The problem with creating a "Gothic Noir" casino wasn't the décor. Obsidian and velvet were easy when you could reshape reality with your mind. The problem was the goblin building the slot machines.
CLANG.
A gear the size of a dinner plate flew across the Grand Foyer, embedding itself into the newly polished black marble wall just inches from Maira's head. Maira didn't flinch. She simply adjusted her rimless glasses and made a mark on her clipboard.
"That is the third projectile in five minutes," Maira stated, her voice tight. "At this rate of attrition, we will run out of brass fittings before the guests arrive. And we have forty-eight hours."
Reed ducked under a flying wrench and walked toward the center of the chaos.
