Chapter 10
Six months.
That's how long Alison had been working for the Lowtown branch. Recon, courier tailing, data gathering, low-risk infiltration jobs. Nothing that got her killed thankfully.
And now it was finally over.
She stepped into the briefing room, same as always , with its dim lights , Filing cabinets and the constant hum of old ventilation.
Ash leaned against the desk, flipping through a folder with one hand and holding a mug in the other.
"You did it " he said, not looking up. "Good work on the Marlo job. We confirmed the flash drive contents , money laundering records and some personal leverage. "
" The boss was satisfied." he added.
Alison waited in silence.
Ash finally closed the folder and pulled an envelope from the drawer. "Your last paycheck."
She took it and opened it on the spot. Neatly stacked Jenny bills.
"hmm 20000 jenny? okay... certainly not a fortune, but enough."
"Anything else?" she asked.
Ash raised an eyebrow. "No. You're cleared. Unless you're asking for another assignment?"
She shook her head. " Nahh I'm out."
He didn't argue , Just shrugged , indifferent.
"Suit yourself. We'll scrub your name off the roster. You know the deal—don't use your code again, don't talk about the jobs, and we don't come after you."
"Got it."
Ash gave a half-smirk. "You're not the first to leave. Some come back when they run out of cash. Some don't."
"Trust me I won't." she chuckled
With that, she turned and walked out . Casted a last glance at the wooden door then left .
She returned to her room one last time. The place looked exactly like the day she arrived: one mattress, one flickering lightbulb and lastly one small lockbox.
She gathered her stuff , or what little she had , a Jacket, a small satchel, a few folded clothes. The knife she'd kept sharpened over the months. And most importantly the cash.
She counted the bills on the mattress just to be sure. Between her saved payments and this last one, she had more than enough for a one-way airship ticket. The cheaper ones , of course .
Her destination was already chosen , Heavens Arena.
The world's most popular battle site, where victorious fighters compete , the more floors they get to and the higher they ascend , the more rewards they gain.
It consists of 251 floors. Inside, thousands of martial artists (4,000 fighters on average) compete daily in order to test their skills and advance to higher floors .
A place where strength mattered more than anything else. Where she could earn more money legitimately , or at least more openly.
She didn't expect it to be easy, but nothing had been easy so far. She really can't believe that the things she only saw on the TV would actually happen to her.
she was just training peacefully and waiting for some rich couple to show up and adopt miserable little her and make her live lavishly.
But nooo some weird organization decided that they're going to kidnap her , then she escaped and was just now working for some low ranked mafia family.
" It feels like I've been dropped into one of those over-the-top drama series where the plot twists are so ridiculous . All that's missing is a secret twin and a dramatic slap scene."
She sighed, turning the knob of the door
"Seriously, can't a girl just scam her way into a mansion in peace?"
She left the room as it was. Someone else would take it soon enough.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Alison walked down the cracked pavement of Lowtown's eastern district, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her oversized coat. The sky overhead was a dull sheet of gray, and the smell of city grime clung to the air—faint rot from alleys, the acrid stench of cheap smoke, and something metallic lingering under it all.
She scrunched up her nose as she stepped over a broken bottle and someone's sad excuse for a shoe.
Everything felt louder tonight. Music blared from food stalls, people stumbled along the sidewalks laughing, and neon lights flickered like they were trying way too hard to be sexy. A couple kissed against a street pole. Gross.
Alicia stopped to check her cash. Thirty thousand Jenny.
" the way I'm sighing all the time kinda makes me look like an unemployed 40 years old man with bills that needed to be paid " it's the same though, she deadpanned
She needed money for real, She was halfway through listing all her options (pickpocketing, robbery, mild extortion) when she passed by a sketchy alley and her eyes landed on a familiar building.
Neon sign flickering like it was on its last breath—"Jackpot Lounge". The name alone was enough to make her scoff.
It hung over a squat, grimy building wedged between a noodle shop and a pawn store. The front windows were dark, one of them cracked, and a thick curtain blocked any view inside.
She stopped walking.
Her hand tightened slightly around the strap of her bag.
She stared at the building for a moment, considering.
"Nope," she told herself. "That's a terrible idea. I'm clearly too young and I'll end up loosing all my money and be in dept "
She kept walking. Took three steps. Then stopped again.
"Tch…"
The thought nagged at her. If she could just double what little she had, that'd be amazing
"Just ten minutes," she mumbled to herself, turning on her heel and heading straight toward the cursed place.
The door creaked as she pushed it open. Warm air hit her face—mixed with smoke, sweat, and the sharp scent of old carpet.
A wall of cigarette smoke hit her in the face.
She gagged and waved it off, stumbling past a row of old men glued to slot machines like hypnotized zombies.
The inside was exactly like she remembered.
The casino's interior was dim and filled with the low hum of machines, clinking chips, and cigarette smoke curling lazily in the air. No one looked up when she entered.
"Guess casinos didn't care as long as you had money."
Most of the patrons were locked into their games, eyes glazed and hopeful, throwing away cash with desperation.
Her boots made almost no sound against the sticky carpet as she crossed the room. She passed a blackjack table where a man cursed under his breath, and a woman with a wrinkled face laughed dryly at her luck.
she headed toward the back corner where a quieter set of machines stood—less flashy, less watched. She picked a seat near the wall, slid into place, and fed a few bills into the slot. The glow of the screen lit up her face for a second, but her expression stayed the same.
The machine let out a low whirr as the reels spun, each symbol flickering past too fast to follow. Alison leaned back slightly in the seat, one leg dangling off the side as she watched with an unreadable expression. The first spin was a dud—two bells and a watermelon.
She hit the button again. This time with a little more pressure.
The reels spun faster, louder, then slowed. One bar. Two bars. And just before the third reel stopped, she saw it coming.
Click.
Triple bars lit up across the screen.
The machine chimed a sharp jingle that caught a few heads nearby. Alicia raised an eyebrow . The payout wasn't huge, but it was decent .
"Huh. Guess it's my lucky hour," she said under her breath, feeding another bill into the machine.
She didn't believe in streaks, but maybe she could squeeze just one more win before heading out.
Second round.
The reels spun again. Her fingers tapped idly against the side of the screen while she waited.
Click-click-click.
Seven. Seven. Seven.
The whole screen lit up like a damn festival. Bells rang, flashing lights bounced across the cracked ceiling, and the numbers on her winnings climbed way faster than she expected.
She blinked. "Okay, that's... not bad."she smiled.
That was two wins in a row. She could practically feel the weight in her wallet growing. If she walked out now, she'd be in a good spot. Real good. She stared at the cash-out button for a second. It was the smart move. The responsible move.
So naturally, she hit the button again instead.
And karma slapped her across the face.
The next spin was garbage—complete trash. Not even a single matching pair. The screen taunted her with three ugly random icons and an insultingly cheerful "try again!" message.
She narrowed her eyes. "Of course. Should've known."
That was her sign to get off the addicting machine.
She grabbed the voucher, stood up, and dusted her coat off. "Alright, fun's over," she muttered, tucking the paper slip into her pocket as she made her way toward the exit.
But right before her hand touched the door—something caught her eye.