Snow clung to the curbs along the Avenue, turning streetlights into halos. A brass band warmed the air with a Motown riff while engines idled and purred, Cadillacs, Buicks, a few restored cars whose chrome winked like dice. Inside the new palace of chance, glass and steel rose where a factory once stood, the past welded to the future with neon and hope.

They called it a grand opening, but it was more like a comeback to Kiel

The doors swung wide at eight sharp. Cameras flashed.  Godfather – Chairman SlimRagnarok and the 12th Street Swan Hunters smiled. Ghostof2011 and  Gli Angeli della Notte stood by calmly, not too confident in Security.

 Dealers in crisp vests stood behind tables laid out in green felt that screamed money. Above it all hung chandeliers shaped like a wheel, half roulette, half assembly line, and its lights ticking on one by one as if counting down with anticipation.  

Kiel paused at the threshold, coat collar turned up, breath fogging. He’d worked the line back when the line worked back. He knew the rhythm in the atmosphere, the math, but also the way a city could break your heart and ask for more. Tonight, he wasn’t here to chase luck. He was here to see if Detroit could still make something hum again.

“Welcome to Motor City Casino.  Open the tables,” he shouted out, and the felt came alive.

Coins clinked. Cards whispered. Dice bounced as the crowd chased Lady Luck.

Outside, snow kept falling. Inside, the city warmed itself.

At midnight, LittleSi  and the Swanfree Swansong crew raised their glasses.

 “To Detroit,” he said. “To work. To risk. To what comes next.”

The cheer that followed wasn’t polite. It was earned.

After an extremely long day of dealing with the fall out from BigTed's untimely and costly death, Slim needed to let off some steam. The recently open Motor City Casino was just the spot to enjoy his evening. He took a seat at a private table in the back and started to lay out the cash

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

Kiel stood across the room watching his Godfather fail time and time again, a giant smile crossing his face.

You were paid out $750,000 and your bet of $500,000

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

You were paid out $500,000 and your bet of $500,000

Slim was getting more depressed with each hand. Clearly today wasn't his day. With one last hope for redemption, he laid his last 500K on the table.

You lost, your bet of $500,000 was taken.

it wasn't easy being a table gambler and a great godfather.

Being in Detroit wasn’t out of the ordinary, especially when one needed to offload their cocaine supply. The price of which eventually hovered just over $9,800 a pound, a fantastic price for one’s CA’s before their time had completely run naught, and a bullet in their head would eventually soon follow.

Other than the nice haul of cash the drug deals brought, it was about time to revisit Motor City’s Casino in preparation for the upcoming poker tournament. Especially now that a certain “beluga” whale had pilfered his pockets when he wasn’t looking. PlagueDoctor figured he would take a seat at the roulette table, something he hadn’t tried in a while. Kiel watched from a distance across the aisle of tables, smiling as always as PlagueDoctor brought out the big bucks.

He started off simple, going for reds or blacks. Initially, each loss was followed by a win, recovering anything lost. That was, until the plastic ball decided to land within the reds multiple times over, at one point bouncing into “9” three times straight, and the hundreds of thousands of dollars Plague walked in with were now gone. 
 

Not to be outdone, he momentarily left the table to make a couple calls, wiring in a couple more million dollars to work with. Now with a fresh set of chips, he returned to the table, now with a newer strategy. Now it was time to go for evens and odds, bigger numbers and smaller numbers.

And it worked like a charm. The money lost came roaring back, each bet varying and pulling off handily. Eventually, with a few good 25’s and 27’s and 3’s in intended succession, Plague recovered enough of what he felt he only needed.

”House might’ve won the overall battle, but not quite the war just yet, Kiel. I’ll see ya around, and certainly for tomorrow’s real game,” he said with a chuckle.