Triplicate #5

By John M. Foradori

All I ever wanted was to live a happy life. Then I was called into my mission.

That lead me to the first of many horrible decisions and/or actions that have happened over the last ten or so years. The first of which was having to leave Jenna without a goodbye, without a trace. It tore me apart inside to have to do that. It was something that had to happen, though, and I accepted it.

I left in the middle of the night, after a particularly nice evening that I spent with her. Dinner, a nice dinner, not just some random diner that high school kids, or recent high school grads for that matter, attended. I genuine sit-down restaurant! After that, a movie, and after that, a walk in that same park that I met her ten years later. We had a great evening, and then I was gone.

The second incident was the first time that I killed a man. It was so long ago, and to be honest, I am so desensitized to it right now that I couldn’t remember the person or the place that it happened. That’s the worst part of it. It hurt me, at first, but that was it. Now, I can kill without a thought, absolved to be fighting for a greater purpose, one that says that if I must, I must.

When I was growing up as a kid, or at least what I remember as a kid, I wouldn’t hurt anyone. I could, I was stronger than the others, I always have been, but I never did. Now, though, piss me off at the wrong time and there was a decent chance that you could end up dead, and I hated it. Still, I’d do it and feel righteous, justified.

The next, not in any order-I’m sure I’m leaving some out as it is-was when I realized that Jenna was in cahoots with Anderson Research. Then and there I decided that she had no become expendable, which made the love that I felt for her hurt even more. How could I kill the only person that I truly loved? My mission said that I could, that I may have to, so I could.

Damn my mission, damn it straight to hell. But I was alive because of my mission. I was here, now, because of that damned mission, and I met Jenna because of that mission.

Lying to her that night, when I fulfilled my ten year promise to her, that was the next thing that I hated. I had to lie, I’ve always had to lie.

I could handle it fine when I was betrayed by the Sambonis’s, that was no big deal. When I was betrayed by Jenna, I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to die, and I almost did. Seeing her with that gun on me as I sat on the bench, her fiancé killed by my hands, her life in ruins because of me, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had pulled the trigger. It wouldn’t have done her any good, though. She couldn’t kill me with a bullet, not when I had recovered. Sort of.

And finally, the last event that has torn apart my soul happened just under a week ago, Christmas Eve. I walked into a trap that I would have never suspected. I thought it was a hit on Jenna, but it was for me, it was all for me. Michelle, by trusted voice of reason, my teacher, my friend, my confidante, was destroyed. She was the buffer between me and my extraordinary hardware and abilities. Now, though, she was nothing but a memory. I was left to fend for myself, taxing my mind, conscious and subconscious, to handle everything from now on.

Jenna escaped with her life, which I am happy to say I had a part in it. She and I, well, we are fine again. We aren’t in love, although there is love there. Not now, not yet. There may be time for it in the future, but not while my mission looms over everything I do. She knows everything, though, and she has promised that we are fine again.

I guess, though, winning Jenna back pales in comparison to the lost I endured. The loss, as well as my mission, are the reasons why I’m on the roof of the Macomb County Jail, waiting for the two model citizens that attacked Jenna and her friends to leave. Somehow, they were released, no charges filed. I was at a loss to explain it, as was Alana Trammel, arresting officer and Special Agent of the FBI. No evidence-which was a crock-as well as some timely influence got them sprung, but I intended to follow them to wherever they went, to find out who hired them, and to exact some righteous revenge.

I was alone on this one, having sent Jenna and Alana back to San Diego to get on with their lives. I had been the cause of too much pain as it was, I didn’t want anything else to happen to the two people I considered my best friends. I would suffer alone, I would fight through the pain alone, and I would complete my mission alone.

I saw a cab pull up to the front gate, and it was let in. No one was in it. It stopped by the prisoner release doors. My boys would be getting out, soon.

The roof was only about one hundred feet off the ground, I could jump it with no problem. No one noticed, either, which was a good thing. I was standing near the door, in a black overcoat with the collar up to hide my face and a hat covering what else could be seen. I formed them as soon as I landed.

I stood by the doors as the two men exited the facility. The one man, who I had learned was named Tony Grazzi, the one that I dislocated every joint in his right arm, noticed me and got very nervous. I smiled at him, his face turned dark with fear and he scrambled into the cab. The other guy, a stooge names Ben Riley, he followed his pal inside, never looking in my direction.

"Metro Airport," I heard Ben say to the driver, the cab already starting to move.

A guard came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked. He was not thrilled.

"I was visiting a friend, decided to take a walk," I said quickly. That seemed to satisfy the guard.

"Visiting hour is almost up. If you want to see him, you’ll have to hurry."

"Thank you, officer," I said, and made my way towards the front of the building…and the parking lot."

Metro Airport. It seemed like I was leaving the fine city of Detroit tonight.

1

I arrived at Metro a few minutes behind them, but it wasn’t had figuring out where they were going. On their baggage, each of them had one bag that they checked, I saw the airport code LAS and the flight number 2120. I knew the airline as well. All it took me was a moment, and I was booked onto a flight-first class, no less-to the city that never sleeps. No, wait, that’s New York. I was headed to the city that bets on whether or not New York will sleep that night. I was going to Las Vegas.

The flight wasn’t boarding for another hour, so I decided to hit one of the bar’s that was offered for my enjoyment. I wanted to keep an eye out for my friends, but since I was on the same flight as they were, I knew that it would be alright. I would catch up to Tony and Ben. I was sure that Tony would love to see me again. I couldn’t wait to see them.

I saw them, they weren’t at the bar, they were sitting patiently by the gate. Tony, with his good arm, was reading an issue of Time, while Ben was reading the newspaper. They hadn’t seen me yet, which was nice. I needed to trap them on the plane, with nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

I had a plan. It was a good plan, a sound plan.

"What’re you having?" a waitress came up to me and asked. She was pretty, not drop dead gorgeous, but pretty. She had blonde hair and too much make-up on.

