6. Roulette

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Los Angeles

"I wasn't cheating!", the man cried, "I can't belive this place! One little win streak and you're barred!

"It's not one little win streak though, is it Jones?", The guard growled, "Everytime you come in this place you leave with triple what you came in with!"

"What can I say? Jones winked and smiled at the bulky security guard, "Roulette has magic hands".

"Whatever. Steve!", the guard called over his colleague. Twice as big as his counterpart, Roulette was now officially nervous. Of course, he'd never admit it.

"Iwasjustleavingactuallycheeriota-ta" His nerved made him speak way too quickly. There was an akward silence until the guard spoke.

"What?"

"I think he said he's leaving" said Steve in a surprisingly high pitched voice.

"Oh. Well, you got that right." he grinned menacingly as the two large men grabbed Roulette by an arm and a leg wach and flung him out of the LA casino.

"And stay out!"

"Uuh" he groaned. Dazed and disorientated, Roulette scooped himself off the hard gravel road and turned around. There was a car next to him. A 1953 Bently R-type Continental from the looks of it. He was surprised to see the black car looking as polished as the day it was sold. He didn't have much time to admire the owner's carefully kept antique though, as he was otherwise occupied trying to figure out where it came from. It definitely hadn't been there before. He would have hit it. Roulette gasped. Maybe he had hit it. Maybe he had amnesia! He shook his head and peered into the tinted window of the car. Something inside moved. Was there somebody in there?

Sunddenly the door he was leaning against was flung open with great force, knocking Roulette off his feet. He scrambled up and just had time to glimpse the face of a dark-haired girl in the back seat and see the ginger man sitting next to her winked at him before something cam at him from behind. A heavy object hit him with such speed that he left the ground as he was bundled into the car. He realised his nose was bleeding, probably due to the door in the face. He was squashed against the door and considered making a run for it when the  lock clicked.

"Seatbelt", the man in the passenger seat reminded him as they turned a corner. His skull cracked sharply on the bulletproof window.

"Ow".

"I did tell you. Jarvis likes to drive fast".

Rulette mumbled in protest, rubbing his head.

"Now, Roulette. We have a little proposition for you..."

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