Casinos were like weeds in the Isles. With regulation quite limited unlike the States on the gambling establishments it wasn't uncommon to see a few slot machines stapled on to any watering hole.
This particular one was a hair on the dingy side, as things in the Isles are wont to be, but not overly so. The aging blue wallpaper might have been trendy in the 70s. The brown rug at least looked vaguely younger, but still a couple decades old. Few tables had cards going, slot machines, nothing really spectacular, and a bar with drinks.
A corpse stepped into the establishment. She was dressed in a long brown coat with a matching fedora, blue-jeans, boots, skin pale hair dark. The few patrons who noticed her doing so went from vague attentiveness to a lazy double take. There was definitely something off with her. The paleness of the skin was deathly so, faint blackened veins beneath her cheeks. They couldn't see the faded eyes behind her shades or the burns and bruises from noose hiding behind her scarf that would never heal no matter how many decades passed. Only a few sets of eyes followed her march to the bar, off-putting things weren't exactly new in the isles, best not to stare when you do see one. She stopped at the bar, waited for the bartender to pay her heed and she rasped out 3 words from her wounded larynx, "Rye, double, neat."
She glanced over the crowd holding the drink idly in one hand, leaning against the bar counter. Looking over the crowd her gaze fixed on Jay Tucker. The man was too busy talking with a few friends at a table. Few suits, likely family were milling about but otherwise uninterested in him and only vaguely eying her like a potential problem. She took her drink and strode over towards Jay's table and plunked down in a seat like she had every right to. The table went instantly silent. She ignored the eyes boring into her with growing annoyance as she took a sip from her drink. She just levelled her gaze at Jay. Finally he broke the silence, voice irritated as he asked, "What do you want lady?"
In a quick smooth motion she tossed a bounty poster on the table, the one for Jay. "You can make this easy or you can make this hard." She rasped out coolly, almost disinterested sounding.
What followed was an explosion of action as they all went at her at once. She rose quickly, taking a knife in her forearm and pressing the blade and the hand that held it back towards the owner, throwing him off balance and into position for a fierce headbutt. Darkness roiled about her as she struck and he went down. The chair to her back only knocked her off balance slightly with dull pain. She wheeled around and struck back with a fierce blow wreathed in darkness. The assailant wasn't expecting her to shrug the chair off and the assault sent him crumpling. Jay was trying to run, but she could run faster, closing the gap in a flash and knocking him face down with a vicious strike from behind. She was upon him as he landed, hammering him with shadowy blows until he stopped moving. A quick check indicated he was still alive but pretty battered. She didn't know what he did, nor did she care. All that mattered was he was money in the bank. Grabbing some duct tape she got to work binding him. She didn't even look up as one of the family goons started to move in with his gun, but she did speak in that raspy voice, "You want a bigger mess? Go ahead." The goon paused a moment and then stood down.
She hefted her bounty on her shoulder and stepped to the bar. She noticed the knife still embedded in her left forearm, pulled it out, and dropped it on the counter. Fished out some bills and dropped it there as well, "Keep the change." She rasped out.
"Who the hell are you?" Asked the bartender as she turned for the door.
"They tend to call me Dark Reckoner, it's a good a name as any."