"Tall Coors Lite," I told her, and she smiled at me, disappearing to the bar to collect my drink. I sat at a table watching the gate, which was about fifty feet up the terminal. I was out of their line of sight, but they were well within mine. I could keep an eye on them good from here.

The waitress, named Suzy incidentally, delivered the drink, and I paid her. The noise level in the play was astronomical, the television broadcasting the hockey game of the night; the Red Wings and Chicago Blackhawks had the attention of most of the patrons. It was loud, a futile attempt to out yell everyone in the place. They were louder, though, talking up a storm. I guessed that there were at least ten different conversations going on, each seemingly as loud as a jet engine. That’s not mentioning the background noises from the PA announcements and the countless hundreds who were talking a mile a minute at decibels that only dogs could hear.

It didn’t matter, I wasn’t listening to anyone. All I needed to do was see them. That’s all.

Just my luck, someone sat down in front of me. She was a redhead, which made it somewhat acceptable. She smiled at me, and started talking. I didn’t want to pay attention, but I decided that I should.

"You don’t mind, do you? There’s no more chairs anywhere in here." She smiled sheepishly, which was actually pretty cute. She was very good looking, and if I wasn’t busy, I would have considered making a move. I didn’t, though. I was on the clock.

"Not at all," I responded. She smiled again.

"Normally, I wouldn’t do this, but it’s packed in here tonight."

"Yeah, pretty busy." I took another drink. Her pretty face blocked my view. "I hate to do this," I said as nice as I could, "but could you scoot over a little bit. I’m trying to keep an eye on my gate, to see when it’s boarding."

She looked over her shoulder. "Oh, you’re headed to Vegas?"
I nodded.

"Absolutely no problem," she said. She moved over, closer to me. I checked my watch, I had another forty minutes until the flight was supposed to board.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it."

"Anytime. I wish I was headed to Vegas, I got stuck going to Minneapolis this year."

"Why would you want to head someplace colder than here for New Year’s?"

"Family," she said with a soft giggle. It was cute. "Why are you heading to Las Vegas? You have family there?"

"No, I plan on doing some sinning."

She laughed at that. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

She was nice, that much was obvious. It was nice to have a conversation, I was beginning to realize, that didn’t have the added weight of the end of the world on it. Sitting back, talking to this woman sitting next to me, it was really nice. I noticed she was running low on her drink, I think it was a gin and tonic. "Can I get you another?" I asked, pointing to her near empty tumbler.

She smiled. "Sure, it’s a gin and tonic."

"Great," I said, and went to the bar. I returned with two gin and tonics. I remembered the first time that I had gin, it was a gin martini, and it tasted like I was drinking an evergreen tree. Evergreen trees do not taste good. A gin and tonic, though, was a much milder taste. I could handle that, it had just enough pine to let you know it was gin, but that was it. "Happy New Year," I said, holding up my glass.

"Happy New Year," she said, clinking hers with mine. She smiled and took a healthy gulp from the glass. "I’m Heather," she said when she was finished, "Heather Cryczk."

"Hello, Heather, my name’s Gabriel McGuire."

"Gabriel, like the angel?"

"Not just an angel, the archangel."

"Ooh, an archangel. Which one was he?"

"There were only two archangels mentioned in the Bible. Gabriel was the angel who told Mary she was going to have Jesus, he was the angel who dictated the Koran to Muhammad."

"Sort of like a voice of God, right?"

"Something like that."

"That’s interesting. My name doesn’t meant too much." She shrugged her shoulders, and I looked past her at my prey. They were still busy reading.

"I don’t think, though, I was named for anyone. It just happened to come out like that."

"Oh, yeah, I bet that’s what my parents did, too." She was looking at my face, probably at my scar. "Do you mind if I ask what happened to your face?"

"Not at all," I replied, and took a sip. "About five years or so ago, I was, well, I was involved in an accident. I got cut up a little bit. It looks a whole lot more serious than it is."

"I think it looks sexy," she said. The game was on, now.

"That’s exactly why I never got it take care of," I said, and she smiled again. "Really, I don’t mind it too much. It’s a reminder, a constant reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

"Of a time in my life. A good and bad time, a very defining time. I’m who I am because of what happened then."

"Not just the scar, then?"
"No, not just the scar."

"I understand completely." She was scratching her neck a bit, she looked uncomfortable. I tried not to take notice, and I think that I did a good enough job. "Sorry," she said, I guess in response to me looking at her. "It’s the dry air, my neck’s broken out in some kind of rash and it itches." She turned towards me, to show me the rash for some godforsaken reason. When she took her hand away, I saw what she was talking about, a diamond-shaped red blotch on her neck. My eyes went wide.

"That bad?" she asked, a little put off.

"No, it’s just, well, this is going to sound strange."

"What?" She didn’t sound too thrilled with me now.

"I’ve, uh, well you see, I’ve seen that before." I had seen it before, on the neck of one Aphrodite Sambonis.

"You’ve seen this before? What, on some news show or something?"

"No, a friend of mine had it. She got it suddenly."

"Did it go away?"

"I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her since the first day she saw it." She looked worried, but I tried to calm her down. "It’s nothing, just a red mark, no big deal at all." Strange, but true. Only a red mark. Maybe it was like ringworm or something. I lacked the medical background to make a diagnosis, however.

She seemed to relax after that. We sipped our drinks and talked, mostly about nothing, until they called for my flight. First Class and passengers who required assistance got to board first, and since that was me, I bid her a happy New Year and left the table, dropping a twenty to pay for any outstanding bar tabs.

I made my way, cautious not to reveal my identity to my two friends, who were still sitting and reading. I guess they didn’t have first class tickets.

I walked right past them and they didn’t even look up. I smiled. Part one of my master plan had come off without a hitch. I smiled to the nice flight attendant and sat down in my leather seat. She asked me if I wanted something to drink. "Just a Coke will do," I said. She smiled and produced a can for me quickly.

