 
#

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# The RE-Write

### by

### Devon Davidson

This is a promotional copy for review

Feel free to interact with me on Twitter: @TheUnluckyBunny

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2014

www.theunluckybunny.com

Smashwords Edition

# Table of Contents

Contents:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

# Prologue

My wrist burned as the sharp steel melted into my skin. Each drop of blood created a perfect ripple as it dripped into the tepid bath water. The melody playing in the background provided the soundtrack, while I sat and watched the blood mix into the water I was immersed in. This bathroom had become my refuge, my escape. I hummed along to the lyrics, reminiscing about the good times as I took a drag from my cigarette. Once upon a time stardom was just a dream, family was a hope, and my life was still full of passion. I wondered to myself where it had all gone wrong. I had it all, but it was unsympathetic emptiness that engulfed my being.

For a mere moment I lost track of the situation I found myself in, thinking how amazing this would be if only I could capture it lyrically. This occasion was so poetic. But sadly it was my December; I could feel the cold setting in, my eyelids growing heavy and the water running red. Somebody sing me a lullaby, put me to sleep, take me away and let me be free. Free from expectation, from self-doubt, from the burden of those who love me, from my inadequacies, and free from those who spew hate. Let me fade away...

# Chapter 1

My eyes shot open as I gasped for a breath, desperately trying to fill my lungs with oxygen. My body felt as though it had been deprived for hours, each of my extremities tingling. I awoke to the emphatic sound of a metal door slamming shut, but I had little idea of where I was. The room was pitch black and it didn't take me long to realize it wasn't a room at all. I have woken up in some pretty weird places in my life, but this one took the cake. As the sound repeated with another door slamming, I attempted to sit up but was quickly stopped when I hit my head on a surprisingly low ceiling. I was in a box or a drawer of some kind. Running my hands over the smooth, cold metal walls, I searched for an opening, but there didn't seem to be any point of escape. I extended one of my legs in an attempt to feel for anything at the far end, but was met by resistance. I paused for a second and listened, as I could faintly hear a voice outside.

"Where is he?" a deep voice asked, muttering to himself as the sound of another door slamming shut followed.

Was this a dream of some kind? The temptation to pinch myself was there, but deep down I knew this was all too real to be anything but reality. My claustrophobia was setting in, but without knowing what lay beyond this drawer I wasn't sure I wanted to exit my secure confines. Did I really have any other choice though? If I didn't get out here soon my skin was going to start crawling, triggering an anxiety attack. As doors continued to open and close nearby it became obvious that the person out there was hell bent on finding someone, but whom? Me? My opportunity to ponder that question quickly disappeared as the door to my chamber swung open and the table on which I was laying simultaneously was yanked from the drawer, exposing me to the man and the room beyond.

I raised my hands in anticipation of an attack, guarding my head and preparing to fend off the man who was so intent on finding me, but when I looked up I saw the owner of the booming voice and he didn't look interested in causing me any sort of harm. It might have been my imagination but he wasn't as imposing as I had originally assumed. No more than six feet tall and sporting an unkempt appearance that included a rough beard, and decked out in dark ill-fitting attire. He stood over me, paying special attention to my foot.

"Well, are you coming?" he asked calmly as he ripped some fabric off my toe.

I looked at him blankly. I was so caught up in the moment that I hadn't thought beyond how I had gotten here; where I was going next hadn't even crossed my mind. Taking a moment to look about the room, gaining awareness of my surroundings, I began to realize I was laying on a metal surface in some kind of medical facility. My bare skin against the cold table froze me to my core. Faint flickering lights above did little to help me gain any insight on my true location. One thing was for certain, I didn't want to be put back in that chamber, so I sat up and hopped off the table. I had to take my chances with this stranger now, what other choice did I have? I rubbed my eyes, but my vision remained cloudy. The room looked to be bordering on complete disarray; it appeared beyond neglect, and if I didn't know better I'd say I was in a morgue.

"Where am I? How did I..."

Before I could finish my rambling questions I was cut off by the mysterious man.

"I'll explain it all in due time, but right we have to go; we have little time. Here, put this on."

He handed me a trench coat and some worn-out workman's boots. The fur lining of the coat helped to warm my body, though I couldn't help but notice beneath it I had on nothing more than a ragged pair of plain white boxers. I continued looking around in my daze, but when I panned back to where the man had been standing I realized he had already begun heading out the door. I didn't waste a moment and immediately started following him. My feet clunked against the floor with each step I took. These boots were hardly my size but the alternative wasn't going to work out any better, especially considering my eyes had yet to adjust to the ambient light. I couldn't help but notice the gentle hum of electricity coursing through outdated wiring above my head, though as we walked through the corridors I kept my eyes glued to the floor.

"Could you be any louder?" the man asked, referring to the sound my boots were making.

I could hear thunder in the distance coming from outside as we weaved back and forth through a maze of hallways, finally reaching a set of stairs that led us out of the basement. There was no way this was the man's first time here; he knew the place like the back of his hand. Reaching what looked like the main floor he continued towards a large wooden door and opened it, allowing a gentle drizzle of rain to fall down the back of my neck as I stepped just outside. I reached for the coat to try to pull it tighter while the man cocked his head to listen for something. He motioned for me to follow him as he headed out into the cold, damp night. I stopped in my tracks for a moment, hoping to locate some sort of familiar landmark, something to tell me where I was. There was an unreadable sign covered by overgrowth, but next to it was a beautiful statue of St. Jude that I recognized immediately.

The man continued on his path and disappeared around the corner of the building so I wasted little time doing my best to keep up. Rounding the corner, I saw the man standing next to a sleek car that, even in the poor lighting, looked impressive.

"Get in the car, it's unlocked," he uttered as he opened his door.

Who was this man? Without him I would still be in that horrific morgue drawer inside of a dilapidated hospital. Despite that, I still knew nothing about the person with which I was dealing.

"How do I know I can even trust you? I haven't seen you a..."

Again he cut me off before I could finish my statement. It was obvious that this guy lacked the social graces that most people had mastered at a young age.

"Do you really have a choice?" he asked with a bit of frustration in his voice. "Now get in!"

Startled by some commotion off in the distance, the man broke eye contact with me and snapped his head around to look behind him. Coming from the darkness off in the distance, the sound of chanting could be heard. It got louder with each second; I sensed it was in my best interest to go with this man so I opened the car door. Still for a moment I hesitated, trying intently to make out the distant sound. I could feel the man's frustration beginning to boil over, but any clue could help me piece this whole situation together.

"Okay, get the fuck in or I'll leave you here. Trust me; you don't want to be around when they get here," the man said, referring to the sound coming from off in the distance.

He was growing more weary of my hesitation by the moment and, as cynical as my life had forced me to become, I knew deep down that I had no better option in this minute. I took my seat, slamming the door shut just in time as the man sped off into the night. His car's interior was cherry. While it wasn't this year's model, I could tell he took pride in his vehicle. No dings or scratches in the interior or dash, the leather was polished, even the ash tray had a certain sparkle to it. What blew me away was the sound of the engine roaring to life every time he accelerated. Dangling from the rearview mirror was a small skeleton figurine hanging from a noose. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Not exactly the norm for fine car décor but I was never the cookie-cutter decorator myself.

"You've put a lot of wrench time in on this, haven't you?" I asked as I listened closely to the engine.

The man just nodded. I was getting the impression in my short time with him that he wasn't much for conversation. It sure seemed like he had better places to be, given the way he was driving. As cool as I wished I could play it, I found myself holding on for dear life each time he made a hard turn around a street corner. The silence inside the vehicle continued, each minute followed by another awkward minute.

"So, uh, what's your name?" I asked for a lack of a more profound question.

"Van," he replied.

"What kind of name is Van?" I muttered in a snarky voice.

"It's short for Donavan, it's a family name. Any more dumb questions?" he retorted.

"Sorry, I guess I don't even know where to start. How did I end up in that drawer? My buddies put you up to this, didn't they? Real funny joke, guys. Where are they, in the backseat?" I asked, looking around the car.

"Nobody put me up to this. Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

I slouched back in my seat and watched my surroundings as they passed by. My eyes were beginning to adjust to my dreary surroundings but it was of little consolation. Mentally I was completely in the dark. Van was of little help as I continued grasping at straws, searching for any clue as to what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours.

"That was a morgue, wasn't it? Why was I in the morgue? And why am I still wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers?"

"You have a coat, too," Van said with a smirk.

"I'm serious. Damn. How do you think it feels, being in this position?"

"It's a trip, isn't it?" Van replied. "Don't get your panties in a knot. We're going to see the bartender; he'll have the answers you are looking for."

"The bartender?" I exclaimed. "I don't need a drink, I need answers. Well, no, right now, maybe a drink is exactly what I need."

"No, that's what he goes by. Well, yes, he is a bartender, but it's his, what do they call those things, his alias. That's it, alias. I don't even think I know his actual name now that I think about it," Van explained.

There was no way for me to prepare for what this bartender was about to tell me, yet my mind was racing thinking about all of the wild explanations I was in for. What knowledge could this "bartender" possibly have for me? My eyes followed the street lights as they gleamed off the hood of Van's polished car. My hands trembled slightly as my nerves began to get the best of me. I tried to hide them in my coat pockets but it was a lost cause. The unknown had always terrified me and this was as trying of a time as I had ever encountered. I repetitiously went over the all of the possibilities of how I got here, however far-fetched the circumstances may be, but the unanswered questions felt like a crushing burden upon my chest.

"No use trying to hide it," Van said.

"Do you have a cigarette? I must have left mine in my, uh, other pants," I replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"You can check in the glove box if you'd like. There might be some in there," Van said.

I reached forward and popped the glove box open, sending its contents spilling onto the floor below. It appeared Van had long used this as a catch-all for random items, which explained how he managed to keep the rest of his car so immaculate. I peered at the mess on the floor and began digging through it feverishly, looking for his promised cigarettes, leading me to an all-too-familiar sight.

"So you're an Unlucky Bunny fan, are you?" I asked Van as I held up a couple CDs that had fallen to the floor.

Beneath the CDs I found my vice. I grabbed a cigarette and asked if Van could give me a light.

"Yeah, I've been a fan for a long time," he said as he lit my cigarette. "The earlier stuff was better but, then again, it was a different time. No expectations, none of the bureaucratic bullshit people have to deal with today."

I nodded along, taking a drag off of my cigarette as the cherry burned bright. He wasn't the first person with that opinion; everyone always seemed to feel the need to put in their two cents on subjects they knew little about. That being said, I wasn't in any sort of position to disagree.

"So is this why I'm in your car? You're one of those crazed fans, are you? People are always overstepping boundaries. What do you want, money?" I asked in as calm a manner as I could.

"Yep, you got me," Van replied sarcastically. "I knocked you out, put you in that morgue, and then rescued you all so I could kidnap you. Shit, man, doesn't that sound a lot of work when I could have just pulled a gun on you?" he questioned. "While you think that over, I'm going to go inside and get a drink," Van said as the car lurched to a halt and he shifted into park. "Feel free to join me if you want to," Van said, knowing I wasn't about to sit in the car while he went in to talk to the bartender alone.

"This really is a bar. You weren't kidding," I said with a bit of surprise.

"I told you. So are you coming?" Van asked.

Van stepped out of his car not waiting for my reply, closing the door behind him. He flipped the collar of his leather jacket up to shield his neck from the cold and headed toward the entrance. Seeing he wasn't going to wait on me, I followed his lead, trying my best to keep up but every step I took felt like it might be the last with these boots.

