Agent Blue 1 (Patreon)

I tried to hide my nervousness as I strolled into the world’s most infamous casino, the Sapphire Palace. This casino was known as the Jewel of Trinania, a small island country in the middle of the Pacific, making enough money to fund a significant minority of the country’s budget just by taxing a sliver of its income. Famous for high rollers from all countries of the world, from princes of the oil-rich Middle-Eastern countries to aged owners of famous conglomerates, some rich enough to build forts from actual money if they wished so, used it to gamble away their fortunes, sometimes the entirety of it. With every shake of the dice, every flip of a card, enough money to bankrupt a small country changed hands. 

I was nervous because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t a spare prince to some third-world county, flush with oil and diamond money, nor was I the spoiled spawn of a rich businessman who assumed a rich bank account was a sufficient replacement for actual parenting. I wasn’t even a spoiled young entrepreneur whose idea had taken the world by storm, itching with a desire to prove himself against the old money, though it was the role I was playing. 

I was a spy. And I was in the heart of Trinania, one of the most dangerous places for a spy. 

It wasn’t hyperbole. The casino part of the Sapphire Palace saw billions changing hands every day, and that was only the public facet of it. The real events of significance happened in the private room, hidden deals and forbidden auctions, where everything from nuclear weapon schematics to actual armies changed hands. 

Therefore, the casino was packed with the best security in the world, enough to make the Pentagon look like a ballpark in an abandoned fast-food restaurant. They didn’t take kindly to spies, something my predecessor, Agent Brown, had learned the hard way. He was a legend in the Agency, creating miracles for the last three decades according to the Agency's gossip, only for his tale to come to a silent end. The agency still had no idea about his fate, apparently. One day, he just disappeared, with no news about him. 

 I wasn’t exactly feeling confident as I strolled inside. Luckily, I had a lifetime of hiding my feelings behind a cocky exterior, so I rejected the impulse to tug on the sleeves of my tuxedo, which, despite what one might assume regarding my occupation, were completely normal, free of any kind of weapon or listening device. The agency decided not to take any risk after the disappearance of Agent Brown, not knowing what triggered it. Still, the tuxedo cost high six-figures, exuding richness and elegance that I lacked. 

Of course, my lack of so-called elegance was intentional. Faking the peacock strut of a rich kid wasn’t exactly the most challenging thing I had been forced to do during my two decades of life, but my alias as a small-time crook that managed to become a breakout success thanks to a few digital investments with various legalities with several tens of millions payout required me to look a bit uncomfortable with my supposed newfound wealth.

Funny that it wasn’t too far from who I had been before I was recruited into the agency -minus the big success part. It had been less than a year since I had been recruited, and normally, I was still supposed to be in training. Unfortunately, after the loss of Agent Brown, the Agency was afraid that their database might have been compromised, so they decided to send a new recruit that hadn’t been properly processed yet. 

And I was the lucky sod. 

I stopped reminiscing about my circumstances when I noticed someone closing in and slowed down. Then, a sexy blonde dressed in a tiny cocktail dress —though her curves begged to escape from the tight confines of her dress— closed in, carrying a small tray filled with a few stacks of chips. 

The pile of chips looked deceptively small, with several black chips, a smattering of other colors, and a total of eight white chips. However, once someone knew that the smallest black chip represented a thousand dollars, while the white one represented a hundred thousand dollars. A million dollars in total. 

Everywhere else, it was a fortune. 

In Sapphire Palace, it was barely enough to gain admission to the lower floor. Pity that after the loss of Agent Brown, that was all the money the Agency was able to gather while making sure that their source wasn’t compromised. 

“Thank you, sweetie,” I said with a pompous swagger, looking at the smiling face of the waitress, who had done her best to look impressed, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Understandable, considering she had to repeat the scene numerous times during the day, all while trying to convince pompous pricks about their uniqueness. While picking up the chips, I made sure to leave a ten-thousand-dollar chip on the tray, nodding to her to show that it wasn’t an accident. 

There was no harm in creating goodwill with the serving staff. 

Her smile turned more sincere, but my seductive smirk was fake. After all, it was neither my attraction to her nor a feeling of pity that made me tip her generously. I wanted to get some goodwill while also establishing my identity as a lavish and careless spender early on, just in case someone traced my movements.

I had a lazy strut moving around the place, acting unaware of the several gazes watching me walk, some idly, others with a careful glint as they measured the new competition. Understandable, as even with my careful dressing and calculated pompous mannerism, I belonged to the relatively rare young minority. The casino was predominantly occupied by older ladies and gentlemen.  

I walked around lazily while carefully examining my surroundings, a huge crowd around every table, going back and forth, only a raised platform in the middle as an exception, with a poker game going on. The huge pile of chips was in front of every player, easily reaching high nine-figures. I wished that I could join that game, as playing such a high-profile table would help me immensely to build a reputation, which I could then leverage to access the private wing. I needed to go there to finish my mission. 

Unfortunately, a hundred million was needed to gain admission to that table, along with an invitation from at least two players, both of them I sorely lacked. 