I could hear the cattle call for the remaining rows, and I kept my face buried in a newspaper. I couldn’t let my deception be revealed just yet. There was so much left to do, and they still could escape my clutches running off the plane. I couldn’t let that happen. They didn’t need to know that I was there at all.

One by one, passengers walked by, knocking their carry-on luggage, which I would put money on that they neither fit in the overhead compartments or below the seat in front of them, into my shoulder, then giving me a sneer that would make Dirty Harry look like the nicest person alive. I think that every person not flying first class hates all first class passengers. I understand it, I really do, but then again, I would never fly coach again.

The boarding, as always on flights, took forever. Babies were crying, mothers were yelling at the babies to stop crying, the flight attendants looked at each other seemingly asked why they had taken this job. Me, I sat back with my Coke, sipping it with a smile on my face. My two friends had yet to arrive onboard, and when I heard last call, I knew they were coming. I buried my face again, waiting.

Finally, I saw them, the last two on the flight. They made their way towards the back of the plane, where their seats were. They didn’t even look at me. I smiled again. So far, so good.

The safety lecture started, finally, but I didn’t pay attention. I knew how to operate a seatbelt; it wasn’t the most difficult contraption ever invented by man. I know it was their job, and I should pay attention, at least to show them a little respect, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

We began to taxi, and without too much of a delay, we were airborne. The in-flight movie was some drama, a costumed drama to be exact, that didn’t look too interesting. I ignored it. I didn’t want to do anything, really, so I shut my eyes. Airplane flights were the worst for me, since I didn’t sleep all that much, it was hard not to stay awake. If I slept, though, I knew I would dream, I always dreamed, and I wasn’t prepared for what those dreams would be. The only thing that I could do was read the old magazines that the plane had.

The flight was miserable. Dinner was served, but I wouldn’t have fed it to a dog. It was supposed to be roast beef, but, well, it didn’t look like roast beef. It was tough, almost like I was trying to eat a leather belt. My chair was comfortable, and there wasn’t anyone next to me, which was a good thing. Still, I felt caged, cramped, and claustrophobic. I needed to get off the plane, and when it landed, I was so glad that I was the first one off. Just walking down the access to the terminal from the plane was a relief. I tried to keep from running, but it was hard.

Walking from the plane, the first thing that I heard were the bells and chimes of the strategically located slot machines that welcomed everyone to the fine city of Las Vegas. If I were just passing though, I would have played, but I was here on business, so I mingled in with the crowd and waited for my prey to exit the plane.

When they did, I followed them to baggage claim, and waited with them to pick up their bags. After they had done that, they got into a cab. I got into one right behind them, and pointed at the cab that had just started driving away. "Follow them," I told the driver evenly. He nodded, and away we went.

It had been a long time since I had been to Las Vegas, nine years to be exact. It looked practically the same. The old staples were there, the MGM Grand with the gigantic television screen, the New York, New York, the Mandalay Bay just to name a few. They weren’t headed to the first part of the strip, they seemed headed for the Mirage, Caesar’s Palace, Treasure Island section. The place was crowded, as it should be considering it was the evening of December 29^th. New Years, I imagine, was a lucrative time for Las Vegas.

The cab in front of us wove through traffic without a care, cutting cars off left and right. It was amusing to watch. The cab I was in followed, driving a bit more defensively, but not too much. Their cab pulled into Harrah’s parking garage. So did mine.

I stalled the driver, asked him which casinos were good for first time players and the like, and he started rattling off names like O’Shea’s and a few others that I didn’t recognize right off the bat. When the two were inside the lobby, I thanked the driver and gave him a healthy tip. He smiled and left.

I stayed outside the lobby, watching the two get their room keys. They made their way to their rooms, then I entered, walking up to the front desk. The attendant, a nice, middle aged woman named Nicole, asked if she could help me.

"Yeah, I did this all on the spur of the moment, and, well, I haven’t been able to get a room yet. I was wondering if you had anything available?" She smiled, which told me that something good was going to happen.

"You are in luck, sir, we have a few cancellations. We have three rooms available. Two of them are regular rooms, doubles, actually, but we have the Gold Suite available."

"The Gold Suite," I said, thinking it over. "What’s in the Gold Suite?"

"It comes with a king-sized bed, a living room, a kitchen, a fully stocked wet bar, a balcony that overlooks the strip, and a-"

"I’ll take that," I said. Might as well spend the New Year in style.

"Great, how will you be paying for this?" I pulled out my credit card-which actually wasn’t mine, but it still worked-and handed it to the attendant. She smiled, ran it through her machine, and waited a second. When the information she needed came up, she handed it back to me.

"How long will you be staying with us?"

"Oh, I think three nights will do it."

"Excellent, sir. Do you have any bags to check in?"

I shook my head. "Like I said, it was a spur of the moment decision."

She laughed, and handed me an electronic key. I put it in my wallet. "Enjoy your stay, sir," she said, and I walked towards the elevators. Moments later, I was in my suite, sitting in one of the oversized armchairs. I saw a packet on the coffee table in front of me, and opened it up. Inside was a Harrah’s members card, which entitled me to, well, nothing, really. I could gain points as I gambled.

Another card was $100.00 in free slot machine money. Since the price for my suite was considerably higher than that, I guess the hotel figured that they had already recouped their money. Also, there was a twenty minute phone card, and a couple of passes to the buffet. I walked out onto the balcony, looking down at the thousands of people who had nothing but partying on their mind. I was doing this for them, I though, my mission is for them.

I changed clothes, which for me is essentially thinking about changing clothes, and headed back down to the lobby. I put on a pair of jeans, a white collared shirt and a black leather jacket that almost looked like a sports jacket. I was sure that the two hadn’t been back down, at least through the elevators. I walked over to the video poker machines and put in a twenty dollar bill, wasting time until they emerged from their rooms.

The first hand I got, on the first deal, was a pair of tens. I held them and took three new cards. I won another ten, and fifteen quarters.

