This choice: Upon landing, you decide to hit the slots in the shuttle port • Go Back...Chapter #7Upon landing, you decide to hit the slots. by: Mr. George   It was late at night, local time when the shuttle landed. The flight had been exhausting, and you were ready for heading to the hotel, and the bed there. Groaning in almost physical pain, you realise how much this is a party planet, where everything goes, and the night is when it comes alive.
No other planet could be mistaken for New Vegas. The garish neon vomited into the sky, the skyscraper tall hologram who pouted and flirted, advertising their various wares. Their hotel and casino, was the standard. But mixed in was a variety of businesses that were ... less favourably viewed on the other planets in the human sphere.
Exiting the customs area and driving the point home, the arrival lounge was lined with slot machines, for those who couldn't even wait to leave the shuttle port. This was New Vegas, the hub of entertainment in all its forms, favoring the more adult, and expensive. Looking around, you spotted one of the local residents, at least you assumed she was given her incredible physique!
You remind yourself, she probably didn't arrive wearing that body... Hell! She might not've arrived there as a woman. This was one of the most liberal, everything goes places in existence. Even the 'normal' women, had that perfected look. Plucked and preened to appeal, just not to those favouring the most exotic looks.
She must've been freezing, was your first repeatable thought, as she was blessed with the type of body this world specialised in. Her ass was impossibly round, firm and full. Her bust bounced with every step she took, rivalling her ass for eye-watering hypnotic pull.
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Flicking your wrist over, your wallet appeared as faintly glowing digits beneath your flesh. The implanted ID chip holding all the details about your life embedded there. Beneath in a different neon font, the watch informed you it was just after two in the morning. You had some time to kill until your auto-taxi signalled it's readiness. The guestimated countdown time scrolling along suggesting five minutes, or so.
Telling yourself she was a winner enjoying her spoils, you hope that's true. The alternative that she's working off her debt in the oldest profession is unsettling.
You could have a quick play on the slots, and still enjoy that vision of a woman, as you waited. Spotting another 'local', she's similarly dressed and proportioned, you try not to get distracted.
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New Vegas promised some of the loosest slots in the human sphere, and you knew they weren't just talking about the odds of winning at the various games of chance.
A smile split your face, as you realised these were historic recreations. 'One-armed bandits', your memory prompted. A large chromed lever at one side, and three spinning wheels physically inside. Pressing your hand against the machine, you transferred a tiny amount to the machine. It started to play tacky music, that sounded both cheap and expensive at the same time. It came from the innards of the machine, as if bells were literally being rung. Suppressing a smile, you tug the lever down. Yeah, Yeah! They do actually spin. Shifting about you gawp at the blurred wheels seeing them vanish around the curve.
Shit! If this was the shuttle lounge, you'd just announced yourself as a newly-arrived mark to anyone within sight. As the wheels clunk to a solid stop, you see you've not won. A second glance at your wrist tells you to head to the park n' ride, your taxi will be there momentarily.
You avoid eye-contact with all the strangers, eager to get to the hotel and unpacked.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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