A luxury casino awaits them in their destination, it is getting cold, it is getting depressing, but nothing would even hinder people from partying in a Sin City. The height of someone's life. Not to mention that chances people are willing to take in the casinos, even though most of the time they lose up to tens of thousands, just so they can have the slightest bread crumb of the concept fun. That associate runs the casino and uses it for money laundering. What this means for them in particular is that, instead of being trapped in a life full of vice, the group is only using some of that vice for their purposes. Good for the long run, it is easy to get blinded and lost in the process. Their van finally reached the sign that welcomes them, windows closed, barring them from the outside life. Air conditions whispered gently inside the car, nice and quite. Outside, neon lights danced, already enough to make anyone trip.
The crime, let it be murderers, drug dealers, all blended in and covered up by the prosperity of the skyscrapers and businesses. From the outside, this place looks so beautiful, so rich, that there shouldn't be any evil. After all, any evil might just be an automatic product in a equation, the product of fear and deprivation. A major residue from people evolving out of the most primitive mindsets, law of the jungle, Darwinism, natural selection. The group is here for none of this, they have work, a purpose. John, Mugino, Accelerator, the scientist. they are of the higher social class compared to mafioso because they don't do crime just to be criminals. They allow some of the evil to happen in a controlled situation, if that makes any sense all all. They use all the crime to counterbalance against other bigger crime, to achieve a better outcome, a better life, among their fellow brethren. In some senses their, let's say, ways of approaching, are worse than regular mafioso, but only in short term effects.
"His name is Jimmy, a good friend. Dunno how's he doing without me visiting. They walked straight through the ringing of the slot machines, and to an office. A man in a luxurious suit and a fedora was examining a katana. "This is some good shit!" He yelled in delight, unaware that the door was opened. He made some moves, drawing the sword and cutting air, bringing the hilt to his head and thrusting it towards a mannequin, cutting right through the ribs. He was in a state of intoxication by some sort of weird hobby. Though he was actually pretty swift using the curved samurai sword, looked like he had practice. His moves were hypnotic, aesthetically pleasing would be the word.
"This fucking…" The scientist muttered to himself.
"Jimmy! What the fuck have you been shooting up your nose!" He demanded in English.
"The bloody hell you talking about?" Jimmy demanded, not caring that the man he is talking to is his boss. "You're joking aren't you? I don't do shit like that. Maybe a few blunts yeah? Done that before." Jimmy talked in a British accent. "But I quit."
"You'd better had quit it."
"Ohh! We have a celebrity!" Is that the Espers you mentioned? John?"
"That's me." John replied blankly.
"I'm here to just visit, and clearly you need a break. Go get some fresh air."
"Sure, thanks." He laughed. "I definitely need a break. Yeah. Got a lighter?" He asked, taking out a pack of cigarette.
John passed him a lighter, the one that was used to ignite the fire that burnt the bodies.
"Alright, sorry about that. Uhh, let's go get you people some rooms then. We will be staying here for a few nights."