed over Robert's throat.