Chapter Text
A rough, dusty cough heard behind a few walls as Reginald looks along the former owner's desk
"Good lord was The Inventory in that bad of a shape!? Not even I can pay for these outrageous bills! Here I thought attracting a higher caliber of clientele would bring in some good business. Though I'd hazard a guess, attracting the criminally insane does have it's fare share of-"
Gunshots are heard, Max laughing like a maniac
"Costs..." He sighs, "What to do..."
Reginald Van Winslow (retired) drums his fingers along the desk as he thinks.
A skeletal foot kicks open the door to the office like it owns the place, the coughing coming from it, mixed with a lot of laughing, "HACKHAHAHAHACKHAA!"
"Good lord!" Reginald jumps back, his own back hitting the desk, hand on his chest like he's about to have a heart attack.
"Those Mann Brothers can't keep a good man down. Who're you? You runnin' the place for me?" A full skeleton steps into the dim office dramatically. Dressed in funeral attire that would fit perfectly with the 1930s or 40s...
A couple awkward moments pass...
"*Ahem*, Reginald Van Winslow. And... who might... you be?" Reggie composes himself.
"What, does the statue not resemble me enough?" The skeleton holds up the stone bust of Mr. Kent, founder of The Inventory.
"Mr. Kent?! But you died over a century ago!" Reginald is in some disbelief, though some of the more recent appearances at The Inventory have had a supernatural bent to them...
"Yes well having the Necronomicon arrive in the place I was buried and freely fly around doing whatever the heck it wants can lead to some things."
"But... that was 10 years ago."
"I noticed. I've been spending that time researching. This newfangled "Internet" is the best library I can ask for. Gaming has come a long way in my absence. Much more than just cards and dice now." The skeleton of Mr. Kent chuckles as he walks over to the desk.
"Though it has not been kind to you..." He wistfully looks through the bills.
*Probably where the Trailer would actually start*
"Well, Reginald, do you know what this means?" The skeleton sits at his desk, lights dimming dramatically.
"Do not tell me you're thinking of closing down?" Reginald looks worried.
"Of course not. Desperate times in the games industry, even back when this place was founded, calls for... a change in Demographic. It's time to activate Code D."
"Code D, sir...?" Reginald looks confused. He never saw that in the by-laws of The Inventory.
"Ah, I must have been buried with those. In short. When The Inventory's normal clientele fail to pony up... find newer clients."
"Children? Sir, I realize this is a speakeasy but I must put my foot down on letting children gamble in games of high stakes." Reginald objects.
"Who said anything about gambling?" He says smugly, he'd be smiling if he had lips, though it looks like his teeth are smiling enough for him.
He pulls something out of his inner suit jacket, perhaps ribcage, with two boney fingers and tosses it onto the table in front of him. It slides to the center of the table stylishly.
Shrouded in darkness, a spotlight suddenly turns on and shows a new pack of cards, the camera dramatically spins and zooms in on...
A huge jazzy riff plays as the skeleton cackles, credits playing as we quickly glide from place to place in some red void, UNO cards slowly descending to the bottom of the screen...
The Inventory is bringing a new generation of characters together for a game of high stakes... UNO?!
"There's plenty of young newcomers in gaming that could draw in a huge crowd Winslow, we just have to tap into it!" Mr. Kent laughs
"Well... who do you suggest, sir?"
"Oh... I got a few ideas..." He says cryptically, looking up from his desk.
"How about... you." He says, looking directly out the door he walked in through.
"The Player" has entered the UNO Tournament...