☆ ⁺ « 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄
★˚⋆ YOU ALMOST DIDN'T CATCH FUGO'S voice under the din of the casino. "You know, I really don't know why an old man would be spending his time on Laius when he could literally be anywhere else in the galaxy."
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
Fugo wrinkled his nose. "Do I have to elaborate? Just look at this place. I'd have already died of multiple cardiac arrests if I was him."
As he said this, a floating tray of alcohol nearly slammed into him. Fugo scowled, stepping aside as a gaggle of brightly dressed girls descended upon the tray. Their faces were done up in bright, neon makeup that shifted as though they were holograms, and scrolling words and phrases ran up the sides of their shorts and tops. They lifted their drinks in your direction.
"Just got here, Captain?" one of them said, her voice nearly swallowed by the thumping bass. "Need some help getting around?"
You smiled lazily. "Maybe. Got the time?"
Beside you, Fugo shot you a look. The group of girls split off, pairing themselves with your crew. Mista wasted no time slinging his arm over a curvy blonde, flicking his fingers in your direction as the two of them disappeared into the casino. You had already lost sight of Trish a while back and Fugo shrugged off the girl heading towards him to scope out the place on his own.
"He's coming with me," you said, before the girl with cornrows could drag JoJo away. "He can be a bit flighty. Don't want him getting lost."
"Suit yourself. We'll be by the bar if you get bored," she said, her voice a purr as she brushed by you. Discreetly, you led JoJo to the far end of the casino where the escalators were.
"You doing alright?" you asked.
"Just a little overwhelmed," he said. His green eyes were wide, hardly settling on one thing before they alighted on another.
"Try not to look so amazed," you said wryly. "They'll wring you out dry if they know it's your first time here."
"Right. Sorry."
"Keep your eyes peeled. The sooner we find Pericolo, the better. It looks like a gambler's paradise here, but there's only so much excess you can take."
JoJo nodded, sobering slightly. He followed close behind as you took the escalators to the second floor, where wisps of smoke and strobes of green and blue light cascaded over the glass railings.
The silvery-blue windbreaker Trish had outfitted JoJo in filled him out a little. With Zero's funds, Trish had gone out to find new clothes for the crew to blend in with baggy, neon-coloured trends on Laius. Coco had insisted chances of success rose exponentially with all of your crew at the casino, however Narancia had begged you to bow out, claiming he was in need of some mysterious pilot tweaks. You didn't know what that meant, but you allowed him to go, thinking of his irritated eye. You didn't know how qualified the doctors on Laius were, but as long as he was getting his eye checked out, you were relieved.
As you got off the escalator, you had to take a moment to reorient yourself. Between the riotous clothing and flashing slots and hovering cards and chips, it felt like you were being overstimulated. It hurt your eyes seeing everything at once and there wasn't even a pocket of calm you could take a break in. You had only been in this casino for a few minutes, but already, you felt your stamina flagging. You were getting too old to be in places like this. Maybe Fugo was right. How the hell was Pericolo spending his time here?
In Laius, this casino was the place to be. It was the biggest, the grandest, the most obnoxious. Smack dab in the middle of the colony, it made every other casino look like dollhouses. This casino was notoriously known as the place millionaires became beggars and beggars walked away with millions. Everyone who came to Laius had to come here at least once, and it was rumoured the Imperial Princes graced this place with their presence every once in a while. According to Coco Jumbo, it was also where Pericolo could be found.
As you nearly got knocked in the face by a triumphant better and narrowly blinded by a stack of shuffling cards, you wondered why Pericolo couldn't have spent his retirement on a tranquil water planet, or those quietly peaceful moons. It was quickly proving to be impossible to pick him out from the throng of overzealous, sickeningly bright gamblers. Shouts and laughter and shrieks tumbled together in your ears. If you weren't looking at a holographic pile of chips, you were watching numbers spin by or dice being rolled.
"How are we supposed to find anyone here?" JoJo asked, echoing your thoughts.
"Try to acclimate," you said. "It's like hot water; it gets easier once you've sat in it for a while." There were a few tables of poker near the back that looked a little bit quieter than the rest of the casino. They were positioned in such a way that you could watch the rest of the floor during the game. Well, as much of the gargantuan complex as you could.
