Post by thebutlerdidit on Feb 12, 2013 20:23:24 GMT -5
With his hood up, Tristan disguised himself in normal Human clothes. His hood hid his horn. He knew this type of people, racists. Racist against aliens and thought that they were the ultimate being. Not all, but most. People gave him judging looks as they passed by, with him wearing an unusual garb around him. Something interesting about his cloak is that it easily hid his face and features, all but his eyes.
As he walked through the city, he finally saw it: the Gilded 7 Casino. Many people of wealth walked in and out. Usually not wealthy when they walked out. It was a huge red building with three huge, golden 7s on the roof. He entered trough the glass revolving door. Security almost stopped him, but he quickly blended into the crowd.
There were deafening sounds of pings and pangs, people cheering and shouting, and the sound of chips being placed down and being taken away. Tristan quickly walked to the back and walked up a staircase into the bar area. He sat down, but ordered nothing. He opened up the leather-bound book. The first page in a neat cursive writing was written: get the Fishermen's Bottle. He ordered this, the bartender gave him a surprised look. The 'tender placed the glass on top of a small notebook. He looked over at the Humans playing billiards. They glared at him. He quickly took the book and left as quickly as he could.
But once he reached the bottom of the stairs, less people were in the casino. Then a person ran up from behind him and ripped off his cloak. Screams and gasps came from around the room. His face was completely exposed. Alarms screamed. The security ran to the main room with guns. Tristan flinched and got a bullet in his arm before rolling into the rows of Slot Machines.
He looked at his wound. Deep, almost black, red seeped out of his wound, staining his white hair. He thought for a second. Getting up he grabbed a bucket of white roulette balls at the end of the row. He jumped on a roulette table pouring them into the turntable. The electric turning controls were on the side of the table. More security ran towards him, he rammed the heel of his hand into the acceleration button. The turntable spun at an impossible speeds flinging the balls all over hitting the security guards in the faces and in other places that Tristan thought must not be comfortable.
Running into the slot machines, they shot after him, many pieces of the machines fell to the ground. Tristan grabbed a large part from the ground, and a couple of other pieces, little odds and ends, and bucket of golden coins.
"This can go here, and this- no, this here," Tristan muttered to himself. Putting the pieces together, fitting pieces where they shouldn't.
The security guards marched towards him. He pulled up the contraption he made. He pulled out his contraption. He poured the coins into the top of the machine, then pulled down the lever. Cogs turned and coins chinked, then they shot out of the contraption. It was a makeshift machine gun. Coins hit them and caused blood to flow. While they were distracted, he ran, grabbed his cloak, the notebook, and the leather-bound book. Then ran out of the casino. Redisguised, he blended back in before they even knew what hit them.
As he walked through the city, he finally saw it: the Gilded 7 Casino. Many people of wealth walked in and out. Usually not wealthy when they walked out. It was a huge red building with three huge, golden 7s on the roof. He entered trough the glass revolving door. Security almost stopped him, but he quickly blended into the crowd.
There were deafening sounds of pings and pangs, people cheering and shouting, and the sound of chips being placed down and being taken away. Tristan quickly walked to the back and walked up a staircase into the bar area. He sat down, but ordered nothing. He opened up the leather-bound book. The first page in a neat cursive writing was written: get the Fishermen's Bottle. He ordered this, the bartender gave him a surprised look. The 'tender placed the glass on top of a small notebook. He looked over at the Humans playing billiards. They glared at him. He quickly took the book and left as quickly as he could.
But once he reached the bottom of the stairs, less people were in the casino. Then a person ran up from behind him and ripped off his cloak. Screams and gasps came from around the room. His face was completely exposed. Alarms screamed. The security ran to the main room with guns. Tristan flinched and got a bullet in his arm before rolling into the rows of Slot Machines.
He looked at his wound. Deep, almost black, red seeped out of his wound, staining his white hair. He thought for a second. Getting up he grabbed a bucket of white roulette balls at the end of the row. He jumped on a roulette table pouring them into the turntable. The electric turning controls were on the side of the table. More security ran towards him, he rammed the heel of his hand into the acceleration button. The turntable spun at an impossible speeds flinging the balls all over hitting the security guards in the faces and in other places that Tristan thought must not be comfortable.
Running into the slot machines, they shot after him, many pieces of the machines fell to the ground. Tristan grabbed a large part from the ground, and a couple of other pieces, little odds and ends, and bucket of golden coins.
"This can go here, and this- no, this here," Tristan muttered to himself. Putting the pieces together, fitting pieces where they shouldn't.
The security guards marched towards him. He pulled up the contraption he made. He pulled out his contraption. He poured the coins into the top of the machine, then pulled down the lever. Cogs turned and coins chinked, then they shot out of the contraption. It was a makeshift machine gun. Coins hit them and caused blood to flow. While they were distracted, he ran, grabbed his cloak, the notebook, and the leather-bound book. Then ran out of the casino. Redisguised, he blended back in before they even knew what hit them.