The Ladies Are Selected

The lights shift as Rhett looks straight at you, the smirk on his face knowing and theatrical.

"First pick of the new cycle goes to our Fresher."

He raises an eyebrow.

*"So, who’s it going to be?"

You don’t hesitate. You’ve been playing this quietly, building your hand like a long con. Now’s the time to step forward.

"Jada Washington," you say. "Five of Clubs."

The card locks into place with a soft chime. Her image fills the screen—warm smile, focused eyes, pen already in motion like she’s jotting down notes about the collapse of your self-control.

"Smart move," Rhett says, nodding. *"That makes four clubs in play for him now. 7, 8, 9, and now 5. That's a huge hand in the making, but are you going to go into the red to reserve the final Lady of the College Spread deck that completes it?"

He’s not wrong. You just need one more... and then, of course, to succeed in challenges with them. You take a breath, look up, and speak again.

"I want to reserve the Six of Clubs."

A murmur spreads through the crowd. The screen pulses again—this time pulling up a card everyone remembers, Tank's last successful play as he was eliminated.

"Ohhh, Rebekah Flores," Rhett says, drawing out the name with theatrical weight. "Philosophy major, coffee addict, and Tank Marshall’s last hope before he crashed and burned. She gave him a one-night **** contract... and made him promise to coach her little brother’s football team in return."

Her card seems to smirk on screen at the deal she cut with Tank—half-curious, half-challenging. Like she knows exactly what you’re trying to pull, and she’s interested enough to let you try but wicked enough to make you pay.

"And now she’s part of the Fresher’s master plan," Rhett adds. "5, 6, 7, 8, 9... All clubs. One successful challenge per card, and that’s a straight flush. Fifty times the card values. That’s how you go from underdog to kingmaker."

He leans into the mic, voice low and amused.

"Or how you drown trying. Either way? Worth watching."

Rhett steps forward again, turning to address the next contestant with the smirk of a man who already knows the answer. "Next pick belongs to the cycle’s high scorer—Milo Gutierrez. Our reigning point leader, King of Cycle 1... and proud property of the Queen of Spades."

The camera cuts to Milo—head down, fingers tapping furiously on his phone, completely ignoring the stage.

"Milo?" Rhett prompts, eyebrows lifting. "Any thoughts on who you’re—"

"THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!" Milo shouts, eyes wide in disbelief as he continues texting.

Rhett tilts his head, amused. "I’m guessing he’s checking in with Dr. Ravensmoor for his orders."

He gives a quick signal toward the tech booth. "Go ahead and mirror his phone on the screen. Let’s all be part of this moment."

"Wait—no—don’t—" Milo stammers, but it's already too late.

The big screen fills with the mirrored chat window. At the top, the contact name glows brightly: EVIL WITCH

EVIL WITCH:
You’ve earned a reward, pet.
For once, you didn’t disappoint me.
So I’m letting you challenge the dean this week.
The Ace of Diamonds.
Show her your manners. Or your pain.
Either will please me. ❤️

Milo looks like he wants to melt through the floor. Rhett raises an eyebrow at the screen. "Evil Witch, huh?" he repeats. "Is that really what you want to call the woman who has complete control over your life?"

Milo pales. Hard. The screen flared red as the Ace of Diamonds appears in full.

"Dr. Mireille DuPont," Rhett announces. "Dean of Economics. Ice in her veins, a hundred points on the board, and zero tolerance for hesitation. She’s not going to be impressed by whining, Milo."

He turns back to the crowd.

"Dr. Ravensmoor, if you’re watching—and we know you are—is that all for your little minion this week?"

A moment passes. Then new messages spring onto the screen from the professor.

"I’m right here, thank you, Rhett. And no, that will not be all. If my little **** thinks I'm the evil witch, I wouldn't want to disappoint him. Milo will be reserving the Ace of Spades."

The crowd seems confused, Milo raises his hand to object. Rhett just gives him a sickly sweet smile. "I know, I know, you're confused. The rules very clearly state that a player can only reserve cards that help him or her with a hand they're already building and since Milo just locked his entire hand for score, he HAS NO hand to build on now. But I think we can all agree this is a special situation. He isn't making the choice to reserve the Ace of Spades, Dr Ravensmoor is. And special situations call for special rules."

He pauses as the audience watch uncertainly.

"Besides, she's my thesis advisor, so I'm not going to screw with THAT!"