I heard the bell ring, signifying that the elevator had reached the lobby. I looked up, and saw nothing. I turned my attention to the second hand. I had a possible run, a 2, 3, 4 and six. I lost that hand.

And the next six, to be perfectly honest. Still, those two hadn't showed up.

Last hand. I bet the maximum, five credits, and immediately had a flush staring me in the face. That was worth 200 quarters, fifty dollars. I made back my money and then some. The bell rang again, and I looked up. It was them.

I cashed out, put the quarters into a bucket that was located right next to it, and handed it over to an old lady. "Lucky quarters," I told her. "These are guaranteed winners!" She smiled at me.

I followed the two of them through the casino floor. They had seemingly both taken showers, shaved, and picked out new clothes, because they no longer seemed like two thugs for hire. They looked like rich college guys out on the Strip to have themselves a good time. Tony and Ben had some sort of connection here, and I intended to find it.

They exited Harrah's and made their way to the street light to their right. On the other side was the Mirage. They waited with the hundreds of people who were walking the streets, and when the light turned green, I saw them hurry across. Ben looked down at his watch. His expression wasn't the calmest.

I followed a good distance behind them. I didn't want them to pick up on the fact that I was in town, let alone following them. I had to find out why they were here.

They both got on the moving ramp that led into the Mirage. On the loudspeaker, the Sigfried and Roy advertisement was blaring loudly. "Welcome to a magical world of adventure and excitement." Blah, blah, blah. I couldn't care less about the shows, I had my own entertainment.

Vegas was crowded, extremely crowded to be exact. I bet there was hardly a room available, and I was lucky to land one of them. Just on the moving ramp, people stood shoulder to shoulder waiting anxiously to get their chance to lose their money. It was an amazing sight, the lights, the people, the atmosphere. I was in a three-ring circus and all the people here were the acts. This was truly an adult playground.

I passed a nicely lit pond, then finally entered the hallway leading to the casino itself. On my left was a habitat of some kind, but I paid it no mind. Some tigers, I think, were in there. I was more interested in snakes.

We entered the casino, the screaming sirens from the slots ripped through my head. With hardly any space I elbowed my way through the throngs of people, still maintaining a visual on the two of them. They were working over to the Sports Book. There were two open chairs, and they sat down. They looked up at the massive board of scores and lines, then to the wall with at least twelve televisions on it.

A waitress came right up to them and handed one of them a note. I knew what that meant. And as I had guessed, the two got up and made their way onto the floor.

They stopped at a private table where a man was playing blackjack by himself. He was a tall man, about six foot six, well built, obviously strong. He had on a black shirt with a red tie, and a pair of black pants. His hair was blonde. He shook the two men's hands and offered them a seat. They didn't gamble, though. The game was out of their price range. They were talking to each other, and I couldn't get close enough to hear what they were saying to each other. I wish that I had placed a listener on them, but I didn't.

Soon, the man laughed at a joke or something, and looking very pleased with himself, gave the two men each a handful of chips. I couldn't tell exactly how much it was, but I bet they were the payoffs, or at least a part of it.

Ben Riley and Tony Grazzi got up from the table and headed to the cashiers. I watched them each get ten thousand dollars in cash. I didn't think that casinos gave out that much, but they seemingly did. They came back towards me and passed without noticing who I was. I looked back at the man in black with the red tie, then at the two losers. I decided to follow them.

They headed back across the street to Harrah's. Why, I wasn't sure. Maybe they wanted to gamble in the place closest to their rooms. Harrah's certainly was that.

It was getting close to about ten at night. The casino floor was hopping, screaming at the craps table, the electronic song of the slots filling the voids, and conversations that got louder and louder trying to overshadow the ambient noise.

Ben and Tony sat down at a blackjack table and immediately cashed one thousand dollars for chips. They were at a twenty-five dollar minimum bet table with two other players, each with about the same amount of money.

I watched for the first half-hour. Surprisingly, both of my friends were hot, and both were up about three hundred. The two others left the table, but strangely, no one else joined them. Tony and Been had drinks coming every few minutes or so. Even with the watered down liquor that was served in casinos, I bet they were buzzed at least. It was time to make my move.

I walked to the table. The crowd in front of me seemed to part as I approached it, as if it was telling me the path that I needed to walk. It led me to the table, and to the two people that had been hired to kill me.

They didn't notice as I sat down at the end of the table, in the last position. I pulled out my walled and put one thousand on the table, all in twenty-five dollar chips. They finished stacking theirs-that’s what diverted their attention from my arrival-and placed their bets. They were playing the minimum, and so was I. Oddly, they still hadn't looked over in my direction.

I put my first bet, fifty, on the table and the dealer handed out the cards. Tony got a seven of clubs. Ben got an ace of clubs. I had a six of hearts.

A bad start for me, in other words.

The dealer gave herself a card faced down and then handed out the second card to all three of us. Ben added a 4 of spades to his seven. Eleven, not bad at all. Tony was hoping for a ten, any ten. Odds were with him, too, we were playing with six decks. He got a ten, too. Lucky him. He smiled and looked up, finally getting a look at the man who sat down next to him. I smiled at him and saw that I had been dealt a five. I had eleven, too.

Ben was terrified, to say the least. He didn't say anything, though, and didn't leave my stare. I bent over to him and whispered in his ear. "You aren't leaving the table until I tell you to leave." It wasn't a question, it was an order. He knew that he had to follow it.

He elbowed Tony, who finally saw me. His reaction was very, very similar. Ben whispered to him the same thing that I told Ben. Tony nodded, his brown hair flopping in front of his ghostly white face.

"Let's play, guys," I said to them, and they nodded, almost in unison. I smiled and nodded, and they returned their attention to the game.

The dealer was showing a seven. Convention says that a blackjack player should always play as if the dealer held a ten as the down card. If that were so, the dealer would have seventeen. I knew what I was going to do. Tony, if he had any clue, would do the same.