"Hey, Van, you're aware I'm basically naked, right? You know, no pants, no shirt ... Van, I know you can hear me!"

He didn't even hesitate; he was already across the parking lot, opening the door to enter the building. I did my best to conceal my lack of clothing as I followed Van's path, still tripping over my own feet. By the time I got inside, I found Van at the bar exchanging pleasantries with the man I assumed was known as "the bartender." The two were sharing a long handshake with almost devious grins on their faces. I doubt he had any trouble keeping order in his bar by the looks of him, as he was a mountain of a man. Tattoos covered both arms, and I'm sure they went beyond that. His hair was gray, pulled back tightly in a ponytail with weathered skin that indicated he had lived a hard life. I took a step forward as the bartender shot a glance my direction, which made me acutely aware of how I must look to the other patrons wearing my current attire. The place was dead; there was a man in the corner booth staring into the bottom of his empty beer bottle. Another was focused on the various television screens in front of him, not even turning his head as the door slammed closed behind me. Then there was Van. He waved me over so I cautiously walked across the room. With every step I took in their direction their grins continued to grow. It seemed like such an odd reaction, but I brushed it off without much thought. I'd come this far and I was looking for answers.

"Here's the rock star, huh," the bartender said. "Shit, he looks as scared as you were, Van. Did you happen to think about giving him some clothes?"

"I gave him a coat, that's more than most get," Van replied.

"Come on," the bartender said, motioning for us to follow him.

Van and I stepped around the side of the bar, following the bartender down a hallway into a back room. The bartender flipped on a light switch as he entered the room, illuminating the area. As I entered after him I wasn't sure if I was standing in some sort of break room or a private lounge; one thing I knew for sure, the mismatched stained furniture and stale odor didn't lend itself well to either theory.

Van walked to the far corner and took a seat, gazing out a window while the bartender reached into a closet and snatched out a large duffle bag. He tossed it at my feet and told me to find some clothes that fit. I grabbed a seat on the closest couch and began digging through the bag, hoping for anything that would work to complete the missing articles of my wardrobe as the bartender and Van began to chat.

"Did anyone see you guys?" the bartender asked.

"No, but people were out looking," Van answered back.

"Good, good. I'm sure plenty of people already know," the bartender said with certain seriousness in his voice.

"Know what?" I asked as I pulled a T-shirt over my head.

The bartender continued his dialog with Van ignoring my question. I waited a moment to see if he would give me his attention but they just kept jawing about subjects about which I knew little. I was at my wit's end so I spoke up again, making sure there was no way I could be ignored.

"Alright, quit jerking me around here. Van brought me here promising me answers but you two Chatty Cathies are going on like you just got back from summer camp. Let's cut the shit. What the hell is going on here?" I demanded.

"Easy, easy," the bartender said calmly as he extended me his pack of cigarettes. "You're dead."

# Chapter 2

The moment felt eternal. My head spun as the words the bartender uttered sent me reeling. I couldn't have bluffed my way out of a poker hand with the rush of emotions that could be read through my expression. I didn't say a word; I just stared at the bartender.

"Ah, man, I'm fucking with you," the bartender said with a smile on his face. "It gets them every time."

"You decided to take control. You finally got fed up with the expectations those leeches in the real world placed upon you, and decided to give them all the middle finger! You left all the bullshit behind like the rest of us here did and are now free to be exactly what you want to be. Nobody can tell you what to be, when to be, or how to be. You get to be a king while those poor bastards you left behind continue to drown in debt, self-pity, and addiction."

I hung on the bartender's every word as I lit another cigarette. I did my best to connect the dots on this riddle that continued to deepen by the minute, but I began to realize something drastic had changed. The story the bartender was telling me wasn't something small. Not in any way, shape, or form. With his every word my mind filled with more questions. No matter how hard I tried think back to the last hours and days of my life, I struggled to remember the slightest shred of detail that had led to where I was now, like I was in some amnesiac fog.

"Only those brave enough reside here," the bartender said.

"Where is here? What the hell are you talking about?" I asked as I stood up to show my frustration.

"All I know is..." I began, but before I could finish I was cut off.

"Suicide," Van said as he butted into the conversation. "Look around you, you're amongst kings! People who didn't like the cards they were dealt so they took their lives into their own hands."

Those words sucked the air right out of my lungs. My knees buckled, forcing me to I look for something to hold on to as my balance began to fail me. I fell back onto the plush couch, dust tossing in the air as I tried my best to comprehend what I was being told. I sat motionless, dazed, for what felt like a lifetime as I attempted to gather my thoughts. What did I do? How did I get here? No matter what I did I found it impossible to focus on forming any kind of profound question to get to the bottom of this enigma.

"So I am dead?" I blurted out.

"Hardly. Like I said, you took control," the bartender said as he reached over to a decanter and poured himself a drink.

"So then, this is Heaven, right?" I asked with faint hope.

The bartender chuckled. "What have you done in your life that would make you worthy of Heaven? This isn't Heaven or Hell. And purgatory, don't get me started. This is whatever you want it to be. Where those brave souls escape, and those miserable sons of bitches wish they had the balls to get to. You can be whatever you want here. The guy begging for acceptance becomes the life of the party here. Drug addicts turn kingpin dealers. Nobodies are somebodies and whatever you escaped is left behind, allowing you to become what you always wished you could be."

"So what am I?" I asked as I motioned for the bartender to pour me a glass of whatever he was drinking.

"You're Conner fucking Haro! You are anything you want to be," the bartender said with his glass raised.

"Yeah, I know who I am, but I mean who am I here?" I asked with uncertainty.

"The people who wake up here typically had something to escape. Whether it was good or bad reasoning, they gained more by committing suicide than they would have had had they remained living their dead-end lives. It is a true rarity that someone gives up what we are all envious of. You did just that, thus the special treatment you received from Van." The bartender smirked.

"So that's how everyone gets welcomed?" I snapped back, holding up the shabby-looking trench coat he had earlier given me.

Van looked at me, unamused. "There used to be a transport sent out to pick you sons of bitches up, but after the last few drivers got killed in the process they got kind of skittish. So you got me," he replied snidely.

"Usually the night's travelers are greeted by an officer in the morgue, boarded on a bus, and transported to the Department of Relocations. Here they are given their new vocation, housing assignments, vehicle, financial accounts, and any other cosmetic needs to fulfill their dreams; you know, the necessities," the bartender explained.

"Cosmetic needs?" I asked.

"Yeah, you don't think that ugly girl is just going to wake up here a full-blown bombshell do you?" the bartender asked.

"And you get assigned your new vocation? How does that work? According to your little story you get to choose to be whatever you want," I said, questioning everything.

"You can be, but you see the reason for you escaping your life dictates that. You get exactly what your heart desired. Whether or not it turns out the way you hope depends on the choices you make along the way, of course."

Maybe I was punch drunk but some of what the bartender explained began to make sense. Just then I saw a set of headlights shine for a moment through the window Van was fixating on. Van then got to his feet and headed the bartender's way, stopping to lean over and whisper something in his ear before continuing toward me. He reached into his pocket and handed me a piece of paper.

"What is this?" I asked, grabbing it from Van.

"It's where you're headed," the bartender replied. "Your taxi is here."

"But..."

"Sorry, friend, it's closing time." The bartender and Van walked out of the room, motioning for me to again follow.

I got to my feet and followed their lead back out toward the bar. As we walked back into the bar I could see the place had completely cleared out. The bartender stopped behind the rack but Van escorted me to the door. It felt almost as though I was floating. The news they had provided me was so heavy I could hardly wrap my mind around the details.

Van held the door open and pointed me toward the taxi cab parked out front with a man holding the rear door open awaiting my arrival. I entered into the cold, damp night and stepped into the taxi, after which the driver closed my door. Glancing through the window, I saw the bartender had joined Van at the door. Van waved to the driver in gratitude, then looked at the bartender and cracked a grin that stretched from ear to ear, which was out of character for a man who had little sense of humor. The bartender reciprocated by placing his hand on Van's shoulder as if to say _job well done_ as they engaged in some dialog. I shook my head and looked forward, watching the driver take his position behind the wheel of the car, disregarding the interaction between Van and the bartender as it had little impact on me now. Their conversation was the least of my worries; I instead focused on the next stop on my journey.

"Okay, where are we headed?" I asked, showing a slight bit of excitement.

After the driver settled in, he put his hand out in my direction.

"I don't have any money," I snapped at him without thinking.

He again motioned his hand toward me, this time more emphatically; it was then I realized it was not money he was looking for, rather the destination he was interested in. I handed him the paper I had been given by Van, which the cabbie looked at for a moment before putting the car in gear and driving off into the night. I felt the urge to pinch myself. My body felt groggy but alert all at the same time, and my mind was distant and hazy, but with a newfound clarity. I thought back to my last show, my last kiss, my last line of coke. People often focus their memories on their first times, but with the universe seemingly upside down now, everything seemed a little backward.

I looked out the window to such a comparable yet unfamiliar setting. Sure, the buildings were made of brick, the pavement was black, and the street lights emitted the familiar hues, but still nothing looked or felt like home. I leaned my head up against the cold glass and glanced up at the night sky. So black, starless and empty. Closing my eyes, I slowly dosed off, drifting away and dreaming of memories I never realized would so quickly become distant.

"Higher, Daddy, higher!" Evie yelled at the top of her lungs.

I loved taking Evie to the park. Seeing the smile on her face as she soared toward the clouds while sitting in the swing helped me to temporarily forget about the unrelenting pressure I was always dealing with. It was moments like this where I almost felt normal, just like everyone else.

"How's that, baby?" I asked as I pushed Evie gently on the swing set.

"Haha, Daddy you can push harder than that."

"What do you want for dinner when we go home? I'm hungry, and I bet my little angel is going to want some ice cream!"

"Mom says I need to have real food, Dad. I can't just eat ice cream and candy."

For such a young girl she was sure smart, and with personality to boot. Match that with her smile that lit up the world and beautiful blonde hair and she was a force to be reckoned with. Worse, she was aware of this and used it to get out of trouble or interject her strong-minded opinions. She sure took after her dad. We were both bullheaded when it came to our opinion.

"You're right, baby. How does a cheeseburger sound?"

"Much better, Dad. And then ice cream," she said as her smile reappeared on her face.

"Sounds like a plan," I said as I helped her off the swing.

The car lurched to a halt, startling me awake. I reached my arms forward to catch myself, the seatbelt locking as cab screeched to a halt. I was surprised to see that I was being greeted by early-morning sun rays. I squinted and looked around, not knowing how long I had been asleep.

I asked the cabbie what I owed him but he merely shook his head while he reset the meter. He exited his seat and walked around to open my door. Stepping out of the vehicle, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched. I scanned the parking lot that surrounded a rather mundane-looking building only to notice a bus across the way packed full of faces pressed against the glass, all starring in my direction. Their breath fogged up the glass with every exhalation as their attention continued to fixate on me. While I didn't recognize of my audience, they seemed to know exactly who I was.

A man on the bus yelled, "Get moving!" with a stern voice, which got the passengers filing off the bus and into the building through a set of open glass doors.

I hesitantly followed the group inside, finding a space in between a couple of the people also passing through the glass doors. Inside there was the sound of shuffling papers and keyboards being pounded upon echoing throughout as information was being processed. A room full of people sat and waited their turn as more of us continued to be herded in.

