The room was built like a vault, cold steel walls, reinforced seams, the hum of hidden machinery. It looked more like the belly of a secret post-apocalyptic bunker than the underbelly of a casino.
"I flip little plastic remote thing up, click big red button, viola, guns come out of walls," Sergey boasted, his thick Russian accent shining strong.
A sharp voice cut through from behind him. "Actually, I click the buttons."
Goldstar turned. A short blonde woman emerged from the shadows, green eyes like hand blown glass. She moved with the kind of confidence that told Goldstar she was the one truly in charge.
"Always give wife the button," Sergey said quickly. "Happy wife, most better life."
Anya flipped open the plastic safety cover and pressed the big red button. The walls shifted and flipped around, panels sliding to reveal racks upon racks of weapons… handguns, assault rifles, knives, grenades, tactical gear. Enough to wage a war. This level of weaponry was far more than any of the unchipped had secretly stashed at the Port of Los Angeles.
Goldstar couldn't hide the awe in her voice. "Well, it's certainly nice to meet you both. I appreciate you trusting me enough to show me your arsenal. Very impressive."
Anya's stare was cold, unblinking. "We don't need trust. If there's a problem, we solve it with guns. How much you have to spend?"
Goldstar shrunk in ego slightly. "I have… three credits in my encrypted wallet. But I need at least one credit for food and water. So… two credits."
Sergey barked a laugh. "Two credits? That is one weapon. I wouldn't have even pressed button and opened my super impressive murder cabinet if I knew this was budget."
Goldstar forced a playful tone and shot her shot. "Yup, I hear you loud and clear, Sergey. But I didn't ask to see the entire cabinet, and you're the one who pressed the button revealing everything."
Anya's lips curved into the faintest negative smirk. "Unfortunately, you must leave now."
"Wait," Sergey interjected, rubbing his chin. "She is in Silver City, no? Where dreams come true. If she's feeling lucky, she could gamble her way to more credits and weapons."
Goldstar latched onto it immediately. "What do you mean? Tell me more."
Sergey's grin widened so large it could almost be seen that this was his plan all along. "Think of us also as casino chip loan-brokers. Unchipped people come to us when they can't use F8 Coin, only have off-grid encrypted currency, and need poker chips. In exchange for your crypto based credits, we give casino chips. Simple."
Goldstar's eyes brightened. "Nice! I was hoping to find someone who'd do this. I knew this was going to work out!" She held her hand up to Anya for a high-five.
"Piat-Five. To a stranger? I don't do this Post-American high-five garbage. We are not a team," Anya dismissed flatly.
Sergey leaned in. "Here's how it's going to work. You give us all three of your credits. We give you nine thousand F8-Coin worth of casino chips. Three-to-one ratio. You gamble, you win, you party. Then you bring back winnings. We take twenty percent off top, and twenty percent of winnings, you then use that to buy guns, and you get your credits back. If you lose… we keep everything. And then you owe us monthly payments with interest, another twenty percent. Until it's paid off. So, just like the casino, Anya and Sergey always win."
Goldstar stopped a small whimper from escaping her mouth while keeping it cool. "That sounds like a horrible deal." She hesitated. "But I also need it. Do you mind if I call my partners to make sure they're good with this?"
"Take time," Sergey said, spreading his arms as if magnanimous. Anya just folded hers, watching every twitch of Goldstar's body and every bead of sweat perforating from her skin.
The decision loomed heavy. Either walk away empty-handed, or play Silver City's most dangerous game.