In a move that redeemed them somewhat in my eyes, he doubled down. A double down is when the bet is doubled, and the player gets another card from the dealer. Some places allow a player to hit more than once on a double down. Not here, not tonight. One card was all anyone would get.

Like I said, the one-armed idiot Tony Grazzi doubled down, which was the correct move. He couldn't bust, and if he got a ten, he's be practically unbeatable. He got a six, which deflated his spirits.

Ben was happy with his blackjack, and won back him money on 3-2 odds. I was in the same situation as Tony was, and I doubled down. One hundred on the table on the first hand, it was the only way to gamble.

When she gave me a king of diamonds, I smiled at her and looked over at Tony. "Tough luck," I said.

"I'm beginning to see that," he said, not too happy at all.

The dealer, in fact, had a ten, a ten of hearts. I won, Ben won, but Tony was out fifty dollars.

I bet another fifty. I would bet fifty until I lost, then I would go back down to the table minimum. The dealer, who I noticed was named Clara, dealt out the first round. Tony got an eight, Ben got a three, I got a jack. The suits don't matter, really. With the next round, Tony got a nine for a total of seventeen. Ben got an eight. He was in good shape. I got another jack. Clara held an up card of nine.

Clara looked at Tony, who used his somewhat good arm to wave over his cards, indicating that he was staying. Ben doubled down and got a nine. It wasn't perfect, but it was a twenty. Only one hand could beat that. I stayed with twenty.

Clara turned over the down card to reveal an eight. She had seventeen, the amount at which the dealer must stand on. All of us had won.

"I guess I'm a good luck charm for the both of you," I said to them, collecting my winnings. "It's a good thing I found this table."

"Sure, buddy, whatever you say," Tony replied. They were definitely unhappy to see me.

Next couple of hands went by. I lost three in a row. Tony and Ben had won them all. They seemed to calm a bit, smiling more as they won and I lost. That was fine with me. It didn't matter, really, what happened.

"So, boys," I started again, "how long have you been here in Vegas?" I knew, but I wanted to strike up a conversation.

Ben looked at me, and I looked right at Clara. I put two hundred dollars down for my bet. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. She had been very silent since I had arrived at the table. She dealt out the hand.

I had a blackjack. I didn't even pay attention to what the two goons got. I took my winnings and gave her a fifty-dollar tip. "Thank you, sir," she said softly. She had a very sensual voice, the kind of voice that was very soft, very seductive. It almost seemed moist.

"Any time," I said back to her. "You know what, Clara?" I asked her.

"What's that?" She responded.

"These two gentlemen here, Mr. Ben Riley and Tony Grazzi, you see, they are friends of mine." I looked over to them, giving them a hard look with my eyes, but with a smile. They seemed surprised to see that I knew their names. It was nice to have the advantage. "They stopped by my friend's place on Christmas Eve. It was a surprise, but I was ready for them."

"Is that so," She said, smiling. She was blissfully ignorant of what I was really saying, though.

"That is so," I said. The waitress came around, and asked us for drinks. "Gin and tonic," I said quickly. "To be honest, though, I wasn't expecting them, but it was nice to have some company come by, even if it was only for a little bit. It never hurts me to run into old friends."

Tony seemed to try and move his injured wing farther away from me. I continued my hard stare at them. "Did the both of you have a good time when you dropped in so unexpectedly?"

"I've had better," Tony said. I gave him a quick laugh.

"How did you hurt your arm," Clara asked. Bless her heart for continuing the uncomfortable situation for me.

"I hurt it skiing," he said.

"Oh, that's odd, I though people generally hurt their legs or knees skiing."

"Lots of twists and turns?" I asked. He didn't appreciate it.

"Sometimes, people get hurt," Tony replied very coldly. He was looking right at me.

"So, who's playing this hand?" Tony and Ben hadn't put their bets on the table yet. I kept my two hundred-dollar bet on the table, waiting for the others to get involved. Then, I got a great idea.

"Wait a second, Clara, I have a wager for my friends. As you can see, they aren't particularly thrilled to see me here tonight. Let's say that Everyone bets their entire amount, winners stay, losers walk. How about it, boys?"

They seemed anxious to get rid of me, so they agreed. I had $1400 on the table, and I didn't care about what they had. All or nothing, this hand was. I was ready to play.

First cards came out, Clara seemed to be dealing slower, probably for the effect. Tony got a nine, Ben got a nine, I got a ten. Clara gave her a card face down, then looked at the three of us with a sly grin on her face. Slowly, she pulled the first card for Tony, which was an eight. Ben received a five for his trouble, an absolutely hideous hand. I, on the other hand, got a king. Clara dealt herself a nine, which elicited some choice words from my colleagues.

Tony had an eighteen, and to hit with that, especially playing with six decks, was asking to lose. He had to stay. Ben, though, was in a terrible position. He had fourteen, which is one of the worst hands you could have. He hit, but his heart deflated-or maybe it was a sigh of relief-when his next card was a ten. He had lost, but he was free to go.

I had a twenty, and I stood with that. I had a feeling I was going to win.

That feeling was confirmed when Clara flipped over her card, revealing a nine. She had eighteen, which beat everyone at the table but me. The two knuckleheads were free to go, and the stood up as fast as they could. I patted Tony on the shoulder. "Nice game, I hope I'll be seeing you again really soon."

"Don't count on it," he replied and left in a hurry. I looked back at Clara.

"I guess I'm done here, too. I've had a long day, and I need to get some shuteye." She smiled at me, and I gave her a hundred dollar chip. "Thanks for the game," I said, and left from the table. She was beaming, which made me feel pretty good. It was nice to do nice things for people.

2

It was easy finding their room, especially since I planted a tracker on them. I made sure that they were asleep before I made my way inside. Picking the lock was easy, and it went unnoticed because I masked the sounds coming from the lock. It was nice to be able to just think about it and it happened. I was finally getting used to not having Michelle around to take care of things like that.

