Bad Beat

The Tops Casino, New Vegas

"WOO! Let it ride! I'm on FIRE, baby!"

Benny Gecko lounged lazily on the rail that encircled the main gaming pit in his casino, cocking an errant eyebrow at the scene developing around one of The Top's famous roulette tables. An NCR tourist was on a 'lucky' streak, and was not coincidentally surrounded by the finest array of gold-diggers and blood-suckers The Strip had to offer. Benny was no punk. He didn't get to be Head Honcho of the swinginest casino in Vegas without being able to spot a fink a mile away. You can't fool a fooler, and Benny was one perceptive cat. To the untrained eye, Benny was goofing off, joking with his bodyguards and glad-handing the high-rollers. This was a dangerous assumption to make, as many a would-be cheater had found out to their expense. All of Benny's attention was now focused with the pinpoint precision of a Van Graff Laser Rifle on the winning gambler. Again, an inexperienced observer would conclude that the gambler's reactions were genuine, and indeed his streak seemed completely natural. At one point, he had been down almost 4000 caps, which Benny now suspected had been an attempt to throw watchful gazes off his trail. He was up now, however, by 8000 caps, and getting dangerously close to the ceiling that would require him to be removed. Only one person had ever taken The Tops to the jackpot limit and not been caught cheating, and Benny was not present at the time.

He'd have thrown The Courier out on his ass, whatever Not-At-Home said.

"YES! 19 Black, baby! That's where it's AT!"

With an almost imperceptible nod in the direction of Swank, Benny's right-hand, the impressive and well oiled machinery that dealt with incidents like this went smoothly into action.

Firstly, the croupier was to sweep up as the offending gambler's chips and retain them for the casino. Any attempt to resist the croupier in this action would be understood as a hostile reaction.

Secondly, armed guards would, depending on the gambler's aforementioned reaction, either peacefully accompany or forcibly drag the gambler to one of The Top's back rooms.

Thirdly, and normally finally, Benny himself would venture to one of the back rooms and conduct the questioning, unaccompanied and armed only with whatever he had on him at the time. Swank or another lieutenant watched through two-way glass, documenting the exchange for Mr. House.

All three casinos had back rooms like the one the NCR tourist was being dragged to. All were small, claustrophobic and unfurnished, save for a stainless steel table and two hard-backed wooden chairs. One wall was adorned with a small mirror, through which the casino staff could observe the unlucky soul or souls who were contained within.

On this occasion, Benny nonchalantly took his seat opposite the heavily bleeding, handcuffed and barely conscious suspect. Benny made a mental note to tell the bouncers to ease up a little in future. Dead cheaters weren't able to give up the secrets of whatever system they were using, and Benny couldn't have that. When Benny was involved, the odds were always stacked in his favour. Luck was for losers. Lighting up a cigarette, Benny started his well-practiced routine. His voice slid across the table like an eel covered in honey.

"Hey, kid. Sorry about that bad scene out on the floor. These guys, you know how it is. Give a little slice of power to anybody nowadays and you can forgeddaboutit. I tell them, I say 'Fellas, you gotta ease up!' But do they listen to ol' Benny G?" He shook his head ruefully and sighed, flicking his lighter open and closed in a preoccupied sort of manner. "My boy Swank tells me your name is Andy. Am I on the button?"

The unfortunate creature opposite seemed to come around, emboldened by the instant camaraderie, and attempted to seize on his apparent advantage. He nodded his battered head and attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. Benny didn't miss the gesture.

"Apologies on the handcuff thing, but Mr. House says it always goes down this way. If it was up to me, Andy, I'd rather let you buy me a drink with those winnings of yours." Benny arranged his features into a sympathetic mask. "But if Mr. House says jump, a smart cat says how high, dig? You smoke, Andy?"

Andy nodded again, and Benny strode around the table, held a cigarette to his lips and lit for him. Andy grunted in appreciation as the sweet, acrid cloud swept into his lungs. Re-seating himself, Benny flicked a rogue speck of dust from the arm of his checkered coat and kept on the offensive.

"Now Andy, Mr. House is a lot of things, but one thing he isn't is forgiving. He's got a real hard-on for security, and one of the offshoots of that little policy is cracking down on cheaters, big-time. So..."

"I ain't a cheater! I swear!" Andy cried, beseeching Benny with the one eye that was not a swollen mass of blood. Benny made a pacifying gesture.

"Andy, you gotta let me finish when I'm talkin', otherwise we're just two cats meowing at each other and we'll get nowhere," replied Benny. His words created a subtle change in atmosphere, the first time that he let it be known that there was a serious side to his personality. Andy sought to rectify his mistake.

"Sorry man, it's just that on my mommas grave I swear I never cheated. You gotta believe me."

