After Alexandre left, the official raised yet another cigarette to his mouth and dragged on it deeply. "What a strange bird. So long as he plays along, this could save my ass." He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and gestured with it. "Swiper, you can show yourself."
Suddenly, a man appeared in the middle of the room as if by magic. He wore a long grey jacket with a collar so high it covered his face. "You're really going along with a nutjob like that one, boss? We don't even know this guy! And you're making a deal with him!?"
The first man replied, "Yeah, it's risky to trust a stranger. But you know as well as I do that the arena's losing money hand over fist thanks to assholes like Ambani and his lazy-ass freshman grinding. And the Academy watches us way too closely for us to do anything about it!"
He snorted in contempt. "Then, out of nowhere, this asshole shows up and offers to solve my problems. I'll admit that I was wondering if he was a plant sent by the academy to catch me in the act… but once he got my agreement, there'd be no need to keep up the charade. At this point, I think he's the real deal. Or at least he thinks he is! So, the way I see it, he'll take care of everything… and of course we'll have one of our guys validate his Pip-Boy number at the beginning of the fight. I have a feeling we'll be dealing with him more in the future, and we'll need to do a little snooping around for my peace of mind, of course."
He turned to stare at the bare wall of his office. "People like Chetan Ambani are a real pain in my ass! They bet huge amounts of money on the weakest odds to make the arena a profitable business for them, and them only. It's time we stop being an investment account for trust fund babies to come and plunder my work!"
Swiper was examining his fingernails during this whole speech. He now replied, "If the academy finds out what we're doing, we'll be in much deeper shit than we were before. The underground executives will have a word to say about it. And maybe a knife or a gun as well."
The arena manager said, "Don't worry. They won't directly approve us doing anything because they don't trust us. But when this works out and our profits skyrocket, they won't care. Raise a stink? Sure. They'll need to save face, after all. But competence is king and money's all that matters, no matter whether we cheat or not."
Swiper gave a resigned shrug. "I sure hope you're right, Omicron..."
***
Alexandre headed for the bet stalls, where there was already a long line of students eager to increase their meager incomes. It was obvious that the arena was a powerful diversion for students to release the tension of intense pressure and stress, and this was made even more clear by all the students flagrantly drinking alcohol and taking narcotics. It seemed that the Hunter Academy militia was happy to turn a blind eye so long as this excess remained outside the academy building.
Finally, Alexandre arrived at the front of the line. Someone nearby muttered, "Fuck, that bastard made me lost $200!"
In response, someone else shouted, "Kick his ass!" It seemed that betting was an important source of income for some students.
Alexandre stepped up to the terminal to place a bet and typed in "William Walton vs Chetan Ambani." However, as he clicked on it, a message appeared in bold, red text. "Bet temporarily suspended. Please address a bookmaker!"
Alexandre was annoyed at having wasted all that time in line, but he quickly went to one of the bookie booths and said, "Hello, I'd like to bet on one of the fights! Chetan Ambani vs. William Walton. I wasn't able to do it at the terminal."
The bookie pulled up the information and grimaced. "Sorry, betting for this match has been suspended by our anti-fraud AI system."
Alexandre was astonished. "Are you sure? Can you just override it?"
The man shook his head. "Sorry. All bets blocked until further notice. Can I help you make a bet for another match? We have a really exciting one coming up here…"
But Alexandre wasn't listening. His entire plan had just fallen through.