"Las Vegas," Leo Moretti announced, a confident smile playing on his lips as they stepped out of the taxi. Anastacia held Mei's hand, the little girl gazes up at the colossal structures with wide, innocent eyes. "The Gambling Capital of the World. Unlike what happened in Macau, I'm practically a VIP here." He glanced at Anastacia. "However, Anastacia, do note: absolutely no magic here. The recent supernatural frenzy in the United State has set security on extremely high alert. Any unusual activity could lead us to more trouble than simply being blacklisted."
"I will make sure I won't," Anastacia assured him, her gaze scanning the bustling street. "Also, are you sure we should bring Mei along with us as we go into the casino? She's only nine years old."
Leo chuckled, ruffling Mei's hair. "Of course. As an adopted daughter of mine, it's best she learns young."
"Alright, here we are. The casino I frequent."
They approached the grand entrance of the casino, its doors already swishing open. A burly bouncer stepped forward, blocking their path. "She can't enter, sir. She's underage."
"Hold on there, rookie!" Another, older bouncer, his face rugged and friendly, strode forward. He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Let them enter. He's a VIP here. My apologies, he's a new hire, still learning the ropes."
Leo offered a genial smile. "I don't mind at all. Just doing his job. How are things going, Frank?"
"Same old, same old, Leo," Frank replied, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Busy as ever. Didn't know you got married and had a kid, though! You really should have invited me to the wedding, you know. I thought we were closer than that!"
Leo laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "No, no, Frank. She's a friend, Anastacia. And this," he gestured proudly to Mei, "is my adopted daughter."
Frank looked down at Mei. "Well, little lady," he said, bending down slightly. "You make sure to keep your father from gambling until bankruptcy, alright? I wouldn't want to lose a frequent visitor like him to the slots."
Mei nodded.
"Well, we'll get going." Leo said, shaking the bouncer's hand. "It was great seeing you again."
"You too, Leo! Have fun in there!" Frank called out, waving as they moved past.
"You too..." Leo said.
He froze for just a fraction of a second, his expression shifting, before he smoothly continued walking into the vibrant, glittering expanse of the casino, Anastacia and Mei trailing behind him.
The interior of the Las Vegas casino was a sensory overload. The windowless room, cacophony of slot machines, and kaleidoscope of lights seem to distort time and space.
"Alright, this time," Anastacia declared, her eyes bright with determination as they navigated the bustling floor, Mei walking quietly between them, holding Anastacia's hand. "I've read all the rules regarding all the games here. Every single one."
Leo raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, have you now? So, you're thinking you're an expert already, are we?"
Anastacia hesitated. "Well... I wouldn't say 'expert,' but I definitely understand the mechanics better than last time."
"Excellent," Leo gaze sweeping over the various tables. "How about some poker then, to truly test your newfound knowledge? It's less about raw luck and more about strategy... and reading people."
They found an open table, joining a small group of players. Mei observant, settled onto a chair next to Leo, her small hands clasped in her lap, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar spectacle.
The game began. Anastacia, despite her diligent study of the rules, found herself consistently outmaneuvered. Her logical mind, so adept at calculations and patterns, struggled with the unpredictable human element. She'd bet confidently on a strong hand, only to be folded out by a bold bluff. She'd try to bluff herself, but her expressions, subtle as they were, seemed to betray her every time. Her stack of chips dwindled steadily.
"Fold," she'd sigh, pushing her cards forward, a small frown on her face.
Leo, on the other hand, played with a relaxed face. He won some hands with strong cards, lost others with calculated risks, and occasionally pulled off a spectacular bluff that left his opponents grumbling. He watched Anastacia's struggles with a detached amusement, occasionally offering a subtle nod or shake of the head that only she would catch.
"Raise," Leo would say, pushing a stack of chips into the center, his poker face utterly unreadable.
After nearly an hour, Anastacia's chip stack was practically non-existent. Leo's, while fluctuating, remained healthy.
"Alright, I think that's enough for this table," Leo announced, gathering his chips. Anastacia quickly followed suit, pushing her meager remaining tokens forward.
As they walked away from the table, Anastacia let out a frustrated huff. "That was... infuriating! All they did was constantly bluff! How do you even deal with that?"
Leo chuckled, shaking his head. "That's just part of poker, Anastacia. It's not just about the cards; it's about the psychological game. And your poker face was absolutely terrible. Every emotion was written clear as day."
