IDP Central's main ops deck smelled like fresh coffee, ozone, and the faint metallic tang of overworked portal generators. Commissioner Zane "Z" Vortex stood at the central holo-table, silver hair still slightly mussed from the jump-ship shower he'd taken after dropping Kaede back to her realm. His tactical jacket hung open, the faint glowing rune-scars across his chest pulsing softly—remnants of Nyxar's failed seal-cracking attempt. The visions were coming faster now: flashes of starlit council chambers, ancient laughter, chains forged from pure narrative potential. "Keep the game going," the Primordials had chuckled as they sealed him. "If he wakes up, everything gets too easy."
Z took a long pull from his energy drink. "Too easy sounds nice right about now."
The alert still floated in the air above the table, bold red letters spinning lazily.
REALM 888 – AETHER CASINO NEXUS
Threat: Rigged interdimensional lottery summoning (Class A scale)
Perpetrator: High Roller Vossian "The House" Vex, owner of the floating Sky Casino "Fortune's Folly"
Method: "Lucky Hero Lottery" tickets that force Earth humans into deadly realm quests. Winners get 1% of loot. House takes 99% plus their souls as collateral.
Current victims trapped: 1,942 and climbing
Special note: Casino shielded by probability-warping fields. Direct assault may trigger "jackpot cascade."
Reyes leaned against the table, arms crossed, cyber-arm whirring. "So they're basically running a cosmic timeshare scam with dragons and demons."
Jax cracked his knuckles. "Why did the gambler go to the casino therapist?"
Sparks didn't even look up from his pad. "Don't."
"Because he had too many betting issues!"
Lena actually snorted. Miko, the intern, hid a giggle behind her clipboard.
Z pointed at Jax with his drink can. "Save the good ones for the villain. Team, we're doing this subtle. Blend in as high-rollers. Sparks, spoof us some fake fortune chips. Reyes, Jax—muscle. Lena, eyes on the probability fields. I'll handle Vossian personally."
He tapped the alert, zooming in on a glittering image of Fortune's Folly: an enormous golden casino the size of a small moon, drifting through pink nebula clouds, neon signs promising "WIN BIG OR BECOME LEGEND (literally)."
"Remember," Z added, grin sharpening, "the house always wins… until we show up."
The jump platform opened with a soft chime this time—elegant gold and purple swirls instead of combat blue. Dress code for the mission: sleek black suits with subtle IDP weave hidden under the fabric. Z's jacket was tailored perfectly, silver hair styled just messy enough to look intentional. He looked like a billionaire playboy who'd wandered into the wrong dimension.
They stepped through.
Fortune's Folly hit them like a sensory explosion.
The arrival lounge was pure opulence: floors of polished star-quartz that reflected the nebula outside like liquid galaxies, chandeliers made of captured shooting stars, and the constant soft cha-ching of slot machines that paid out in real magic. Holographic showgirls in skimpy roulette-wheel outfits danced on floating platforms. The air smelled of expensive perfume, cigar smoke, and the faint coppery tang of fresh hero contracts being signed in blood.
Everywhere, Earth humans wandered in a glittery daze—office workers in suits, college kids in hoodies, even a few retirees clutching complimentary cocktails. Each wore a glowing golden ticket bracelet: "Lucky Hero Lottery – Winner! Quest starts in 30 minutes."
Z's system pinged the moment they materialized.
Threat level: High – Probability Manipulation.
Ability detected: Luck-Weave Dominion, Forced Hero Binding, Jackpot Cascade.
Seals at 79% integrity. Minor resonance from previous exposure. Monitoring.
A quick vision flashed: the Primordials around a cosmic poker table, dealing cards labeled "Z Vortex – Sealed Wild Card." One of them winked. "Let's keep the odds interesting."
Z shook it off and flashed his most charming grin at the nearest hostess—a curvaceous demoness with crimson skin and a name tag reading "Velvet."
"Evening, beautiful. Table for five high-rollers. We heard the house is running hot tonight."
Velvet's tail curled. "VIP suite, sir? Or are you feeling… lucky?"
