Maluck obviously took the System Task! It fit in perfectly with his plan.
Maluck leaned back, stretching his arms like a seasoned gambler imparting ancient wisdom. “See, Dennis, the problem is you’re only betting on one color. The key to winning big… is betting big.”
Dennis, already down a few hundred, squinted at the table like it had personally wronged him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Maluck said, casually placing $100 on Black 8—a risky 35-to-1 payout. “You gotta chase the big win.”
Dennis, now fully convinced that Maluck knew things, nodded. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.”
He mirrored the bet, stacking $100 on Black 8, $100 on black, and $100 on even.
Total risk? $300.
Potential reward? Way more than that.
The dealer gave them a neutral, seen-this-before look and spun the wheel.
The ball rattled around the pockets, dancing like it was building suspense for a movie trailer.
Dennis held his breath.
Maluck smirked.
“No more bets!” the dealer called.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Click.
RED 13.
Dennis stared at the table like it had just insulted his mother.
“…Huh.”
Maluck exhaled through his nose, rubbing his chin like a wise philosopher. “Damn. That’s rough.”
Dennis was still processing. “Yeah… real rough.”
Maluck gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “But hey, that’s how the game works. You take the hits, and then—boom—you ride the upswing.”
Dennis nodded slowly, his internal logic gears turning.
Maluck grinned and threw another bet down.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s win big.”
Maluck smiled seeing his BP drop to 27.
Maluck sighed dramatically, shaking his head as if deeply disappointed in the universe itself.
Dennis, eyes darting between Maluck’s confident posture and his own shrinking stack of chips, licked his lips. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”
Dennis bet again. Another hundred on black. Another hundred on even.
The dealer spun.
The ball clattered, danced, teased hope.
Click-click-click-click—
Speaking of BP 27 . The ball landed on RED 27.
Wiping their bet out.
Dennis stared.
“…Huh.” His voice was forced casual, like he wasn’t already doing the math on how much he just lost.
It was $600.
Maluck hummed, rubbing his chin like a wise old sage. “Damn. It’s been red twice now. You know what that means, right?”
Dennis blinked. “What?”
Maluck leaned in. “It’s gotta be black next.”
Dennis nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah, that does make sense…”
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Maluck, meanwhile, smiled and threw another bet down.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s win big. $400 bucks this time”
$100 on black 8
$100 on black
$100 on even
$100 on The 1st dozen bet (covers 1-12)
Dennis nervously followed, his hands gripping the chips like they were his last lifeline—because they were. His last $400 sat on the table, and if this bet didn’t hit, well… let’s just say he’d be explaining to a few very unpleasant people why he was suddenly $0 richer and $400 stupider.
But if he hit? Oh, if he hit, it would be glorious.
Black 8 would pay out $3,600—plus all the other bets, it’d total $4,300 in winnings. That was a full comeback! Enough to pay off some debts, take a deep breath, maybe even pretend for a moment that he wasn’t terrible at gambling.
The dealer spun the wheel.
Dennis stared at it, eyes unblinking, lips moving in what might’ve been a prayer or a desperate attempt to mentally control the ball.
Click. Click. Click.
The ball bounced across the numbers, teasing him. It skipped past Black 8, hopped over Black 11, flirted with Red 7, and for a glorious, heart-stopping second, it danced over Black 10.
Dennis held his breath.
Maluck smirked.
Click. Click.
Green 0.
Silence.
Then—groans.
The entire table let out a collective sound of disappointment and mild existential despair.
Except for Dennis.
Dennis made no sound.
Because Dennis was frozen in place, mouth slightly open, hands still hovering over the table like the chips might magically return if he just believed hard enough.
“Welp,” said Maluck, slapping him on the back. “Tough break, buddy.”
Dennis slowly turned his head. His pupils were the size of dimes. “I… I had a system,” he whispered, his voice hollow.
“Yeah,” Maluck nodded. “Yeah I have a System too.”
The dealer swept away his last $400 like a funeral procession for his dignity.
Dennis just sat there, motionless, as the wheel spun again, his soul temporarily vacant from his body. But this time he hadn’t placed a bet. Because this time he had no chips left.
***
Maluck tapped his earpiece and spoke quietly, “Chloe, how’s everything going over there?”
Chloe’s voice crackled in. “Going good. Cass and I found a whole bunch of stuff. We’re gonna need another half an hour.”
“Sounds good,” Maluck said, playing with his money roll.
