James A. Hunter
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Discount Dan Chapter 7 - Rewrite
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 14:11:16 +0000 UTCHey everyone, a bunch of the folks over on RoyalRoad didn't particularly like the way Dan handled the Brownie situation and after thinking about it for a bit, I realized they had some valid points. It felt like Dan was being stupid and trying to rush through the encounter instead of actually trying to help.
So I went back and revised that whole section in some ways that I think are pretty fun and will have a great payoff down the road. No need to reread this if you don't want to, but I thought I'd post the revised chapter here so you'll are up to date with the changes. If you do read it, please let me know what you think!
***
Chapter Seven – Blanket Fort Upgrades
Naturally, Camo Joe had already gathered the necessary materials to fabricate the two guards, along with a list of potentially useful Relics—all of them Common-Grade and plentiful. Camo Joe insisted the lower grade Relics would make the new security golems “more manageable underlings.”
His words, not mine.
Thanks to the skill’s lengthy cooldown, crafting both golems took about half an hour.
By the time I was done, I had two hulking constructs, built from a mishmash of camping and survival equipment, mundane weaponry—baseball bats, tools, machetes—and riot gear, including shin guards, shoulder pads, and plastic crowd-control shields. Unlike my other fabricated golems, these things weren’t humanoid. Instead, they moved on all fours, resembling enormous, armored hounds. Their heads were magical closed-circuit TV cameras, directly linked to the security office monitors, broadcasting everything they saw in real time.
I’d used a stealth-based ability called Sucker-Punch to power one and a lesser trap-sense Relic called Warning Bells for other.
Since I couldn’t really tell the two apart, I opted to collectively name them Devil Dogs, in honor of my Marine Corps heritage, then I gave them standing instructions to follow Camo Joe’s orders. Although my chief security officer was a serious no-nonsense creature without anything even remotely resembling a sense of humor, I could tell he was extremely pleased with the additions.
“These will serve admirably, sir,” he said, before offering me a crisp salute and turning his attention on the hounds.
I watched as he marched off into the store with the hounds following in his wake, already explaining the various patrol routes and emergency protocols. Damn, my minions had their own minions now. This place sure had come a long way from the simple convenience store it had initially started as.
With a shake of my head, I put Joe and the two hounds out of mind and turned my attention to the next pressing issue at hand—the Loot Arcade.
Though Discount Dan’s would always be, at its core, a convenience store, the Loot Arcade would serve as its crown jewel. Delver Tokens were plentiful, handed out by the Researcher for completing tasks, clearing bounties, and earning achievements. But Loot Arcades? Those were a rarer prize. Each floor had its share—usually one per quadrant—but they were rarely empty. And the Dwellers who claimed them were often stronger than the average ones found elsewhere on the floor.
A huge part of the reason why the Howlers had settled on the seventh floor to begin with, was because of its proximity to the Jungle Gym Jamboree—easily one of the single largest Loot Arcades I’d seen so far.
Having an Arcade here in the store, however, would make it significantly easier to cash in Tokens and would drastically reduce overall Delvers deaths. It was a win-win all around. The only immediate downside was that I couldn’t take a direct cut from the machines themselves. Anything the Delvers spent was gone for good, whisked off into ether, never to be seen again.
But there were other ways to get around that.
I planned to institute a standard door fee—a pay to play scheme where Delvers would have to redeem Croc-Coins or fork over a certain number of Tokens or Shards before they could use the machines at all. Turning the Loot Arcade into a bar and dinner would also help take the sting out of the price tag. Anyone who came in and paid for a meal or for the two-drink minimum wouldn’t have to pay the door fee and would be allowed to use the machines, free of charge. That seemed only fair, and I figured most Delvers wouldn’t balk too much.
Convenience often came with a price tag, especially here in the Backrooms.
And if they didn’t like it?
Well, there were plenty of “free” Arcades they could use—all they had to do was find them, then murder anything living inside. It was sort of like my dad used to say. You always pay, either with money or with sweat. The only choice is how.
Before tackling the Arcade renovations, however, I decided to drop my gear off with the Brownies.
I’d need to do it sooner or later and there was no point in working in gore-soaked clothes that reeked like bad sushi and rotten cheese. I stripped out on my enchanted gear and slipped into a pair of unenchanted work clothes—a pair of jeans looted from a Style-For-Less on the third floor and T-shirt that read 404: Exit Not Found.