It was her that controlled all of the functions of the living computers that were inside my cells. She harnessed the power, and had access to my mind, the conscious and subconscious sides of it. It was a buffer that worked well, but not nearly as efficient as a direct interface. Granted, the delays with Michelle could be measures in nanoseconds, but still, there was a delay.

I didn't like not having her around, though. I missed her, she was a part of me, and losing that was a horrible blow. I was dealing with it, though, and I had a mission to concentrate on. That was what was important, and it was the only thing that kept me going.

So, I picked the lock and walked in. My entry was silent, no creaks from the door, no footsteps, no noise from the door closing behind me. This little silence bubble I had going was nice, I would have to use it more.

They were sleeping in separate beds, and I sat in a hair at the foot of both of them, waiting for them to wake up. It was taking a while, so I decided to force the issue. I flipped the television on at its loudest, and they both jumped up wide awake and startled. I turned it off when I had their attention.

"Who were you meeting with tonight?" I asked them. They didn't say anything. The room was dark, but I could still see the terrified expressions on their face. "Tell me who it was!" Still nothing.

"He'll kill us!" Ben was always the sensible one, it seemed.

"What do you think I'm going to do to you?" That shut them up. "You see, we have a situation here. You were obviously hired to kill me and my friends, but you didn't do it. Now, I see you talking to a man with a black shirt and a red tie, and he gives you ten thousand dollars. It's obviously a payment for services rendered. I want his name and his location, and I want it now!"

"We don't know. We only meet him at certain times."

"When is the next time." I was moving closer to Ben, now, and he wasn't happy. Ben had two good arms that I could play with, and he seemed to realize that.

"Tomorrow," he said.

"Good, tomorrow is the thirtieth. Tell him that I want to meet with him, on the roof of Harrah's, and 4 AM tomorrow night. Tell him I want to talk about his interest in me."

"We weren't hired to kill you," he said, but I didn't care. I would file it away for later use."

"You tell him that, or else the two of you are dead before the new year, you got that?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Four AM tomorrow night on Harrah's roof, yeah, I got that."
"He better be there, or else you two have seen your last night." I walked to the door for the balcony, and opened it. "Remember," I said, "you'll be dead in a very horrifying way." I shut the door behind me, and proceeded to climb up the outside of the hotel, staying as much in the shadows as I could. Soon, I was on my balcony, just moments before I heard one of the two yahoos opening the balcony door to see were I had gone to. I walked into the room and sat on the couch. Moments later, I was asleep.

3

It's New Year's Eve, even if it's only four in the morning. On top of Harrah's hotel and casino, I stood alone, waiting for this mystery man to show up so maybe I could get some answers. Things were too chaotic, too messed up as they stood. I didn't need closure, but I wanted loose ends tied up.

The biggest loose end was the new player in town, the person-or persons-that had initiated the devastating attack on Anderson Research and it's parent company Anderson Industries. AR and AI were effectively out of the equation now, it would take them months and billions of dollars to rebuild what they had.

It was easier when I thought I knew who I was fighting. Now, though, I had absolutely no clue as to what was happening, and I didn't like that.

I had already made sure that I was alone on the roof, investigating everything that I could. I had been up here an hour already. I knew the ways to get up here, and I camped myself out by the one that seemed the most likely.

I didn't wear a watch, I knew what time it was. It was jut a little after four now. I was going to wait all morning if I had to. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait that long. The access door opened, and the mystery man walked out. He was wearing a olive green pinstriped suit with a mustard yellow shirt and a tie that matched the suit's color exactly. He had on a had, which was the same color of the suit, with a feather in it. Behind him, he had my two favorites in tow, possibly for protection, but probably not. He didn't need the protection of two losers.

I casually stepped out of my hiding place. I was wearing a black turtleneck with a pair of blue jeans. I had on a black trench coat covering it. Sure, it was a retro look, and Hollywood had milked that look for years, but I sort of liked it, so I kept it going. The wind on the roof was blowing hard, which added tremendously to the effect. The coat flowed behind me like a cape. I was unarmed, and I doubted he was. But I wasn't here to fight, I was here to talk…at least at first.

We looked each other over, sizing each other up. He had a slight grin on his face, the arrogant grin of a man with way too much self confidence and ego. I was stern as steel, waiting for him to make the move.

"I heard that you want to talk with me, Mr. McGuire." He spoke cleanly and quickly without a tinge of an accent. He sounded educated and very, very confident.

"I've heard that you've taken an interest in my and my friends and I'm not sure if I appreciate it."

"Is that what this is about? The little incident in Michigan a few nights ago? Come now, Mr. McGuire, we both know that there is more at stake than just a random attack, isn't there?"

"Not at the moment, no there isn't. Whatever this is about, frankly, I don't really care. I want to know if it was you that sent those two morons after me, or was it something else."

"What do you think, Gabriel?" His tone was beginning to annoy me. I had to resist the urge to disable his ability to communicate verbally. I don't mind it when people talk to me like that, just this guy doing it. He had an image to himself, a certain style. I wanted to destroy it.

"I think you're nothing but a errand boy sent to do a task by something with considerably more power."

"And why is that?"

"Because, frankly, you don't look like you could lead yourself out of a paper bag."

"Come now, there isn't a need to get nasty, is there?"

"There was a need to kill me, wasn't there?"

"And there still is. But since you are on to me, I'm prepared to make you an offer."

"What kind of offer?"

"I'm prepared to let you in on the secret, Gabriel, why we came after you, why your friends were attacked and-"

"And why Anderson Industries was decimated, right?"

"Yes, there was a grand scheme at work, and thankfully, it all went according to plan."

"But I'm still alive."

"Of course you are, you weren't supposed to die. You were supposed to be flushed out, and then walk right into our hands."

"And you think that I've done that, right?"

"You've taken the bait so far, and now, well, you know that your answers are just a mere minutes away. Come with me, join me, and I will answer all of your questions. Together, we cannot be defeated."

