In front of Vincent stood a sight that he couldn’t help but be in awe from: a giant building that seemed to sprawl out for at least a square mile, covered in neon signs, with the largest one reading Rising Red. He knew that Cowol mentioned that the Rising Red was the largest and most wealthy casino, but even so, the sheer size of the building in front of him was something he wasn’t prepared for.
Even more than that, when he and his friends were approaching the wall of neon signs that was the casino, he saw that there were other buildings in the distance that seemed to be connected to this central structure. Some people that he passed along the way to this building mentioned to him that the Rising Red had essentially become its own subdivision within the city, but he didn’t actually think that they were serious.
As he approached what seemed like the entrance to him, he found that the streets immediately in front of the building were oddly empty, with the exception of a single guard in front of the door. While that did seem a bit strange to him, he didn’t think about it too long and just decided to stroll up to the entrance.
When he got there, he and his friends were stopped by the guard, who Vincent could see clearly now. They were about what he expected from a guard of a high-end casino: tall, wide, bulging muscles from head to toe, and completely emotionless. He could also see that the guard was Egyptian and female, with the left side of her head buzzed, while the other side only hung down a little past her ear.
“Name and ID,” the guard said, flatly.
“Uh, why does that matter? Can’t we just enter?” Vincent replied.
The eyes of the guard slowly rolled down to meet Vincent’s, all the while her rough and stoic demeanor remained unchanged. “Name and ID.”
“What this idiot means,” Zander jumped in, gesturing towards Vincent, “is that we don’t have our IDs on us, seeing as they were stolen not but a few minutes ago. We can surely give you our names, however, and I’m sure you can look us up inside and find that we are in fact of age.”
“No ID, no entrance,” the guard plainly replied, her eyes not moving from Vincent.
“Tsk.”
After seeing that Zander blew his attempt to enter, which Vincent agreed to let him have first while they were walking there, he began to close the distance between him and the guard. He tried to be as cool and collected as he could be, but he knew that he was probably going to end up having to take this guard out—which he fully believed he could easily do.
“Now listen here, you brick wall,” Vincent began.
Before he could even finish his thought, Eliot called out, in a very upset and disappointed tone “Vince!”
“Dude,” Vincent huffed, “I thought you agreed to let me do whatever I wanted if he failed.”
“W-well yeah, but I didn’t actually think his plan was going to be that dumb—it was the only way to get you to agree to not causing a ruckus.”
“Exactly,” Zander added. “You weren’t going to—wait what did you say?”
“You heard him,” Vincent laughed, “your plan sucked about as much nuts as I thought it would.”
And just like that, all three of the friends began to argue amongst themselves like they always do. Zander took a defensive and immovable position, Vincent took his typical aggressive stance, although he normally plays more of an instigator role than an actual aggressor, and Eliot was stuck between them. Eliot had to balance laughing from the ridiculous lengths both of them would go to pick on the other, while also making sure that nothing ever escalated—although it sometimes got out of his control.
Before the arguments could go much further, Vincent heard an outside voice boom over them. “What are your names?”
Confused, Vincent turned around to see who could possibly be intruding on his fun. What he saw snapped him back to reality: it was the guard, now standing next to him and his friends.
“Uh, what did you say?” Vincent asked.
“What are your names?” the guard repeated. Vincent could see that the guard’s demeanor had shifted slightly, seeing that their tone was more inquisitive than before.
“Vincent,” Vincent stated.
The guard just looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, Vincent Huron is my full name.”
The guard’s eyes then shifted towards Zander, who immediately spat out his name. Then, when the eyes came to rest on Eliot, he squirmed a bit before sheepishly telling the guard his name. After all of the friends told her their names, wordlessly, she opened the door and gestured for the group to enter.
Stunned and confused, Vincent and his friends just stood and stared at the guard. The first one of them to do anything was Zander. He walked a few steps forward and spoke directly to the guard.
“What in the name of Nostradamus is going on?” Zander asked, visibly flustered and confused. “What made you decide that we can enter? Did you find what happened amusing?”
Just then, Vincent walked by, slapped Zander in the back of the head, and moseyed past him into the doorway. He then looked back at Zander and said, “Stop questioning everything, you knucklehead. Besides, be happy that your plan somehow worked.” He then stepped foot into the Rising Red, with Zander and Eliot quickly following behind.
The first thing that immediately caught Vincent’s attention upon entering the casino was the diversity of people and products. People from every ethnicity, nationality, gender, and so much more were visible and were dressed in elegant, rich attire. Some of them walked around the luxurious-looking red floor, some gathered around the bar, buying the most expensive drink available, some seemed to just sit at a slot machine and test their luck, and others seemed to be heavily invested at high stakes tables, both emotionally and monetarily.
