> Manehattan Roulette
>  by Papiertiger
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> Chapter One
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Have you ever been to Manehattan? Have you ever seen it's beautiful skylines, been to it's gorgeous parks and talked to it's twiddle-diddle-High-Society-Ponys on one of their partys? It has more charm than Appleloosa, more glamour than Fillydelphia and even more luxury than Canterlot!
This is, of course, if you have the bits for it - and Seven Smith, he had the bits. Seven was the founder and owner of the Golden Hooves, the most magnificent casino in all of Manehattan.
At this part of the story, somepony always mentions Las Pegasus, where casinos were literally born, but after all, it's mostly a cloud city and earth-bound ponys have no chance of ever visiting the best clubs - and that's where the Golden Hooves kicks in, a casino for everypony.

It was the fifth year after the return of Princess Luna and everything went not-so-well anymore as in the years before. The Bearers of the Elements of harmony inspired everypony to do something for the greater good and so being in a filthy casino and spending your bits on the roulette table wasn't en vogue anymore, especially after the most casinos had more than a bad reputation. The Golden Hooves, in fact, had made forty percent less profits over the last half a year.

“If we keep losing customers like this, we don't stand another year.” Two strong earth-ponys were heading down a long hallway ending in an elevator door.
“At this rate we're not even making it to Hearth's Warming Eve...”
The yellow stallion stopped.
“Now, what are we going to do?”
The other stopped too and turned around.
“Mr. Smith, I...Erm.”
“Listen, Rick, I know business' been tight, but we'll have to work it out. Or do you want to live on the streets?”
“No Mr. Smith.” Rick lowered his head and stared at the red, soft carpet on the floor. He spotted a speckle and made a mental note to yell at the maids as soon as they ended their tour.
“Derrick, I don't know what to do either. I don't think that inventing a new game could save us. Nothing could,” he added as he walked on.
“So what do we do? Sell the Golden Hooves? Quit? You know, we could get rid of the six mares, that are causing all these troubles...”
Mr. Smith whinnied.
“No, the would become martyrs and that would make everything just worse...” He shook his head as they entered the elevator. Rick pushed the button for the ground floor.
“I guess we have to sit it through and hope for the best. Maybe we can make some other casinos to close, then there would be more customers for us, but the Golden Hooves is already the best visited casino in Manehattan.”
The both stood there in silence as they left the upper most floor behind them and skipped the other forty-one floors to the great entrance hall. They would go to some of the tables on the ground floor, greet some regulars, then to the cashier and to the check-in, which were both located at the front entrance and then over the left, big, swung wooden staircase to the second floor where Mr. Smith could talk to some of his High-rollers and their wives. After that brief visit they would inspect the two restaurants, one in each wing of the giant, horseshoe-shaped building, and stayed for dinner. At 9 o'clock they would sit in the gallery of the theatre watching the show and talking to some more sophisticated ponys. The show at the Golden Hooves was full of young mares believing they could become famous. They danced and sang a variety of songs, all in saucy but beautiful dresses, accompanied by the big band.
The second half of the show was dominated by Roo, a light pink pegasus mostly in a corsage and fishnet-stockings with garter-belts. The finale was always preceded by a break where they darkened the stage and rolled in a grand piano. With a loud noise the spot was switched on and pointed to Betty, lying in a beautiful, long dress on that piano and singing a ballad.
As she finished the smooth song, in all of a sudden everything went crazy: Betty ripped off her dress revealing a even more narrow dress and some of her underwear and all the dancers of the previous songs burst onto the stage, including Roo in a new outfit. When the pegasus hadn't fired up the audience before, the unicorn mare made them all squeal, cheer and hoof-stomping. The crowd went simply nuts, every evening of every month since Seven discovered her in a gloomy dance-club in downtown.
After the show, some of the girls danced on the stage of the basement, where the less richer and more filthy ponys were playing. These shows often involved little clothes and some bits, or even a hotel-room for an hour or two. Roo herself seized that opportunity every evening.
Mr. Smith would visit Betty in her dressing room and either take her upstairs to his room in the giant bit, that seemed to float between the two wings of the Golden Hooves or introduce her to a high-roller that asked for her company. Betty hated those nights as much as she loved Seven, who often gave her some pills or a powder to get through this – she always fought them but was too weak to resist.
The casino-owner himself had no problems with drugs. In fact he found them really useful, a little nose full of dried poison joke stomped to powder could do wonders. But first and foremost he needed them to make Betty doing what he wanted and keep her in a good mood. He hated giving her away for those special occasions too and was days after such a night disgusted of her and especially of himself, what often ended in arguments and sometimes, if the were both on a trip, a black eye for Betty. But he did what a pony had to do to keep his business alive. And those nights with Betty had saved the Golden Hooves from its closure before.
Rick on the other hand, or Derrick Watcher by his full name, was supposed to stay in the casino and handle some minor incidents.
This was their daily route and they had never taken another up to this day
But on this day they didn't make it to the theatre. They even didn't make it to the second floor. The stopped at the reception.
“Wait, WHAT?” With an open muzzle the casino-owner stared at the receptionist, a quite beautiful but unremarkable mare. He tried to be quiet while maintaining a certain instance.
The receptionist however stared at the table and repeated what she had said seconds before.
“The stallion named Lucas Fitzwilliam just checked in.”
Derrick put a hoof on his muzzle. With wide eyes he looked at Seven, who himself put a hoof through his brown, greased back mane.