As always, there was a rather long line of customers waiting for the Spin Cycle, but I cut to the front even though it earned me more than few dirty looks. Once again, I didn’t have two shits to give. I owned this place, and I had to deal with a cult of miniature gnomes who worshipped me—this was my reward for putting up with all that bullshit.
Bertrim, their high priest, greeted me with an entire delegation of “priests” the second I stepped in. They were all wearing versions of my own attire—tiny red bathrobes, too-short Daisy Dukes, and tiny golden paper crowns. I wasn’t sure how they’d managed to manufacture the outfits, but it only served to drive home my discomfort.
“Welcome, Holy One,” Bertrim intoned, issuing me a deep bow, his nose nearly brushing the floor. “As always, we eagerly await your return and live to serve. How may we help you?”
I dropped my grubby gear in a pile on the floor.
“Just more laundry,” I said with a shrug.
“Of course, Chosen One,” the priest said, rising smoothly from his bow. He snapped his fingers, and the other lesser priests sprang into action, scuttling toward the pile of filthy clothes with fevered zeal.
According to the entry I’d received on Brownies, their obsession with laundry was so intense it practically bordered on the sexual—and I had never seen a clearer example of that than now.
They carried the dirty gear with something that boarder on reverence and more than a few seemed to be sniffing my clothes in ecstasy, eyes rolling back, bodies shuddering in pleasure. I just tried not to think about it too hard. In mere seconds, my gear was whisked away, vanishing into the back, where I was sure they would scrub away every ounce of accumulated grime. Probably with a little too much enthusiasm.
“I hesitate to bring this one, Holy One,” Bertrim said as the last of my items vanished, “but there is a minor matter I was hoping to speak with you about. A certain point of religious order.”
I needed to start work on the Arcade, but I really couldn’t afford to rock the boat when it came to the Brownies. The Spin Cycle was one of the biggest draws the store had to offer, and honestly? There was no going back to the way things were before. Maybe I’d gone soft over the past few weeks, but I would literally kill for freshly laundered clothes that smelled like a summer breeze. And whatever fabric softener they used? Holy shit. My jorts came out feeling softer than a good pair of PJs—and that was worth protecting at all costs.
“Eh, I don’t really know that much about religion,” I offered weakly, “other than the basics, I mean. Don’t murder people, don’t steal, follow the Golden Rule.”
“The Golden Rule, Chosen One?” Bertrim asked, dry washing his hands as he spoke.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a fancy saying that boils down to don’t be a dick.” I paused and frowned. “Actually, a surprising amount of religion seems to boil down to not being a dick. Anyway, I’m not sure I’ll be able to help, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Such humility,” Bertrim said, nodding, “but I can tell there is greater wisdom in your words—I shall pass on this Golden Rule of yours. Don’t be a dick—”
“Well, that’s not my Golden Rule,” I clarified, “and I was really sort of paraphrasing.”
“Of course, Great One,” Bertrim said, bulldozing straight ahead. “Now as to my query, it has to do with offerings—specifically pizza and beer offerings.”
“Shit, do you guys need like a raise or something?” I asked. “Because I’m happy to have Stephanie bring over more beer and pizza. Nachos, too, if you want to mix it up.”
“We would never dare,” Bertrim said, clutching his chest in theatrical dismay. “No, this is truly a land of plenty, just as you foretold. We have all we could need and more. Such splendid, filthy laundry to clean, and in such great quantities, no less.”
He hesitated, his long, spidery fingers tracing the edges of his imitation bathrobe with deliberate care. It wasn’t knockoff Versace—just red terry cloth with some gold fabric on the cuffs, but it was close enough for government work. “Our question concerns not your generosity, but the sacrifices we make in your honor.
“You see,” he continued, “one sect believes the proper way to honor you is by sacrificing the pizza and beer during morning prayers, ensuring a blessed day ahead. Meanwhile, another sect insists it should be offered in the evening—a thanksgiving for the blessings we've already received.” He grimaced, spreading his hands in helpless frustration. “I'm sure you can see the terrible conundrum we find ourselves in.”
I squinted as I tried to wrap my head around the problem. “What time you sacrifice the beer and pizza?” I asked. “But I never even told you to do that in the first place,” I said, thoroughly confused. “And also, there literally is no day or night in the Backrooms, so I don’t even see why that would matter.”