"You play poker?" you asked JoJo.
"Decently," he replied.
With that, you and JoJo went to join one of the tables as their game finished up. The dealer there swept up the cards deftly, cutting the deck as everyone placed their bets. You eyed the neon-lined chips in front of you dubiously. Out of the crew, you were by far the worst person to play cards with, not because you were bad, but your bets were always so low they never made the wins worth it. You put down the minimum number of chips allowed, pleased when JoJo took your example. You couldn't imagine Zero would be too pleased if he thought you were blowing his money on gambling.
The game was unremarkable. The other people sitting at your table were tired office people and a few wide-eyed tourists. They didn't bet anything exorbitant and so the wins were easy and modest. Half your mind was on the game while the other scanned the casino. People of every description were here, yet for the life of you, you couldn't find a small, wiry old man.
You did catch sight of someone else, though. A girl with acid-green eyes and braids, flitting through the crowd like a sprite. She was there and gone, so quick you weren't sure if you had actually seen her or if it was an afterimage from the bright lights.
The game ended. You whispered Pericolo's name and JoJo answered in the negative.
As the cards were dealt again, you took out your holopad, sending off a quick text to the crew to see if anyone had wrangled the old man yet. No luck. Frustration began to sizzle in the back of your throat.
Another game came and went. You paid off your and JoJo's bets before motioning him for him to move.
"Coco," you growled into your holopad. "You can't just tell us to go into the biggest casino on Laius and expect us to find Pericolo. Why don't you use your almighty-ness to narrow it down for us?"
[ I'M SURPRISED YOU HAVEN'T FOUND HIM ALREADY. AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD AT THIS KIND OF THING? ]
"I'm a thief, not a flacking secret agent."
[ I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, SOMETHING ROUND AND SPINNING. ]
"You have three seconds."
[ CHEATER. NO FUN AT ALL. GO TO THE ROULETTE WHEEL TO YOUR LEFT. I ALREADY SENT A MESSAGE TO THE REST OF THE CREW TO MEET YOU THERE. ]
If Coco was flacking with you ...
You tapped on JoJo's shoulder, and the two of you reluctantly went over to the roulette wheel. Entirely holographic, the numbers danced around as the croupier spun the wheel with a practiced hand. The people crowding the wheel gasped as it skittered over the numbers before landing frantically on one. A groan went up as no one won their bets.
JoJo was staring intently at the croupier. "Isn't that ... the guy we're looking for?"
You followed his gaze, your heart jolting. You hadn't recognized him with his hair slicked back and dressed in the casino's uniform, but the croupier was none other than Pericolo. He smiled impishly as the disappointed gamblers wandered off, one eye drifting lazily while the other gleamed. Stars, this man was working here?
"Captain." Fugo appeared beside you, and you frowned at the large stain spreading across the front of his shirt. His hair was mussed, and what looked like a bruise purpled his jaw.
"What happened to you?"
"Exactly what it looks like," Fugo grumbled. He squinted at Pericolo. "Wouldn't have expected him to be an actual employee. I thought he only spent his time here for fun."
"We need to get him alone somehow," you said, glancing around you. "We don't have time for him to get off his shift."
"I heard you have a badge from Zero," JoJo said. He shrank back when you and Fugo looked at him. "That ... I mean, I think it should be enough to convince him."
"Wait," Fugo stopped you before you could reach into your pocket for the badge. He nodded over your shoulder, and you turned slightly to find a couple dressed in all black, their laughter raucous as one of them swept all of the chips on their table to the floor.
They were a striking pair, fair and dark, blonde and ginger. But it was less to do with how they looked and more how they acted, how they moved together as a unit, each of them distinct yet always in time. Their eyes darted from one thing to another, always assessing and always calculating.
Two kinds of people in the galaxy had eyes like that. Galactic Authorities and thieving crews.
Your hand fell to your side. Sale and Zucchero wouldn't be the first people to go after you and they wouldn't be the last. You couldn't risk that other thieving duo catching sight of Zero's badge and suddenly deciding you were their next big shot.
"Captain, can I borrow your holopad?"