Lucas Fitzwilliam. This name is known amongst casino owners almost everywhere. Appleloosa, Las Pegasus, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, every city with the tiniest amount of gambling knows Lucas Fitzwilliam. They call him the Lucky Bastard. At first because he is an illegitimate colt and secondly: he wins so often. And often is an understatement. He wins. Every. Freakin'. Time.

About every casino where he played had either to shut down or fire dozens of ponys to go through this crisis. Some Casino-owners had tried to let him assassinate but there it kicked in again, his endless luck and saved him from various things that should have crushed his skull. He even dodged a bullet by pure luck.

And this stallion just checked into the Golden Hooves, Seven Smiths Casino.

Some ponys in fact consider it better to be robbed by Danny Sea and Danny Sea pulled at least one coup where he left nothing from 160 billion bits. Not to mention the William-Flank-fraud and the Fabergé-Egg-heist where he is supposed to have his hooves in. But the advantage of being robbed by Danny Sea is that you have at least your insurance giving you back your lost money.
There is no insurance paying out when somepony wins.

> Chapter Two
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“What do we do know, boss?” Watcher was the first one to break the silence between the three of them.
“Order a black suitcase, have it here in half an hour. Go to the vault and fill it with 250.000 bits and then come back to me. We are going to make him an offer that he can't refuse.”
“You are going to give him your money? Without -“
Seven, who has just stared blankly into the reception until yet, turned to his Secretary.
“I am going to bribe him into leaving,” he interrupted.
“And you expect that he just leaves? After he took out several casinos and just walked out of their front door with as many bits as he could carry?” Derrick frowned in disbelief.
“No, I am going to call upon his better nature. If he plays tonight, we can shut down this place and we all live on the streets and even-”
“Better nature?” Derrick shouted out. “You are going to leave our fate to his better nature? Are you crazy?”
Seven gave him the looks.
“There is no other chance, you know that nothing ever could hurt him. And after all, he is just a stallion, maybe he will understand our misery.” With these words Seven left the open-muzzled Derrick and went back to the elevator to spend some time distracting him in his office.
Rick on the other hand thought some bad words about Seven.
After several moments he shook his head two or three times and walked behind the counter of the reception to his office to make a call for a suitcase.

