Pachinko Nights
written by Alex Singer —
Colors and lights. Sounds perfectly tuned to go along with each other without clashing. It was a beautiful mix of auto-tuned singing, game trills, and bells. Sweating figures bent over the brightly colored machines. It may as well have been a casino, except it was brighter, the clientele younger and, frankly, everyone was a bit more broke.
"Tch," said Jolanka, moving warily past a row of singing machines touting scantily clad figurines. "Not a bad place for a curse to hide. Think it was already cursed."
"It's gambling for doomer shut-ins, of course it is," said Felix.
He walked with long steps. He kept a hold on the back of her jacket, as if afraid to be left behind to the press of entirely too focused child gamblers. He craned his head around, scrolling through the photos on his phone. "That's Jim Fujioka. Guy's been here a week. Kady Ortiz. Two days. That there is... whoof. Hello Ethan Stern."
Each of these people had been reported missing. Each of these people were discovered to have passed through this block in the time frame of their last sighting. Each had cellphone wifi check-ins at this particular arcade. Now each of them were bent over a different machine.
Jim Fujioka was glaring at one of the claw machines.
"Again," he murmured, trying for a little figurine in bubble packaging. "Again, again, again."
Kady Ortiz was playing some modified slot machine.
"Soon," she was saying, as she fed it cute, shiny pink tokens without barely looking. A very pale, exhausted employee with glassy eyes brought her a tray covered in bubble tea and candy. She took both of these things without even really looking at it. "Soon, soon, soon..."
Ethan Stern was at one of the pachinko machines. It had an image of a giant robot on it, but the actual images flashing were of young women in bathing suits.
"He's been here a whole damn month! ...Which doesn't mean much. From his location data, anyway. He came here all the time. When he ain't, he's home marathoning an ungodly amount of porn."
"Didn't need to know that last part," said Jolanka.
"No, it’s related. See, starring 37-Double D over there," said Felix, pointing to an extremely lewd image of a girl contorting on a pillow. It hung over the prize table.
"Why," said Jolanka. Felix brightened visibly. Jolanka walked faster. "Nevermind. Don't need to know. We've been past that table three times now."
She stopped, tensing.
"The space is getting smaller," she muttered.
"No, it's about the same. Feels like it's the whole world, doesn't it?" said Felix. "No windows. No lights. No times. Easy to lose track. Claustrophobic?"
"No."
"Answered that fast," said Felix, voice lilting. "Not even a little bit? Loooot of people here. Lot of noise. How hard is it to meditate to this? Deep heavy breaths, take in the relaxing natural sounds of pa-ching and be one with the wahchoo-clink—"
"You're being irritating." Jolanka paused. "...On purpose. What is it?"
Felix grinned, and gripped the back of her jacket a little tighter. "Keeping us distracted so we don't drift into the machines. 'Wow, thanks, how thoughtful,' you'll say never. Ever tell you how that hurts my feelings? ...It's been working on us since we stepped in. You feel it?"
Jolanka did feel it. It was creeping into everything and anything: that thick feeling of sweat and desperation, to play, and play, and play, until you got what you wanted, and, after all, it was rare and special, and you absolutely HAD to—
"Ugh," she said.
"Ugh, huh?" said Felix. "It actually feels gross to you. Congrats, got one over on me. Think you can figure out who it's coming from?"
"Not the prize table?"
"Logical, but eh. Wouldn't be any prizes left, or everyone'd leave because they won 'em all, depending which way the luck's working. More like someone’s siphoning the luck off of everyone else's pulls. More people they trap in here, more they put into it..."
"Perpetual luck banquet."
"If you like sweat and pocky, yeah," said Felix. "Think you can stand to do another round?"
"Don't think we need to."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because it's coming from her." Jo jerked her head in the direction of a stringy-haired girl in a knitted scene cap and a T-shirt with a handsome animated man on it. She was presently playing at one of the pachinko machines, watching handsome animated men smile suggestively at the camera every time she hit another high score.
"How you figure?"
"Garbage next to her is full of take out boxes, and she hasn't washed her hair in months."
"Her name's Lili Liefer and last time she pinged anywhere was a release event for..." Felix trailed off as a set of lewd images appeared in his scroll. He looked mildly bored. "'Twunkle Little Star.' Sure, why not... Huh, art's not bad, though. No nips on any of 'em, of course. And no chest hair on Major Ursa. Arkoudaphobic — yes, I looked it up for the joke—"
"Felix."
Felix's mouth curled up. "Three months ago."
Which was when people started getting stuck in the arcade. They had a winner.
The moment Jo steered them into the girl's orbit, five very large security men stepped in front of her. They had glazed-over eyes and an exhausted expression. They hadn't slept in a long time now.
"Cool. I don't want to talk to these guys," said Felix. "Gonna run like a little bitch now. Bye, Jola."
"Bye," said Jo, utterly unsurprised as Felix slipped out of existence and into the shadow of the pachinko machine. She had to hope she wouldn't find him trying to buy the body pillow later.
The two large men closed in on Jo. Jo cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders.
She smiled, very slightly.
"Jackpot," she murmured, before jamming her elbow into the first one's throat.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A different kind of sound joined the carol of bells and music stings. Smashing glass and crunching plastic.
The players didn't look up. They didn't think to. They were absolutely locked to the machines.
Jo finally managed to subdue the most spry of the security men and a few horrifying living animatronics before Felix finally cut the power — and with it the root of the curse. The animatronics fell to the floor lifeless after Jo kicked its head off.
The girl at the pachinko machine stopped, and stepped back.
"Huh?" she asked. She checked her phone. "But I was just about to get enough for the anniversary event!"
"No, you weren't," said Jo, and put her fist through the pachinko machine before it could turn itself back on.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Felix and Jo left the arcade. The exhausted patrons stumbled out, dazed and confused at the time of day. A group of archivists came to pack up the girl. She probably wasn't any kind of Royal, but they needed to test her aptitude — and maybe give her a shower.
"Should we do something?" asked Jo, as the archivists drove off.
"Obsessiveness isn't a qualification, last I checked," said Felix. "'Less you’re a Veil. They'll let her go once they mop whatever’s left of that spell off her. Arcade’s going to get closed, though. Leylines here are just too good. I'd say it's a shame, but the boba mark up is way-haay too high for how much it's ass, so. No real loss."
But like all things Felix, what he said and what he didn't say weren't always the same thing. He walked over to the broken claw machine. It had cracked open after Jo had thrown an animatronic chicken through it.
He toed through the remains, until he picked out a little figurine of a scantily clad dancing girl bent in a suggestive way over her mic stand.
"...Huh," he said, turning the girl around. His expression got dark and distant, then oddly flat. "Vintage. Don't mind if I do."
He pocketed it.
"Didn't think pigtails were your thing," said Jo, flatly.
"They're not," said Felix. "Just haven't seen that one in a while. Patra. Heard of her?"
"No."
"Raised in a cult. Right," sighed Felix. "Don't expect you to have taste. Want some boba that's actually worth that mark-up? Place down the street has lavender mango."
"Mm." Jo thought about it. "Sure. Why not."
A little indulgence was nice, now and again.