Even more noticeable than the people were the many lavish amenities and decorations of the casino. There were a few gold and ceramic statues that resembled typical Egyptian architecture and culture, but most of the architecture and art that populated the visible casino was fairly generic, but expensive looking. The one thing that really stood out was how everything seemed to have a hint of gold—it all shimmered or sparkled in some way.
As amazing as it all seemed, nothing in his immediate vicinity seemed to interest Vincent. After all, he was here to see an obelisk, which was way cooler than any weird addict-machines. The moment that thought left his head, he heard a pleasant and inviting sound coming from his left. Looking in that direction, he saw an incredibly shiny, lit-up machine. The machine was a giant wheel that was at least twice his size, surrounded by levers on both sides.
He immediately began to make his way in that direction in order to play it, forgetting his entire reason for being in the casino. But before he could even move an inch, he felt a force tug on his shirt collar, preventing him from moving.
“Don’t think for a microsecond that I won’t be keeping my eyes on you at ALL TIMES,” Zander said, still holding onto Vincent’s collar.
“You’re no fun,” Vincent replied, now slapping Zander’s hand away. He then let out a bit of a sigh and conceded. “Fine, let’s find out where this obelisk is.”
“Perfect. So let’s—”
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“So I can come back and play that cool game,” Vincent mumbled under breath.
“What was that?” Zander’s eyes were narrowed and laser-focused on Vincent.
“Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought. Well, I guess sitting here isn’t going to get us anywhere—we need to find a way to subtly ask around.”
“Sure, sure, sounds like a plan. Eliot what do you—” But as Vincent turned to casually talk to Eliot, he was nowhere in sight. “Aw crap, where’d he wander off to?”
“Eliot?” Now Zander was looking, quickly. “We need to find him quickly, although I’m sure he probably just got lost in traffic; he’s not the best with directions.”
Within seconds of looking, Vincent managed to spot him, surrounded by a couple of waiters, holding their plates out in his direction. As he casually strolled up to where Eliot was, he saw the panic and confusion on his face. Eliot had never handled social situations or mass gatherings very well, so a casino was not the most ideal location for him
“There ya are, bud,” Vincent jovially said, wrapping his arm around Eliot. “You’re almost as bad as me when it comes to getting separated.”
“I-uh,” Eliot stammered.
Vincent looked around to the waiters that were a little too close for comfort and said a bit menacingly, putting his arm in front of Eliot, “These guys bothering you?”
“N-n-no no, Vince, they were a-actually trying to help me. I’m just really bad at communicating to strangers, and I’m so flustered right now, and there’s too many people, and—”
“Alright, alright, I get it.” Vincent’s protective stance loosened up. With the tension in the air calming, Vincent noticed something shiny on each of the plates that the waiters held. “Whatcha got, there?”
“Ahem,” the tallest waiter began. “If you are interested, we have a piece of complementary gold-plated steak.”
“Ah, I see why you were flustered, El,” Vincent replied. “It’s ‘cause you don't eat meat and whatnot, right? You probably had a hard time tellin’ them that.”
Just then, Zander walked up to the group and joined the conversation. “What’s going on, here?” he asked.
“Nothing, just talkin’ about eating a gold steak,” Vincent said.
“A what?”
“Gold steak. Wanna have one?”
With a confused look, Zander replied, “I think I’m going to have to pass on this one.”
“Come on, Zander, have a piece,” Eliot politely prodded.
“Why don’t—” Zander began, looking at Eliot. He then changed his view to look at Vincent. “Why don’t you have a piece?”
“I don’t like free handouts,” Vincent casually responded.
“And I do?” Zander seemed to visibly look a bit offended by Vincent’s implication.
“That doesn’t matter,” Vincent said, dismissively. “Come on, take a bite. Aren’t you used to eating boujee stuff like this, Mr. Moneypants?”
“Well I—fine!” Zander then snatched a piece of gold steak from the plate and ate it quicker than Vincent eating a piece of apple pie.
“See? What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Shut up,” Zander replied, wiping his mouth with the handkerchief that he kept in his pocket. “Let’s just get a move on.”
“Sounds good to me, I’m more than satisfied.”
For the next few hours, or days, according to Vincent, the three friends made their way through various parts of the casino. Every one of their attempts to try and glean something about the obelisk or even anything related to it ended in failure.
