Mardock Scramble

Bell Wing stood up straight and walked coolly away from the table.

02

–The woman paid out on your straight bets time after time. All she has to look forward to is a reprimand from the pit boss, followed by a formal inquiry, Oeufcoque said as Balot left the table, arms full of chips.

–Will she lose her job, do you think? Because of us?

–She could. Not that she seemed that bothered by it, though. In fact, I smelled a sort of liberated feeling coming from her. She’s probably used to this sort of situation.

–Used to it?

As soon as Balot heard the words she looked up to see if she could see Bell Wing. It wasn’t a very nice thing to be used to, surely. It was a sad thought.

Oeufcoque picked up on Balot’s feelings.

–Bell Wing is one of the best croupiers in the business. She’ll be all right. We can worry about her all we like, but it’s not going to help her one bit, and in any case she won’t want our sympathy… It seemed that Oeufcoque was speaking in order to try and comfort Balot, but then he suddenly changed tack.–In any case, the numbers that she spun were looking rightward, weren’t they? Oeufcoque spoke tentatively, as if he didn’t really understand the concepts that the two women had been discussing.

–I think so.

–Well, it’s up to us to do our job now. She’s certainly done hers.

Finally Balot seemed convinced, and she nodded.

Just at that moment she felt someone approach her from behind. She spun around to find the Doctor grinning at her.

“Well, well, somebody’s made quite an impression!” the Doctor said, smiling broadly.

–I’m sorry.

“No, no.” The Doctor shook his head. Very politely. It seemed that the Doctor knew exactly just how many chips Balot had won. “It was about time we ramped things up a notch and got ready for the real fight anyway. Let’s get serious. Having said that—” the Doctor paused, indicating his surroundings with a subtle gesture—“I’m sure that quite a few of these people looking at you want to come up and congratulate you, maybe learn your secret. Probably best we make tracks.”

Balot realized that all eyes were on her. The dealers and the pit bosses, who looked at her warily, and the other punters, who mainly just seemed fascinated by her.

“They’re not people you particularly want to meet, trust me on this one,” the Doctor said, walking off toward reception. “Some of them will be professional gamblers who want to recruit you into their gang, and others will just be angling for secrets on making a quick buck. We need to play it cool.”

Balot followed after the Doctor silently. The chips were chinking inside the basket she held to her chest. Eyes all around the room were following the basket of chips—and Balot. They wanted both.

–I’m confident that I’d be able to win all we need at roulette, Balot said, as if to distract herself from all the unwanted attention.

–Even if millions were at stake, I’d still get it right.

“I’m sure you would, but that wouldn’t help us reach our goal one bit.” It was Oeufcoque who replied. Her partner was as sensitive as ever to her feelings. “The croupiers in charge aren’t idiots. They’d just change the wheel’s spin to make it impossible for even you to predict, or they might even use a special machine if they thought they needed to do so in order to bring you down.”

–But…

“In any case, we can’t get hold of the chips that we need from a roulette table, however many piles of chips we win. We’re not professionals out to win big from the casino. We have to remember that we’re here for a legitimate reason: Scramble 09.”

–Okay…

Balot felt the tension and worry dissipate from her body. She understood.

The one thing that Balot was never likely to get used to was other people seeing her as an object of convenience. She’d do everything she could to avoid this, close her eyes, shut away the world.

But what if even Oeufcoque and the Doctor saw her as a useful object?

When would they start treating her as one? The moment must come eventually, and she was so terrified of it that she wanted to disappear from the two forever.

Why was she suddenly thinking like this? Was it because she had just met an extraordinary woman in Bell Wing? The thoughts swirled around Balot’s mind. Balot was a long way off from having the sort of composure you needed to be able to walk away from a table, unperturbed that you had just been beaten, just as Bell Wing had done a minute ago.

She also lacked the sort of compassion that Oeufcoque had—if she’d been abused so roughly by her user, she doubted whether she could be so understanding as to come back and work in the hands of her erstwhile abuser.

She was thinking about all this at reception while she had her chips changed into more manageable denominations, when the Doctor said something to her out of the blue.

“So, it looks like you make that sort of face too.”

Balot had no idea what he was talking about. She looked up.

“I’m talking about your face when you were locked in your battle with the croupier back there.”

–What do you mean?

Balot’s face turned sour.

“You had a sharp, fearsome look about you. Almost as if you didn’t need us anymore. Now I know I made the right decision in bringing you here.” He passed Balot the basket full of ten-thousand-dollar chips, her stash.

While Balot was trying to work out what he meant, the Doctor took off toward the box bar. He peered this way and that, whistling at the more impressive games, every inch the hooked gambler. It was hard to tell whether it was an act anymore.

Balot trailed behind him, and they sat down in a semi-private box booth, shielded by black screens. One that you could sit in regardless of the games going on either side.

“What do you want to drink?” the Doctor asked. Balot pointed at the menu. The Doctor ordered for both of them using the microphone built into the table. When he finished ordering it was Balot’s turn to ask a question.

–What do you mean by a fearsome look?

“Hmm?”

–My face—when I was playing roulette.

“Uh. What’s the best way to put it…”

–You were looking at something that only you could see, interjected Oeufcoque through the microphone.

–I don’t understand.

–I think the Doctor’s getting a little bit concerned that as you start to realize your full potential, we’ll become increasingly redundant, until finally we’re out of a job.

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, half in jest. As if to say That wouldn’t actually be so bad.

At that point a waitress came carrying a tray with two glasses. The Doctor tipped her generously and winked. Every bit the accomplished player. The waitress placed the tip into her cleavage and sauntered away, giving the Doctor a generous shake of her derriere as his reward.

Balot watched this scene play out—what else could she do?—and then replied with her honest reaction to Oeufcoque’s words.

–It’d be a terrible thing if you two disappeared from my life right now.

She wasn’t saying this to be nice or to suck up to them.