I instantly regretted my words, because Bertrim had fallen over and had prostrated himself before me, face pressed to the ground.
“Fools, we are fools of the highest order, and we have displeased you with our offerings. I shall throw myself from the highest washer in penance for my crimes against you.”
“Wait, what? No, no,” I replied, suddenly panicked. “Let’s just pump the brakes. No need to get all dramatic and throw yourself off a washing machine.”
I didn’t care about literally any of this and just wanted the laundry to get done, nice and smooth. At the same time, I knew these guys were zealots—the Codex had told me as much—and it was obvious that if I let this fester, it could cause civil war to break out amongst my laundry crew. I couldn’t allow that to happen under any circumstances, even if it meant dealing with the extra headache right now.
“Okay, let’s back up a little. Tell me, Bertrim, which option do you think is better? Morning or evening?”
“Evening, obviously, Chosen One. And it is best to abstain from pizza entirely on Wednesday and eat only of the all-beef franks, even though the all-beef franks are objectively worse than the pizza.”
Wait, what? Where in the hell had they come up with these asinine rules? Why had they come up with them?
I had no idea, but clearly, I needed to nip this in the bud before it grew any further.
“Listen,” I said, trying to sound as gentle and godlike as possible, “I really appreciate how committed you’ve been to honoring me with these offerings. Your dedication hasn’t gone unnoticed. But—and this isn’t your fault—I think you might’ve misunderstood my will a bit. When I brought you here, I promised a land of plenty, and I meant it. I don’t want food going to waste, and I definitely don’t want you or the other Brownies suffering over some religious technicality.
“I gave you pizza, beer, and all-beef franks as a blessing, not as something to burn or give up. Trust me, I have all the beer and pizza I could ever possible want. So here’s what we’re gonna do instead—no more sacrifices. At all. That’s the new rule. And starting this Friday, Stephanie will bring over twice as much beer and pizza so everyone gets a double helping. Sound good?”
His eyes shimmered, wide as saucers, and he lowered his face to the floor once again, arms stretched out in what could’ve been supplication, reverence, or both. “You are truly benevolent, Chosen One, and your wisdom knows no bounds.”
For a fleeting second, I thought that might be the end of it. Problem solved. But then Bertrim sniffled and peeked up at me with a pleading expression that said absolutely not.
“Forgive me, Chosen One. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful for your generosity, but without the sacrifices… I fear our people will be lost. You must understand, our lives are simple, built on the bedrock of faith and service. Before your fateful arrival, we prayed night and day for deliverance, while we priests maintained the grand ritual meant to summon you. That ritual was the backbone of our society—just as vital as the laundry. Perhaps even more so.
“But now,” he continued, wringing his hands with nervous energy, “we find ourselves in a land free of corruption, overflowing with blessings we never dared dream of. And the people… they grow restless. Listless. They no longer pray for your arrival. The summoning rituals are done. There’s a void now, and it’s eating at them. They work diligently, but that is all that is left to us and we need more.”
He looked up at me, hesitant, hopeful.
“That’s why we began the sacrifices. To honor you, yes—but also to remind the people of their purpose. Without the rituals, without the offerings… there’s no structure, no outlet for their devotion. They need something to believe in, Chosen One. As much as they need clean laundry.”
He paused, watching for any flicker of response. When I didn’t immediately cut him off, he pressed on.
“The uncertainty, the lack of direction… it’s already begun to affect them. Many have grown despondent and some have fallen into true despair. Before the sacrifices began, they would not leave their beds. They would not eat. Others, the more volatile among us, grow agitated. If this continues, they may revolt—not against you, of course, never you—but against us. Against the priesthood.” His voice dropped to a grim whisper. “And if that happens, it could turn violent. Bloody. Our history is not without such… unfortunate episodes.”
This wasn’t about me at all. It was about them. They were weirdos, sure, but they weren’t so different from me or the Howlers, or all the people I’d left behind at home. They were just looking to find purpose and meaning in a chaotic world, largely divorced of both purpose and meaning. I didn’t want these sacrifices to continue, but now I realized I couldn’t take their faith away from them, no matter how misplaced it was.
I thought about the predicament for a long minute, before finally coming to a tenable solution.
