Disclaimer: Alas this capitalist world that someone else should have the monopoly on Tin Man.

Author's Note: There is perhaps a threshold for those who write fanfic, beyond which there is no hope of return to anything resembling sanity. Or perhaps it is that there are many such gateways into ever increasing levels of insanity. Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure a line was crossed somewhere back when I actually rewrote a ficlet three times in order to get it post worthy. Something is undoubtedly wrong with me…WOOHOO!


...


Cain, it was to be noted, had absolutely no luck with games of chance. He really didn't understand the point of playing a game that allowed you absolutely no control. Well almost no control. At the beginning there had been the choice of buy or not buy, but at this point in the game he might as well be walking around Sin Square blindfolded to better let the street urchins pick his pockets. Actually, that would probably more enjoyable – and there'd at least be the opportunity of getting his money back.

The Tin Man was not amused, and the fact that he was losing, he considered with a growl at the Realm Chest card sending him direct to Finaqua Maze, had nothing to do with it. Well there went the 200 platinum he'd picked up on his last pass of the tornado, he sighed internally, moving the miniature hat obediently to the requisite square.

"Ha!" DG crowed triumphantly, "Now you've done the full tour of my properties. That'll be 1100 platinums, Cain," she chirped merrily, "just can't stay away from my palaces can you?"

Hand pausing for a startled moment over his dwindling assets, Wyatt Cain realized she was right.