A lady yelled to the crowd of people within the room, "If you don't have a number please take one and find a seat."

"Am I in the right place?" I asked the lady as I reached out to grab a number.

"Yes, you are in the right spot, but you don't need a number. Just go over to desk twelve, and someone will be right with you." She pointed toward a standalone desk at the far end of the crowded room.

Taking a glance in that direction, I immediately regretted the path I was going to be forced to take through this sea of people. I tried my best to remain inconspicuous, but with each step I took more eyes slid from the paperwork they were working on and instead focused on me.

Whispers from strangers saying, "That's him," or "Look, its Conner Haro" could hardly be ignored, but I did my best keep my eyes looking straight ahead as I made my way to desk twelve. I slumped down in the chair, trying to my best to avoid drawing any extra attention. Just then the high-backed chair across the other side of the desk pivoted around, revealing a petite older woman hiding behind it.

"Well good morning, Mr. Haro," she said with a crooked smile. "Can I get you a coffee? You look like you could use some; did a bus run you over?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been one hell of a night. Coffee would be great," I said, trying to be polite in spite of her poor joke.

"Your paperwork came in this morning. Everything looks good. We are missing your tag though," she said as she pulled a manila envelope from a desk drawer.

"What is this place?" I asked as I gazed around the room.

"Department of Relocations," she replied.

"Relocations?" On her desk I noticed a name placard reading, "Edna Wyatt – Senior Relocation Specialist."

She scanned through the documents she'd pulled from the envelope. "So let's see here, I've got housing arrangements for you, car keys, as well as some other personal belongings." Then she paused for a moment. "Do you have your tag?" she asked.

"My tag?"

"Your toe tag," she explained.

I just looked at her blankly, not knowing what she was talking about or how to answer.

"It's okay if you don't have it, we'll just print you a replacement ID card," she replied as she put her head back down, looking at my paperwork. "You guys are always losing those things. Anyway, let's see here, where were we? Oh, yes, bank info, job; well, not that you guys have a job per se. Take a look at this and make sure everything looks accurate."

"Uh, guys?" I looked around, trying to locate another person she could also be associating me with.

Edna took a moment to look up from the paperwork and said, "Yeah, you guys, Royals," as she placed the bundle of paperwork in front of me.

I picked up the top page and leaned in. Scanning over the paperwork, I realized they had everything: birth date, family history, blood type, it was all here. As I continued to scan through the document for accuracy I noticed a rather morbid section.

"Means of suicide: Exsanguination from acute wrist trauma."

I choked on the coffee I had just ingested. "I slit my wrist?" I muttered to myself under my breath.

Something about seeing that information in print brought everything to a whole level of reality. I immediately pulled the sleeve of my coat up to investigate.

"You won't find any signs of your means of suicide," Edna assured me. "Now if you could just sign at the bottom, you can be on your way," she continued, to which I obliged. "Alright, here are your belongings." She handed me an oversized clear plastic bag. "If you need any help or have any other questions, I have included a business card with the phone number inside. Your car is out back through those doors. Have a good day." She said, already looking at her next relocations file.

I gathered my belongings and made my way to the corner door. Passing through, the sun, shining from high in the sky, reflected off the dozens of cars parked in the lot. Each car was unique in style and held its own allure. European sports cars, American muscle, pearl coats of paint, flat black, even the simplest no frills hatchback could be found here. Every car was handpicked to fit its owner. I walked through each row, holding the keys tightly in my hand, trying to gather the faintest clue to which vehicle belonged to me. It wasn't until I made my way to the very front row that I realized I had found my chariot. Sleek black, classically dressed with chrome trim, nothing over the top yet also not understated. It was a vehicle fit for a king. I circled the car, admiring every angle; I was blown away by the beauty that stood in front of me on four white-walled tires. The keys jingled in my hands as I inserted them into the lock to verify my assumption. Gently turning the key, my belief was authenticated with the sound of the lock popping.

I opened the door and peered inside; the dark black interior held nicely to its vintage era yet still had all the comforts of a modern car. Wood dash trim, chrome accents; it was as if someone took my every dream and designed a car to fulfill it. Tossing my belongings into the passenger seat, I slid into the car. It fit me like a glove. The pedals were the perfect distance for my feet, the wheel in the ideal position, even the mirrors were properly aligned. The car was just begging to be driven. I inserted the key in the ignition and listened to the engine roar to life. I was so lost in the beauty of the car that I had forgotten that I had no clue where I was headed. Shuffling through my personal effects, I found the address Edna had mentioned was to my home and entered it into the GPS to help me navigate in this unfamiliar city. The coordinates popped up with a female voice directing me. I shifted the car into drive and headed on my way.

There was little traffic on the road as I followed the instructions on my GPS, doing my best to obey the street laws as I knew them from what was now my past. The landmarks on the drive were per usual, the typical graffiti on building walls, panhandlers at stop signals, corner newsstands, even subway entrances every few blocks. People waited for city buses and stopped to get gas; everything seemed as usual yet new all at the same time. I began to think about what my house was going to be like. The car was so perfectly suited for me I wondered if I really knew what best suited me or if whoever was overseeing this had a better grasp on what defined me.

The sky began darkening as I got closer to my destination. It was too early to get dark, the sun had just come up for God's sake, but by the time the navigation voice told me I had arrived at my destination it was again as dark as night. I pulled up at a long driveway restricted by a metal gate, behind which lay what looked like a small mansion. The exterior lights were all lit, but it was too far off the road to gather a good impression. As I inched my vehicle closer to the gate it slowly swung open, allowing me to continue up the driveway.

As I got closer, the home began to come to life. It was laid out much like a traditional French provincial-style home. The driveway wrapped around a dry fountain with a beautiful three-tier centerpiece in the middle. I pulled up next to the fountain, thinking it was as good of a place to park as any. I shifted the car into park and took the keys out of the ignition, staring at the grounds as I opened the door and stepped out. I could see that this home hadn't been used in many years. The paint had begun to chip and the exterior was showing signs of wear. Once upon a time the surrounding grounds put on a dynamic show, but they no longer held the form that you would expect to see paired with the level of architecture. Yet, when I looked closer at the aged stonework and design I could begin to see its inherit beauty. Walking toward the front door, I got an idea of what was to come through the large windows that dominated the front. Peeking inside, I could see ornate décor, though outdated; the house in its time must have held a level of grandeur most dreamt of. I reached the front door and quickly realized that it had been left ajar. Pausing for a moment, I did my best to rationalize why the door to my home would be open.

"It must have been the wind that blew it open," I muttered to myself as I gathered my wits and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

I called out, "Is anyone here?" But, to my relief, I received no answer back.

Just inside the door was a bank of light switches that I flipped, triggering a beautiful chandelier to light the room. I was amazed to see the high vaulted ceilings and grand staircase that lay before me. The walls were covered in ornate floral pattern wallpaper, though the edges had begun to fray away from the crown molding. The furniture, grand in its beautifully outdated design, included oversized wing-back chairs and claw-foot couches. The home was traditional, though the framed art that hung on the wall gave off much more of a New Age contemporary feel with the occasional added darker theme. A mash up of new and old, I found myself feeling more at home with every new room I wandered through on the main floor.

In the kitchen there was a bottle of whiskey and a new pack of cigarettes on the counter, laid out like a rock star welcoming package. I lit a cigarette and opened the bottle, tossing the cap aside and taking a pull off of the bottle as I continued on my tour. I made the entire loop of the main level and found myself back at the stairs located in the front hall. I took another drink and began my ascension to the second floor, each stair creaking as I walked to the top. Once at the top I noticed a handful of doors, one of which specifically caught my eye. A faint glow bled out from underneath the door, drawing me to it. Again wondering if I was truly alone, I decided to announce myself.

I raised my voice and said, "Hello?" half expecting to receive an answer, but relieved that nothing broke the silence.

I inched closer to the door, my adrenaline beginning to pump with the uncertainty of what or who may be on the other side. Changing my grip on the neck of the bottle whiskey, I held it more like a bludgeon. I prepared myself for the worst and turned the handle, held my breath, and pushed the door open.

# Chapter 3

"What are you going to do, hit me?" a soft feminine voice asked.

The cigarette nearly fell from my mouth as my jaw dropped. Lying right before me was a woman dressed in sheer black lace, spread across a huge four-post bed. Her long, flowing brown hair was fanned out on the pillow while she laid in the perfect pose awaiting my arrival. In the background one of the deep tracks from an album that people gave me all too much credit for was playing on the stereo.

"Well?"

"Who are you?" I asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sophia," she replied.

"It's nice to meet you, Sophia. I could make the general assumptions, but maybe it's better that you telling me what you are doing here?"

"Consider me a perk," Sophia said with a coy look on her face.

"A perk?" I asked as I began to step toward the bed.

"Uh-huh."

I barely made it to the side of the bed before Sophia reached out and grabbed ahold of my shirt. Pulling me against her, she let out a soft groan and then fell back, tugging me on top of her as she began kissing my neck. The rest of the room began to fade into the background as my body fell into complete euphoria. I was no stranger to the typical groupie sneaking into my tour bus, but Sophia was more than brazen in greeting me in this fashion.

What felt like minutes had more likely been several hours. Candles that had once lit the room had all gone out and the bottle of whiskey was nearly dry. I lit a cigarette to aid me in my recovery, sending a trail of smoke spiraling toward the ceiling. Lying on the bed, I did my best to gather my thoughts, almost forgetting I wasn't alone in my room. I tried to play it cool but inside I was struggling to come up with the appropriate pillow talk for this occasion. Before I could even formulate words Sophia chimed in.

"Oh my God, that was better than I had ever dreamt," she said with a sigh of pleasure.

"So what, this has long been a plan of yours?" I asked as I took another drag off my cigarette.

I couldn't care less; in all honesty, I had gotten what I wanted, but I thought I would take this opportunity to dig deeper to see if I could find some more answers about this city I found myself in.

"No," Sophia replied. "But when I got the news that you were coming I had to find you. I mean, you're Conner Haro, lead singer of Unlucky Bunny. Biggest fucking rock star ever. I have every one of your albums, even the independent stuff. Shit, I even lost my virginity while listening to your music."

"Oh yeah?" I piped in. "What album? _Going down on the Rabbit's Hole_?"

"How did you know?" Sophia asked in a coy tone.

"Because that's the one everyone fucks to."

"We didn't," she said with a satisfied smile, taking the cigarette my lips to indulge in a drag.

"Yet," I added. "So how long have you been here?"

"I was probably waiting a few hours before you got home."

"No, I mean here. I don't even know where here is but like this place," I explained, struggling to come up with the appropriate terminology.

"Oh, you mean since I relocated to the city? I've been here for about eight years. It's a lot to take in at first, isn't it?" Sophia asked sympathetically.

"I barely know which direction is up let alone know how to comprehend everything that everyone is telling me."

"Well, let me try my best to fill you in at least on what I know," Sophia said. "I'm sure you already understand why we are here. We were unhappy with ourselves. Everyone here has a past they wanted to escape, a deficiency, something that drove them to suicide. But here in the city we get another chance; we can be what we want. The ugly girl in school is a model in everyone's eyes here. That's why I'm here. Everyone gets a job, well, not you, but our new vocation is something we want to do, not something we need just to make a buck, and we get to put a middle finger up to the people we left behind. Fuck those assholes."

I tried to understand everything she was telling me but it was a lot of the same that I had heard hours before from Van and the bartender. Just when I felt like I was going to run into the same wall again, I realized Sophia had said something that in the moment I had completely overlooked.

