[center][h3][color=tan]Courier 6[/color][/h3]
[b]Level 6[/b] - (44/60) EXP (+3)
[b]Location:[/b] Hell’s Casino
[b]Word Count:[/b]1309[/center]

It had seemed that the Courier’s dramatic entrance went, for the most part, rather unnoticed, as had his new robotic invention. Well phooey. Maybe he’d just ignore everyone else when they had something they were excited about then? Yeah, that’ll show them. Or maybe he could slip some jet into their drinks, get them nice and high. He smiled at the thought. Wait, no. Waste of perfectly good chems. Scratch that. Make them sit on a bullet. Yeah, that’ll show them. Well, except for Tora who seemed positively [i]enthralled[/i] by Gaige-tron. Tora would be spared the Courier’s inevitable [i][b]WRATH.[/b][/i]

“Why don’tcha take a picture, huh? It’ll last longer,” said Gaige-tron to the noppan. “Or maybe you’d prefer I gave you something to remember me by?” The robot held up one of its long metal tube-like arms which morphed into a gun barrel--a gun barrel that was glowing a caustic, acidic green.

[color=tan]”He’s just admiring my handiwork, Gaige-tron, put yer big iron away.”[/color] the Courier ordered rather curtly, to which the robot immediately obeyed without hesitation. [color=tan]”But the next time you call me ‘druggypon’ don’t expect me to wash the mud off. I may have to have words with ya, hombre.”[/color]

“Yeah! Don’t tell him what to do! You don’t regulate his life! ANARCHY FOREVER HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Gaige-tron’s arms flailed wildly upward like an inflatable arm waving air dancer one would see outside a used car lot.

The Courier hocked up a loogie and spat it on the floor, clearly without regard for whoever had to clean the place. [color=tan]”It’s personality is based on Gaige, or the ten minutes I had to know her anyway, but it was made with the Omnic’s matrix, so it’ll learn and develop on its own. Free will an’ everythin’, exceptin’ how it’s gotta obey an’ protect me. Hard wired that program in.”[/color]

“That’s right, and I am NOT Three Laws compliant, so don’t get uppity with me, got it? Now then…” The robot’s voice went from harsh to sweet and gentle. “Who’s a girl gotta talk to around here to get some cocoa?”

[color=tan]”Oh, looks like we’re about to be gettin’ our reward fer last night’s work.”[/color] The Courier tipped his hat at the sight of Bowser presenting the brachydios’s spirit to the guildmaster, while noting that Hat Kid snagged a few spirits herself and crushed them while everyone else was distracted. Heh. Adorable kid.

But it seemed they would not be getting their reward, not just yet. The guildmaster became rather… Unhinged at what had just happened. He acknowledged they accomplished the task, but said that they had made him “lose a bet” so they had another hurdle to jump. That instantly caught the Courier’s attention, both for the gambling reference and for the implications. [i][color=tan]Lose a bet… He bet on our success with someone else? That means there are others out there keeping tabs on our quest. More black cloak assholes?[/color][/i]

The guildmaster revealed his true form to them in that moment, casting off the black cloak and presenting the guise of a man in a very nice purple suit with a large die for a head. His very appearance reminded the Courier of old pre-war holotapes containing children’s cartoons. Was that what was under the Master of Master’s hood too? No, not likely, he decided.

Nobody had time to argue as they were cast down into a deep hole created by a coin from the die-man. The Courier let out a small yelp of surprise but maintained his focus as they fell. After a short period of free fall, everyone hit a soft landing. Gaige-tron scanned the area, but the first thing to hit the Courier’s senses was the thick smell of cigar smoke, followed shortly by the aroma of booze hanging in the air. Standing up and shaking his head to gather his wits about him, the Courier took a small swig from the whiskey bottle he still held in hand. All around were skeletons, imagery of the undead, sitting around in a casino gambling hall. The lights, the sounds of slots and dice, the felt of the poker table they all sat upon… For it was an utterly enormous casino! 6 shed a single tear, wiping it away with his finger.

[color=tan]”It’s like home,”[/color] he muttered to himself, breathing deeply.

“Gah! Oof! Whoah! Ah!” Gaige-tron bounced a couple times as it fell over, then righted itself back up on its wheel. “What’s the big idea?!” the chimera-robot called out. “We did your dumb quest, now give us the reward!” Apparently the fact that it was not present for the brachydios hunt, nor even yet created, was irrelevant.

The die man introduced himself with some bizarre name the Courier outright refused to commit to memory while announcing that he was “the devil’s right hand man.” Great, so this was a bonafide demon then? Eh, maybe not, he didn’t seem to fit that bill, not quite, as odd as a man with a die for a head was. More impressive and noteworthy was how he seemed capable of transporting everyone to a giant casino, or perhaps based on the die man’s own increased size, shrinking them down to a normal casino, then put on a display of magic by transforming playing cards into a floating pink die that moved all its own.

The die man explained that a new game was afoot. Ten portals opened from poker chips, each containing a minion of the die man’s. Beat one, and roll the die for points. Get 10 points, they win. [i]Very interesting.[/i] Despite the obvious supernatural insanity happening, Courier 6 felt right at home here. 

[color=tan]”If’n I’d known you were a gamblin’ man,”[/color] the Courier began, [color=tan]”I’d have been havin’ a lot more fun.”[/color]  He crossed his arms and, just like in the guild hall, spat on the floor. This wasn’t a loogie though, but a nasty black tobacco spit. It was plain to see for anybody with eyes and half a brain he was challenging the die man.

[color=tan]”I’d ask how we know the die ain’t loaded an’ that you’ll honor yer word an’ whatnot, but that all feels pointless, wouldn’ya say? Since y’all got us trapped down here an’ all, we ain’t exactly got a choice but to play against the house.” [i]But the House never wins against me.[/i] “Y’see I, well, [i]dabble[/i] in a bit a gamblin’ myself and to be quite honest I don’t particularly find these stakes to be… Interestin’ enough. So I’m gonna raise ya with a bet of my own.”[/color] 

He took another swig of the whiskey, downing it all then casually tossed the empty bottle aside. [color=tan]”I wager that we can take on every single one of yer little minions. Every one, and not lose a single person on our team. If we can’t beat’em all, or if we get ten points and leave before finishing off the rest, then you have my permission to take every single one of our spirits… But if’n we win, well, then you gotta spill the beans. Tell me [i]everything[/i] about yer organization. The other members, what they want an’ how we factor into their plans, everything. And then I take your spirit.”[/color]

The Courier stepped toward where the giant die man was, an absolute behemoth compared to the tiny build everyone else had been reduced to. For a third and final time he spat, this time into his own hand which he then offered up to the sore loser guildmaster to shake. [color=tan]”We got ourselves a high roller wager?”[/color]