"Apart, buddy, you'll be defeated." He looked at me strangely after that. I was pretty happy with myself, thinking up a zinger like that on the spot. He left himself wide open, though.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. It's a one time offer, Gabriel. Join me and the cause I work for, and the world will be at your fingertips. You've already proven your worth throughout the last couple of years." I cocked my head. "Yes, we've been watching you. You are a most impressive-if illusive-specimen. You would have fit nicely in our plans."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Last chance, Gabriel. Join us, join me!"

"Go to hell."

"Too bad." He turned to two very reluctant foot soldiers. "You've got him, take him out." They pulled out Uzi's and started shooting at me. I dove behind a smokestack, the bullets ricocheting all around me. "You wasted your only chance at the truth, Gabriel. Now, you'll die never knowing."

I could hear the footsteps of Tony and Ben coming closer. They had a seemingly endless supply of bullets at their disposal, because it seemed like the hadn't stopped shooting at all. I wasn't counting, but at least one hundred rounds had to have been sent my way.

Acting quickly, I formed some bullet-proof body armor around my entire body. I stepped out from behind my hiding place as they approached. Tony, the one-armed bandit, was the closest. I kicked the gun from his grip, sending it across the roof. He took a swing at me which I blocked, and I swept his feet. He fell on his shoulder screaming in agony.

Ben looked at me and pulled out two knives. I guess the Uzi was finally out of ammo. He lunged, and I grabbed his wrist and tossed him in a classic Aikido maneuver. He tumbled away.

Tony was back on his feet, and got in a lucky shot to my head. I fell in a heap, but thankfully I wasn't dazed, just shocked. He kicked me in the gut, but I curled up around his foot as it impacted, grabbed it, and rolled away. I pulled him right into the smokestack.

Tony was down, but Ben was coming at me again. I jumped to my feet and kicked the smokestack as hard as I could, breaking it off and knocking it against him. He went down again.

Tony was hurt, I could see that. Blood was coming out of his nose and mouth. He was up and tried to punch again, but I dodged it and hit him with every ounce of my strength in his chest. I heard bones shatter and the breath leave his lungs for the last time. He went flying backwards and over the edge of the hotel, falling to the pavement below. Thankfully, he fell into the access alley to the parking deck, which was on the south side of the building along the Imperial Palace. No one was down there at this hour and his death cry went unheard.

Surprisingly, Ben seemed to know the martial arts, because he was in a fighting stance when I turned to face him. He threw a furious combination of punches and kicks, but I matched him, blocking every single blow he threw. Finally, I got bored and grabbed his arm on a punch and threw him down.

He tried a spin kick when he got back up, but I ducked. He tried another one, but I grabbed his leg and flipped him over. I walked to him and picked him up by the throat and dragged him to the edge of the building. I lifted him up and held him over the edge. I wanted to give him a glimpse of what he had lost his life fighting against.

I slowly pulled back the armored mask on my face (by pulled off, I mean that my body absorbed it back into my body). He watched in awe and horror as I did that. "You picked the wrong side to fight for," I said to him softly.

"H-h-h-how?"

"The world is changing," I said as menacing as I could. "Sometimes, the world needs an outside influence to change." He looked back at the mysterious man, and I let him go. I didn't stick around to watch him fall.

I turned back to the mysterious man, my mask fully absorbed back into my body. He was smiling and clapping. "Bravo, Gabriel, you continue to impress me. You did almost as good as I would have."

"I guess we're about to find out, now, aren't we?" I walked towards him, and he threw his hat at me. I knocked it out of the way, but he was right behind it with a kick. He was fast, extremely fast, and strong. He hit me twice and kicked me once before I knew what was going on.

"You don't understand what you are fighting against here, do you?" I smelled something, something familiar, but I couldn't place it. He kicked me before I recognized it. It was Triplicate, and it was emanating from my new friend. He had been enhanced with it.

"More than you think," I said and hit him in the face, opening a nice gash on his cheek. All I needed to do was touch him, though, and plant a tracer on him. I had planned to lose this fight anyway; I couldn't give away my secret just yet.

The cut angered him terribly. He started hitting me with as much force as a truck, over and over again. I staggered backwards, towards the edge of the building.

"You can't make me bleed and live!" he screamed at me. He was consumed with fury, which only made him stronger. He had me at the edge of the building, ready to knock me off and down to my death.

I played the act of the beaten man superbly. My face was discolored and bleeding, I was also staggering like a punch-drunk fool. I was ready to die, at least he thought I was ready to die.

"You should have accepted my offer, Gabriel. It's too bad that so much potential had to die with you!" I smiled and spit blood on his suit coat and shirt, which only made him madder. He didn't hit me, though, he pushed gently. I slowly began to fall backwards. I watched him smile a bloody grin as I took a plunge off the roof. Funny thing is I fell right on my balcony. I fell in a way, though, that made it appear that I had broke my neck.

He was only thirty or so feet above me, looking over the edge at my seemingly dead body on the balcony of one of the penthouse suites. He spit at me, which missed but made a nasty mess, and walked away, seemingly happy with his kill. "Happy New Year, Gabriel," I heard him say as he walked away.

Since I had one of my patented tracers on him, it also could be used as a listening device. I heard him open the access door and walk down the stairs to the elevators. He waited for one, then took it to the lobby. When he was out of the building, I stood up and went inside my room and sat back on the couch, turning on the television. I picked up the phone and dialed 911. Almost immediately, an operator answered. "I think that someone fell of the roof of Harrah's Hotel and Casino," I said quickly, "I heard some strange noises fly by my window, like someone was screaming and falling." I hung up the phone, letting the Las Vegas Police Department take care of what they needed to take care of.

4

I sat in my room the rest of that day. The mysterious man, who I never did find out the name of, had left Las Vegas early in the morning driving to the north. I tracked him until he stopped in a little town named Ely, Nevada. That seemingly was the next place on my journey.