"Let's play some blackjack instead," Anastacia suggested, her earlier frustration with poker still evident. "It's more straightforward. Just the cards against us, no need for elaborate bluffs or reading people."
"Very well," Leo conceded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "A fine choice for recouping your... educational expenses."
They moved to a blackjack table, where Anastacia, with her excellent grasp of probabilities and quick calculations, found herself in a much more comfortable element. Her chip stack steadily grew, erasing the memory of her poker losses. By the time they decided to call it a night, Anastacia was visibly happier, a subtle glow of satisfaction about her.
It was well into the night when they returned to their hotel. As they stepped into the first-floor lobby, the calm atmosphere was shattered by a piercing female scream. A crowd had already gathered around the elevator banks, murmuring in hushed and horrified tones.
From the fragmented information Leo quickly gleaned from the anxious crowd, a grim picture emerged. The elevator system had apparently malfunctioned, getting stuck for a significant period. Hotel staff had manually initiated a reboot, and when the elevator car was finally called down to the lobby, a body was discovered inside: a man, visibly stabbed to death.
Leo's eyes gleamed with an unexpected spark of interest. He clapped his hands together, a sudden, confident smile spreading across his face. "Don't worry, everyone! I'm a detective! I'll have the culprit figured out in no time at all!"
Anastacia, beside him, stared, utterly bewildered. "What are you doing? You're a detective? Since when?"
Leo merely winked. "When you're rich enough, my dear Anastacia, you can be anything you want to be."
"But... can't we just get Rho from our hotel room to figure it out?" Anastacia whispered. "I'm sure she can hack into all the cameras, access the elevator logs, and easily identify who the killer was within minutes."
"Where's the fun in that, Anastacia?" Leo retorted, already striding towards the perimeter of the gathered crowd.
"Someone died... You know that, right?" she muttered.
"Details, details," Leo dismissed with a wave of his hand, already engaging a visibly shaken hotel guest. "Excuse me, ma'am. I'm helping the police with this investigation. Could you tell me what floor that elevator was on before it got stuck?"
The guest, still trembling, pointed a shaky finger upwards. "The... the fourteenth floor, I think! Yes, definitely the fourteenth!"
Leo then turned to a harried-looking hotel worker. "And how long was the elevator stuck for, approximately?"
The worker ran a hand through his hair. "About twenty minutes, sir."
As Leo processed the information, his gaze fell to the victim, whose hand was slightly clenched. Through the narrow gap, he spotted something glinting. "What's this?" Leo murmured, bending closer. Clutched tightly in the victim's hand was a small, ornate silver button.
...
Leo stood back, contemplating the grim tableau. The body remained mostly untouched within the elevator car, awaiting the authorities, while security guards struggled to contain the growing, murmuring crowd. He frowned, running a hand through his hair. The pieces of the puzzle – the stuck elevator, the time frame, the solo victim, and the strange button – were there, but something felt inherently off. His enhanced senses picked up on a faint trace around the victim's wound. It was not an ordinary stab wound.
"Why haven't the police arrived yet?" Anastacia asked, glancing at her watch. "It's been at least fifteen minutes since they were called."
Leo snorted, a cynical edge to his voice. "This is America, Anastacia. They get paid well enough to not care that much, not for a single homicide, not immediately. Give them at least half an hour, maybe more, before they even bother to send a patrol car. They'll probably send a forensic team first, and they're usually in no rush." He then turned to her, his expression grim. "Besides, this isn't an ordinary murder." He tapped his temple. "I'm picking up supernatural traces around the wound. Something... else was involved."
Leo pulled out his phone, sighing. "Alright, alright, you win. This 'detective' business is far more tedious than I anticipated, especially when it veers into the occult." He tapped a contact, sending a silent command to Rho, who was no doubt already monitoring the entire hotel's network from their suite. He held the phone to his ear for a moment, listening.
"Well, this is getting weirder," Leo finally said to Anastacia, lowering his phone. "Rho's initial scan is in. The victim, Mr. Arthur Finch, is, as far as the records go, a complete nobody. Just some seemingly ordinary guy. No criminal record, no high-profile connections, nothing that screams 'target' for a hit of anykind."
He paused. "And here's the kicker. From the moment Mr. Finch entered that elevator until the body was discovered, no other human being entered or exited that specific elevator car. He was truly alone when he died. And yet... there's the evidence of something else." Leo pointed at the silver button in victim's hand. "And yet, there's the evidence of something else."