One particular failure almost caused them to get thrown out of the casino. When Zander was trying to use his manipulative and playful vocabulary to try and get a rich-looking man to give up any sort of secret details about the obelisk, Vincent grew impatient. He couldn’t stand how much Zander was dancing around with his words. Why can’t he just ask where the obelisk is? That would be so much quicker, Vincent thought.
Fed up with the lack of progress and the lack of him being able to do anything, Vincent slammed his fist down on the roulette table they were at in anger. This caused the ball to go onto a different tile, effectively “rigging” the game, or so the gamblers at the table claimed. Fortunately, Eliot was able to woo over the waiters with his innocence and charm, and Vincent was able to plainly state that it was an accident. However, because of that incident, they had security constantly watching over their backs since then.
Visibly at his wits ends, Zander eventually announced to Eliot, Vincent, and to the world that he was done trying. He was fed up with not getting any results and was upset that people were “outsmarting his speech”, or so he claimed. With obvious despair and desperation in his eyes, Zander allowed Vincent one attempt at getting any sort of information, and he could do whatever he wanted to get it.
Ecstatic and relieved, Vincent immediately looked around for the closest person that looked like they worked at a somewhat important position. Eventually, his eyes rested upon a lady behind one of the grand and obnoxiously flamboyant counters. That’ll work, he thought, and began to make his way over.
“So what’s your plan, Vince?” Zander whispered.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Vincent replied, his hands casually resting in his pockets.
Vincent then approached the counter, and luckily for him, there was no one else in line at that moment. Although, realistically, that wouldn’t have stopped him.
“What can I do to help, Sir?” the lady behind that counter asked. She was taller than Vincent had initially thought, standing only a few inches shorter than him, which is impressive since he was about 6’2”. She was fair-skinned, which was a rarity to see around the casino, seeing as most workers seemed to be Egyptian. Her eyes were dull and grey, and her hair was short and brown. Everything about her was nicely kept, although if you asked Vincent, everything was a little too nicely kept. The last thing that Vincent seemed to notice about her was that she seemed around the same age as him, but quick glances around her body showed that her actual age was a bit higher than that.
“Ya know anything about an obelisk?” Vincent bluntly asked.
Silence. Absolute silence. A stunned, frozen Zander and Eliot just stopped in their tracks and stood there. Not a single sound could be heard from them, which Vincent found odd, because usually, it would be at that point that one of them would stop him from saying anything more for some reason.
“I beg your pardon? I don’t think there is anything like that here. Sorry about that, Sir,” the receptionist answered.
“Aw really? Someone told us that there was one here, and he was positive about it. He said that some rich politician was killed for knowing about it, so I was pretty confident in it being here,” Vincent said absentmindedly, not realizing that he said what he was thinking out loud.
Now, no one spoke a word or even made a sound, including the receptionist. Her eyes were a bit wider and there was a hint of surprise to her face. She then looked Vincent up and down and up again before slowly speaking.
“What did you say your name was?” she asked.
“Again with the names,” Vincent sighed, rolling his eyes. He then looked at the receptionists, tired of being asked the same question multiple times in the same day, and said, “Vincent Huron.”
“Let me go check on something for you,” the receptionist said, squinting her eyes a bit. She then walked around away from the group, through a door behind the counter.
“See,” Vincent said, his confidence unwavering, “easy as can be.”
“Vince,” Zander said. His face was moist and sweating, and there was an obvious look of panic plastered all through it. “Are you an actual idiot?”
“The hell are you goin’ on about? We’re about to get our answers.”
Zander then hurriedly pulled on Vincent’s shirt. “We have to get out of here…” he said, looking around him, “...now.”
“Woah!” Vincent then jerked away from Zander’s grasp. “No need to be so handsy. You got your chance and findin’ out where this thing is and now it’s my turn. Are you jealous that my plan actually seems to be working?”
“Vince,” Eliot chimed in, “that’s not what this is about.” Eliot seemed to be a bit more on edge than he usually was.
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t just mention those things like you did—it puts us in danger. It’s one thing to ask about the obelisk, but you can’t just talk about someone getting assassinated like that.”
“What are you—oh shit, I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”
Vincent had then realized that he told the receptionist about what Cowol told them, and the ramifications of saying that started to click inside his head. That was a common problem for him—saying what he thought and not having a filter for his thoughts. In a public environment, especially around friends, anything that he thinks comes straight out of his mouth, even if he doesn’t mean to.
“Well you did, and now I have to deal with it,” Zander replied, now visibly angered and frantic. “We have to go, we still should have—”
Before he could even finish his thought, echoing footsteps could be heard coming from behind the counter, followed by a familiar voice.
“Please, follow me,” the now returned receptionist said, gesturing for the group to follow her.
“Fuck,” said Zander.