Under the control of Iron Fist, no matter how the pachinko machine was adjusted, the little steel balls kept hitting scoring targets exactly as Kraft wanted, making the jackpot music play over and over.
Kraft made no attempt to hide what he was doing. He was openly farming jackpots, because rather than going through the hassle of exchanging the balls for prizes and then selling those prizes for cash, it was much quicker and easier to lure out the owner and fleece him directly.
The pachinko parlor's owner did not disappoint him. Just as Kraft hit his eleventh jackpot, two burly men in tight black T-shirts, their faces thick with flesh, appeared on either side of him.
"Excuse us for a moment, young man. Our boss would like a word with you."
The man on his left smiled pleasantly and spoke politely.
The burly man on his right, however, wore a stern expression and placed a hand on Kraft's shoulder. Together, they boxed Kraft in with their bodies, blocking the other customers' view as well as his way out.
"Sure."
Kraft clapped his hands and stood up. At the same time, the pachinko machine in front of him sounded its twelfth jackpot.
Having achieved his goal, Kraft could not be bothered to collect the steel balls. He calmly shrugged the hand off his shoulder and said, "What are you waiting for? Lead the way."
The two burly men exchanged surprised glances, then escorted Kraft farther into the shop.
And so Kraft met the pachinko parlor's owner without any trouble. He was a kindly-looking old man who seemed very easy to talk to.
After a brief, friendly discussion, the old man proved very accommodating indeed, sponsoring Kraft with a large sum of money in exchange for his promise never to play