"Wait, did you say you knew I was coming?" I asked in hopes of uncovering something profound.

"Yeah, we know of everyone who's headed here," Sophia replied.

"How?"

Instead of answering, Sophia merely pointed across the room. I had yet to notice the dull glow of archaic TV monitors stacked in a grid fashion.

"What, the security system?" I asked. "How does that help you see anything?"

"Look closer," she said.

I pulled my boxers back on as I slipped out from under the bed sheets. I picked up my lit cigarette from the ashtray where Sophia had placed it and walked to the other side of the room. Over there on a dresser I found a grid of outdated tube televisions; they couldn't have been bigger than seven or eight inches stacked in a 4 x 4 formation. Each screen had different live feeds of people on them. One screen had someone sitting in a car, another with a guy wrapping a belt around his neck. None of the faces were recognizable but the dated technology could have been partly to blame. Periodically the feeds would change, but I noticed that one screen in the upper right corner had been fixed on the same person for quite a while now. I leaned in to investigate more, and as I got closer I realize the figure on the screen had a gun pressed under his chin.

"Oh my God," I said, in fear of what I believed I was about to witness.

I began to turn my head but Sophia interjected. "Don't look away, keep watching."

As soon as I turned my head back toward the monitor the gun went off and the person fell to the floor. I again turned my head away, disgusted.

"This is your entertainment here?" I exclaimed.

"I wouldn't call it entertainment," Sophia replied. "In all honesty, this is our only link to the real world. Some find it entertaining. They'll gamble a few bucks from time to time. The tabloids find their juicy leads by watching. But most people are too busy living like gods to pay much attention. Still, when someone commits suicide it's there for the city to witness. There's our newest resident, lying on the floor," Sophia said, pointing to the monitor.

I felt my legs giving out from under me. I fell back into a nearby chair, wishing I could forget what I had just seen. It wasn't like I wasn't familiar with the process, but for it to be broadcast to everyone like this? I could only wonder who had seen me in what I had once thought was my final, private moments.

"Did you witness mine?" I asked with a shaky voice.

"Not live, they had footage on last night's news reel though. It was a pretty big deal. It's the rarest of events when someone who had it all relocates here," Sophia said. "Everyone here went out looking for you; nobody of your caliber of fame has come in a long time."

Every time I thought I was gaining a grasp on this new reality I again would be blindsided with another aspect. I could feel Sophia's eyes on me as she continued to lie in the bed while I sat motionless, staring at the floor, calculating my thoughts and the new plot twists that had been dropped on me.

"Let's get out of here. You look like you could use it," Sophia said as she reached for her bra.

"Where to?" I asked, knowing that I couldn't take any more of surprises tonight.

"Don't ask so many questions, just come on," she replied as she walked out the bedroom door.

I was shocked at how fast she had gotten out of bed and dressed. I jumped to my feet and grabbed my clothes, picking them up piece by piece on my way out the door. I exited the room, following Sophia as best I could while hopping into my jeans with each step. I could see her head disappear as she walked down the stairs heading out the front door, and it wasn't until I got to my car outside that I finally caught up to her.

"I'm driving," Sophia demanded.

"I don't think so."

"Do you know where we're going?" she questioned. "I didn't think so."

Her point was made so I tossed her the keys from my jeans' pocket and got in the passenger seat. She pulled out of the driveway, while I stared intently on the road, trying to gain my bearings in this city.

"So you said you committed suicide because you were picked on?" I asked as I looked up and down her body, disbelieving her claims.

"No, I said because I was ugly," Sophia said with a hint of attitude. "It's not something I like to talk about but yes. I hated that the only attention I got was because I was overweight. To the guys I was invisible, but to the girls I couldn't have been a bigger target for their constant torment. Kids can be ruthless."

"But it all changed when you got here?"

"Pretty much," Sophia acknowledged. "They have all sorts of programs here through the Department of Relocations to train you, or procedures to help you to fit your aspirations. And just so you know, most people aren't too keen on talking about their pasts here. I'm just letting you know because questions like that can get you in trouble with the wrong crowd, even someone like you."

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," I quickly replied.

"It's alright; I'm just letting you know. So what about you, why did you do it?" Sophia asked since I had opened the door.

"It all just became too much. I felt like I had to be everything to everyone. Agents told me how to dress, critics told me how to raise my daughter, and friends wanted me to pay their bills. The romance was gone. The rock star status you got to see on MTV was nothing more than a mirage compared to the life I was being forced to live and I just didn't want it anymore. I tried everything but there was just no other escape. They don't let stars just fade away so I had to make an abrupt exit."

"I forgot about Evie. I'm sorry it got so hard," Sophia said.

We both sat there in silence. Neither of us quite knew the words to say so we just said nothing. Until now I hadn't thought about everything that I had left behind. In those final moments I couldn't think of anything but myself. How ironic, my music was filled with undertones of selfless living but I spent so much time dwelling about how everything was affecting me, not those around me. Sophia pulled off the road to a convenience store parking lot.

"I need a drink," she said. "You want to come in with me?"

"Yeah, I think this is the most cigarettes I've gone through in a day since I was sixteen," I chuckled. "I better grab another pack."

We both got out and headed toward the store entrance. Approaching the door, I paused and noticed a scruffy-looking man at the far end of the building rummaging through the trash dumpsters. It took me back a bit. I doubt that man felt like a "king" at that very moment. The man and I made eye contact for a moment; I stared back before shaking my head, snapping out of my trace, then continued into the store. He was nothing more than a bum, a two-time loser, but why?

I was greeted by the all-too-common beep announcing our presence as we opened the swinging glass door and entered the convenient store. There was a short man behind the counter busy stocking hot dogs and other fried food that looked like warmed-over garbage, just waiting there, ready to trick the next hungry patron that came through the door. I waited to get his attention while Sophia had already worked her way toward the coolers for something cold to drink.

I hollered to her, "Hey, grab me a bag of chips or a sandwich or something while your back there!"

As I continued to wait for the store clerk to acknowledge me, I gazed at all of the pointless shit this man was selling on the counter. Lottery tickets, knickknacks, tabloids, it was all here in a desperate move to make an extra buck. The man finally turned and asked how he could help me. I pointed at the cigarettes and asked for anything unfiltered. He handed me a pack and asked if there was anything else. Before I could answer, Sophia tossed a drink on the counter along with a hoagie that had been Saran wrapped for God knows how long and some other candy and snacks.

"This too," she said, practically out of breath. "Oh, and one of those bean burritos," she said as she gazed upon the hot case.

"I thought models didn't eat," I stated as I looked at her.

"Yeah, that's a myth," she said as she took a bite of the burrito the man had just handed her.

"So, I'm paying for your things now, huh?"

"Uh yeah, I actually have to work for my money, sir," she replied.

I shrugged and extended my hand to give my debit card to the cashier when something caught my eye. Just to my left on a news rack was a paper with the headline "The Last Rock Star: Gone," with a gruesome picture below. I could hardly believe my eyes. There I was lying in the bathtub bleeding out for the entire world to see. The cashier was trying to get my attention; he needed me to swipe my card through their card reader, but I was fixated on the newspaper image. Sophia reached over and took the card out of my hand and swiped it to complete the payment. I stood there dazed; that was me. You would have never seen a picture like this on the front page of the New York Times, or the Tribune.

"Are you coming?" Sophia asked as she picked up the bag with our purchase inside.

"Uh yeah, wait can I buy this? Where's my card?" I asked.

Sophia handed me my card and started walking to the door. Before I could hand it back to the clerk he said, "It's okay, you can have it."

"Thank you," I replied, running out the door.

By this time Sophia was already getting in the car. I got in the passenger seat and let out an exaggerated exhale as I looked straight ahead, again noticing the homeless man, this time through the windshield of the car. Sophia already had the car running and was getting ready to shift into gear when I remembered why I had gotten the sandwich.

"Wait!" I yelled. "Where is the stuff?"

I saw the bag of goodies we bought on the floor next to my feet. I grabbed the sandwich and jumped back out of the vehicle, heading toward where the homeless man stood, still looking through the garbage. As I got closer I extended the sandwich to him, but he paid no attention.

"How are you tonight, sir?" I asked, trying to be polite. "I got a sandwich but saw you over here and wanted to know if you would like to have it," I continued.

The man looked up at me blankly; it wasn't until now when he stood straight that I realized how large he truly was. I was dwarfed by his stature. He stared into my eyes, appearing surprised by my generosity. He reached out and grabbed the sandwich from me and uttered the simplest of responses.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, sir," I replied.

I didn't stand there or linger; he almost immediately dropped his head, breaking eye contact, and so I turned and walked back toward the car. I saw that Sophia was on the phone, and as I got closer I could hear her conversation.

"Yeah, bitch; I'm on my way, just never mind. I'll see you in a few," she said as she hung up. "So what was that all about?"

"He looked hungry," I said as I got settled into my seat. "What was your phone call all about?"

"My girls are just wondering where I am. Are we ready to go, or would you like me to find you some kind of soup kitchen to volunteer at?" she asked sarcastically.

"Go," I said, a little perturbed by her attitude.

It wasn't but a second later that Sophia threw the stick shift into drive and slammed her foot on the gas pedal. My entire body was flung back in my seat. Clearly she was ready to get to wherever it was we were headed.

"Jesus, slow down."

"You were taking too long and now we are late!" Sophia explained.

"Late for what?" I asked.

"Just late, I don't want to be late. You're too high strung, you know that? Chill out a bit," Sophia said as she turned the radio on. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

I picked up the newspaper the clerk had given me and scanned through the article. It was hard to look beyond the graphic image that was printed front and center though. I was just lying there in that tub, the water mixed with the blood that had poured from my wrist. I looked so lifeless. And that bathroom; my sanctuary, my safe haven, my escape. I remembered every inch of that bathroom. Every sound, each cracked tile, imperfection, the look of the fogged-up mirror. I had sat in there for hours contemplating my decision before I finally went through with it. The memories were slowly beginning to come back to me. At the time I felt like I had no other way out. Looking at it from this perspective, reading the article which explained the intimate details of my suicide, made me wonder if there might have been another way. Before I could brace myself, Sophia, in her typical fashion, slammed on the brakes. God did I hate the way she drove my car.

"What the fuck?" I yelled at her.

"We're here," she said with a hint of a guilty giggle.

I couldn't escape that car fast enough; I threw the door open and exited it before she tried to drive me anywhere else. I immediately felt the deep sounds of bass pumping through my chest. It didn't take long to realize where Sophia had taken me. We weaved through the cars in the packed parking lot and made our way toward the nightclub's entrance. Sophia bypassed the line that was beginning to stretch around the corner of the building as she walked toward the doorman. With every person we passed I heard more and more murmurs from the onlookers in line. Was it always going to be like this, I began to wonder?

You could hear the whispers from people saying, "It's really him," followed by the sounds of cellphone cameras going off. It's a lifestyle I was all too familiar with, even in these unfamiliar times, and I was quickly realizing that even in my best attempt I was never going to truly escape my celebrity status. As we got closer to the door the crowd continued to get denser and harder to navigate. This wasn't slowing Sophia in the slightest; she just grabbed my hand to guide me through the crowd. There wasn't anything that would deter this girl.

"Hey, Mike," Sophia said to the man who was monitoring the door.

"Don't worry, he's with me," she said, pointing at me.

