by GoozX and The Eurostar
Turner moved down the dirty streets of Las Vegas, a vortex of lights illuminating the area, crowds of people moving in and out of the many casinos. Stopping, he looked around and finally chose which casino he would make lucky.
Entering the Flamingo Las Vegas, Turner eyed the four corners of the large room, checking all entrances and exits and keeping an eye on the number of bouncers and security. Discreetly, he made his way toward a slot machine, his view blocked by other machines and people.
He grabbed a cup and whistled as he sat by the machine. He nodded his head and smiled at the old woman next to him.
"That machine is unlucky, son," the woman said, warning Turner of what she had witnessed over the last few weeks with that machine. "At most two dollars has been won."
"Thanks for the advice, ma'am, but I make my own luck," Turner said with a laugh and a half-smile.
Turner took a quarter out of his pocket, his last quarter, to be exact. Making a fist, he covered his hand with his other. A ball of energy formed inside.
Placing the quarter into the machine, a surge of energy unseen by the eye was sent throughout the slot. Turner pulled down the lever and waited for a second. Three smiling faces stopped in a perfect formation. Three hundred dollars fell from the machine.
The old lady was surprised. "Well, I'll be--! I guess you do bring your own luck."
Turner smiled and nodded his head. "You never know when that luck might rub off." With the blink of an eye, an unseen bolt of energy shot into the old woman's slot machine.
With her next coin drop, five thousand dollars fell from the machine: a jackpot. The old lady's eyes lit up, and a smile formed across her face. She turned to thank Turner, but he was nowhere in sight.
Edulcore Cicciotto:
It's two a.m. when Turner shows up.
Utterly cool-looking, at first I don't recognize him. The long coat is gone, just like the clothes Quantos gave him. He wears a black suit of fine Italian make and sleek black sunglasses. He hands me similar clothes.
"I bought some clothes," he explains.
"We are gonna be James Bond?" I ask.
"I was thinking more the Blues Brothers," he says, smiling. I had never seen Turner smile so often at the EPS. Although he seemed more at ease there than I, still that place was like a prison for people like him, used to traveling across the globe. It's evident that he is enjoying our crazy run.
He continues, while I put on the clothes, "I emptied a few slots here and there, just so I wasn't too obvious. Now it's time to pull it off."
"You mean?"
"Roulette. We break the bank at one casino, and then we run before we get everybody on our tail."
"Cool. But... roulette are simply mechanical devices. How can we control them?"
"'Simply mechanical devices'? In your dreams, Ed. All of the roulette wheels in Vegas are electronically controlled devices. They play dirty, kid."
I smile at the kid remark. Coming from a man who revealed to me that he was only two or three years old, that's funny.
When I am ready, we leave the rooftop and take the elevator to the ground level. We leave the entrance, and Turner stops for a moment. Suddenly, a sleek black Ferrari stops in front of us. A boy gets out and hands the keys to Turner.
"I forgot to mention I bought something else, Eddie."