Benny's voice was smooth and well-practiced. "Baby, I've heard it all before. This ain't my first rodeo, dig? But for what it's worth, I believe you, Andy. Like I said, I'm just an engaged innkeeper trying to make sure everybody has a good time." Benny flashed his winning smile, and Andy noticeably relaxed, thinking he was out of the woods. Still grinning, Benny continued, following the same routine he always did. "My man Swank, though, he's a different story. Suspicious as a chick pissing in the air. I'm always tellin' him, 'Swank baby. You gotta keep it in the groove! Be like the B-man, smooth moves baby, smooth moves.'" Benny laughed, slapping the table hard and locking eyes with Andy. "But the thing with Swank, he's got a good antennae. He can smell when somethings rotten. It's why he's got the job! And, well, the thing is Andy... Swank smelled something rotten on you."

Benny's smile had gone, but the eye contact had not. Andy shifted uncomfortably again.

"He was gonna whack you, you know. Have our boys take you upstairs and throw you off the roof. That's normal policy with cheaters in here. Mr. House wants us to set an example, you see. If you think we're bad, you should see what they do in Gomorrah!" Benny shuddered theatrically before continuing. "If it wasn't for me, buddy, you'd be paste on the sidewalk."

Andy's fear had grown to the point that he was shivering uncontrollably. His throat had tightened and his words became strangled as he pleaded. "Benny, man... Please. I got a family, back west. You have to believe me. I didn't do it, I swear!"

Benny frowned. Usually, they were crumbling or had crumbled by now and were focused on securing guarantees of safety. He opened his mouth to try and turn the screw a bit more when there was a knock on the door. Andy's undamaged pupil dilated in terror and he swivelled in his chair, certain that impending death lurked. Benny rose and strolled to open it, hands firmly ensconced in his pockets.

It was Swank. He motioned to Benny to exit into the hallway. He looked uncharacteristically serious, furrowed lines on his normally smooth forehead.

"I'll be right back, Andy. Think about what I said. It'll be better for you if you confess..." Leaving that statement hanging in the air, Benny left the room, slamming the door behind him. Swank was already walking briskly down the hall, back toward the casino floor. Benny jogged to catch up with him.

"Swank baby, slow down! Andy ain't going anywhere anytime soon."

"Andy isn't our problem, Benny," Swank snapped. "He wasn't cheating."

Benny stopped walking, stunned. Swank stormed ahead a little more, before turning back to face Benny. He was angrier than Benny had ever seen him, and when he shouted Benny was amazed at the rage now showing on his right-hand man's face. "HURRY THE FUCK UP!"

The two men emerged onto the casino floor, which was in a state of utter chaos. Gamblers and staff alike were being lined up against the wall where Benny normally leaned, guarded by bouncers armed with 9mm Sub-Machine Guns. Nonplussed, Benny turned to Swank, seeking explanation. Swank looked him in the eye, anger giving way to a smidgen of fear.

"Benny, we're fucked. When Not-At-Home hears about this, we're up shit creek without a fucking paddle."

"Swank baby, slow down. Lay it on me. What happened?"

"When we dragged Andy off the floor, it was 11.55. At noon, it was shift change time. The croupier who was working the hot table went and got changed and left. At 12.30, the floor manager realised she didn't hand in the chips. We asked the cashier and he cashed out the exact amount of chips Andy won to three different people. Three people matching their descriptions just turned up dead at the gate in Freeside. We're down twelve thousand caps to this bitch, Benny. We. Are. Fucked."

Unlike Swank, Benny Gecko never lost his cool. That was why he was the boss and Swank wasn't. Despite the rage swirling around inside his chest and his burning desire to find and murder the woman who had taken him for a fool, he maintained his facade.

"Alright Swank. You did good. Take every cap, Denarius, Aureus and NCR rag you can as well as all the chips those clowns have. We'll tell House there was a big con and that we couldn't tell who was in on it. He loves the money too much to care about these schmucks. That way we'll recoup some of the loss. And don't sweat the twelve thousand. I'll get it back for us. Has Benny ever let you down?"

Smiling at Swank, Benny turned and walked straight out of his casino. The insane heat of the Mojave sun beat down on him immediately, and Benny hurried to the left, eager to return to shade. Ducking through one of the gates that divided The Strip into thirds, he emerged into the looming shadow of The Lucky 38. Once a silent, empty building, it now buzzed with tourist traffic like the other three casinos, having recently been re-opened. The rumour mill had since gone into overdrive, and the word on The Strip was that Mr. House was none too happy about his fortress being exposed to the public. Times had changed though.

Dreading what was coming next, Benny approached Victor at the front door. Members of the Three Families were still not allowed to set foot in the 38.

"Howdy, Fancy-Pants! What can I do ya for?"

Benny grimaced at the name before speaking. "Can it, Victor. I need to see him."

