CHAPTER 3

I. Hate. Limos.

What better way to put a glaring target on your back than. Hey look at me! Im in a fancy car, but not only that, I'm to lazy to drive my own vehicle

I prefer normal vehicular travel. A generic brand with slightly tinted windows.

I tapped the very much not tinted window of the limousine,

"Don't worry. They're bulletproof."

Avery said. He grinned widely. Showing several gold teeth.

I glanced at the gun shaped lump on his chest. Probably in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

"Im not so much worried about these..."

I tapped the pane of glass.

"I'm a bit more worried about that"

I pointed at what i presumed was a gun.

"Ah, don't worry yourself. It's not loaded"

He pulled the pistol from his jacket and tossed it to me. Indeed. No clip, and no bullet in the chamber.

"Why do you carry around an empty gun. Crazy much?"

Avery chuckled darkly.

"Jus' for special occasions."

"The hell that means?"

"Call it poetry."

The limo pulled up to a building i could only presume was a casino. Avery and his planteer henchmen could always be seen in places of... well, questionable legality.

The driver opened the side door allowing me and avery to climb out of the limo. I hit my head on my way out, causing a smarting pain to bloom in my forehead.

It was too fancy, and that is coming from someone of wealth like me. I felt a bit strange in my jeans and untucked button down. Everybody else was in tuxedos and dresses that where showy more than one way. They were all ridiculously wealthy. Or at least pretending to be so.

Avery led me into the foyer of the casino, i will admit, it was well decorated. But rather than admiring the decor i busied myself finding possible dangers. I could see hidden weapons everywhere. A lump in a jacket, a knife hilt poking out of a boot, a knife clip on a belt. Not to mention many of these people where probably part of the aristocracy. I was a man among a party of chaos gods.

Avery turn on his heel, stretching his arms out like the christus statue, funny irony, i thought to myself

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"A party that never ends with a host that never dies." Avery stated rather loudly.

"You should join in. Have some fun."

At that moment a drink was shoved into my hand by a passing man dressed as a server.

"Do you have a blackjack?" I asked Avery.

"We do now"

His jovial nature freaked me out, but i couldn't help but smile anyway.

i took a sip of the drink as the server presented one to avery.

The golden liquid tasted vaguely of citrus and something stronger, like lighter fluid causing my throat to burn unpleasantly. I grimaced, shoving the drink back at the server, who vanished into the throng with a practiced smile.

"Easy there" Avery chuckled, "That's top-shelf tequila. Not for the faint of heart."

"Maybe not for the taste buds either," I muttered, rubbing my forehead where the throbbing pain hadn't subsided.

"This place," I continued, gesturing at the glittering crowd, "it reeks of trouble."

The air crackled with a nervous energy, the kind that came from people with more to lose than just a fistful of chips. The clinking of glasses and murmur of conversation was punctuated by the occasional shout of triumph or curse of despair from the nearby gambling halls.

"Relax," Avery said, clapping me on the shoulder a little too hard. "That's half the fun. Besides, you wouldn't be here if you didn't have a reason to be, would you?"

He had a point. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere near this den of iniquity if I hadn't needed something, something Avery likely knew about.

"Alright," I sighed, squaring my shoulders. "Blackjack it is. But you're buying the first round."

A slow, predatory grin spread across Avery's face. "Now you're talking my language, Saint."

Avery led me through the throng of impeccably dressed gamblers, dodging clouds of expensive perfume and cigar smoke. We ended up at a high-stakes blackjack table, the felt worn smooth by countless hands. Avery's buddies, a motley crew of gamblers and glitterati in various states of intoxication, greeted him with boisterous backslaps and handshakes.

I took a seat next to a woman with eyes as sharp as cut glass and a mane of silver hair piled high. She eyed me with suspicion, then flicked her gaze to Avery. "This your new lucky charm, Avery?"

"Something like that," Avery boomed, pulling up a seat with a flourish. "This here's jax balkin, and he's got a feeling about tonight."

The woman snorted. "We all do, sweetheart, until the cards turn."

I did appreciate avery not pointing out my superhero name. Most people at that time knew me by reptuation.

The dealer, a man with a bored expression and a twitch in his eye, began shuffling the deck. As the game progressed, I noticed a curious energy around the table. Not magical exactly, but a heightened awareness, a sense of unspoken tension.

"So, jax," the woman next to me said, leaning in conspiratorially, "what's your specialty? Stocks? Real estate?"

I kept my gaze on the dealer, pretending to study the cards. "A little bit of everything," I said vaguely.

"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced.

The conversation flowed around the table, filled with veiled references to power struggles and backroom deals. It was clear these weren't just gambling for fun; they were playing a much higher-stakes game.

"Hear the Steel Legion is getting restless in the Northern Territories," someone muttered, then quickly glanced around the table.

"Let them grumble," another scoffed. "The Westland Consortium holds all the aces these days, thanks to Avery here and his little... persuasion techniques."

Avery chuckled, a dry rasping sound. "Wouldn't call them persuasive, exactly. More like... enlightened self-interest."

The conversation danced around the edges of something I wasn't supposed to hear, something about the delicate balance of power in the fractured factions of the New America.

"Maybe jax here can give us a little taste of that persuasion," the woman beside me said, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

I flashed her a cold smile. "I'm afraid my talents lie elsewhere."

Avery threw his head back and laughed, the sound erupting like thunder in the tense atmosphere. "Easy there, Duchess. Jax is here for a friendly game, not an interrogation."

The woman, Duchess apparently, narrowed her eyes at me for a moment, then shrugged. "Another time then."

She then looked at me and winked.

I found my hand creeping towards the gun on my hip.