Revenge of the Casino in Space (Part 2)

“Alright, new approach, little bro.” Randy took a bite out of the baseball bat-sized alien frog leg, which sat on the plate in front of him. “We divide and conquer!”

I looked at him inquisitively, as I ripped off a piece of my comped baguette. “You want us to split up?”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice, so that nobody else in the food court would over hear him. “It’ll be harder for the house to sabotage both of us at the same time.”

“I don’t know, Randy. I’m not even really sure how most of these games are played.” I whispered back.

"You’ll be fine. Just stay vigilant and remember…” His eyes were wide, as he adamantly stared at me. “DON'T DOUBT THE MOJO!" He suddenly raised his voice, defeating the whole purpose of us whispering. “Here take your half.” On the table, he slapped down half of our remaining stollars and slid them over to me.

“Are you sure about this?” I hesitantly grabbed the sixty thousand stollars.

“What did I just tell you!” He snapped at me, causing some patrons eating near us to turn in our direction.

“Okay, I promise I won’t doubt the mojo.” I waved my hand, attempting to stop him from drawing too much attention to us. Part of me still was a bit skeptical that the house was targeting him, but he’s been right about crazier things.

“Good, hurry up and finish your food because we have work to do, little bro.” He confidently flashed me a smirk, just before shoveling down his massive frog leg. With his gut, slightly now distended, he stood up from his chair. “Well, I’m off.”

“Randy, wait a sec-.” I blinked for only a moment and the next thing I knew, he had vanished into the vast ocean of casino games. Letting out a sigh, I finished my bread and left the food court.

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Standing alone, feeling slightly intimidated, I stared at the wall of slot machines before me. Without Randy around, these were the only games I understood enough to play.

“Hmm, which one?” I murmured to myself.

My options were slightly narrowed down, since half the machines were taken up by elderly aliens that were rapidly clicking buttons as they stared, fixated on their screens.

“Buffalo!” A noise rang out, suddenly catching my attention. A machine called ‘Buffalo Burgers’ seemed to be calling me. Going off what Randy’s told me in the past, this was one of those moments, where I should go with my gut.

I took a seat in front of the screen, which displayed a set of five reels with an animation of a herd of buffalo stampeding in the background. Starting out small, I inserted one hundred stollars into the machine and placed the minimum bet of two stollars. Tapping the button labeled ‘SPIN’ in big bold letters with my index finger, the reels spun. After about two seconds, they stopped, landing on absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, there was a tap on my left shoulder. Turning my head, I was met by an anteater-like alien, which was sitting at the machine beside me.

He gazed at me with his beady crossed eyes, as he rapidly stuck his long straw-like tongue in and out. “That’s not how you do it.”

I stared at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“You have to taste the machine first to make sure it's a winner!” The alien proceeded to extend its tongue and lick the screen of his machine.

“Uh… I think I’m good, but thanks… I guess.” Considering the number of hands that probably touched that slot machine on a daily basis, I could only imagine the germs that this anteater man just ingested. Part of me felt like gagging from watching him.

“Tch, your loss.” He responded, seeming offended. “Mine’s about to pay out.” Max betting one thousand stollars, he clicked the slot’s spin button with his tongue.

“Buffalo!” His machine rang out, as golden burgers flooded the screen with the text, ‘You Win!: 100,000 Stollars’.

I turn my attention back to my own machine, feeling uncertain, as to what I should be doing.

“Don’t doubt the mojo!” Randy’s words echoed in my head.

At a time like this, I knew exactly what my brother would do. Clearing my mind and releasing any ounce of hesitation I had, I took every stollar I had on me and placed it in the machine. “Go big or go home.” I muttered to myself, as I hovered my hand over the spin button. At that moment, I had no doubt that I was going to hit big. Pressing the button, the five reels began to spin…

One by one, lining up across the reels were five golden buffalo head icons. “Buffa-.” The screen suddenly we black.

“What the-?” I grabbed the machine and raddled it.

Suddenly, a small panel slid open just below the slot machine’s screen. The last thing I remember was a cloud of purple gas blowing out of it into my face, and falling to the ground, unconscious.

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“Pst… Little Bro.” Randy’s voice chimed in my ears.

“What the-?...” My head felt dizzy, as my vision came into focus. The room we were in was completely dark, other than a single ceiling lamp above us that shined with blinding light.

“Did you manage to hit big?” Randy continued.

“I think that's the least of our worries right now.” I attempted to stand, but it was immediately apparent that my arms and legs were restrained. Both Randy and I were tied-up with rope, back to back to a set of folding chairs.

Randy shook his torso in an attempt to loosen the ropes. “The last thing I remember was pulling a royal flush in poker, then everything else was a blur.”

