aOS v.1.18

Alex watched as Kofi took over once again, this time with even more flair. The alien's voice buzzed with confidence. "Alright, meatbag, let's double down. I'm going for two more jackpots, and I'll make it look good."

The slot machine whirred to life, and this time Kofi added an extra layer of showmanship. Each time the reels spun, Alex's hand would jerk at just the right moment, a well-timed flick of the wrist as if he had mastered the art of the game himself. It was all Kofi, of course, but it gave the appearance that Alex was some sort of slot machine savant.

"See that?" Kofi said in Alex's ear, full of smug amusement. "I even gave you a signature move. You look like a pro—well, almost."

Alex grinned, though the weight of the enforcers' gaze never left his mind. He could feel their eyes burning into the back of his neck as Kofi hit yet another jackpot.

"That's seven in a row," Alex whispered under his breath, watching the coins spill out in a cascade of flashing lights and triumphant sounds.

"Oh, don't worry," Kofi snarked. "I've got this under control. Watch me work my magic—again."

But as the enforcers began to stir, their suspicions growing more palpable, Kofi threw in a curveball. The next spin? Missed. And the next one? Missed again. Alex's movements, once so precise and perfectly timed, suddenly seemed off.

Kofi's voice, now layered with fake frustration, groaned in Alex's ear. "Ah, damn. Missed again. Must be losing my touch."

Ten straight misses followed, each one more deliberate than the last. The enforcers, who had been inching closer to Alex, now relaxed. They exchanged glances, as if to say, Just another lucky streak.

"They're buying it," Alex murmured, glancing sideways at the towering men.

"Of course they are," Kofi replied, with a sneer in his voice. "Do you think I'm just winging this? I've got them eating out of the palm of your sweaty human hand."

Just as the enforcers turned their backs, Kofi struck again. The reels spun, and with perfect timing, three sevens lined up once more. Jackpot.

The machine blared to life, coins rattling into the tray as lights flashed. Alex's heart raced, but he kept his face neutral, fighting the grin that threatened to break through.

One of the enforcers shrugged, barely reacting, and muttered into his earpiece, "Nah, nothing unusual here. Just a lucky guy."

Ding. Ding. Ding. Another jackpot.

The enforcer stiffened, glancing back at the slot machine as more coins spewed out. Alex caught the slight twitch in the guy's jaw, but the man didn't budge, just sighed and relayed, "Yeah, real lucky."

Alex exhaled in relief, his hands shaking slightly as he gathered his winnings.

"Now," Kofi said, sounding thoroughly amused, "I think it's time we made our exit, don't you? Before these knuckleheads start questioning your godlike luck."

Alex nodded, slipping the coins into his bag. "Good idea. Let's get out of here before I push it too far."

The pair made their way toward the exit, the bright lights of the casino flashing behind them as they left the machines—and the enforcers—far behind.

"We did it," Alex whispered as they stepped outside into the cool night air.

"We?" Kofi's voice oozed with sarcasm. "Kid, I did everything. You're just my pretty puppet."

Alex smirked. "Yeah, but we got the money, didn't we?"

Kofi let out a sigh. "Fine. We got the money. But next time, maybe don't act like you're going to piss yourself when three guys in suits give you the stink eye. Just sayin'."

Alex chuckled, feeling the weight of the night's success—and its risks—settling on him. "Noted."

Together, they melted into the city, leaving the casino, its enforcers, and their winnings in the past. But something told Alex that Kofi wasn't done—this was just the beginning.

—--

Elsewhere, far from the casino floor, another scene was playing out. In a dimly lit office, the faint glow of a single lamp cast long shadows across the room. The walls, lined with old photographs and cigar smoke, seemed to press in on the two men at the center of it all. 

One man sat at a polished mahogany desk, fingers tapping out a slow rhythm. The other stood by the window, his silhouette backlit by the neon haze of the city.

The man behind the desk—Jack Connors—leaned back, his eyes narrowed in thought. "So, you've been keeping tabs?" he asked, his voice smooth but edged with curiosity.

The figure at the window didn't turn, his voice low and gravelly. "Is that the guy you're scouting?"

Jack swirled his whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "Yeah, that's him. Alex Han."

The figure remained silent for a moment, before muttering, "Doesn't look like much."

Jack chuckled, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "That's what makes him interesting. You wouldn't expect a guy like him to pull off the kind of stunts he's been doing."

His mind flashed back to their first meeting at Neptune's Paradise. Alex had played dumb at the bar—challenging Jack, or at least it seemed that way, losing the game and buying everyone a round of drinks. The whole thing looked like a clumsy, dumb act—trying too hard, drawing too much attention. But now Jack wasn't so sure. Maybe it wasn't dumb at all. Maybe Alex had done it on purpose to get his attention, to make him think he was just some drunk idiot.

Jack had thought Alex was hammered, especially when Alex won a hand at poker and walked away without even glancing at him. At the time, Jack figured the kid was too wasted to know what was happening, but now? Now, Jack wondered if Alex had been baiting him all along, setting up an act to make him think he was playing a fool. It worked. Jack's curiosity had been piqued, and now Alex was under his radar.

The figure by the window finally turned, his outline sharper but still shrouded in shadow. "You sure he's worth it?"

Jack's smirk widened, his fingers drumming again. "He's either got the luck of the devil or something else going on. Seven jackpots in a row? He's playing with something we don't understand yet. That's why I'm keeping him close."

The figure crossed his arms, his tone skeptical. "That's a lot of faith to put in some nobody."

Jack's expression hardened slightly. "That 'nobody' just walked out of here with more than luck on his side. I've seen him in action. He's got potential."

The man's silhouette shifted, his face still hidden in the shadows, eyes sharp. "Alright. Let's see where this goes. But if you're wrong, it's on you."

Jack raised his glass, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a sly grin. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

As the man disappeared back into the shadows, Jack sat alone, sipping his whiskey. His mind was still on Alex Han, the kid who had gotten his attention at Neptune's Paradise and won seven jackpots in a row. Dumb luck or not, there was more to Alex than met the eye—and Jack intended to find out just how deep that went.