"Always." He slid a spoofed platinum fortune chip across the counter. Sparks' tech made it sing with authentic probability resonance.
She purred and led them deeper into the casino.
They moved through the main floor like ghosts in tailored suits. Slots chimed. Roulette wheels spun with literal fate runes. On raised stages, newly "won" heroes were being outfitted in cheap fantasy armor while a booming announcer voice hyped them up.
"Next quest: Slay the Crystal Wyrm of Realm 412! Winner gets ten percent of the hoard! House keeps the rest… and your soul if you fail!"
A terrified accountant in oversized plate mail waved frantically at the crowd. "I just wanted free drinks!"
Z's jaw tightened. "Showtime."
They split up smoothly. Lena vanished into the rafters. Sparks slipped behind a bank of slot machines to start hacking the central probability core. Reyes and Jax positioned themselves near the hero staging area, ready to extract.
Z headed straight for the high-roller pit at the center of the floor—a floating golden platform where the biggest games happened.
High Roller Vossian "The House" Vex presided over a massive poker table shaped like a dragon's skull. He was a slick, snake-like man in a white suit that shimmered like liquid gold, hair slicked back, eyes hidden behind mirrored shades that reflected every possible future. Two succubus dealers flanked him, and a dozen bodyguards—minotaur enforcers in tuxedos—stood watch.
Vossian was dealing a hand to three terrified Earth "winners" while a crowd cheered.
"Place your bets, mortals!" he called. "Double or nothing on your souls!"
Z stepped onto the platform, hands in pockets, casual as Sunday brunch.
"Stop. Hands up. Hands where I can see them, Vossian. IDP. This casino is in violation of every multiversal gambling statute ever written."
The entire floor went dead silent except for one slot machine that kept paying out cherries.
Vossian lowered his shades, revealing glowing golden eyes. "Well, well. Commissioner Vortex himself. I was hoping you'd drop by. Care to join the game? Special table stakes: your sealed power versus my entire casino."
Z laughed. "Tempting. But I don't gamble. I win."
Vossian snapped his fingers.
The probability fields activated.
Suddenly every slot machine on the floor spat out "hero tickets" like confetti. New portals ripped open across the casino, yanking more Earthlings through mid-bite of dinner or mid-Netflix episode. The air thickened with cascading luck magic—making guards stronger, alarms silent, escape routes vanish.
Z felt the pull on his seals again. A fresh vision slammed into him: the Primordials laughing as they bet on how long he'd stay sealed. "If the House wins this hand, the jester stays funny forever."
Seal integrity: 78%. Forced resonance increasing.
"Nice try," Z growled. His system flared.
Copying Luck-Weave Dominion… adapting… enhancing with comedic probability inversion.
He raised one hand. The cascading luck reversed.
Every rigged slot machine suddenly paid out against the house. Coins exploded outward like fireworks. Hero tickets turned into "Sorry, Better Luck Next Eternity" vouchers. The forced portals snapped shut on half the new victims, sending them safely home with only mild confusion and a free tote bag.
Vossian's shades cracked.
"What—"
Z stepped forward, red-tape energy whip forming in his fist—now laced with glowing golden probability threads that sparkled like winning lottery numbers.
"Why did the casino owner cross the road?"
Vossian snarled and hurled a wave of pure bad luck—black lightning that turned the floor to quicksand and made gravity drunk.
Z sidestepped, copied the bad-luck wave, and sent it right back as pure slapstick.
Vossian suddenly found his perfect white suit turning into a clown costume complete with oversized shoes and a squirting flower. His slick hair puffed into a rainbow afro. Every step he took made honking noises.
The crowd—now mostly freed victims—burst into laughter.
Z cracked the whip. Golden probability threads wrapped Vossian like festive streamers.
"Answer the joke, House-man. Why did the casino owner cross the road?"
Vossian tripped over his own clown shoes, face-planting into a pile of exploding confetti. "I… I don't—"
"Because he heard the IDP was on the other side!" Z delivered the punchline with a theatrical bow. "And now he's broke, clownified, and under arrest."
