The Lucky 7 is a dingy casino and hotel in Shadeborough city where many fortunes are gained and lost in the blink of an eye. The two story gambling house has a few dead eyed patrons in it at all times, and occasionally has a show going on for the gamblers to watch. There are cheap rooms for rent on the second floor.

RP Zone


The tune played by the slot machine pierced the eerie quiet in the otherwise silent casino, the lights along its border illuminating the room far greater than the dim lights on the ceiling could. A bored-looking man in a shining, light-grey silk suit sat on a torn red-leather stool. He inserted a chip, pulled the lever, and stared at the machine as the images in the slots rapidly changed.


The tray at the bottom sprang open. Empty. Sighing as he span the stool away from the machine, Jonah Finch adjusted his tie and stepped off of it, making his way towards the washroom.

The comedian looked at himself in the washroom's mirror, half-heartedly rehearsing his lines to himself and making exaggerated gestures. The single other person in the washroom, a heavy-set man in a tucked plaid shirt finished at a urinal, and began making his way out, looking over Jonah's shoulder in a mixture of confusion and mild disgust. Jonah thought for a moment to explain himself, but gave up on the idea just as soon as he had considered it; what was the point? When the man had finally pushed open the old door and shut it behind him, Jonah nervously examined himself in the mirror, sizing up who he was and what he had become. He took a few steps closer, and placed a hand on the mirror, his reflection meeting hands with him. Jonah leaned in towards the mirror and reached for his throat, pulling down the collar of his dress-shirt enough to see more of his neck. There, there was a small scar horizontally across it. It looked to be about a day or two old, and he still remembered how he got it; while playing hero in downtown. He stared at it for a moment, and contemplated what he had gotten himself into. Was it worth it? The risk, the expenses, the danger, everything pointed to "No", but he couldn't help himself. He had to do it, he needed to do it. Jonah looked down at his wristwatch; it was 7:45. He pulled his shirt back up, and confidently stared his reflection in the eyes. "It's show time." He assured himself.

Now standing on an old, rickety wooden platform slightly elevated over the chairs and tables in the casino, Jonah peered into the darkness awkwardly, a lone spotlight shining on him. Most of the gamblers had gone silent, waiting patiently for Jonah to begin his show. Only the lone sound of the occasional pinball machine pierced the perpetual silence. Jonah should've started by now, but he stood there by his microphone stand nervously, scanning the audience without moving his head. He couldn't focus, his mind was clouded with thoughts of the past. He pulled down his tie nervously, now starting to sweat. It was as if the spotlight on him was melting him with searing heat, leaving the very depths of his being visible for all to gawk at. He swallowed and approached the microphone, "Shadeborough's a tough town, it's hard to get sleep here," he half-heartedly began, "Why, this girl was banging on my door so loud last night, eventually, I had to let her out!" he exclaimed, followed by a fake smile and a fabricated laugh. It was fake. It was all fake. The joke got him a few forced laughs from the audience, but it didn't matter to him. These were all just plastic people; he was just a plastic person. A husk of who he was, and who he could've been. He searched the audience desperately; anything to take his mind off of his memories, anything to pass by these few minutes that seemed like hours. Everyone watched him, waiting for him to entertain them. They mocked him; they waited for him to speak so they could reply with nothing but laughter. His hands now quivering, he dropped the microphone on the ground, resulting in a massive thumping noise resonating throughout the casino. "Looks like we're going to end on an early note, folks," he said. Even though he was dreadfully nervous and pained, he spoke with such confidence that it masked all of his emotions. He gave one final nod, before wordlessly leaving the building.

The Grand Casino's Great Fall

Yuudai walks into tge casino, the open brown trench coat and brown fadora on his person, as always. He pulls a revolver from it's holster in his coat and shoots, the bullet ricocheting and killing three people. Some cower, others charge. Those who charge find their heads stuck in a beer mug quite soon after they begin, suffocating and crushing them to death. A loud, deep voice cones from everywhere at once. "I am here for one thing," it begins, "Jonah, come accept your fate. I am not here to kill you, else you would be dead." Yuudai shoots a cowering woman that had mistakenly taken out her cell phone.

Jonah, who had been sitting at the bar with a seven-and-seven, was understandably scared and confused when he heard the summons directly after several deaths. He considered running; maybe jumping out of one of the windows, but his curiosity was far too great. The panicked comedian quickly made his way over towards the entrance, trying to catch a glimpse of the assailant.

A peice of glass from a beer mug slices across Jonah's forrhead, spitting blood into his eyes, blinding him. "Ah, good, you can't see me. Probably for the best right now. I need to hit the gym." Yuudai laughs at his joke. "Anyway, take a seat, be more comfortable. I only come for information."

Jonah grips his forehead in pain, and looks down at his hands, now bloodly. Wiping away the blood drawn from him, he regards Yuudai in disgust. "Who the hell are you, and what do you want?" He asks angrily. Normally, he'd never jump into a conversation so aggresively and bluntly, but this was an exception.

"I am someone you should fear." Yuudai responds casually while taking a seat.

Jonah's eyes narrowed into slits, "I'm afraid that's not going to cut it." He said, slowly creeping a hand in the inner pocket of his suit-jacket.

"Oh, Jonah, don't be so ignorant!" A mug shatters near Jonah and Yuudai shoots at his hand.

Jonah manages to move his hand just in time, however the shards still hit Jonah in the chest, causing him to recoil backwards in pain. Luckily, he was wearing his bullet-proof vest and managed to get away from it with minimal wounds. Enraged and no longer willing to speak, Jonah pulls his Browning Hi-Power and turns the safety off, squeezing off a few rounds towards Yuudai.

The table Yuudai sits at flies upwards and Yuudai kicks it towards Jonah, the chunky peice of funature spitting in thousands of peices while bullets fly into it. Yuudai pulls the two shortswords out from their back-waist sheaths. He charges towards Jonah, chopping the remainder of the wood out of the way. "You know, this is not going to end well for you..." Suddenly, two revolvers fly next to Yuudai and shoot at Jonah, and eleven switchblades fly from Yuudai's coat towards Jonas, making escape without injury nearly impossible.

Jonah immediately fell back and hit the ground, only one switchblade lodging itself in his back. Jonah promptly pulled it out and scrambled to his feet, running behind the bar and jumping over the counter, shooting backwards towards Yuudai as he did so.

Tables fly into the bar area, shattering on and around Jonah. Yuudai shoots a few bullets towards Jonah's legs as he is occupied. Yuudai then charges with his swords.

Jonah does a combat roll to the side, avoiding the bullets, and jumps over some of the scrap wood. "You said you weren't here to kill me," Jonah shouted as Yuudai charged. "What do you want then?!"

"To show my true colours, to get information, among other... more painful... things." Yuudai pulls ober a chair and anotherflies to sit across from him by about five feet. "Come, sit, have a drink."

Jonah swallowed nervously, and slowly sat down onto the chair, knowing he'd likely be slain if he didn't. He didn't let go of his pistol, or take an eye off of Yuudai the entire time. Once he was seated, he held his forearm down over his thigh, the pistol cocked and aimed at Yuudai. He swallowed, "Begin."

Two glocks and a revolver point at the back of his head, and all eleven swichblades point strait at him from all sides. "Ah, so I shall." Yuudai says. "You are Jonah, I am Yuudai. You can spread a message for me, can you not? Oh, and if you would please, put your gun down. It's easy to put those bullets off course, and I beleive you're at a disadvantage..."