As the day grew longer, the atmosphere outside on the strip was beginning to pick up. It was New Year's eve, and it was a day to party! I wasn't really in the mood for a party, nor was I in the mood to sit around moping. I just kind of vegged out for the entire day, not doing anything. It was eleven thirty, thirty minutes to go until the new year, when I got a call on the phone in my room. It was Jenna.

"You're a hard man to track down, Mr. McGuire."

"I like to keep a low profile," I said. Truthfully, I was so glad that she had called. I was thinking about her all day, wondering how she was going to celebrate the New Year, secretly hoping that it wasn't with another guy.

"How are you?"

"Not good."

"Tell me about it."

I paused for a while, thinking of a way to describe how I was feeling, but I couldn't. It was hard, I was lonely, depressed, angry as well as emotionally unsure of myself. How can you put that into a sentence or two?

"You still there, Gabriel?"

"Yeah, I am, I'm just trying to find the best way to say it."

"Take your time, I don't have anything else going on."

"Aren't you are some kind of New Year's party or something? I'm sure there's something in San Diego that you could be doing instead of talking to me."

"No, nothing that I can think of."

"Thanks." There was another pause, about a minute long. "I've been thinking about you all day."

"I've been thinking about you. Worrying, mostly."

"I've been worrying about me all day, too."

"Why are you in Las Vegas?"
"I was following the two men that attacked you and your friends. They were released a few days ago, all the charges were dropped. They got on a plane almost immediately and headed here. I followed so I could get some answers."

"They were released? I can't believe that."

"Believe it, they were let go without even a slap on the wrist. They were well financed, or at least they had a big time player in their corner. Whatever it is, they were out in a matter of days."

"Did you find out anything?"

"Yeah, I did. I found out I'm pretty good at blackjack."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I'm trying to develop my sense of humor. It's been gone for far too long."

"I always liked your sense of humor, Gabriel." If she could see me, she'd see that she made me blush.

"I think I'm going to need it to get through all of this."

"Yeah, you and me both. Did you find out anything about who did this?"

"Does your company have any leads?"

"No, they're still trying to figure out exactly what we've lost. We've focused on taking care of the dead first, then we're going to see what's up on that front."

"Oh."

"How about you?"

"I met their contact here, but that was about it."

"I find it hard to believe that, Gabriel. With you, it never seems that easy."

"You're right, it wasn't that easy."

"Tell me about it."

"I don't know if I should."

"I think you should."

I paused again. "He thinks I'm dead now, Jenna. He thinks he killed me."
"How?"
"Throwing me off the roof of a casino."

"My God, Gabriel, how do you get yourself into these things?"

"Skill, Jenna. Lots and lots of skill."

"Or something like that, I guess. So he threw you off the casino and you survived?"
"I fell about twenty-five feet onto a balcony, but I sort of broke my neck. At least he thinks that I broke my neck."

"Oh, I see. And your neck, its not, is it?"

"No, it's not. I'm fine. It will take more than that to kill me."

"Hopefully, you never find out how much it takes."

"Yeah, I don’t want that at all."

"What about the two men? Did they just get away?"

"No, they didn't get away."

"Oh, I see."

"Yeah." She could tell, I knew that. She was always good at stuff like that.

"Are you okay with it?"

"I'm tired, Jenna, really tired. I want it to end."

"It won't, not any time soon, will it?"

"I don't think so."

"So do you have any more leads?"

"I know where the guy went, that mystery contact. I'm going to follow his trail tomorrow, see what I can dig up. Maybe he'll lead me to the answers that I need."

"Yeah, maybe for me, too." It was ten before midnight.

"So," I said, trying to think of something to talk about.

"Gabriel, I want to talk about us."

"Us? Is there an us?"

"Yeah, Gabriel, there's always going to be an us. You've become a part of my life, for the last twelve years or so. You'll always be a part of my life."

"That's not enough, though, is it?"

"Enough for what?"

"I don't know."

"I just need to know where this is going, where we are going."

"The only thing that I know, Jenna, is that I'm here for a reason, and that is the driving influence of all my decisions."

"Am I just one of your decisions?"

"No, Jenna, that's not it. Well, sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of?"

"Well, I guess you are a decision, of a kind."

"What's the decision?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, what's the question?"

"Um, I think it's something like should I allow myself to get close to anyone again."

"And you don't have a decision?"

"No, I don't. I don't know if I can make that decision."

"Why?"

"Because I've never stopped loving you, Jenna. When I left, when I had to go on my crusade, you were always in my mind, in my heart. It killed me to have to leave like I did. Deep down, I have a feeling that if I allow myself to get involved like that again, something's going to happen where I'll be forced to make a decision, but that decision has already been made for me."

"Life's cruel sometimes."

"I'm a slave, Jenna, a slave to people that haven't even been born yet. I'm a slave to a fight that was never mine, but somehow it has become mine. I'll never be free of it, not until it's all over."

"So that's it?"

"No, that's not it. I'm still human, I still have all of these emotions inside me, and as well trained as I am in things, I am not equipped to deal with this kind of thing."

"Do you still love me, Gabriel?"

"Yes, Jenna, I still love you. Do you still love me?"

"I always have."

"So where does that leave us?"

"That leaves us thirty seconds from the New Year." She was right. Earlier, I had a bottle of champagne brought up to my room and it had been on ice. I was going to wait until the clock struck twelve. Well, it was about to.

"Happy New Year, Jenna." I popped the cork a few seconds early, and I heard her do the same.

"Happy New Year, Gabriel." She hung up, and so did I. I picked up the bottle and headed to the balcony. The crowd below was already cheering, and I could hear them trying to sing. Fireworks exploded in the air. It was a grand sight.

I just drank my champagne, watching the others be happy.

All I ever wanted in life was to live a happy life. I remember, a long time ago, that I actually thought that it might be possible. Somehow, though, right then, I knew that it would never, ever happen. I was destined for sorrow, for pain, for misery. All I ever wanted was something that I could never have.