You passed it to JoJo distractedly, eyes still on the duo. Were they here for fun? Or had they already caught wind of your deal with Zero?
"Excuse me, sir," Fugo said to Pericolo. "Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Talk?" Pericolo blinked. He looked the three of you over and seemed to find you lacking. "Unless it's about roulette betting, I don't want to hear it."
"Please, sir, we won't take long—"
"Place your bets, people!" Pericolo shouted over Fugo. "Pick your numbers quickly."
Your hand suddenly itched for your elector. People tended to be chattier when you brought it out.
Fugo looked at you, his mouth a thin line. There were too many people, too many betters vying for Pericolo's attention. You had to get him alone.
"He owes me money! The hell are you dragging me away for?"
"Would you be quiet? You can't go two seconds without starting a brawl."
"He's a sore loser and he accused me of cheating! Now he thinks I'm a pushover!"
JoJo moved quickly aside to let Mista and Trish pass, still fidgeting with your holopad. Mista was fighting against Trish like a wounded cat, but she kept his grip on him until they were in front of you.
"Besides, you were supposed to be looking for Pericolo and you were nowhere near him," Trish snapped.
Mista rubbed his hat. "It was part of the plan. If he's on the main floor, I would've—" He blinked for a second, taking in the roulette wheel and Pericolo right in front of him before sighing. "Are you kidding me? Pericolo's right there. What the hell are we waiting for?"
"There's another thieving crew over there," Fugo said, tilting his head. "We can't use Zero's badge without them noticing. We need some other way to get information from Pericolo."
"You know there's a thing called an elector—"
"Everyone away from the table." JoJo's voice rose suddenly. He snapped his fingers impatiently, then shushed Pericolo before he could speak. Everyone nearby, including your crew, turned to gawk at him.
"Sir, I'd like to make a bet," he said loudly. It was as though he'd shucked the timid boy you'd found on the ship into a corner and stolen someone else to take his place. "Between me and the house. No one else."
The people around him muttered to themselves. The back of Fugo's neck turned red and he was about to grab JoJo when you stopped him. Let's see what he does.
Pericolo clicked his tongue. "Get lost, kid, that's not how roulette works."
"I bet one inside number," JoJo continued, undeterred. "If I win, you give my crew ten minutes of your time. If I lose, I owe you one million credits."
Disbelief rose in the crowd. Trish let out a little peep and Fugo looked ready to strangle JoJo to death.
"The hell's he thinking?" Mista hissed. You kept still, not wanting to intervene just yet.
Pericolo narrowed his eyes at JoJo. "What are you trying to do here?"
"We're in a casino. Isn't betting what I'm supposed to do?" JoJo swiped a bright green chip from the stack , placing it decisively down on the table. You craned your neck to see what he had bet. Four black.
Mista let out a choked sound.
"Do you even have a million credits to bet?" Pericolo asked.
"I don't bet what I don't have," JoJo replied. "Before we begin, do you mind if I look at the roulette ball? I've heard rumours of it being weighted and magnetized. I just want to make sure that's not the case."
"You're accusing me of cheating?"
"I just want to check. One million credits is no small amount."
With a scowl, Pericolo handed the ball over. JoJo took it between two fingers, looking at it from every angle. With a smile that didn't seem to belong to him, he handed it back.
"I'm ready when you are, sir."
Pericolo began spinning the wheel and the red and black-lit numbers blurred together hypnotically. With a flick of his wrist, Pericolo sent the ball around the rim in the opposite direction.
When you looked at JoJo, not a hint of discomfort showed on his face. His features were blank and a chill went through you. Even if it wasn't his money he was wasting, he should look at least a little bit worried.
The ball eventually lost momentum, skittering down to the wheel. Everyone collectively took in a breath as it skipped over the numbers before settling into a slot.
You swore internally. A red slot.
A smirk twisted Pericolo's lips as the wheel slowed to a stop. Most of the people who'd stayed to watch started drifting away, muttering under their breaths about this reckless kid who'd just blown a trust fund's worth of credits.
Pericolo swiped JoJo's chip off the table with relish. JoJo looked over his shoulder at you, not quite smiling. "He's all yours."
"What do you mean?"
