The Collector:

El has two broken hands. They smashed them up good with hammers. He's lucky to be alive. Playing poker with the wrong amigos gets you fucked if you bet more than you can pay. Jay lost a finger. I remember that night he came stumbling out of the salon with a forlorn look scrawled upon his face, him holding his hand with a blood soaked hanker chief. His parents came by the next day looking for it but by that time it was too late. The collector had it. He'll take the teeth right out of your head if you're not careful. He's a good poker player, one of the best, he gets them to bet more than they have, then he gets their fingers, smashes thumbs, gets a knife and carves their debt to him in their flesh. Its high stakes poker with him. Me? All I am is a valet. I park the cars that they pull up in, sometimes really nice cars, the players have, sometimes they're shit jalopies with ragged interiors.

Me? I don't play cards. Roll dice. Spin the roulette wheel. I need all my toes and fingers and this place is notorious for collecting flesh as debt. I need them because I paint. I park cars for a living and I paint as a way to stay sane.

Its an underground casino. They run it out of a high rise in Bay City. Young men come to the casino to prove they have balls, its mostly young men. The collector doesn't fuck around. You better have his money or he's taking fingers, or he's taking something. I only park cars I never or hardly go in to the place but I've heard even human beings have been put up as collateral on the roulette wheel. A young man came in with a beautiful girl one time and sometime later came out alone and sobbing.

You see the collector doesn't fuck around.