Lost In Transit (EN) (P:A)

ROTTEN GAMBLE

The cop reached for his utility belt, grabbing a concealed device, which turned out to be an EMF reader, to which he began turning on and adjusting to capture five seven's electromagnetic frequency, which would serve to determine his proximity. Once he finished calibrating the device, he'd put it back on his belt, continuing his job, patrolling the plaza.

The courier walked amongst the crowd that exited the commuter, searching for visual clues that would indicate the directions of the casino. Before eventually finding its bright neon sign from a distance as the crowd eventually dispersed, minding their business. It read in bright yellow "The Lucky Royale".

Back in the listening post, the airmen would see themselves confused, their monitoring satellite signal was being disrupted, static would reign over their screens. "..the hell?" Farret said. "Bargues. I'll notify the doc, maintain contact with the LEO for as much time as you can." Only for Farret to contact his superior via phone, grabbing its handset before speaking on the hotline. "Tech Sergeant Farret speaking. Our bird has been blinded by some kind of interference field. Attempting to bypass." He'd say, waiting for a response, with Bargues on his side replying. "Still got the radio penetrating. Whoever did this knows we're watching." Both began trying to reestablish visual contact.

Back in the plaza, Fred marched along, heading inside the casino, only to be stopped by two doormen thugs in black business suits and fedoras.

"Woah woah, your biz here?" One said. Blocking his path.

"I have been assigned a parcel to your property." The hired mail carrier stated his purpose.

"Mm. Ya giving me names bud?" The thug asked.

Fred grabbed his box carrier backpack, opening it to check for the receiving end, properly reviewing it, to then give the thug a name. "Eric, Eric Madison."

"Mm... Kels, can you check with Mads? I'll bring this one to the bar, give him a tip for his troubles." The thug asked his partner to confirm, before stating, gesturing for fred to follow him.

Fred reorganized himself, putting the box back in its place, and putting his backpack back on. Before following the doorman inside.

The interior of the gambling place was if anything luxurious, but antique, a trip back to the nineteen twenties. Not everything was old, rather, just retro as someone would say.

As the human and the protogen walked by the gambling tables heading somewhere in the backrooms of the place, the thug commented. "Guess you'll arrive for the showman."

"Madison is an individual of importance I presume. Such a person would have a very strict schedule." Fred formulated, he seemed intrigued, yet didn't want to ask much, it was not his business.

"Helluva schedule i say, big heads going over some self licking ice cream cones just to decide how this little garage band plays." His escort replies, while Fred can make out the lingo, he chooses simply to nod. Both eventually arrive at a small bar counter.

The escort asks the barman for something, while Fred doesn't exactly make out what he says, it is soon revealed: a "PAS-FI" bubblegum. "Sucks we can't give you the good stuff, but hopefully it serves ya as a tip, our courtesy, yer actual payment's on Mads' account."

Fred accepted the chewing device, unwrapping its packaging, smashing the latter into a ball and securing it on his chest pocket, before starting to chew the bubblegum. The gum, as its brand suggested, was specifically manufactured to stimulate protogen senses to a pleasant degree, or as its play on words imply: "Pacify". He'd chew it for a long while, somewhat having it do a good job, helping him maintain his zen state. His escort in the meanwhile, had the barman hand him a bottle of sparkling water.