IV. The Scuttling Cockroach
The gambling den looked just as bad as you’d expect a place that called itself The Scuttling Cockroach to look. Like most of the buildings in the less savoury neighbourhoods of Metra Litko, it was assembled from old shipping containers, gutted spaceship hulls and assorted junk. The door that led inside was just a rough hole cut into the hull of one of those shipping containers by a seriously drunk blowtorch operator, at least judging by the uneven edges. Above the door or rather what passed for it, a neon sign proudly announced the name of the establishment in letters that were almost complete. Next to the name sat a neon cockroach. Its legs seemed to move due to an optical trick that involved switching neon tubes on and off in quick succession.
Anjali turned
