Manehattan Roulette

“Boss? Boss?” After several minutes the crowd, that previously gathered around Seven and his beloved starlet to hear their argument, broke up and Rick made his way through.
“What the hay just happened?” Derrick looked concerned.
“What do you know about a John Colto?”
“John Colto? This name rings a bell. Colto, Colto... Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Ooh.”
“What is it?”
“He is a... director for some... other kind of movies.”
“What other kind? Spit it out already.”
“He is a porn-director. And actor”
A big grin took place on Sevens muzzle.
“He plays in his own porn? That is even better! Do have some of his 'works' on hoof?”
“I might have, why? What do you want with them?”
“Have an example prepared on the video recorder in my office and -”
“Would you mind to tell me what just happened?” Rick interrupted Seven. “Why are you so obsessed with John Colto now?”
“He promised Betty to take her to Haywood as an actress – but I bet she doesn't know what kind of movies he directs.”
The assistant seemed to understand as a big grin spread on his muzzle.
“Ah, now. Sure boss, will have taken care of it.”
Once again they parted, Rick took the elevator to his Suite in the 42nd floor of the east wing to gather his collection of inappropriate movies and bring them into Sevens office. Seven however was heading to the second floor to spend some time with the High-rollers after which, when his stomach had calmed down, he would spend some time at the Everfree tavern in the west wing of the giant horseshoe to take his dinner. As he passed by a black jack table in the second floor he turned towards a dark brown, earth pony stallion with short, white mane.
“Fitzwilliam?” He asked in disbelief.
As the stallion turned around with a confused look, another pony bumped into Seven.
“Ah, Mr. Smith, finally I catch up with you.”
Smith didn't know what hit him at first as the suited pony with a trimmed mustache and greased back, black mane dragged him to the elevator on the left handed side.
“Giovanni Camino?” Again was his voice mirroring his missing ability to mentally follow the scene.
He looked back to the black jack table where a wondering, slightly bigger version of Lucas Fitzwilliam was staring after him.
Giovanni pushed him in the elevator and pressed the button for the 30th floor, which was additionally titled with 'Dragon's Lair', the east wing's restaurant.
“What are you doing here?” Mr. Smith finally managed to overcome his surprised-ness.
“We have some business to talk about, Mother is waiting for you with the rest of the family at the VIP table at the Lair.”
The air was filled with tension as they elevator sped up to its destination. Neither of the two stallions spoke a word until they door opened with a loud bing.
Seven was greeted by the maître d': “Good evening, Mr. Smith, what can I do for you today?”
“Nothing, Jacques, I have a business meeting I don't want to be interrupted, but thank you.”
Followed by the member of the camino-family, they both made their way to the VIP-table on the gallery. The swung stairs, made of a rare and expensive red wood were covered by a lighter red carpet and flanked by two muscular, white stallions wearing suits similar to Giovannis, but theirs seemed to not quite fit that well.
Upstairs there sat Dana Camino, mother of the family, on the end of a red table together with the other heads of their organisation. Giovanni sat down on an empty chair next to her, the empty chair at the other end of the table, opposite to Dana, was meant for Seven.
As he took his place, he noticed a black leather suitcase speckled with some red goo-ish liquid in their midst.
“I am disappointed.” Mother camino began, “I thought we had an arrangement?”
She waited, but Seven had nothing to say as he was banned in pure fear.
“We kept the Golden Hooves alive as it struggled in its hardest times. You promised to pay back 100.000 bits a month and we support you with special medicine and let you do your business,. 100.000 bits, because you can't afford more, you said. And yet today a stranger walked out your doors with a suitcase full of 250.000 bits. Do you know how much more that is? This stallion got twice as much in one day as we get in one month.” Her voice was cold and somehow seemed to cut through the background noises of eating and talking ponies.
“But you're in luck as we managed to... stop him from leaving the town.”
“You don't understand – that was Lucas Fitzwilliam, the lucky bastard! If I hadn't bribed him into leaving he would have ruined everything!” Seven finally managed to open his muzzle. “There wouldn't be a Golden Hooves left from which you could receive anything -”
“Lucas Fitzwilliam? You got to be kidding me!” She interrupted him with a snort. “That was an impostor!”
An impostor. The scales were falling off his eyes. How foalish could he be. He gave an impostor 250.000 bits for nothing. And to make things worse, he just saw the real Lucas sitting downstairs and playing blackjack. Now he really was ruined, he thought as he lifted his hooves and pressed them again his head. The caminos, obviously surprised, exchanged some glances.
“Keep them. Keep the bits.” Seven exhaled slowly as he broke the silence. “ It's an unscheduled repayment, no, it's a present. A gesture of my good will.” He stood up. “And dinner's on the house.”
“I -” Dana began but with these words he left the gallery and told the barkeeper what he has promised after he passed the bar. With one push the elevator took him to the 42nd floor where he went through the long hallway to his office. As he opened the door he startled Rick working on the recorder to set up the lucky outcome of Sevens scheduled argument with Betty.
“Oh, you are back already?”
Seven explained everything to his faithful assistant, who took some minutes to proceed what he just had heard.
“What do we do now?”
“You know what? I have often been to casinos before I was an owner of a casino myself, which I had taken over from an old, dying stallion I was close friends with. And during the sessions of roulette I heard the sound of the ball jumping from one cell to another in the roulette-wheel so many times, that at the end I even wasn't excited anymore. But sometimes I feel like there is a pony I can't see rolling a roulette-ball that determines my life with the outcome of its throw. And that clicking noise I literally hear the whole evening.”
“You mean like somepony greater wants you to fail?”
Seven nodded.
“That's ridiculous. And you know that. Besides it won't solve your problems, so tell me what are you thinking to do now?”
“I don't know. I mean I lost 250.000 bits to the caminos, but I was prepared to lose them anyways, but Fitzwilliam...He ruined over twenty casinos so far and we neither have the time nor the bits to bribe him a second time. Well, you know a first time, but -”
“I,” Rick interrupted him, “understood. But you have to make plan or we are ruined.”
“Either way tomorrow we'll sleep on the streets! The only way would be to stop his luck, but you can't stop him -” Seven stopped in the middle of his sentence, as if he was enlightened by that higher pony he accused before of wanting him to fail.
“Gene.” He said while staring at the door.
“Gene? Like in Gene Mane?”
“Yes, Gene Mane! The only possible way that Lucas always wins is, that he uses a spell powerful enough to break the anti-cheating spells without tipping off the security system – and Gene could detect that spell.”
“It's worth a try.” Derrick shrugged.
Seven picked up the phone and dialed the number of the bureau of the commission for illegal gambling. After a short call he hang up and a smile spread on his muzzle.
“He's going to be there in half an hour – tell the security to hold him, if possible.”
Rick nodded.