Milo looks daggers at him. Graham chuckles softly. Simon nods slowly, seemingly agreeing that not messing with your advisor is the right play. The audience loves it.

A blast of Motorhead heralds the second card shimmering into view.

"Dr. Seraphina Blackstone," Rhett intones, a touch more carefully this time. "Dean of the Criminal Justice Department. Fifty-two. No-nonsense. No escape. And judging by the look in her eye, no appeal."

He nods toward the tagline on screen.

"Pushing up the ante."

The scoreboard updates with a harsh clack as 1000 points drop from Milo’s total.

Milo slumps in his seat, visibly shaken. Whether from fear, financial ruin, or just the growing realization that his entire sex life now comes with executive oversight, it's hard to say.

"Well, Milo, you win some, you lose some. It's all the same to me! And that, friends," Rhett adds with a wolfish grin, "is how you go from top scorer to... institutional asset."

Rhett gives the camera his best mock-surprised face. “Now here’s someone I never know whether to fear, flirt with, or quietly root for. As the host, I'm meant to be unbiased, but let's face it, who can with this lady? Cassie Li, you’re up."

The spotlight swings to Cassie. She gives a slight nod in acceptance of the compliment and smiles. Her decision has already been made, and everyone knows it: “Eun-Mi Park.” A pause. “Three of Hearts.”

The card spins into place overhead — the quiet, sweater-wearing lit major, looking like she’s wandered into the competition by accident.

Rhett nods thoughtfully. “Makes sense. That brings Cassie to 3, 6, 7, and 8 of Hearts. A flush in motion, folks. Her latest selection isn't flashy but it's building towards a powerful hand.”

Then he glances back. “But I know this one. That’s not all, is it?”

Cassie’s lips curl into a smile. Not sweet. Not coy. Just sharp.

“I want to reserve the Empress of Hearts.”

That does it. A ripple of gasps and murmurs sweep the room. Rhett straightens, blinking as if he'd misheard. “Wait, hold on— That’s a five-hundred-point commitment. You’re going that far into the red?”

Cassie shrugs. “You said it yourself. I’m building something.”

The screen surges scarlet as the new card is revealed:

Dr. Carmen Alvarez
Empress of Hearts
Psychology Department
"She knows your type. And your trauma."

Rhett lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn. If anyone can make an Empress sing, it's Cassie but... Dr. Alvarez?”

“She’s not just here to play,” he adds, glancing at the scoreboard as five hundred points vanish from Cassie’s total. “She’s here to dissect your ego, set it on fire, and then calmly walk out of the building with the insurance payout.”

He turns back toward the player still lounging coolly in her seat. “That's bold, costly, and very, very Cassie.”

Rhett glances down at the tablet in his hand and gives a theatrical blink. "Ah. Professor Rourke. Our resident reticent academic. You've been a dark horse so far, Professor, an underachiever even. Care to grace us with a choice?"

The camera finds Rourke sitting calmly in his chair, fingers tented under his chin. He looks neither rushed nor ruffled — more like a man waiting for someone else to finish making noise.

After a moment, he speaks with deliberate precision. "I choose Cassidy Lange, the Seven of Spades."

The card flips into place, revealing the smirking physics major with sharp eyes and a coiled spring's worth of intellectual confidence. She's not the easiest challenge — but not a landmine either. Rourke's kind of card.

Rhett nods slowly. "Interesting. Professor’s going for the seven. And we're wondering whether he's looking to start an actual hand this time, or seeing if he's just taking a safer bet than the ten that remains."

He turns back to the professor. "Well, Professor, with no hand you cannot reserve a card, so let's move on."

He doesn’t even ask this time. He just glances stage left, sees Graham adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, and steps back as if making room for something inevitable.

Graham looks up, meets the camera dead on, and speaks without hesitation. "Raven Moreau. Ten of Spades. She's the only one left and she'll look just fine sitting in my hand."

The card flips into place. Raven's eyes narrow from the screen, lips parted just enough to look amused or dangerous — hard to tell. Maybe both.

Rhett lets out a low whistle. "Now there’s a pairing. The big man goes for the darkest jewel left on the board. That’s a ten-point card with teeth, folks. Some of you wouldn’t have dared. But then, he’s already cleaned out the diamond deck once — maybe he’s just looking for a little edge play this time around."

The screen shifts to show the selections and reservations made this round.