"I think you meant to say you're with him," Donnie retorted to check Sophia's ego a bit.

The doorman unhooked the velvet rope and allowed us through; he gave me a nod as if to let me know I was good to go to, which I returned with a nod of my own. Just before we entered the door to the club, Sophia stopped and leaned in toward me.

"Don't forget what I said, people don't want to talk about how they got here. Forget the past, welcome to the present."

With that she pushed the double doors open and barged in acting like she owned the place. The bass instantly hit me as it reverberated through my chest. The song playing was by one of my all-time favorite artists.

Scanning the room, I saw all the usual characters, the different clicks all crowding around their favorite vices. It was clear that moderation was checked at the door with their coats. Beautiful women danced to the music splattered in neon paint that reacted with the black lights above while others sat back ordering drinks from the bar. I had been in a lot of bars and clubs, but this one was over the top in every aspect. The drinks glowed in hues of reds, greens, blues, and every color in between. The dance floor was almost hypnotic as the beautiful people moved in rhythm to the beat. Across the room, I saw money being thrown around as men in tailored suits crowded shoulder to shoulder around security feeds much like in my room but on a much larger scale. I must have looked like a kid in a candy store as we moved through the crowd. Sophia continued to pull me by the hand as I did my best to stay as close to her as possible, not wanting to get lost. Girls in the crowd grabbed at my clothing, but Sophia didn't hesitate to make sure none of these girls stepped on her turf. We headed up a side stairwell, which led us up to the catwalk above. There was a mellower vibe up here. People sat around tables, dressed to the nines enjoying their favorite cocktail, but everything changed quickly when they saw me enter the room.

"No fucking way," one man said. "It's an honor, sir. You don't know. Um, Jesus, I'm speechless."

"Can I buy you a drink?" a woman asked.

"No, he is just fine," Sophia said as she handed me a green concoction that glowed green.

"Well a toast then, to the baddest mother fucker to ever to live!" a drunken man stammered as he raised a glass.

"Sophia, is this safe to drink?" I asked as I analyzed the green concoction.

"Yes, Conner, see there you go worrying again," Sophia whispered in my ear.

I obliged the small collection of people as we raised our glasses, then pounded our drinks with roars of excitement following. Whatever it was I had just consumed, it tasted good. It had a sweet flavor but wasn't so sugary that my lips puckered and my fillings hurt. The alcohol in the beverage provided a warming sensation that spread across my body as I slumped down into a nearby plush chair and lit a cigarette. A cocktail waitress stopped by and placed another drink in front of me on the table. I picked it up to get a closer inspection, as I had never seen anything quite like it.

"How do they make them glow like this?" I asked Sophia.

"Regulations," Sophia said cryptically.

"I don't follow."

"We don't have any regulations. No FDA to restrict us, we get to do what we want and live how we want. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sophia said as she took a sip from her purple cocktail.

Before I could continue our conversation one of Sophia's friends interrupted.

"In honor of Conner we should listen to some of his best work, any requests?"

"Fuck that; do you hear what they're playing right now? This guy is a legend," I blurted out. The alcohol was already overriding any filter I once had. "Just listen to the depth in his lyrics," I added.

I picked up my drink and took another sip, not paying any attention to who had even made that asinine statement when I heard a voice from behind me.

"Thanks, man, I feel the same about your work," a man said.

I immediately spun my head around and saw a man I never thought I'd have an opportunity to meet.

"Hidell? You have to be fucking kidding me," I said in complete disbelief.

I jumped to my feet and reached out to shake his hand. This man had long been a hero I mine. I looked up to him when I was a teen, and without his influence I'm not sure I would have ever picked up an instrument let alone become the successful musician I did. His birth name was Samuel Jenkins, but went by the moniker Hidell, which was meant to be a big middle finger to the government and also provide fuel to conspiracy theorists and their outlandish suspicions. He got his start as a street poet. People would flock to listen to him rhyme about the injustices we all dealt with. Someone discovered him and offered him a recording deal, which he used to put out a handful of ill-received albums. What made him so recognizable was the movement he created, putting into question underhanded political tactics being used to fuck over the working man. It got to the point where he was at one point detained by the FBI and investigated as a conspirator. It only fueled his war to expose the injustices the working class had long dealt with.

"Man, it is so good to see you. I'm blown away," I said to him as I let go of his hand.

"Nah, man, I'm the one shaking hands with Conner Haro," Hidell replied.

"Weird, until now I thought the only people here were suicide victims," I explained.

"Ah, shit. You really think I overdosed?" Hidell asked. "Hardly; I fought enough battles, made enough moves, and just ran out of damn patience, so I decided to check out," he explained. "You know me, I was never a fan of guns, so I took a more lax approach. Not like you; wrists! Shit, man, I saw that. I was sitting, well, right about there with a couple of fine dime ladies," he explained as he pointed to my very seat. "I was a little busy with them and almost missed it. You know what I'm saying," Hidell continued as he winked.

With a simple hand gesture from Hidell, a wall opened with at least a dozen screens hidden behind it.

"Want to make a little wager?" he asked with a grin on his face.

"You know, I'm still kind of getting used to this whole thing. Maybe next time," I replied.

He nodded. "Yeah, it took me a little bit of time to wrap my mind around all this shit. How about some drinks."

Sophia, who had by this time moved over a table to chat with some of her friends, came back over and sat down next to me.

"Are you about ready? I wanted to check out another spot."

"He's going to be a bit, we're just getting started," Hidell interjected. "Why don't you go play like a good bunny, let the boys talk."

Sophia got up with a disgusted look on her face and walked away uttering the word "pig" under her breath. The waitress walked through the area with more drinks so I flagged her down, as my glass was again getting low. As I grabbed a drink for Hidell and myself all I could do was roll my eyes about Sophia's attitude.

"Women," I said.

Hidell held his glass up to cheers to that statement as he waived down a gentleman standing in the far corner. When the man arrived Hidell whispered something in his ear and motioned toward the security screens before us. The man nodded as Hidell looked back my direction and asked, "What's your favorite number?"

"Four," I replied.

"You heard the man, Bryce, put it on screen four."

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"You just made your first bet, friend. Let's see if number four does himself next!" Hidell exclaimed with a smile on his face.

I immediately felt a pit deep in my stomach develop as I gripped the armrest of the chair. The thought of profiting off of someone's last moments was a little more than I was ready to come to terms with and Hidell could see it all over my face. I quickly reached for my glass and finished it.

"Don't worry, man, I'm just popping' your cherry. I remember when I made my first bet. I'll hold your hand on your first one," Hidell said with a grin on his face.

He waived over a waitress, who brought with her a fifth of liquor. The label read, "Serum No. 6," but its fire-red glow was what set it apart. She poured us both a glass then left the bottle, after which he thanked her by handing her some cash. The minutes turned to hours while Hidell and I just chatted about life, about love, and whatever bullshit came up in between. Hidell told me wild stories about his experiences here in the city. It was obvious that as the amount of alcohol we consumed increased so did the size of his tall tales. By his account he was living as big if not bigger here than he was even before he relocated. Girls, drugs, parties, it was every bit of the lifestyle you would associate with a celebrity, but at the same time not all that different from what he and I had in the past. As we neared the bottom of our second bottle I finally got the courage to ask him what I had had on my mind since leaving the convenience store hours ago.

"Everything you say is amazing, but how does this work?" I asked.

"What do mean? We get what we want man, end of story," he replied with a smile.

"No, not that, I get that you and I are different, but what's the deal? You, me, Sophia, everyone has what they want, but it can't work that way. Someone has to get stuck with the shit end of the stick, don't they? I mean, for instance, on the way here when we stopped off for a pack of cigarettes I noticed a man looking for his next meal in a dumpster. You're not going to tell me he killed himself in hopes of being homeless, are you?"

Hidell sat for a moment to gather his thoughts then stood up and walked toward the railing of the catwalk and motioned for me to follow. He leaned over and pointed at all the people below and began to explain how this all worked.

"Look at all of these people, took their lives into their own hands because they weren't happy. You know the story, but what it all comes down to is this: kings and cowards. Yes we all made a brave decision to end our unhappiness, and similar to the eastern philosophy, there is certain nobility to suicide if done for the right reasons. As you look over this crowd there are a handful of people who didn't do it for noble reasons, or at least not in a noble way, and it's those people who are paying for those choices now."

"I don't follow," I said to keep the conversation rolling.

"Well, look at the guy behind the bar serving drinks," Hidell said as he pointed at the bar across the club. "He was antisocial, quiet, never noticed. All he wanted was to be popular. He used a gun and now he's here. Now take a look at that scrawny kid bussing the tables. He wanted the same thing as the bartender, but instead of doing the job himself, he was too scared, he went into a bank wielding a gun and forced a security guard to do the job like a coward. Now he's stuck mere feet away from what he wanted but instead nobody notices him, nobody cares, and he is stuck here watching the bartender live the life he dreamt of. All because he was a coward. For every person who is here that did themselves in, you have those few that forced someone else to do the job or worse, they left a mess behind for someone else to deal with. The guy who got his girlfriend pregnant and cashed out, all the way up to the Wall Street types who swindled people out of their money for years then realized they made a bad investment and lost it all. Instead of doing the honorable thing they take a step off of a ledge and leave behind a house full of mouths to feed. Cowards."

"How do you know so much about all this?" I asked.

"I know everything about everyone. This city is my castle, and I'm the king," Hidell said triumphantly. He took a sip of his drink and continued, "For better or worse everyone here made a choice to change their story. Conner," he said as he looked me right in the eyes. "Welcome to the re-write."

With that Hidell held his glass high, making a toast, which caused the crowd on the dance floor below to cheer wildly. It became clear at that moment. This city was his, he was king, and had anything and everything he could ever need or want. The people, while gods in their own mind, were mere peasants to him. Everything he had accomplished in his past existence paled in comparison to what he had accomplished for basically being nothing more himself here. It was impressive. Hidell then looked at me, gesturing for me to raise my glass toward the room, so I did, and to my surprise I received the same ovation. I felt a tingle go through my body that I hadn't felt since years ago when I would get on stage. They welcomed me into the fold and looked at me the same way they looked at him. I was in good company.

Just as soon as I lowered my glass, I felt a tug on my shirt; it was Sophia.

"Can we go yet?" she asked with a bitchy tone.

"Yeah, I need to use the bathroom though. Where is it?" I asked.

Sophia pointed across the way toward the back wall, where a doorway led down a hall. I stepped off the ledge Hidell and I were perched on and immediately began to stagger. The room spun and I reached for anything to help me regain my balance; luckily for me Sophia caught me before I made a complete fool of myself. I let out a laugh, and smiled as I thanked her. My night's drinks had finally caught up to me. I took a deep breath, attempting to compose myself as I began shuffling across the room, trying my best to keep my balance.

When I arrived at the bathroom, I brazenly swung the door open and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights caused me to squint as my eyes did their best to adjust to the contrasting brightness. I walked past the stalls to where the urinals were located. Having my choice of targets, I chose the one closest, placing my hand on the wall above to steady myself as I unzipped my pants. My head down to focus at the task at hand, I let out a great sigh, as this stop was way overdue. I gave myself a couple shakes, zipped my pants, and reached for the handle to flush the urinal. It was just then I noticed a reflection in the chrome piping, a figure coming up behind me, and fast. I tried to raise a hand to block his oncoming attack but my attempt was in vain. He struck me in the back of the head with something hard and I collapsed to the cold tile floor. Everything faded to black; I was out.

