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 Posted: Tue Sep 22, 2015 9:38 pm
Between the rush to finish up the faction's objectives and the debate on whether or not the make the call, Peter had managed to find himself some time to rest his body, mostly by ignoring any heated argument and leaving things up to the students. He had been quite happy to stay back at the university to watch over the generators, and even more delighted to find that the numbing pain in this arm had somewhat subsided by the next morning. He moved his fingers about testily, observing their responsiveness. Much better than yesterday, although he would continue to leave him arm with the splint.
Their faction had somehow managed to garner some favour with Harbingers, and the man stood around to listen in on the internal meeting afterwards. It was getting late, past the usual lights-out timing the dormitories had established.
A loud crackle sounded in the dark, and the place was illuminated briefly before going dark. And then it happened again, bringing his full attention to the fireworks lighting up overhead.
“What on earth...” he exclaimed, his first instinct was to think of certain PATRIOTIC NEIGHBOURS, but that quickly shifted into concern about attracting unwanted attention from the Undying and Infected. Nothing happened, and the display continued, enrapturing him.
Rescue flares? He had suggested something along the lines given recent information about air-drops from choppers and help from outside.
To go or not to go? Peter glanced around him, watching for the movement of the rest. They had all been enchanted by an insatiable curiosity, and the motion was unanimous.
It was a ludicrous sight, clearly too good to be true, as if it existed fueled by irony and spite. Very American, he thought to himself, recalling a previous visit to Las Vegas – a part of his youth that was better forgotten. He remembered practicing counting cards to go along with his friend's wild idea of making bank at blackjack. Unfortunately, or fortunately, they had all chickened out once they realised the burly bouncers that guarded the tables.
Was he already that old to be reminiscing? Or perhaps this was a sign that his time was coming to an end.
The lights danced tauntingly before him, beckoning. He didn't care much for where the electricity came from, but the institution in place. Who was running this place? And what did they have to offer, after showing off their propensity for extravagance.
The doors were open. He stepped inside.
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Zyphiris rolled 2 12-sided dice:
5, 8
Total: 13 (2-24)
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 9:52 am
[coins total: 50]
A waft of cigarette smoke greeted him as he entered, producing a few coughs from him. Shaking it off, he glanced up to look at the scene before him.
Was he dreaming? A sharp pain went through his recovering arm as he moved it a bit too quickly, confirmation that he was indeed awake.
Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong. Peter weaved through the tables, pausing occasionally to watch a few games play out. There were some with panicked looks on their faces, shivering as they presented their antes. But that wasn't all too uncommon a sight in casinos at all.
“A drink sir?” a sharply-dressed staff member appeared, presenting him with a cocktail. Peter took the drink, but made no movement to drink it just yet. “And your chips for the games here, sir,” he added, offering a small tray of 25 tokens.
Nothing in the world was free, but he'd run along with it for now. Peter eyed the attendant suspiciously, nodding curtly as the other man continued to smile, softly pressuring him to get playing already.
“May I?” he gestured to the dealer, indicating his interest to join the table. As far as he remembered, Black Jack was one of the games that had the better odds of winning, if one knew how to play it right.
The cards were dealt to the players, and Peter would have called for a card had his neighbour not won the round with a lucky 21. Tough luck, but that was just part of the game.
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 10:27 am
He couldn't recall if he had touched the drink at all, or if the smoke was starting to get to him.
“Will you fold or call sir?” the dealer asked, waiting for his response. Peter wordlessly slid the cards across the table back to the dealer, indicating his intention to fold. He was gripping tightly onto the edge of the table now, struggling to keep awake. Slowly, slowly, his grip loosened, and he hardly had time to mouth the words, “I knew it,” before everything faded to black.
How they had managed to tie the ropes so tightly around his skinny frame and baggy clothes was a mystery, but all he could do now was squint at the crowd under the blinding light.
Human auction, who would have guessed. Peter sank back comfortably into his seat, putting on an equally flippant attitude as the announcer's. Not sure if anyone would be interested in some skinny middle-aged man, he mused.
Ah, it struck him at the mention of the dinner fundraiser.
“So, what's for dinner?” he asked, his tone notably sardonic. If he was going to die anyway, why not go out with a bang?
A small twinge of regret seeped through him as he found himself being dragged off into another room immediately. Looks like the house was not quite done toying with them, presenting him with a hard question. There was no right answer, only a worse one.
“You'll let her go too?” he drawled, keeping up the devil-may-care farce. He glanced at the young man briefly, immediately regretting doing so.
There was no right answer. he reminded himself as he steeled himself to watch the young man being dragged away.
“Is that the kitchen? So you do serve your ingredients fresh even in this crisis, hm.” he braced himself for a beating at any moment, but boy was he not going to stop giving them cheek.
“Do you really want to know?”
Peter shrugged, already prepared for the worst news. “Nevermind,” he changed his mind suddenly, noticing the violent protest from the lady.
He couldn't be sure that was the right choice anyway, as he watched her being dragged away.
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