“Grab me something to write on,” I said.
Bertrim scurried away and hustled back a minute later with a sheet of lined notebook paper. I pulled out a sharpie from my tool belt and started scribbing down a few new rules. Or rather, commandments. Although I’d never been particularly religious, this still felt dangerously close to blasphemy. But these little guys, as odd as they were, needed guidance, and like it or not, that was up to me.
I couldn’t remember all of the ten commandments, so I winged it.
1. Follow the Golden Rule – thou shalt not be a dick to other people.
2. Thou shalt not murder.
3. Thou shalt not steal.
4. Thou shalt not lie. Except white lies, those are okay.
5. Thou shalt work hard to make sure the laundry is clean in a timely manner.
6. On Fridays, thou shalt get double portions of beer and pizza. Have fun, as a way of honoring me.
I reread the list. Though it felt like I’d nailed the basics, it was still missing something. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what these guys really needed: hobbies. That was what was missing in their life. Every American with a soul crushing job they hated intuitively new the solution, a frosty beer with the boys while watching Sunday Football.
I couldn’t give them that, but where I’d come from there was another pastime that damn near a religious experience all on its own. NASCAR. I couldn’t equip the Brownies with miniature football pads, but there were a bunch of remote control cars in the toy section, and I figured the Brownies were just the right size to ride them.
I added one final rule to the list.
7. On Sunday, thou shalt partake in Discount Dan sanctioned NASCAR races.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, racing off to what remained of the toy aisle and finding what I needed. I scooped up a bunch of different cars and a few oversized monster trucks, they hustled back, dropping the toys in a pile right in front of Bertim.
The priest looked curiously at me but said nothing as I handed over the sheer of paper.
“These are my new commandments," I said. “Pass these on to the rest of the priests and tell the Brownies they can show their devotion by following these rules.”
“Discount Dan sanctioned NASCAR races?” Bertrim asked, looking as confused as he sounded.
“Yeah, you’re gonna love it. All you need to do is set up a track and then have a bunch of the Brownies race. The winning team will get unlimited candy and energy drinks for a week. It’s a blast. You guys are gonna have a great time.” I paused and looked at the diminutive priest. “You think this will do the trick?” I asked.
He read over the rules once more and seemed to brighten instantly. “Once again, your wisdom is beyond understanding. It shall be so, in accordance with your will.” He bowed low, his nose nearly brushing the ground.
I wasn’t sure if this was the right call, but I didn't know what else to do, so it would have to be enough for now. Hopefully, it wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass later.
***
With the matter settled for the time being, Bertim excused himself and I left the laundromat behind and made my way over to the Arcade.
Right now, my crown jewel was more of a shitshow than a masterpiece.
The floors were pitted concrete, the overhead lights buzzed and flickered like they were about to give up on life, and the walls were covered in that godawful mid-century wood paneling. A fine layer of dust coated every arcade machine—a depressing time capsule from an era no one wanted to remember. The Arcade was a vestigial remnant of a bygone age, left abandoned for years or maybe even decades. The fancy lounge bar, now attached to one side of the room, looked shockingly out of place.
It was going to take some serious elbow grease to make this place shine, and I was going to need some help. Thankfully, help was one thing I wouldn’t have any help finding.
I summoned Drumbo, Timmy, and Synthia, giving them each a set of basic instructions. I tasked Timmy with moving a few of the tables, chairs and booths from the lounge, since I’d need places for customers to sit and eat. The attached kitchen had all the essentials to run a restaurant—stoves, fryers, and enough cutlery to outfit an army—but the fridge, freezer, and pantry were completely bare. Stocking up on top-tier ingredients might be tricky, but that was just one more task to add to the bounty board.
In the meantime, I sent Synthia to raid the store’s frozen food and grocery section, so we had at least something to work with. The store would naturally regenerate and restock over time, though the quality of the ingredients left a lot to be desired.
Still, better than nothing.
As for Drumbo, I put him to work in the arcade, shifting around the derelict machines and repositioning the handful of pool tables. To handle the grime, I called Baby Hands over to clean the floors and dust off the ancient equipment.
With everyone set to their tasks, I shifted my focus to the Blanket Fort Interface.