# Chapter 4

"Where is it? Your tag, where is your tag?" the figure asked as he frantically scavenged through my wallet.

I lifted my head to see who was yelling, immediately triggering a sharp pain at the back of my skull. I reached my hand back to investigate what was causing such pain but couldn't find anything of significance. Desperate to relieve the intense discomfort, I tried holding my hand tightly against the back of my head, but that only seemed to intensify so I decided to release it all together. Looking at my fingers, I was surprised to find that they were covered in blood. While my eyes fought the intense light above, I looked up to try to identify my attacker and was shocked at what I saw.

"Hidell?" I said, puzzled.

"Where is it, man?" Hidell demanded as he dropped the contents of my wallet to the floor.

"Where is what? Fuck man, stop," I said as he began yanking at my shoe.

I tried to grab for anything to gain leverage, but there was only a loose pipe within range, which I assumed was what he used to bludgeon me.

"Your tag, your toe tag. Where did you put it?" He threw my shoe across the room in frustration.

"Stop!" I kicked him away, but he still lunged at me again. "He took it, it's gone," I said as I continued flailing my legs to distance Hidell from myself.

"Who took it?" Hidell demanded as he clenched his fist around my shirt.

"Uh, uh..." I was interrupted by the sound of a gun firing from the bathroom doorway, stopping both of us in our tracks. We ducked as a bathroom tile exploded above our heads, sending shrapnel in all directions.

"Don't you think it's time you go home, Sam?" Sophia said as she cocked the revolver in her hand, continuing to aim it at Hidell.

Hidell calmly stood up, releasing me in the process, hands raised and giving the sign that he was surrendering. He looked right into Sophia's eyes in his best attempt to intimidate her. He hardly looked human. His desperation was so thick you could see it manifest in each breath. The stare-off between him and Sophia felt like it went on forever until Sophia finally succumbed and looked away, dropping the gun's barrel ever so slightly. Hidell saw his opportunity and reached for the lead pipe lying next to me and heaved it across the room in Sophia's direction.

"Fuck you, bitch!" Hidell yelled as he followed the pipe's trajectory toward her.

The pipe missed her, instead shattering a mirror mounted on the wall nearby. The commotion was enough to cause Sophia to drop the revolver completely. Hidell lunged at her, grabbing her throat and knocking her to the ground.

"You want to play hero, huh? I'll show you what heroes get," Hidell said as he picked up a large shard of the broken mirror from the floor and pressed it to her cheek.

Seeing this, I jumped to my feet and picked up the revolver, which lay just behind the two of them. Before I could think I put the gun to his temple as I stood behind him. For just a moment it felt like time stopped. I caught a glimpse of Hidell's eyes in the shard of mirror he was holding. His entire expression went blank as he realized what was about to happen, but before he could make a move I pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed everywhere and his lifeless body fell to the floor. I collapsed next to him, leaning up against the blood-soaked wall. I dropped my head between my knees, only supporting it with my hands on either side as the revolver barrel continued to smoke. What had I done? I could hear Sophia breathing heavily; neither of us knew what to say so we just sat there in silence. I looked at my hands, bloodstained, still gripping the handle of the revolver tightly. I tried to make sense of it all, but it was of no use until Sophia finally spoke.

"Thank you," she gently uttered.

When she said those words I found peace with my decision.

`"You did the same for me," I replied.

She staggered to her feet and extended a hand to help me up. I grabbed her hand and got to my feet, tucking the revolver behind my belt. Looking in the mirror, I realized there was no way I could exit this bathroom looking like this so I grabbed some paper towels and wet them under the faucet and began cleaning the blood off of my hands.

"We've got to get out of here," I said with urgency as I worked the blood out from under my nails.

She agreed with a simple nod and followed suit. I had no clue if anyone had heard the gunshots, nor how they would react, so I opened the door just enough to get a glimpse of what has happening in the club. Peeking into the room, I was astonished. I could hear the bass line continue to thump, muffling everything in the club. It was as if nobody heard a thing, or did they just not care? They all seemed to be carrying on with their business as usual so I grabbed Sophia's hand and led her out of the bathroom. We made eye contact with nobody as we worked our way back downstairs toward the front door. I could hear people yell my name but I paid them no attention. I had only one focus right now.

As we reached the door I felt a hand grab my shoulder. Startled, I turned slowly to look back, fearing that someone was on to us. To my surprise it was Bryce, the man Hidell had called over to take my bet.

"Your winnings Conner," he said with a smile on his face, handing me a thick envelope.

"What?"

"Screen four, remember? He was the next person to commit suicide, you won."

"Uh, thank you," I replied as I stared at the envelope, not knowing how to feel about this in light of what just transpired.

I looked at Sophia, sharing the thought that we got lucky, then pushed the door open and stepped outside. The crowd was mostly gone, with just a few stragglers waiting for cabs to take them home. Sophia and I slowly strolled toward the lot where she had parked my car, which was now sitting alone.

"What now?" Sophia asked me.

"I need to go somewhere to think, any ideas?" I asked her.

"Yeah, I know a place," she replied as she walked toward the driver's side door.

"Nope, I'm driving," I said, quickly grabbing the keys from her as I opened the door and settled into my seat.

I tossed the envelope of money up on the dash as well as the gun I had holstered, turned my car on, and shifted into drive. With Sophia navigating we made our way out of the city. Neither of us said much, we were both deep in thought with the events that transpired. I had never killed anyone before, other than myself I suppose. As hard as I tried, I could not get the moment Hidell and I had locked eyes out of my head. That moment felt infinite, and the longer I dwelled on it, the bigger the lump in my throat grew. Continuing to struggle for words, I began realize off in the distance the slightest hint of light on the horizon. With every mile we traveled the sky brightened and finally I just couldn't take it.

"I know I ask a lot of asinine questions, but please tell me what's going on with the sky here. Why is it every time I get out of the city the sun comes out yet in the city it's a constant starless night sky?"

"Has anyone ever told you nothing good happens after midnight?" Sophia asked. "As true as that statement may be from a morality standpoint, there sure is a hell of a lot of fun to be had then. The city is our playground, it's what we want, and there isn't anybody who wants to waste any time waiting for the sun to go down, so inside the city, it just never comes up. We live for the night, and when we want a change, we can come out here and enjoy the transition. Beautiful sunrises, sunsets, and my favorite, star-filled night skies."

"Careful, Sophia, you are coming off as a romantic," I said with a smirk.

"Don't start with me, Conner," she replied with a smile on her face. "See that road up there? Pull off at that driveway." She pointed at a dirt road that led up to a distressed old farm.

When we got to the driveway I pulled off and headed up toward the house, passing an old rusty gate that looked to have fallen off its post and was now permanently open with the typical "No Trespassing" sign posted on it. As we followed the dirt road we passed a slew of construction in varying states of disrepair. The old silos showed signs of rust and the barn looked unsafe to enter without complete disregard for your life, but when we pulled up next to the old farmhouse it didn't seem to be completely hopeless.

"Park around the backside," Sophia instructed me as she pointed.

The car rolled to a stop and we both got out. The sun warmed me as I followed Sophia toward the house. She stopped short though and veered instead toward what looked like a small campfire area with some crudely constructed wooden benches. She sat down and just stared up into the sky until she couldn't take the sun anymore, closing her eyes but keeping her head in the same position. A smile came across her face as she soaked in every ray she could.

"It's been too long," she said. "This place was once owned by a country singer. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I can't even remember his name. We all used to come out here to get away from the city nightlife, have roaring bonfires and look up at the stars," she said, still with her face aimed up at the sky, revisiting those times in her mind. "But then one day he just disappeared. It's funny how the faces are always changing here, people come and go, but the party never stops. Relationships come and go. You just enjoy the company while it lasts, then move on to the next clique."

I didn't want to ruin her memories, but everything Sophia was talking about didn't hold a candle to the dilemma I currently found myself in. I just looked at her and bobbed my head along to her rambling, carefully waiting for my moment to interject our more pressing matters.

"That's all well and good but, what do we do about Hidell?" I asked, realizing my question wasn't as well placed as I had hoped.

Sophia opened her eyes and looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"Well, let's see, unless I'm not remembering correctly, he's lying in a bathroom dead. I assume there will be a lot of pissed-off people when they find out their king is gone?" I snapped.

"Their king? You don't get it, do you?" Sophia questioned. "Nobody gives a shit about Hidell. This place is so full of narcissism, people could care less if he was or wasn't around. They're just looking for a party and he supplied it. Now that he's out of the picture the people will just move along to the next guy," she explained as she stared at me.

"What, me?" I asked in shock.

"Yes, Mr. Haro. It's all yours," Sophia said with a smile and leaned over, giving me a peck on the cheek. "If you need a good queen, let me know," she added with a wink.

We sat there for hours basking in the sun. We talked about life, before either of us relocated here, before everything got so difficult. The things we missed, and those things that we didn't. Sophia had always dreamed of being famous; she wanted to be an actress, gracing the red carpet, posing for the popping flashbulbs of the paparazzi. It was a place like this that gave her a chance at those dreams. The people back in the real world don't even know what they are missing out on. She answered my never-ending list of questions, but only in exchange for some juicy stories about living on the road, groupies, and those conversations shared between bandmates backstage. They might have been conversations about nothing at all, but looking back they were quickly becoming some of my fondest memories. What I would give if only I could have them back now.

"Well, is the king ready to head back to his castle?" Sophia said jokingly.

"Yeah, I guess we should get back. I could sure use a nice soft mattress about now," I said, thinking about how sore my back was getting sitting on these unforgiving benches.

"You didn't want me to drop you off in the morgue?" Sophia said in jest.

"That's a big no," I replied as I got to my feet and began walking to my car.

Sophia followed behind as we got back in the car to head back to the city. I almost turned the car on, but hesitated, leaving the keys dangling in the ignition.

"You know, there is something that still bothers me about this whole Hidell thing. Why was he so hell bent on getting my toe tag?" I asked, trying my best to come up with some justifiable reason in my own mind. "What is so important about these tags? You have one, right?"

"Yeah, they take your tag and adhere it to your issued ID. See?" she said as she opened her wallet and showed me.

"It's weird, Van took mine at the morgue, but the lady from Relocations said she'd be mailing me a replacement like it was no big deal. What could be so important that a man would turn into such an animal and be willing to kill for my damn tag? He had it all, what was to gain?"

Sophia just looked at me and shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it."

I paused for a second to think, but without an answer decided not to dwell any longer. I turned the key in the ignition and headed back to the city. Slowly but surely the roads began to connect and I was feeling like less of a stranger here. I even had enough time to take my eyes off the street signs and admire one of Sophia's pictures on a roadside billboard. I pointed it out and watched her sink in her seat a little bit.

"You know when you said you were a model I had no reason not to believe you," I said with a smirk as I looked her up and down. "But, come on, I assumed you had standards," I added.

The billboard in question was an advertisement for some kind of yogurt, with her seductively licking the foil top. It was definitely beneath her and what she was capable of in her industry.

"Ugh. That was one of my first gigs I got when I arrived here. I wish I had looked at the fine print; apparently they have the rights to use my likeness at their own discretion. It's so embarrassing," she said in a defeated voice.

"Maybe I'll have to see what I can do to persuade them to let that contract expire," I glanced in Sophia's direction.

