Jacob Sarno's Questionnaire

Viva Las Vegas, baby. This is the town of real legends. The richest bastards and the poorest fucks all congregate here because it is the land of opportunity. Anyone can strike it big -- long as they're the right sort of person. So focused, are those magnates, on getting every last penny -- they forgot to let them win! Some places are losing profit. People are losing the drive to come here. It's because of the damned corporations. The billionaires. Out of touch loons. They didn't build this. Didn't design it. They bought or stole what someone else worked to achieve, and damn it all, I'm going to take a piece of it back! Fix this rotten system! And then I'll be the one raking in all the cash! My Grandpa helped make this city what it is! I'll be damned if I see it fall!

I make a cool hundred-twenty thousand dollars a year. I'm on the higher-end of dealers. The best of the best, bar none. Helps that the right sort of people are able to recognize and respect the name 'Sarno'. Helps more, that my pop is a financial advisor for these bums. He helps me pay the bills, get the best work and provides me the extra money I need to actually live rather than survive. He gets me a few more hundred thousand, more if I really need it. And I do. Every year. Usually gives around five-to-six hundred grand. If it were up to me, it'd be a whole lot more. And it will be. Soon enough...

Sarno used to be a name people respected. It used to RUN one of the best in Vegas. The showiest, the gimmickiest, he designed Circus Circus. Ceaser's goddamn PALACE! He poured out his heart and soul, now his hard work sits in the hands of bums -- flavor and detail erased for a bit more quick and easy pachinko slots and generic entertainment options. He was award-winning. Worth multi-millions! Not like he saw all that much, in his time. No. Instead, he croaks -- and someone else gets his Casino. Then someone else buys it. And nowadays, they run that shit into the ground because they already HAVE their BILLIONS. Chumming it up with the President, going around everywhere BUT the city they should be calling home. Fuck them. Fuck that! This is MY city. My LEGACY was built here! My family came here, for the sake of opportunity and my grandpop seized it! Only to get cut off, at the finish.

My family is content with their meager fortunes. Finding their own work. Leeching off the excess that those failures at the top bleed out from their every orifice. I'll help them bleed. I'll wring them DRY and take what is MINE from their COLD DEAD HANDS. All I gotta do is save up enough. Get friendly with that bastard Ruffin. I already work for him. I've dealt a few games, personally. He's starting to trust me. I'll get in that rotten old fuck's will -- and take it all out from under him. Just gotta keep smiling. Waiting. Serving that geriatric fuckstick a drink while he drains my home and empire of every penny before he CROAKS. FUCKER. FUCKER. FUCKER.

When I was a dumb kid who didn't know dick-all, I thought we were doing great. My dad makes millions. My siblings have their own little businesses and pet projects. I always loved gambling. I always appreciated the freeness of money, easy come -- easy go. Allowances blown on slots and private tables.

My dad set me up with the Circus Circus job. Figured if I was gonna go around playing cards -- may as well actually profit from it, yeah? I spot cheats. I win hands. Lose just enough to keep them crawling back before I bankrupt them. Good times. Easy work. Fulfilling. Phil had me work his private tables, a few times -- even talked to me. Me! Some millionaire's brat -- hardly worth the time and energy of a man worth over three billion. He asked me how much I knew about HISTORY. He was shocked to learn it was next to nothing! So he told me.

I should be him. I should be running this joint. I should be running EVERYTHING. MGM comes in, buys up -- HALF the damned city. This fat fuck -- this NOTHING of a man, an intruder who bought this place on half a WHIM. He tells me my father was an inventor. A creator. The eye behind the design. This gets me doing research. Learning the truth of things. How POOR we used to be. Would still be, were it not for him. My dad? Nothing. NOTHING without HIS dad. Jay Sarno. And I am his heir. His inheritor. I thanked Phil Ruffin, even as I began to plot his downfall. He showed me the truth. I'll rip it back from him.

Freddie Sarno. My dad is old money with Morgan Stanley. He's my main provider. My bread and butter. A stupid, ignorant idiot who will die a fraction of the value of HIS father. Only got where he is, because of the man -- and never dared to tell ME about it. I still play it nice with him. Smiles. He gives me my money. I can't afford to piss him off. Not yet. Not until he comes back to me, begging. Pleading. Stupid fuck.

Phil Ruffin. Billionaire. Employer. My great nemesis, though he doesn't know it. Thinks I'm the quirky young dealer who helps him win big against the BIG spenders or his visiting 'friends'. He likes me. I'll keep it that way. Until I can take EVERYTHING from him.

Scarlet. Pretty girl. Knows JUST what I like and how I like it. She deserves better than what she is -- just some common whore. When I make it big, I'll marry the woman. Treat her right. She really does love me, you know. Not like the other men. She said so. She could make a wonderful acrobat. A performer like no other. I'll give her that chance... I'll give her whatever she needs.