"Well hold your horses! I'll see if he's available."

"Now, Victor. It's an emergency. Code Orange."

Victor stopped bouncing for a moment, save for the small whirring antennae atop it's rectangle-shaped head. Suddenly, Victor's smiling cowboy face was replaced by an entirely different image. The stern, mustachioed face of Robert Edwin House, known as Mr. House by his employees, stared out of the Securitron's abdomen at Benny. The no-nonsense, sarcastic voice that issued let Benny know that House's time was not to be wasted.

"Benny. A Code Orange. How... unpleasant. Follow me."

The Securitron turned and rolled jovially through the casino. Benny followed, taking in the casino which he had sought to enter for so long.

The Lucky 38 Casino, Penthouse Floor, New Vegas

"Twelve thousand caps. This will certainly not do." Mr House's huge console took up most of Benny's vision, and even his supernatural cool was slipping at the awe inspiring penthouse. He barely heard House speak as he gazed around him, wicked thoughts growing in his scheming mind. To his left, he spied an auspicious terminal guarded by three different Securitrons.

"Well now. Ol' Benny G is gonna have to get himself a look at that, pretty soon."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention and not keeping the matter from me, Benny. Perhaps it is time for you and I to resolve our differences and forge our partnership anew."

Benny smiled up at the screen in front of him. "You read my mind, Mr. House. When this whole scene is behind us, we'll have ourselves a sit-down."

"Indeed. But now, to business. This affair cannot be left unresolved. I have accessed the offender's personnel files, to find that her name is Ms. Jane Tandi."

Skeptical, Benny frowned. "Tandi? Seriously?"

"My thoughts exactly. Unfortunately, such obvious aliases are commonplace nowadays. More positively, we have a picture to work with. I have transmitted her image to every Securitron on the network. Thanks to their new pulse weapons, they will incapacitate and subdue her if she is spotted. Judging by the intelligence she has shown so far, however, I suspect that that is a remote possibility. Also, my agents in Freeside have identified the bodies of the three co-conspirators. They were well known petty criminals in the area, but as yet I have no other known associates to interrogate. The Garrets seemed likely founts of evidence, but there is an unusual air of fear around them, which is rare. Someone is leaning on them, and they must be formidable if they are more frightened of them than they are of me."

Benny lit and drew upon a cigarette while Mr. House was talking, his face rapt with attention while he exhaled blue clouds from his mouth. "So what do we do?"

Mr. House spoke confidently, his screen image flickering. "Firstly, you are going to go looking for her."

Benny spluttered in shock. "Me? Boss-man, are you feeling alright? Your circuits aren't overheating or anything, are they?"

"You have proven yourself incredibly versatile, Benny. You managed to locate, track and subdue The Courier, who is not someone prone to being subdued. You took control of a savage tribe and civilized them. And I know from experience that you are not afraid to get your hands dirty."

"Boss-man, I didn't know you felt this way. I'm flattered, baby, truly I am. But I'm just not the cat you're looking for."

Mr. House's patience was thinning with the conversation, and he showed it. "It was not a request, Benny. It was an order. Swank will take over the day to day operations."

"Mr. House, I really think..."

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of sending you alone. I have someone who will make the search much easier. In fact, he just arrived. Very fortunate that he's back in town."

Benny felt a cold shudder run through his body as he heard the elevator doors ping behind him, and he felt his body turn almost against his will to look up the stairs.

A man came into view, dressed in a strangely patchwork set of clothes. They story behind this outfit was known to every citizen of the Mojave Wasteland, and Benny was no exception.

He wore the long, black coat of a veteran NCR Ranger, which he had been awarded by Chief Hanlon when he almost single-handedly eradicated the Legion from Cottonwood Cove and Nelson. Under the coat was the body armor of a Powder Ganger, taken from the still warm body of Eddie, the leader of the Powder Gangers at the NCRCF. Lower down, half of a set of Brotherhood of Steel Recon Armor gave ample protection to his lower half. The man had taken the armor from the dead body of a Brotherhood Knight, one of many he had killed before he destroyed the Brotherhood's Hidden Bunker. The man's blue eyes twinkled from behind a set of sunglasses looted from one of Caesar's Praetorian Guard. The man's blond hair was pushed back from his face via a piece of black leather, which bore the faded insignia of the broken tribe formerly known as The Great Khans. He wore brown, light shoes, useful for quick getaways and made from durable leather. On his left hand was a glove covered in jagged, razor-sharp blades taken from a chainsaw which had belonged to Motor-Runner, leader of the Fiends. In his right hand, spinning on his index finger, was a golden 9mm Pistol with an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe emblazoned on the handle. And it was to this pistol that Benny's eyes were drawn as The Courier walked towards him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Hello, Benny."