It was the least I could do with my newfound clout. While I was still unsure of Sophia's intentions, she had shown herself to be the only person here I could trust and call a friend. I'd be happy to help her out in any way I could with my new found status. My musing was cut short by the sight of parked cars lining both sides of my driveway as I arrived home.

"Holy shit," I blurted out. "It looks like the whole city must be here."

"It's not the whole city, but something tells me everyone knows about Hidell," Sophia said, looking at the endless line of cars parallel parked.

I drove slowly up the rest of the driveway, noticing there was one spot left right next to that same dry fountain to park. I eased in between two other cars and shifted into park, sitting motionless while the engine idled. I looked at Sophia, then without saying a word turned off the car and got out of the vehicle, grabbing the gun and envelope of cash off of the dash. Not knowing what my intentions were, she quickly removed her seatbelt and got out of the passenger seat.

"What are you doing, Conner?" she asked as her voice cracked slightly.

I ignored her question, marching straight for the front door to my home as Sophia followed close behind. Plastic cups, bottles and other various garbage littered my path to the door. As I got closer I could hear a raucous crowd inside, their music blaring; people were yelling, and I could only imagine how much damage had been done to my home. Approaching the door, I stopped just short of the doormat, paused one last time, holstered my gun in my belt again, and leaned forward to push the double doors open. As they swung on their hinges I saw that the scene from the club had migrated here. Debauchery at its finest, everyone was busy living it up, though when they saw me standing in the doorway a hush quickly fell over the crowd. The music stopped, men gambling on suicides looked up from the monitors, people stopped drinking their cocktails, and those smoking held their cigarettes between their fingers as they burned, anxiously awaiting my reaction to their presence in my home. I scanned the whole room, noticing that everything, though messy, had been maintained well. There was little damage and people seemed to be enjoying themselves. I then raised my hand, holding the envelope full of cash, and uttered,

"Put it all on screen two!"

The crowd roared as people held their glasses high; the music started up again as there was a new found excitement due to my presence. They were playing Unlucky Bunny's early work, it was like old times. I weaved through the crowd while a bookie came to grab my envelope. I took a seat on a couch and soaked it all in. Beautiful women were on the table tops dancing to the music, giving the men quite a show. I felt like a wallflower just enjoying the spectacle. A nerdy looking gentleman sitting next to me was glued to the monitors across the way, watching for any action as he leaned toward me and whispered.

"You know, screen two wasn't a very good choice."

"Man, I'm not too worried about it; it's all in fun, right?" I replied.

"Yeah, you're right," the nerd said. "But, see, it's only the first time he's showed up on the screens. Most people don't go through with it the first time, but the more often they show up on the screens it becomes more likely they'll do the deed. So screen two probably won't be a winner this time around," he explained.

"So you mean there are odds to all of this?" I asked.

"Well yes, nothing official, but if you study it, it's very much odd based," the nerdy man said as he let out a little satisfied chuckle. "Oh, and my name's Niles. I'm a big fan," he awkwardly added.

"Hmmm, that's interesting," I said to myself.

I sat there and pondered Niles' concept for a moment, but all too quickly I was sidetracked as I locked eyes with a girl across the room. She was gorgeous. Definitely not the kind of girl you would bring home to Mom, but that was hardly an issue in this moment. Her low-cut dress left little to the imagination, and I could read her intentions all over her face as she played with her long red hair. To my surprise, when she began to make her way across the room, she had a second blonde girl following her hand in hand. They sat down on the coffee table in front of me, which made Niles nervous enough that he slinked away in a shy retreat.

"Hey, baby," the redhead said to me.

"How are we doing tonight?" I asked them.

"Did you hear? Hidell's dead," the blonde girl commented.

I tried to put on as surprised a face as possible while staying nonchalant. "You know, I hadn't heard that. I just saw him a few hours ago; does anyone know how it happened?"

"No, but I guess that makes you the man now, doesn't it?" the redhead interjected. "I'm Staci, and this is Camille. Which one of these rooms upstairs is yours?" She pointed toward the stairs.

I looked over my shoulder, scanning the room for Sophia. I was still uncertain about our situation and with everything she had done for me I was leery of doing anything to hurt her. After all, she had basically saved my life. I finally saw her as the sea of people parted. She was headed out a back door toward the garden patio. Hand in hand with another man, it was clear enough to me that I wasn't going to do any harm, as she was plenty busy pairing off with someone herself. So I looked back at Staci and Camille, their faces as coy as ever.

"Let me give you the tour," I said as I led them up to my room, closing the door behind us.

It's good to be Royal.

# Chapter 5

Idle hands are the Devil's tool, but in the city even the Devil works for me. It didn't take long for me to realize I needed a new outlet. I couldn't hang on the coattails of my former life forever. I was nothing more than a glorified socialite, a hotel heir wild child, having little or nothing to offer and that didn't sit well with me. Money wasn't an issue, I had plenty of that, but I wasn't about to be the servant who buried his talents. It was power I was in search of, so I enlisted the genius of Niles, who by sheer luck had given me some of the most important knowledge anyone had ever offered me here in the city. Everyone in here was so self-absorbed that they didn't realize the mountain of gold they were sitting on.

Niles had discovered an algorithm in the way the screens transitioned, finding a direct correlation between that and the likelihood of someone committing suicide. It was genius to say the least and as soon as we partnered together everything changed. Sure, people had long gambled on suicides, what we did revolutionized it. Parlays, teasers, connect the dots, four corners, futures, means of suicide; you could make a wager on anything and everything. I established the city's first gaming commission to provide gambling standards and legitimize the practice. I also opened the only gentleman's gaming club, bringing in the most beautiful girls to satisfy the demand. Our girls wore less and did more. Thank God for daddy issues. Long gone were those archaic black-and-white security monitors, opting instead for high-definition multi-feed flat screens. We improved the video feed quality, created profiles and databases on the subjects, providing a whole new depth to the intimacy of the subjects' last moments. We knew everything about them and the people in the city loved it. Their names, age, family life; it was all there and it made the connection between worlds so much deeper. People in the city who used to bet twenties were now betting hundreds, and not once a year; it was nightly. Did they always win? No, but the thrill of the chase had them hooked. It was better than any high they had ever felt; it was the ultimate power to them, and they thanked me for it. Before Niles or I realized it, we had become the hottest ticket in town. The money wasn't just piling up; it was building a whole new foundation to the city. Everything went through us and I was never in the dark when it came to the latest happenings within the city. Like I said, even the Devil worked for me.

"Damn it, another loser," a patron said as he slammed his betting slip on the table.

"Tough night, Rick?" I asked sympathetically.

"It just isn't in the cards tonight I don't believe," the man replied.

"Niles, how are our numbers looking tonight?" I asked as I poured myself a drink from behind the bar.

"Mr. Haro, profits are up, way up, another record night. If we keep up this pace we will top last year's revenue soon," Niles said with a small grin on his face.

"Already?" I exclaimed. You know what, Rick, I think I can help you out," I said as I motioned one of the girls over. "Why don't you take a break and head back to the velvet room, Rick." I grabbed the girl's arm gently and whispered some instructions in her ear. "Alight Rick, I have some things to attend to, enjoy yourself, and I will have someone bring you a complimentary betting slip when you are finished. They tell me I'm having a good night, why not share the wealth, right? Enjoy yourself, pal."

"Why thank you, Mr. Haro," Rick replied, smiling from ear to ear.

I pulled Niles aside to mutter, "Make sure he picks a winner."

"Will do, Mr. Haro," Niles replied.

My cellphone rang so I excused myself and stepped into the back office. It was the same call I get all day, every day. What do you need, yeah I have that, when do you need it? It had basically become a reflex for me to respond this way when I heard the phone ring. Everyone wanted a favor, needed something; wanted what I had. But this call was different.

"Congrats on your eleventh year, Mr. Haro," a voice on the end of the phone said.

"Is this Sophia?" I asked.

"Would it be anyone else, honey?"

"Nope, you're the only person so bad with numbers you would miss an entire year that I've been in business. This is actually my twelfth year, but I appreciate the call. You aren't by chance looking for work, are you?"

"Conner, how many times do I have to tell you, you can't afford me. When are you going to quit barking up that tree?" Sophia asked, cutting me off before I could give her my best sales pitch.

"Well, I got to go, just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you."

"Goodbye, Sophia."

And with that I hung up the phone and tossed it on the desk, glancing at the club's surveillance screen as I took a seat. It was ironic, I made all my money from the live feeds of others in their final moments but the only screens I ever looked at focused solely on the patrons in the club. I shuffled through some paperwork, only to pause and glance back over at the security feeds. Someone in the room had caught my eye.

"Niles, get in here!"

Niles ran through the door, huffing and puffing. "What is it, sir?"

"Is that who I think it is?" I asked, pointing on one of the screens.

"Yes, I believe that's Bryce," Niles replied in typical emotionless voice.

"Make sure that security is aware he is here. Oh and Niles," I said to catch him before he took off again.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are these numbers right?"

"Oh yes, sir, that's the year to date, everything is there," Niles said with that grin he often got when it came to conversing over the numbers. "Impressive isn't it?"

"Why are our patrons' winning percentages so low? And look at these customer repeat betting numbers. If we keep squeezing our patrons they are going to go elsewhere. We can't get too greedy. Fix it," I said sternly to him. "And don't forget about Bryce."

Bryce was one of Hidell's boys, and with that history he wasn't my biggest fan. We were cordial to one another, but I was always skeptical of his motives as he was of mine. I always kept a close eye on him, and he knew it. Regardless, he was a customer and he had just as much of a right to be here as anyone else. He and his entourage pulled up at the rack, singles in hand ready to help support the girls. Bottle service came over; they were getting the VIP treatment. Nothing wrong with a little bit of fun amongst the boys.

I decided to call it a night; the club was in good hands, so I grabbed my coat and ducked out the back door in my typical fashion, not saying goodbye to anyone. I could see my breath in the cold night air as I walked toward my car. It wasn't that I was worried, but I always parked under a light, allowing me to see my surroundings. This time was like every other, and I opened my car and settled in safely. Nobody in this city wanted my blood on their hands.

The drive home was simple. I had been here long enough that I could make it blindfolded now. Pulling into the driveway was one of my biggest joys. To see that transformation from what this place was when I first arrived in the city to now, it was hardly recognizable. The planter boxes were full of lavish flowers. Trees stood tall proudly waving brilliant green leaves. And that dry fountain was now home to some of the most colorful koi you had ever seen. I reached into my ash tray to grab my secret stash of fish food and tossed them a treat as I headed to the front door. Once inside it was straight upstairs. I left a trail of clothes behind me as I headed to my bed. There was no better comfort than falling into my bed after a long day's work. It was my sanctuary.

I laid there thinking about anything to keep my mind off work. Sometimes I thought about my past life, but it felt so distant that I began to struggle to remember which party happened in which reality. Either way it was those memories that helped me avoid counting sheep as I finally dozed off.

I couldn't tell if it had been minutes or hours, but I awoke to that never-ending sound of my phone ringing. I reached over to decline the call. Almost immediately the phone again rang. I repeated my action only to moments later hear it ringing once again. Finally I answered.

"This better be good," I said, rubbing my heavy eyes.

"Conner, its Niles."

I immediately sat up; in all the time I had known Niles I don't believe I could remember a single time in which he used my first name.

"Are you watching this?" Niles asked.

"I was asleep. Am I watching what?"

"A new Royal," Niles said sternly.

The phone fell from my hand as I looked up at the screens across the room. It was hard to make out what was going on, but it appeared that every screen was fixated on the same character, then in a flash the individual panes disappeared, transitioning to one feed that took up the entire screen. I'd never seen anything like it.