"I won the bet. You're welcome."
No, he hadn't. You glanced at the roulette wheel, then did a double take.
The ball was resting in a black slot. On the number four.
"Wait, what?" Mista hurried over to the wheel and leaned over it. "How—? Didn't it land in a red slot?"
JoJo kept his eyes on Pericolo. "I won, sir. You owe us ten minutes of your time."
Pericolo's eyebrows shot up his forehead. The yelling and cursing you braced yourself for didn't come. Instead, he leaned towards your crew, lowering his voice so it could barely be heard.
"What did you want to talk about?"
How the turn tables. You tried not to focus too much on his wandering eye as you said, "Do you know someone named Polnareff?"
Pericolo didn't react to the name. He made to reset the roulette wheel. His mouth barely moved when he next spoke. "Not here. Meet me at the Milk Tiger in twenty minutes. You won't have trouble finding it."
Your stomach plummeted. Trying not to look alarmed, you nodded, then left the table as casually as you could. Your crew fell into step behind you, perhaps as equally confused at the turn of events.
Your crew emerged outside, crossing the street to wait along the line of parked Levi's. Almost in unison, you all turned to JoJo.
"What did you do back there?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Mista clenched his jaw. "You might have fooled the old man, but we saw clear as day that the ball didn't land on a four black. Which was a terrible number to bet, by the way."
"Was the ball magnetized?" Trish wondered. "Did you do something to it?"
"You shouldn't have made such a large bet," said Fugo. His eyes darkened. "People are going to wonder how someone like you has such a large amount of money. We were trying not to attract attention, and you did the opposite."
JoJo lowered his head. "Sorry. I—I wasn't thinking." Mutely, he returned your holopad to you.
"What did you use this for?" you asked.
[ ALRIGHT, I'M SICK OF EVERYONE GIVING JOJO HERE THE CREDIT WHEN I DID MOST OF THE WORK! ] Coco blurted from your holopad as though the question had been for it. You really had to figure out how to turn it off.
[ ALL THE GAMES HERE ARE RECORDED FOR INSURANCE. JOJO ASKED ME TO ANALYZE FOOTAGE FROM THE PAST WEEK OF THE ROULETTE PERICOLO WAS AT. USING THAT AND STATS FROM THE OTHER ROULETTES, I WAS ABLE TO NARROW DOWN HIS BETS TO A COLOUR AND FIVE NUMBERS. ALL HE DID WAS PICK THE NUMBER. ]
"And it just had to be the number four," Mista snarked.
"It's true. Coco did all of the work," JoJo admitted. "I was just cocky enough to think it would work".
[ PERCENTAGE OF YOU WINNING WAS 2.63%, SO YES, YOU WERE VERY COCKY. ]
"At least you won," Trish said. "Some people here make bets even though they know they won't win."
Mista threw up his arms. "For the last time, he was cheating! Did you see my cards?! I won, straight up!"
As the two of them bickered and Fugo tried to get them to shut up, you glanced sidelong at JoJo. His hair had fallen back into his face and it hid his eyes from you.
Coco Jumbo aside, you knew what you had seen. The ball had landed in a red slot. Even if the wheel had continued to spin, the ball wouldn't have enough momentum to move.
JoJo had used his Stand somehow. You were sure of it.
- ✦ -
Narancia had been to plenty of checkups at the Flight Academy, but this one felt different. Maybe it was because he was alone, without first-years beside him getting jittery, or the third-years making up lewd jokes about physicals and prostates. He had gotten past his initial nervousness and now felt only a dull, heavy dread.
He knew what the doctor was going to say. He just didn't want to hear it.
Narancia followed the orderly to the examination room and took a seat on the hard-backed chair there. When the doctor arrived, he moved to the examining table. He brushed his hair back, popped out his contacts, fought the urge to cringe as the doctor squeezed out a few eyedrops. The light the doctor shone into his eye seemed to pierce into his brain and he let out a tiny sound.
"Just bear with me," the doctor said.
The doctor moved him to another room; made him lie down inside a humongous X-ray machine. He had to wait an hour for the X-rays to develop. The entire time, his eye throbbed faintly and stars somersaulted across his vision.