So, I started walking around, occasionally spending some time in one of the games managed by the casino like roulette and blackjack, but I made sure to keep my bets small, trying not to win or lose too much. Ultimately, those games favored the casino, and even if I knew a few ways to beat them, I needed to win a huge amount. Doing so on them would have brought unwelcome attention to my actions.

My best chance was the poker games that were going on, and even that was tricky. I walked around, only to see that most of the tables were occupied by talented professional players, playing slowly and carefully. I could beat them, but it would have been a slow and clumsy affair, with no guarantee that I would be able to meet the deadline for the auction. 

Once again, I cursed Handler Silver for assigning me to this mission. Pity that I didn’t have the right to refuse. 

I was about to surrender myself to sleepless nights as I desperately tried to collect the necessary amount when a loud cry stole my attention. “That’s it, loser. How does it feel to lose yet another factory,” called a young man with a carefully-groomed ponytail hair to a short man with a distinctive pot belly. The one with the ponytail looked to be in his early twenties, while the fat one was probably in his late twenties, though he looked much older. 

“Don’t worry about it,” answered the shorter man, trying to hide his fury. “Deal another hand!” 

It sounded like a personal grudge, and from the sound of it, it was a family grudge reflecting on the battle between two rich young heirs. 

Exactly what I needed to collect my required funds. I closed in to examine them. They weren’t the only ones on the table, but the other players looked distinctly less enthusiastic about the heated battle, but from the depths of their worry, I assumed it wasn’t just about losing their money to two unbalanced players. Maybe they were supporters of each party, unhappy with the sudden increase of intensity, or maybe they were friends of both sides, unhappy about the fight. 

Identifying the source of their fight was simple, because when the next game started, both of their gazes turned toward a sexy brunette sitting on the side of the table, observing the game. As I examined the beauty, I decided that their fight was justified. She had a thin figure, the kind that resulted from endless hours of careful exercise and equally careful management of her diet, though not enough to make her one of the weak models. She was elegant, but with a hint of strength underneath. 

Her skin had a creamy caramel color, putting her origin to one of the Latin American countries. Her curves weren’t excessively impressive, but they fit her body type perfectly, and her blue dress highlighted them to maximum effect. She had a cute, beautiful face, one that might have tricked a less experienced man, but the clear amusement and enjoyment dancing behind her cute brown eyes as she watched two men fighting for her using their riches told a different story.  

However, the most interesting thing about her was the barely noticeable little calluses on her right hand. On the thumb and index finger, the kind one got from intensive pistol practice. She was clearly more than just a simple-minded shy wallflower she was playing as. 

Objectively speaking, getting the attention of such an obvious wildcard wasn’t the best idea, it was threatening the success rate of the mission. However, without the money, the mission was doomed in any case. With the time restrictions I was facing, I needed to hit big. There was no other option.

 So, before the dealer could distribute the next hand of cards, I walked to the table and spoke. “Do you mind if I join in, boys,” I said genially. 

The one with the ponytail spoke immediately. “We’re kind of having a private game here,” he said without looking. 

“Isn’t it a bit crowded for a private game,” I said while I let my gaze dance over the table, only to stop when my eyes fell on the Latina beauty, staying there excessively. “But I can understand why you’re trying to keep me away. It’s okay to be scared. You’re clearly afraid of losing the attention of this goddess,” I added, flirting heavily. 

The girl giggled at my words, but the amusement in her eyes was of a darker variety, though the difference was difficult to spot. The only reason I was able to differentiate was my experience, sharpened by the special training I had received. 

“Who do you think you are!” the ponytail guy and the fat one exclaimed at the same time, rising from their seats, though interestingly, both of their hands went to their waist for a moment before stalling, revealing that under normal circumstances, they would be carrying guns, and expected to use them to solve their problems. Luckily, such a solution was impossible in the casino, where a strict search routine was performed to ensure no weapons entered the hotel other than with the staff and rarely approved VIP customers. 

I chuckled at his anger. “Why do you care who I am, when you’re obviously scared of me without even knowing anything?” I said, trying to goad him into becoming angrier. To join the game, and I need him furious, so that he could try to get revenge the only way he could. 

Before he could say anything else, however, the brunette intruded. “Don’t tell me that he’s right, and you’re afraid of him, Brad?” she said with an excessive amount of shock, with just the right amount of disappointment coloring her face. Far too perfect to be natural. 

“Of course I can handle him,” Brad answered, his ponytail dancing in the air as he trembled in anger, showing his poor impulse control. “If he can handle the buy-in, of course,” he continued. 

“Well, I have been unlucky until now, so I’m not exactly flush with chips,” I said, trying to look a bit abashed, but before they could speak, I threw ten white chips to the table, signaling a million. Not an amazing amount of money compared to the piles in front of them, but still well-above the buy-in limit of a normal game. 

“That’s not enough-” Brad started, only to stop when the brunette sent him a warning glare. “But since I want to humiliate you, I can accommodate it,” he continued. “Right, Thomas?” he asked dismissively as he turned to his fat rival. 

Thomas was watching the commotion, unhappy with losing the attention of the table. Still, he proved to have a modicum of patience unlike his rival, and kept his mouth shut. He just nodded to the question, and I pulled a seat, the one closest to the brunette beauty so that I could talk with her while the game went on.

It was going to be an interesting game…