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The bazooka fired across the reels while the red fisherman stood on reel four and turned three casino symbols into bass.
One carried €3.20.
Another had €8.00 glowing across its side.
The largest arrived on reel five with €12.00 printed over its ribs, looking less like wildlife and more like something that had been priced in a hotel gift shop.
Red tuxedo.
Black bow tie.
Fishing rod in hand.
Calm expression.
The fisherman collected all three.
€23.20.
That was his fourth appearance.
Ten additional Free Spins dropped onto the counter.
The red meter moved to 2x.
Neon flashed around the grid while he raised his rod and remained inside the bazooka smoke without a mark on the jacket.
Las Vegas had just used anti-tank equipment to create seafood, then sent a man dressed for roulette to clear the scene.
The strangest part was that it worked.
The feature had started twelve spins earlier with two Scatters.
They landed on reels one and five at €0.80.
The middle remained empty.
I had already watched enough ordinary cards, chips, boats, flamingos and fishing equipment pass through the base game to recognise the usual shape of two symbols doing almost enough.
Then the game lowered a hook somewhere beneath the Strip.
A reel pulled upward.
Another Scatter appeared.
Three.
Fifteen Free Spins opened.
No fourth Scatter.
No enormous miracle.
Just the exact missing fish hauled into position by a casino that had apparently installed fishing equipment underneath Las Vegas Boulevard.
The blue fisherman arrived first.
He stepped onto reel two wearing a blue tuxedo and collected fish worth €2.40 and €4.00.
€6.40.
A clean entrance.
No explosion.
No ceiling machinery.
He appeared, gathered the fish and disappeared before the Strip could hand him anything dangerous.
Red answered two spins later.
His first collection also paid €6.40, built from fish showing €1.60 and €4.80.
Same total.
Different jacket.
The feature had placed two formally dressed fishermen inside a Las Vegas casino and immediately made them compete over bass with numbers painted on them.
Neither man acknowledged the other.
Blue returned on the sixth spin.
This time the fish carried €4.00 and €8.00.
He collected €12.00.
Blue now had two appearances.
He needed two more before his meter would reach the first retrigger.
Red had one.
The casino responded to this developing competition by producing more fish and repeatedly failing to schedule the correct fisherman beside them.
On one spin, three MONEY fish sat across the reels without either tuxedo.
The largest showed €12.00.
No collection.
The Strip had bass.
It had neon.
It had fishing rods.
It had two specialist employees somewhere beyond the reels.
Nobody came.
The fish disappeared with the next result.
Then red returned.
His second appearance landed without any fish at all.
For a moment he stood among a flamingo, a tackle box and several card symbols looking extremely well dressed for absolutely no reason.
Then the bazooka appeared.
It fired across the reels.
The ordinary symbols changed.
A €4.00 fish emerged beside him.
Red collected it and left.
The casino had now established a procedure.
If the fish arrived alone, there was a hook.
If the fisherman arrived alone, there was a weapon.
This was apparently easier than arranging for both to arrive together.
A few spins later, fish landed without a fisherman.
€2.40.
€6.40.
The reels paused.
A hook dropped down through the middle, disappeared below the grid and pulled a reel upward.
The red fisherman came with it.
He landed upright beside both fish.
Collected €8.80.
Adjusted his rod.
The hook withdrew.
That was red appearance number three.
Blue remained on two.
Red was now one fisherman away from the first retrigger.
Somewhere behind the reels, a man in a red tuxedo had apparently discovered that the fastest route to work involved being hauled through a casino by industrial fishing equipment.
A small line win followed.
Then came the bazooka again.
Red was already on the reels.
No fish.
The weapon rolled in.
It aimed across the Strip and fired.
Three symbols became the €3.20, €8.00 and €12.00 bass.
Red collected all three.
€23.20.
Fourth appearance.
Ten more Free Spins.
His meter advanced.
2x.
Blue remained at 1x.
The two fishermen were no longer merely wearing different jackets.
They now had different exchange rates for fish.
The feature had thirteen spins left.
From that point, anything collected by red was doubled.
Anything collected by blue was not.
Blue had appeared twice.
Red had appeared four times.
The Strip had somehow turned formal fishing into a colour-coded loyalty programme.
For several spins, neither fisherman showed up.
Fish values landed alone.
Cards filled the gaps.
A fisherman-free school appeared beneath the casino lights and vanished untouched.
There was no shortage of seafood.
Las Vegas had developed a tuxedo shortage.
With ten spins remaining, red appeared again.
Two fish sat on the grid showing €3.20 and €7.20.
He collected €10.40.
His 2x meter turned it into €20.80.
No bazooka.
No hook.
No airborne employee.
He simply arrived on reel four, took the fish and raised the rod while the neon flashed around him.
That was red number five.
He needed three more red fishermen to reach the next retrigger at eight.
Blue still needed two to reach four.
For the first time in the feature, blue actually had the shorter route.
He responded by disappearing completely.
Seven spins remained when two MONEY fish arrived.
€4.80.
€8.00.
No fisherman.
The reels waited.
The hook descended.
It swung over the middle, caught a reel somewhere below the visible grid and pulled.
Red came up.
Again.
He arrived beside the two bass as though being extracted from beneath Las Vegas by a giant hook was simply how the evening shift worked.
€12.80 in fish.
Red collected them at 2x.
€25.60.
He straightened his tuxedo while the amount counted.
Six red appearances.
Two more would reach eight and produce another ten spins, with his collection multiplier climbing again.
Blue still had two appearances.
Two more blue fishermen would also retrigger his side for the first time.
The feature had seven spins left and both colours were exactly two fishermen away from extending it.
This seemed encouraging until the next five spins happened.
Cards.
A flamingo.
Fishing gear.
A boat.
Fish with no fisherman.
A small line win.
More fish.
No blue tuxedo.
No seventh red.
The casino had two separate ways to prolong the feature and spent most of the remaining time displaying men who were not fishermen.
The final spin arrived.
Red remained at six.
Blue remained at two.
No colour was close enough anymore.
A fisherman landed.
Red.
No fish.
The reels paused.
Then the bazooka rolled in one final time.
The fuse of light ran across the bottom of the screen.
The blast changed three ordinary symbols into MONEY fish worth €2.40, €4.80 and €16.00.
The largest bass sat in the centre beneath the Las Vegas skyline with €16.00 shining across its body.
Red was there.
At 2x, that fish alone became €32.00 when he collected it.
The other two doubled with it.
The fisherman lifted the catch.
The final amount rolled in.
But it was only red appearance number seven.
One short of eight.
No retrigger.
No 3x.
The feature ended at €115.60.
The base game had taken twenty-four €0.80 spins and returned €6.40 before the bonus.
After the Free Spins, the full session sat €102.80 ahead.
The final image stayed on the screen for a moment.
A red fisherman in a tuxedo.
Bazooka smoke over the bottom row.
Freshly manufactured bass with cash values printed across their bodies.
Seven red fishermen had appeared.
Two blue.
Las Vegas had found a way to fire seafood out of casino symbols, double its value by jacket colour and haul employees into work with a fishing hook.
The only thing it had failed to manufacture was one more red fisherman.
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