It offered far more than just basic floor plan adjustments—there were advanced features I hadn’t even begun to explore. Until now, I hadn’t needed to. Rather than a standard pop-up menu, the Interface Manual took the form of a thick, three-ring binder, its pages divided by an array of color-coded tabs. Just flipping it open revealed an overwhelming list of available resource materials and a staggering catalog of options waiting to be tapped into.
The binder offered a thorough overview of the store’s basic abilities.
The shop had its own rudimentary Spatial Core, called a Progenitor Nexus Relay, and within that core were a variety of unique Relics—all labeled as “Bindings”—which included several active abilities. Things like Unyielding Foundation Binding, which passively restored all damage dealt to the store, or the Cannon Fodder ability, which allowed me to use the store’s formidable Mana reserves to create Golems like Camo Joe and Princess Ponypuff.
While there was no way to remove existing Bindings, the Interface did offer an option to unlock additional ones.
Up until now, there had been no details on what that entailed or how to do it, but that had just changed. A brand-new section had appeared in the Binder, and when I flipped to it out of sheer curiosity, a menu I’d never seen before materialized in the air before me.
Corvo’s Blanket Fort Upgrades Now Available
Congratulations! You have annexed over 30,000 square feet of Progenerated Material and met the minimum level requirements to unlock additional Blanket Fort Bindings. These Bindings grant access to strategic upgrades for your Personal Superspace Dwelling, including enhanced security mechanisms, inventory expansions, and structural upgrades. Please consult the list below for all available Tier 1 and Tier 2 options.
Available Upgrade Points: 15
Tier 1 Bindings, Common:
· Unyielding Foundation Binding (Unlocked)
· Cornucopia of Plenty (Unlocked)
· Statis Halo (Unlocked)
· Ban Hammer (Unlocked)
· Interior Terraformer – 1 Point
· Conveyor Logistics – 2 Points
· Shrinkwrap Packaging – 2 Points
Tier 2 Bindings, Uncommon:
· Cannon Fodder (Unlocked)
· Doorway Bouncer – 4 Points
· Dimensional Warehouse – 5 Points
· Modular Replication – 5 Points
· Arcane Recycler – 6 Points
· Expansionist – 6 Points
· Singularity Vault – 8 Points
Tier 3 Bindings, Rare: Locked
Tier 4 Bindings, Fabled: Locked
Tier 5 Bindings, Mythic: Locked
My jaw almost hit the floor as I scanned the expansive list of possibilities.
I could add all of these to my store?
Hol-ee shit.
Feeling both flabbergasted and more than a little overwhelmed, I grabbed a beer from the well-stocked bar and plopped onto a barstool. As my Horrors busied themselves getting things in order, I started skimming through the options.
The system was surprisingly intuitive—I had fifteen points to spend and could choose from any of the listed Bindings. The only real limitation was my available points, meaning I couldn’t grab everything. Truthfully, there wasn’t really a bad pick in either category. Some were definitely better than others, but that was reflected in their relative cost.
With only fifteen points to work with, I immediately snagged two of the three remaining Tier 1 Bindings—Interior Terraformer and Conveyor Logistics. Both were dirt cheap and packed with utility. Although Interior Terraformer was mostly a cosmetic upgrade, it would make my life a hell of a lot easier moving forward.
Interior Terraformer
Common Binding
Cost: In-Store Mana Reserves, Variable
Ever look around your base and think, “Wow, this place is a fucking dumpster fire?” Mismatched floors, random patches of drywall, a hallway that looks like three different contractors got into a drunken brawl over the design choices?
Yeah, not anymore.
With Interior Terraformer, you can copy, paste, and slap down any material that already exists in your base, seamlessly applying it wherever the hell you deem necessary. Want to extend that fancy hardwood flooring into your grimy storage room? Boom, done. Tired of your luxury marble lobby leading into a hallway that looks like an abandoned hospital? Fix it in seconds. If it’s somewhere in your base, you can replicate it and install it without wasting time scavenging for new materials.
This ability makes you a one-person renovation crew—no contractors, no delays, just pure, unfiltered base-building dominance. Best part? The whole thing runs off your base’s Mana Reserves, meaning no extra cost if you’ve got the juice.
Since it cost only a single point to unlock, I’d be an idiot not to take it.