The minotaur bodyguards charged.
Reyes met them head-on, cyber-fist turning one into a bowling pin that took out three others. Jax shield-bashed the rest while yelling, "Why do minotaurs make terrible gamblers? Because they always charge!"
Lena's sniper shots from above picked off the last of the probability anchors.
Sparks' voice crackled over comms. "Core hacked. All active hero contracts nullified. Portals opening for extraction."
Thousands of grateful Earthlings cheered as golden gateways appeared, leading straight home. Many stopped to hug the team or high-five Z on the way out.
One woman lingered.
She was stunning—mid-twenties, athletic build, long auburn hair currently tied back with a torn casino lanyard, wearing a ripped cocktail dress that had seen better nights. Her name tag read "Cassidy – Senior Dealer (Hostage)."
She'd clearly been fighting from the inside—knuckles bruised, a small energy pistol tucked in her garter.
"You just turned the most powerful probability warlord in twelve realms into a clown with dad jokes," she said, voice husky. "That was the single hottest thing I've ever witnessed."
Z's grin turned predatory in the best way. "Name's Z. You sticking around for cleanup, or…?"
Cassidy stepped close, amber eyes sparkling. "My shift ended the second you showed up. Got a private suite upstairs. Care to help me… cash out?"
The team didn't even comment this time. Reyes just waved them off with a smirk.
The VIP suite was pure decadence: heart-shaped bed the size of a small yacht, floor-to-ceiling windows showing the pink nebula, champagne that refilled itself.
Cassidy kicked the door shut and pushed Z against it, mouth crashing into his with zero hesitation. Her hands were everywhere—tugging open his jacket, tracing the glowing rune-scars on his chest like she could read the story they told.
"No tomorrow," she breathed against his lips. "Just tonight. I disappear back to Earth when the portal opens."
"Music to my ears," Z murmured, spinning them so she was pressed against the window, city lights of the casino moon glittering behind her.
Clothes vanished in a flurry. She was fierce and playful, laughing when his whip uncoiled itself across the bed like an eager pet. They moved together with the same energy as the fight—fast, teasing, unstoppable. She rode him hard against the glass, nebula swirling outside like their own private light show, her nails digging into the scars that flared brighter with every moan.
Every time a new seal twinge hit him from the earlier resonance, she kissed the spot, turning potential cosmic pain into pure pleasure. "Whatever they sealed in you," she gasped, "it feels good."
After the first round they moved to the massive bed, slower this time, exploratory, trading jokes between gasps.
"Why do gamblers hate playing with you?" she teased, biting his ear.
"Because I always raise the stakes… and then fold them into origami swans."
She laughed so hard she almost fell off him.
They went again—sweaty, laughing, perfect.
When the extraction chime finally sounded, Cassidy was curled against his chest, tracing idle patterns on his skin.
"You ever get tired of saving everyone?" she asked softly.
Z kissed her forehead. "Never. The multiverse is too funny to let it stay boring."
She smiled, kissed him one last time—slow, deep, grateful—and stepped through the portal to Earth without looking back.
Z straightened his suit, ran a hand through his silver hair, and walked back to the team like nothing had happened.
Debrief was quick.
"1,942 victims returned. One probability god in clown makeup awaiting tribunal. Casino assets seized for restitution." Reyes checked the last box.
Sparks added, "Probability fields stable. But boss… the resonance from Vossian's attack synced with Nyxar's. Your seals dropped another percent. More visions incoming."
Z nodded, eyes distant for half a second. Another flash: the Primordials around their poker table, one of them frowning. "He's laughing too loud…"
Then he clapped his hands, grin back in full force.
"Next alert's already live. Something about a sentient meme dimension trying to summon influencers to become living gods. Who's ready to crash the internet across realities?"
Every hand shot up.
Jax started, "Why did the meme—"
"Save it," Z laughed, already walking toward the jump platform. "We'll need the good stuff for this one."
The patrol rolled on.
Seals cracked a little more.
The jokes kept coming.
And the multiverse—whether the Primordials liked it or not—was about to get a whole lot funnier.