Three quarters of an hour later, Mr. Smith and his assistant Rick were standing behind a dark brown, earth-pony stallion with short, white mane, who was sitting at a slot machine. Over his flank he wore an old, light brown poncho with a corn print so nopony could see his cutie mark.
“This is the third machine I emptied of bits,” he said without turning around.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Seven began, “I am Seven Smith, owner and founder of the Golden Hooves and this is my assistant, secretary and head of security Mr. Watcher.”
Seven pointed a hoof at his friend.
“Would you mind to follow me where we can speak freely? Rick, can we use your office?”
Rick nodded.
“Sure Mr. Smith, I can follow you everywhere. And please, call me Lucky.” The brown stallion grinned, now looking into Sevens eyes.
After he put his bits into his saddlebags, the three of them walked to the reception, behind the counter and into Derricks office, where he pulled a black suitcase out of his safe and carefully laid it on his desk.
“When this is going to be a real bribe, why not order a black suitcase,” Rick thought as he had ordered the case.
“Hard times, ain't it?” Seven sat down behind the desk, his assistant standing at his side. Lucas strolled around the room and inspected the decoration.
“I am offering you 250.000 bits, if you leave my casino in the next half an hour.”
Fitzwilliam turned his head to the stallion in the big revolving chair. Smith had put his hooves together and rested his muzzle on it.
“250.000?”
Fitzwilliams voice trembled with disbelief.
“250.000.” Seven repeated slowly.
“250.000 for not playing today and risking to loose everything I have? Hell, I'm in.”
The two stallions behind the desk were surprised, one more than other, but in neither of their faces you could read that.
With a silent click, the suitcase opened and Lucas calculated roughly the bits in the black leather box.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” He closed the suitcase, put it in his saddlebags and turned to leave the room. Before he reached the door, he stopped.
“Am I allowed to watch the show?”
“Of course you are. And your room is on the house.”
Lucas bowed and smiled at Seven as he left the room.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.”When the door clicked as it closed, they both let their breath they were holding. Completely stunned they stared at each other.
“This...was it?” Rick asked in disbelief.
“This sure was easy.”
“I wonder if he is hiding something or just... plain stupid.”
“He could have walked out that door with everything we had but instead he chose to go with the case full of bits... I wonder what's going on in his head.”
“I guess we'll never know.”
They both stared for a little while at the door where he just left until they had processed what just happened – each on his own way.
“I want every step of him watched until he leaves the city,” Seven said as he stood up from his chair and walked out of Watchers office.
“Yes, Sir.” Derrick remained in awe until he heard the door click a second time, then he made some calls.

Meanwhile Seven headed to the theatre.
“This has to be celebrated,” he thought as he approached an excited mob. His voice cut sharp through all the ponys whispering.
“What is going on here?”
The crowd split and made a passage for an angry looking, beautiful dressed mare.
“Seven, I am leaving you to be an actor in Haywood.”
“Wait, what?”
It hit him like a brick in his face. He stared at the large, double swing door where she just passed through. The white unicorn with the light red, curly mane and a voluptuous muzzle had her trolley case behind her pulled by a shy and insecure looking colt in a red Golden-Hooves-uniform.
Seven shook his head to shake off the amazement.
“But darling!” He pulled out his softest and smoothest voice as he trotted after her.
“Finally, I am able to leave this hellhole.” She turned away her head and held her muzzle high.
“But baby!” Seven began again.
Betty stopped and turned to her ex-coltfriend.
“I have met somepony who actually cares for me and will not be together with me because it's convenient.” She spun around and continued her way to the exit.
“But sweetie-pie!”
Seven outpaced her and put himself in her way.
“I thought you are my shmoopy-doopy sweetie-weety pony pie,” he said as he bowed to her.
“I... No. No, you had your chance!”
“Can't we at least talk about it? There is no need to rush decisions.” His eyes were begging.
“Besides, you don't want to go without a great farewell-party, do you?” Seven added.
“I,” Betty began but sighed instead of finishing her thought.
“Think of all the fans of yours and how disappointed they will be when you don't give them the honor of your last show. And I bet you hadn't the time to take your diamond collar from my safe too, did you?” He paused. “Please come with me upstairs where we can talk this through – You know I support you in every way I can.”
“Yes, you are right.” She paused. “But I will finish my show first, my fans need me. After that I am going to explain my decision to you and, if you don't mind, take my diamond collar with me.”
“Of course I don't mind.” Seven smiled weakly.
“But don't think that you can change my mind. I am going with John to Haywood.”
“With whom?”
“John Colto of course, the famous director, my dear. Now if you excuse me, I will be late for the show.” With these words she turned around and went back to her dressing room, the bellhop stumbling after her.
> Chapter Three
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“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.