He came back to the examination room. The doctor displayed the X-rays on a holoscreen. They looked grey and alien. The doctor's tone remained even as he spoke words Narancia was expected to understand; long, scary-sounding words he could barely pronounce. Throughout all of it, Narancia got one thing.
You're flacked. Your eye is flacked.
Flacked.
Flacked.
Flacked.
Narancia needed surgery. Credits weren't an issue, but time was. It wasn't like he could take a week off the mission to hunker down at a clinic somewhere. He declined the referral; said he needed some time and would check back later. The doctor didn't like that, but it wasn't the doctor's eye that was flacked.
He got a prescription for some eye drops. Temporary eye drops. They wouldn't heal, only delay. If Narancia didn't hurry, the doctor said, he would need a cybernetic.
That would be cool. He'd look badass. Except his mom had also needed a cybernetic and had never gotten one.
His mom had died. Maybe Narancia—
Narancia stepped outside, closed one eye, then the other. He didn't know how to feel when neither eye could show him what was across the street. He put his contacts back in and was dismayed to find the neon lights of Laius were still blurry.
Because he was crying.
Stars, this was pathetic. Narancia tried to get his tear ducts to close, to stop leaking down his face. He wiped a harsh hand across his eyes but the tears wouldn't stop.
He knew he should tell the captain. They wouldn't hesitate to give Narancia credits they needed, or the time. No one would begrudge him for staying behind while the rest of the crew went after the Stand Arrow.
For a precarious moment, Narancia was tempted. Where would he be without his eyes? He didn't need the X-rays to tell him how bad they had gotten already. He had to tell the crew—Narancia's chest twinged, like it was a guitar that had plucked the wrong string.
He couldn't do that. He was their pilot. How would they get anywhere without him?
Narancia would hold out until then; try to take it easy. They had a month to complete the mission and already a week had passed. Once Zero had the Stand Arrow, he would have all the time in the galaxy to deal with his eye.
He would be fine. He would get through this for the crew and for Zero.
For Zero?
"Hey, you alright?" Someone stopped by him just then. They offered him a can of something—some Coco Jumbo. "You're not looking too hot."
Narancia sniffled, hating how childish he must have seemed. He took the can and cracked it open, taking a long drink to keep from speaking.
"I'm fine. Thanks."
"Funny how we automatically say that," the person said. The ad boards around them made his dark skin gleam, and a few strands of his pale hair fell into his face as he drew closer to Narancia. "It seems so obvious when we're not okay, yet we always feel the need to lie."
"Makes things easier," Narancia said, drinking from the can. "Besides, it's not like people really want the truth when they ask."
"Maybe so." The person smiled carefully. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
"The drink was more than enough, thank you."
"Are you sure? Are you here alone?"
Narancia gave the guy a pointed look. He had another thing coming if he thought Narancia was just going to follow him blindly somewhere.
Yikes. Maybe not the best choice of words.
"You really don't look too hot," the guy said, still smiling.
Narancia finished off the drink. He'd been here too long already. He had to see if the crew had found Pericolo yet.
A sharp stab of pain in his tongue made Narancia yelp. He dropped the can, hissing under his breath. Had he just bitten his tongue? Flack, that had hurt.
"Are you—"
"Just peachy," Narancia waved the guy off and started down the walk before he could say another word. He checked his reflection in a passing Levi, wiping his runny nose and the tear stains with his sleeve. Crying hours were over. It was time for business.
His holopad pinged then. A message from the Cap. Change of plans. Meet us at the Milk Tiger. It's not too far from the casino.
"I can help you if you need it. You don't have to pretend to be strong."
Narancia's switchblade was out of his pocket and pointed at the guy before he could blink. The guy smiled slowly, raising his hands.
"Leave me," Narancia hissed, "the flack alone."
The guy listened, thank the stars. Narancia walked briskly away, putting the guy and the doctor and everything out of his mind.
He must have chomped down on his tongue harder than he'd thought. It still hurt when he got to the Milk Tiger.
- ✦ -
NEXT CHAPTER ─
❝ NOT YET. WE'RE USING HIM AS BAIT FIRST. ❞
☆ ⁺ ⠀«⠀ INTERLUDE III