As for Conveyor Logistics, it wasn’t nearly as flashy, but it was extremely practical. The skill integrated with my Personal Subspace Storage System and effectively allowed me to create a “tagging” system, with up to ten distinct “tags.” When committing an item to storage, I could use the system to manually label it with the appropriate tag, and then, instead of staying in my storage, it would instantly be transported to a corresponding “tagged” section within my base.
Not only would it increase my effective storage capacity, but I could use it to instantly transport corpses back to the freezer for processing. There wasn’t much that I hated more than hauling butchered Dwellers into cold storage so for two points, it was an easy choice.
Shrinkwrap Packaging also had to do with Personal Storage and reduced the weight of all stored items within storage by 30%. It was a solid enough ability, but with the addition of Conveyor Logistics, it just seemed a little like overkill.
The Tier 2 options were even better, but a few stood out immediately.
At the top of the list was Doorway Bouncer, which let me add Offensive Security Protocols to my Doorway Anchors, reinforcing my shop’s defenses. Right now, the doors operated on an Admittance Credentialing System which allowed me to deny people access to the shop for damn near any reason I wanted. Currently, there were really only three criteria: no one infected with Blight, no one affiliated with the Skinless Court, and no one above level forty.
Technically, I was over the level cap, but as the space owner, those same rules didn’t apply to me.
The system was great and help keep the assholes out, but that was all it did. Doorway Bouncer upgraded the system and gave it teeth. Once in place, if an Aspirant tried to gain admittance or even got within a fifty-foot area of effect, the Doors would draw on the store’s Mana reserves to externally activate the Ban Hammer ability—teleporting the offender to a random location on a random floor connected to my base. It had a few limitations, based on Delver level, but it would work great against all the lower-level dickheads, who’d been attempting to blockade my doors.
I was just bummed it wasn’t a lethal solution.
I added that one as well, leaving me with only eight upgrade points left to spend—enough for one more Tier 2 ability.
It was hard to decide which one to pick.
Dimensional Warehouse was another Personal Storage Space Upgrade, which increased my storage capacity from 2,000 pounds of physical material to a 20,000 pounds—a tenfold increase. Good, but basically a better version of Shrinkwrap Packaging. Arcane Recycler allowed me to convert excess junk items into raw materials which could be used for crafting or as components within the store. I liked the idea of that in theory, but didn’t think it would serve me well in the near-term.
Of the remaining options, I was sorely tempted by both Modular Replication and Singularity Vault. The first was similar in many ways to Interior Terraformer, but instead of simply replicating and installing building materials, it allowed me to replicate entire rooms or store features. I could literally copy and paste the showers or hotel rooms, instantly creating more in the blink of an eye. It was powerful and ridiculously convenient, but any duplicated structures would still eat up my available square footage.
As for Singularity Vault, it created an entirely new structure—an alternative spatial storage dimension connected to the store, but one overflowing with something called Singularity Essence which, apparently, was the unprocessed energy produced by the Progenitor Engine at the heart of the Backrooms. Any items stored within the vault would be bathed in potent essence which had the potential to evolve or upgrade items over time. The longer the items stayed inside the vault, the better the potential upgrades would be.
The only drawback was that the items needed to be stored for months at a time to see any significant improvements. Even with that limitation, though, it was still a phenomenal ability and firmly at the top of my list.
Or, at least, it would’ve been if not for the last perk.
Expansionist doubled the square footage I gained, bumping it from 2,500 to 5,000 square feet per Variant Assimilation Level. Sure, the ability wasn’t nearly as sexy and exciting as Singularity Vault, but I couldn’t pass it up for one specific reason. The benefits granted by Expansionist weren’t retroactive and only applied to new levels gained after the perk was unlocked.
We were preparing to go deeper, and I knew I’d be racking up a ton of levels over the next few weeks. There was no telling when I would reach the next threshold and unlock more store upgrade points, so if I waited, I’d end up missing out on tons of bonus space that I’d never be able to get back.
So, as much as it killed me a little on the inside, I also selected Expansionist and banked the last two Upgrade points for later.
Comments
Lost1nCarcosa
This is a way better outcome with the brownies than before! And the idea of mad max brownie nascar scene later is something to look forward to for sure!!!
James A. Hunter
I'm envisioning sport gambling + Mad Max Fury Road with Brownies chained down to the top of race cars while others shred tiny metal guitars.
Nilbog
Let's hope they don't get addicted to sports gambling
