aOS v.1.22

The soft hum of the airplane's engines barely registered in Alex's mind as he stared out the window. The endless ocean stretched out below, illuminated by the early morning sun, but his thoughts were racing faster than the plane.

Macau. No interviews. No corporate nonsense. Just him, the casino floor, and a fresh start.

"Gambling again, huh?" Kofi's voice buzzed in his ear, a mix of amusement and skepticism. "You're a real thrill-seeker these days, Alex."

Alex smirked. "You could say that."

As the plane began its descent, Alex shifted in his seat, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket. Beneath, his statement T-shirt—a vintage band logo he barely remembered buying—peeked through. His signature look now: low-key rebellion wrapped in an air of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Even if he didn't.

"You know," Kofi continued, his tone conspiratorial, "this place is crawling with cameras. You can't rely on your slow-mo trick for long."

"I know," Alex muttered, fingers twitching as the memory of Vegas came rushing back. He'd nearly been caught. "I've got a new approach."

"Oh, this oughta be good."

The plane touched down smoothly, and minutes later, Alex was navigating Macau's bustling streets. Neon signs blared from every corner, promising wealth and excitement. It was sensory overload, but Alex had already chosen his target: an upscale casino on the Cotai Strip.

The doors slid open with a silent whoosh, revealing the glittering interior—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, the hum of hundreds of games in progress. This was it.

"Remember," Kofi's voice dropped low, all business now, "don't get cocky. You're here to blend in, not stand out."

"I got it." Alex's eyes scanned the room, locking onto opportunities hidden in the swirl of gamblers. Roulette, blackjack, poker—each table was a path, but tonight, he'd play smart.

Starting slow, he took a seat at blackjack. A few cautious rounds—win some, lose some—just enough to stay under the radar. Kofi kept quiet, though Alex could feel the alien's impatience bubbling below the surface. Each chip he lost was deliberate, part of the game. He just had to wait for the right moment.

An hour passed, then another. The casino floor blurred into a rhythm of chips clinking and cards flipping, a symphony of strategy and chance.

Finally, he moved to the slot machines—his real target. Kofi's AeroPods pulsed faintly in his ears, signaling readiness. Alex stood in front of the machine, casually slipping coins in. But inside, his mind was calculating. The timing had to be flawless.

Kofi piped up. "You know this is your last shot, right? They'll have your face all over security if you pull another streak like Vegas."

"I know." Alex's jaw tightened. His fingers hovered over the lever. One more streak, and I'm out.

He activated the slow-motion feature on his aPhone, feeling time tug at him. The world slowed to a crawl as his hand moved, pulling the lever with deliberate precision. The reels spun in languid circles.

The first jackpot chimed, flashing across the screen.

"One down," Kofi whispered. "Let's see if you can keep this up."

Another pull. Another jackpot.

Alex's heart raced, but his expression remained neutral. He was in the zone, each movement calculated. Just a few more...

—---

Ten in a row!

The lights from the machine flashed wildly, the familiar chime of success ringing out once again. Alex smirked as coins flooded into his tray, trying to mask his excitement. But this time, his streak didn't go unnoticed.

A man in a black suit, broad-shouldered with a stern expression, appeared at his side. His voice was calm, firm. "Sir, I'm going to need you to come with me."

Kofi's voice buzzed in his ear, amused. "Well, looks like they finally noticed. Guess they weren't fans of your little streak."

Alex nodded, keeping his face composed as he stepped away from the slot machine. Don't panic. Stay calm. The suited man led him through the casino, past bustling tables and curious stares. They reached a private elevator at the far end of the floor. The man pressed a button, and the two ascended in silence.

When the doors opened, Alex stepped into a dimly lit room. At the far end, behind a large mahogany desk, sat an elderly man in traditional Chinese garb. His long robe, embroidered with intricate gold designs, was an unusual contrast to the opulence of the casino. His silver hair was pulled back, and his eyes—sharp, intelligent—studied Alex with unsettling calm.

"Please, have a seat," the man said in flawless English, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

Alex sat, his expression neutral, though he could feel Kofi's anticipation crackling through the AeroPods.

The elder leaned forward, fingers steepled. "You've had quite the night, Mr. Han. Ten jackpots in a row. Remarkable."

Alex smiled politely, knowing where this was headed. "I guess I've just got good eyesight and quick reflexes."

Kofi chuckled in his ear. "Good eyesight? Smooth. Let's see if he buys it."

The elder's eyes narrowed slightly, though his face remained unreadable. He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Good eyesight and reflexes, you say?" he repeated, as if savoring the explanation. "A very fortunate combination."

Alex nodded, maintaining his composure. "I suppose so."

The room fell into a brief silence. The elder regarded Alex thoughtfully, his gaze never wavering. Is he trying to intimidate me? Or is he actually buying this?

Then, to Alex's surprise, the man smiled—a small, almost playful expression tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No tricks then," he said, his voice lighter now. "Just pure talent?"

Alex shrugged, playing along. "That's right. No tricks."

For a moment, the elder said nothing, still watching Alex as if weighing an unspoken decision. Then he rose slowly, walking to the window behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back.

"You see, Mr. Han," the elder said, his tone shifting to something more serious, "in my business, luck is something we pay very close attention to. Luck, and the people who create it."

Alex stiffened slightly, his pulse quickening. What does he know?

The elder turned to face him again, a slight smile still lingering. "I do hope your good fortune continues. But be careful, Mr. Han. Even the best eyesight can't see everything."

Alex stood, his calm exterior hiding the tension building inside. He nodded to the elder. "I'll keep that in mind."

As Alex turned to leave, the elder's calm smile twisted. Without warning, he lunged forward with surprising speed, fist aimed directly at Alex's face.

Kofi's voice crackled urgently in his ear. "I got this! Hang on!"

Before Alex could react on his own, his muscles tensed, jerking to the side just as the punch sailed past—but not quite fast enough. The old man's knuckles grazed his cheek, sending a sharp sting across his skin.

"What the—" Alex gasped, stumbling back, wide-eyed. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hand instinctively flew to his cheek. Did Kofi just moved me?!

The elder straightened, lowering his fist, his eyes narrowing in curious amusement. His expression softened into something close to admiration. "You really do have remarkable eyesight and reflexes," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You're only the second person ever to evade my punch."

Alex's mind raced as he nodded stiffly, then quickly bolted for the exit, Kofi buzzing anxiously in his ear. "Next time, give me a heads-up before you walk into a damn kung fu movie!"