Meanwhile, Dennis was sitting there, a broken man, staring longingly at the very healthy stack of chips still sitting in Maluck’s hand. His own luck? Completely obliterated. His last bet had gone down in flames, just like every single one before it.
Maluck sighed dramatically and glanced at the wheel. “Man, I don’t know… our luck’s not doing great. Maybe I should just turn these chips back into cash.”
Dennis sat up so fast, you’d think someone just told him his debts had been forgiven. “No, no, why would you do that?! We’re just getting started! We’ve only spent a thousand bucks! One good hit, we’re back up four grand, easy.”
Maluck rubbed his chin, pretending to deeply consider it. “I dunno… maybe donating that junker car didn’t give me as much karma as I thought.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just don’t feel it, man.”
Dennis almost vibrated in place. “C’mon, we can do this!”
Maluck frowned, looking reluctant. “Eh… I’m just not feeling it.”
Dennis bit his lip, glancing back at the wheel like it held all the answers to life. And then, with the kind of determination only found in delusional gamblers, he said, “Well… can I borrow a thousand bucks?”
Maluck raised an eyebrow, as if truly shocked by this turn of events. “You sure, buddy? I mean, I gave you a thousand before because I thought you’d be my good luck charm. Turns out… you weren’t.”
Dennis flinched. “No, no, I am! It’s just bad timing…. I’ve got so much good karma built up in me. I know it’ll turn around.”
Maluck tilted his head. “You sure? Because this is a loan now. I’m not just handing it over for free.”
Dennis nodded rapidly. “Definitely. Definitely.”
Maluck grinned inwardly. Outwardly? He put on a concerned face, as if he were a benevolent patron reluctantly helping a struggling friend. “Alright… if you’re sure.”
He handed Dennis another thousand in chips and, once again, mirrored every single one of his bets.
It took less than 20 minutes before Dennis was broke again.
Maluck had to work hard to look appropriately sad, nodding sympathetically while secretly enjoying every second of this slow-motion financial train wreck.
It was amazingly amusing for him to see someone else suffer the same bad luck he had suffered his whole life. Especially since he could see his BP going down in real time.
Dennis, meanwhile, sat staring at the table in complete devastation. His soul had left his body. His chips were gone again. His luck was nonexistent. And yet, deep down?
He still believed.
‘And that,’ Maluck thought, ‘was the most hilariously tragic part of all.’
Maluck checked the time. It was almost 10 o’clock—perfect. Chloe had plenty of time to finish up. Now all he had to do was keep this poor bastard distracted for just a little longer.
Dennis, looking like a man on the edge, stared at the last thousand bucks in Maluck’s hands like it held the key to salvation. His hands twitched. His eyes were wild. And then, as if possessed by some desperate spirit of bad decision-making, he turned to Maluck.
“What do you say? We go for broke? Last thousand. Split it—500 each?”
Maluck tilted his head. “Are you borrowing another 500 from me, man?”
Dennis nodded frantically. “Yeah! That’ll put me at $1,500. But dude, we only need to win once. One hit, and we’re golden.”
Maluck sighed like a man reluctantly indulging his friend’s terrible choices. “Alright… one last bet.”
They pushed all $500 each onto the table, stacking their last hope on one big, glorious spin.
The dealer flicked the wheel.
The ball clattered around, bouncing, spinning—hope hanging in the air.
Click. Click. Click.
Red 23.
Total loss.
Maluck immediately leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his teeth.
Dennis?
Absolute devastation.
His head hit the table. His soul left his body. Somewhere, deep in his gambler’s brain, he was trying to do math on how to fix this. But there was no fixing it.
He was wiped out. Truly wiped out.
Maluck patted his shoulder, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Damn, buddy. So close.”
***
Exciting news, everyone! The audiobook of my other series is officially out, and it’s not too shabby!
Book 1: Atlas Back to the Present is about a guy who gets sent back in time—two years before the portals that sucked people into an apocalyptic wasteland started appearing. Armed with future knowledge, he’s ridiculously OP and ready to prep like a madman before the world goes sideways.
Book 5 is already out, and Book 6 is in editing, so there’s plenty more action coming your way. Expect an overpowered MC, foul language, goofy comedy, silly songs, and a full-blown R-rated rampage of violence and portal-crushing insanity.
Want to dive in for free? I’ve got 10 codes for free audiobooks (or Kindle books if you prefer). First come, first serve—just message me here!
And if you’re on KU, check out Book 5 here:
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