“Something similar happened to me too.” Sweat perspirated from my forehead, as the room we were in was incredibly humid. “I can’t believe that we’re been knocked out and kidnapped twice in the same day.”

“We don't know for sure that this is a kidnapping. Maybe this is some new marketing scheme.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I responded, not buying my brother's optimism.

Suddenly, a whirring noise buzzed from somewhere in the shadows that surrounded us. A set of glowing red eyes illuminated through the darkness. “If-a it isn’t-a our favorite-a patron, eh? Randy. Beep-a bop-a.”

“Ah, shoot it's the French.” Randy let out a sigh.

“That's Italian.” I felt the need to correct him.

“So-a… where’s-a my half a million stollars? Beep-a bop-a.” A small, roughly two foot tall robot, wearing a navy blue pinstriped fedora, came rolling out of the Shadows. Unlike the typical robots we see on a daily basis, this one was an older model. Rather than a tv screen for a head, it had two camera-like eyes and a speaker for a mouth. Instead of legs, it rolled around on a set of tank-like treads.

“Owe you money? I don't even know who the duck you are.” Randy looked at the robot confused.

The robot shook its head. “How-a is it-a that my number one-a customer don’t-a even know who-a I am, huh? Beep-a bop-a.” Pinching its clawed hands together, it eccentrically waved them around. “Name’s-a Bot Robocci, da godbot of-a da Robo-Mafia, and-a da owner of-a half of Space Las Vegas, capisce? Beep-a bop-a.”

“You borrowed money from the Robo-Mafia!” If I wasn't tied down, I would have grabbed my brother by the shoulders and aggressively shook him.

“I have no idea what he's talking abou-... Oh wait.” Randy paused as he suddenly came to a realization. “Don't be mad, little bro, but over the years of coming here… I may have taken out some lines of credit from a dozen or so casinos.”

“It never dawned on you that you have to pay that money back?” I let out a huff. “I don't understand. You're always going on about trusting the mojo. How the heck did you manage to get so far into the red?”

“Well the funny thing is, things kind of turn into a blur when I get too many of those complementary alien drinks in me.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I always sort of just assumed that my tabs were all paid up because when I sobered up, I'd have no more money on me… and sometimes articles of clothing.”

“I don’t-a think-a you wanna me to ask-a again, eh. Where’s-a my money?! Beep-a bop-a” As Robocci made his threat, two large Robots, similar to the security ones at the casino’s entrance, emerged from behind him with skull emojis displayed on their monitor faces.

Not intimated in the least, Randy just clicked his tongue. “Tch. Get in line, Robo-bro. The Space IRS already shook me down earlier today.”

“You know-a, I’m-a much scarier than-a da Space IRS. Beep-a Bop-a.” He pointed over to one of his goons. “You know-a what-a to do. Beep-a Bop-a.”

“Yes sir. Boop beep.” The large robot on his left chimed, as it made its way to me.

“Hey, what are you-?!”

Before I could finish, the robot grabbed my jaw and forced my mouth open. “Do not flinch. Boop beep.”

“What the duck are you duckers doing to my little bro!” Randy shouted as he powerlessly tried fighting his restraints.

Robocci let out a synthetic chuckle. “Don’t-a worry, we’re-a just givin’ him some-a ‘medicine.’ Beep-a bop-a.”

As he said that, the robot that was holding my jaw open pointed its other hand like a finger gun at my wide open mouth. A small hatch on the tip of its index finger flipped open and a small capsule shot out and down my throat.

Immediately. I began to gag, as I could feel the foreign object slide its way through my esophagus.

Randy had a look of pure rage on his face. “I swear, as soon as I get out of these ropes, I’m going to-!”

Robocci cut him off. “I’d-a be more-a concerned with-a gettin’ me-a my five hundred-a stollars. Dat capsule, it’s-a a mini-bomb. Da timer is-a set to go off-a in three-a months. Beep-a bop-a.”

“Wait, I got a bomb inside of me!” A sense of panic overcame me.

“Yes-a it is. But-a if you get-a me my money, eh… I’ll-a be nice-a enough to deactivate-a it. Beep-a bop-a.”

Randy shook his head as he let out a puff from his nostrils. “Fine you gasturd, I’ll get you five hundred thousand stollars before your deadline, but you better not try and duck me or my little bro over!”

“I’m-a a bot of-a integrity. As-a long-a as you hold-a up your end-a of-a da bargain, I’ll-a hold-a up mine. Beep-a Bop-a.”

“Fine, then I guess I’ll see you in three months or less.” Randy Responded.

With that, his goons escorted us to the casino entrance, physically kicking us out into the parking lot…