HOH-007
Barista: Nick Langley
Date: Dec-17-2019
Receipt: HOH-007
Subject: House of Horus
Hey everyone. Quick update from Sin City.
Daichi and I made it to Vegas in one piece. In the 72 hours since we got here, Daichi has:
- Gotten kicked out of three casinos (one of which was a lifetime ban).
- Tried to hustle a blackjack dealer with a card trick so bad even I saw through it. Of course, the snake never gets in trouble—
- Befriended a lounge singer named Marla, who chain-smokes menthols, is blind in one eye, calls him her “little cobra,” and now insists we both call her “Auntie M.”
- Nearly lost our entire hotel deposit betting it all on black. (It was red. I stopped him. You’re welcome.)
Turns out, a snake with a gambling streak is a liability. Who knew? (I did, to be fair.)
But despite the chaos, we’ve been watching the House of Horus closely. Well—I’ve been watching. Daichi’s been watching the cocktail waitresses.
From what I can tell, most of their top dogs are off-site, probably tied up with their ongoing “excavation.” Their numbers here are thin, but there’s tension in the air. You can feel it in the way they move—like they’re waiting for something. Or someone. Their boss, maybe?
Daichi—between ruining our reputation on the Strip—swears he’s got a plan to sneak into the Cubiculum later this week. Says he knows the trick to getting past their guards and into the lower levels.
…I’d be more confident if he hadn’t announced this plan while balancing a martini glass on his head and arguing with a slot machine.
We’ll keep you posted. No sign of the head of Horus yet, but we’ll know him when we see him. Trust me—he tends to be a twinkly twinky eyesore.
Stay safe.