Date: Matrix Time, 19.00pm Location: The Crown Status: Open
Most of the ultra-rich grumble that gambling lost its edge. What’s the point in playing a game without risk? I’ll still be wealthy by the end. Close-minded fools could never see that the exposure to danger was a bad thing. Control was where it counted. You could make an Empire out of the ability to tug at the strings and see the puppets pulled into place. In Wrotham there is one master who sits on a throne higher than the others. God, some whisper. Demon, others utter, quietly. But the figure in question isn’t afraid. Both creatures are immortal. And that, after all, is what counts. They wouldn’t be a Voix otherwise.
A titanium hand tosses the chips up and down in the air, waiting with indifference for the table to fill up. At the shuffle of a chair, Orion shoots an icy glare across the table. When they speak, it is like winter, the way it once was on earth, with howling winds and snow storms. “Are you sure you want to play? I have to warn you. I don’t lose.”