I stepped out of my bed and walked toward the screens, almost in shock over what I was seeing. As I got closer it became apparent there was a man standing on the ledge of a bridge. He gripped the metal work tightly with his hands as he contemplated his fate. I wasn't sure what to think, but if what Niles relayed was true this would be monumental. My mind began calculating all of the possibilities that came with this event. I nearly bumped into the screens before I snapped out of my trance. I immediately ran back to the bed and picked up my phone.

"Why did the feeds synchronize?"

"He's getting the Royal treatment. Only when someone of your, or similar, stature contemplates taking their life does this occur," Niles explained.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked frantically.

"Just a few minutes sir," he replied.

"Close all betting, pay out any winners, and whatever you do don't take any more submissions. I'll be right there!" I said as I began running out of my bedroom.

I picked up my clothes along the way, putting them on as best I could at my frenzied pace. I jumped in the car and spun it around the fountain, kicking up loose gravel as I sped off. I ran every red light I came across; I barely slowed for the turns. I went breakneck speed as I headed toward the club. Upon arrival I slid into my typical parking space and ran in though that same back entrance.

"Where are we at, Niles?" I asked.

"He's still on. I closed betting, but nobody has left," Niles said as he pointed at the room.

The whole room was fixated on this moment. It was impossible to truly understand the gravity of what was happening. Was this what it was like when I had committed suicide? Would this man come in and try to replace me?

"Niles, who is this guy? What do we know about him?" I asked, realizing I was completely in the dark about who I was watching.

"I haven't gotten verification on his name, nobody in the room is quite sure and my contacts haven't gotten back to me as of yet. He's standing on a bridge, that's about all we know," Niles explained.

Just then Niles' phone rang. "Uh huh, okay. Really, wow. Okay, thank you," he said to the person on the other end of the phone. "Apparently his name is Mitchell Werth. He is one of those Wall Street playboy types who made it big in the dot.com boom of the nineties. Fast cars, jets, caviar, he definitely lives large. Unfortunately for him many of his more recent ventures failed. One day he found his wife in bed with another man, which led him to what you are seeing now," Niles said.

Just then the entire room gasped. I snapped my head back to the screens just in time to see Mitchell reposition his feet on the ledge.

"That was close!" a patron hollered.

I scanned the room as they intently watched the screen. Most of the people were familiar faces; I must not have been asleep long as many of them were the same as when I had left. Rick was still here, and over his shoulder I saw Bryce, now perched in the corner. He was talking amongst a small group of guys; it was impossible to tell what he was saying from my vantage point but it was clear he had yet another scheme he was selling the group on.

"Hey, Rick," I said, motioning him to lean in close. "Has that gentleman in the corner been in here all night?" I whispered in his ear.

"Yes, I think so."

"Has he talked to you at all?" I asked.

"Yes actually, he was talking about putting together some kind of search party; I think he is getting some kind of group together. I wasn't interested though," Rick insisted.

"It's okay, Rick, you're not in any kind of trouble. I hope your night turned around," I said as I walked away toward my back office.

"It did, in fact..." Rick said, trailing off after he realized I was headed the other direction.

Niles followed me into the back room; he could read the concern on my face. I took a seat in the back office, staring at this potential new citizen of the city as he continued to contemplate his options upon that lonely bridge.

"What are you thinking, sir?" Niles asked sheepishly.

"What does Bryce have planned? He seems less interested in the details of the event, but more on its outcome. Does he have a bet in on this one?"

"No, everyone was in shock when the screens all switched to the same person. Only a handful had any bets in before you informed me to close betting," Niles told me.

"Okay, well if this guy does it, make sure you pay out to those people who have valid slips. We don't need to take advantage of anyone in these circumstances," I instructed Niles.

So, if it's not a financial gain, what has Bryce and his crew so excited in the corner, I wondered. I thought back to all the events I had experienced in the past surrounding my transfer here. My first moments in the city as Van had saved me. Then there was Hidell and how his search for my toe tag had turned him into a complete menace. With all of the clout I had built here there was still more mystery surrounding me than I'd like to admit to.

The tension was building, and I didn't believe any of us in the room, or the city for that matter, fully understood the seriousness of what was happening. Bryce knew something and, as skeptical as I was, I realized that if I didn't bury that fear and join him, I might never get the answers that had long eluded me. I stood up and walked out of the office, heading back into the bar area, noticing that little had changed. Everyone in the room was still glued to the screens waiting for the latest developments. Outside I could hear rain begin to fall. I looked out the window and realized it was starting to come down harder than was typical for the city. I reached under the bar for my bottle of Serum 6 and a tray full of glasses. As much attention as this bottle typically got when I pulled it out to pour a glass, under these conditions it went mostly unnoticed. Everyone was so fixated on the screens that I walked across the room toward Bryce and his crew almost undetected.

"I heard you gentlemen have been here most of the night, I wanted to show my appreciation," I said as I placed the alcohol and tray of glasses on their table.

"Why thank you, Conner," Bryce said with a sarcastic smirk on his face. He opened the bottle and poured himself the first glass. "We accept your gesture. Let me ask you though, does this new Royal make you nervous?"

"Me? No, and he isn't a Royal until he jumps," I replied as I turned to walk away. "Have a good night, gentlemen," I said as I walked back toward the bar.

I couldn't see Bryce's face but I could tell he hadn't gotten what he hoped from our interaction. It wasn't more than a step before he fell into my trap.

"Conner, wait!" Bryce said with a hint of desperation. "The boys and I were thinking we might go out to greet the newest Royal. That is, as you pointed out, if Mr. Werth here goes through with it. Would a man of your stature be interested in being a part of the welcoming committee?"

I stopped for a moment, acting as if I were pondering his invitation, but in my head I thought about how I just played him. I turned back and looked at the group of guys. I could read it in their eyes that it was more than an invitation; they needed me.

"Let me think about it, I have a couple things to take care of here but I might be able to fit that into my schedule," I replied in as pleasant a tone as I could muster.

I continued back to my post behind the bar, finding some busywork to keep up the illusion that I had things to do, when in fact there was only one thing I was focused on. With every minute it felt as if the suspense within the room grew. Everyone was fixated on the screens, but each individual's expectations on the outcome seemed very different. I was happy to remain the lone Royal in the city, but unless Mr. Werth jumped off that bridge I might not get the answers I desperately sought. I watched Bryce closely and he did the same with me, our focus bouncing back and forth between each other and the screens. Time seemed infinite until a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by the crackle of thunder exploding outside. The whole room flinched, looking toward the nearest window to see the stormy conditions outside. Everybody froze for a moment, expecting a repeat performance until Rick had looked back at the screen.

"He did it! He really did it!" Rick cheered gleefully.

People's attention quickly shifted back to the screens. The conversations started as everyone in the room reacted to the news. I saw Bryce and his group quickly get to their feet while others flooded Niles with betting slips.

"I knew my luck would turn around," Rick said excitedly.

"What do you mean, Rick?" I asked.

"Well I was trying to tell you earlier, I got a bet in right before this all started, I'm going to be rich!"

"Good for you, Rick. Niles here will take care of you," I replied as I continued to watch Bryce's group while they prepared to enter the stormy night.

Bryce began his journey across the room while his friends headed for the door. The entire room was full of commotion, but he weaved through the bodies until he reached the bar where I was standing.

"So what do you say, want to come and welcome the city's newest Royal?" Bryce asked with a smirk.

"That's all you're planning, a welcoming committee?"

"That's all. Well, there is the matter of finding him first. Do you happen to remember where you came into the city?" Bryce asked slyly.

It was then that I realized what Bryce needed was for me to show him the way. I had no proof that all Royals came into the city in the same location, but I had to find out. If I didn't find Mitchell Werth I might not get another chance to uncover the mystery surrounding what the events of tonight had exposed. I reached for the shotgun that was kept behind the bar, knowing that my safety would only be secured by my own hand.

"Alright, let's do it. Niles, I'll be back," I said, making sure Niles saw who I was with.

"No way, Conner," Bryce quickly interjected. "No weapons."

I looked straight into Bryce's eyes, trying to read him as my mistrust grew, but I had little luck as he stared back at me completely deadpan.

"Alright, let's go." I grabbed a coat and followed his path toward the front door.

Bryce held the door open for me after he passed through it. The rain had reduced to a mere drizzle. Bryce's crew was waiting for us in the parking lot just a few steps out the door in a horseshoe formation. There were seven of us, including Bryce and myself.

"Okay, so what's the play?" one of the men asked.

"Conner's in," Bryce said. "We need to track down the new Royal's relocation point. There are four morgues in the city that I know of. We will start with those ones and see if we will get lucky. Otherwise it's up to Conner and his knowledge of the city. We will travel as a group; nobody strays from the pack, is that understood?" Bryce asked informing the group of the plan.

It became more evident as Bryce talked to the group, I was here to show them the way to the morgue I had relocated to. He seemed skeptical of his intel, making me wonder how many times he had in the past been a part of these "welcoming committees." There was only one problem: I, in all my years in the city, had never found that fateful place where I had woken up. I hadn't really even looked for it; it was never of much interest to me. I only had a few vague memories and landmarks that I hoped would help me, otherwise I knew I could be in grave danger.

"Any other questions?" Bryce asked as we all shook our heads silently. "Alright, let's hunt."

# Chapter 6

The city was lifeless. We set out into the night with Bryce leading the pack. The group stayed close together as we walking block by block. You could hear the shuffling of our feet echo off the brick buildings that surrounded us. It was the sound of true emptiness; we were alone. Not much was said; looking around at everyone's faces, I could see everyone deep in thought. I tried my best to keep up with Bryce, who was at the front of the pack, but it was as if he didn't even notice me as I caught up to his side.

"Bryce, where are we headed?" I asked, trying to keep up with his feverish pace.

"The closest morgue on my list is located about six blocks from here in the Gerhart Memorial Hospital," Bryce replied. "That's where we are headed, even though he won't be there."

"What? He won't be there?"

"Just follow me, there are too many people within earshot right now," Bryce said as he panned around, looking at the rest of the group.

We continued to follow Bryce and his swift pace. A seriousness unfit for a welcoming committee began to settle over the group. The scene was almost serene as steam vented out of the sewer drains and ascended into the night sky, everyone's breath clouding in the cold night air as they began to fatigue. What demons were chasing Bryce to force us to move this fast? It was clear he wanted to be the first person to find Mitchell Werth, but nothing added up. If he wasn't going to be found at Gerhart Memorial, then why waste the time to go there? I noticed the hospital off in the distance as Bryce stopped for a second and listened to our surroundings, but there was only silence.

"Okay, the hospital is just ahead," Bryce said as he pointed at the building. "You guys stake out the entrance; Conner and I are going in to see if he's inside," he instructed. "If you see any signs of other people searching, come get us immediately!"

I followed Bryce as he broke off from the pack, heading toward a side entrance that would lead us into the condemned hospital. The door was locked, but Bryce didn't let that detour him. After wrapping his elbow with a cloth he pulled from his pocket, he smashed one of the window panes and turned the deadbolt inside. We slipped inside undetected; Bryce paid special attention to make sure nobody was around to notice our presence.

As soon as we were both inside Bryce closed the door behind us, doing his best to cover up any signs that someone had trespassed. We didn't walk but maybe ten paces before we ducked into the shadows of the first doorway we came to. The hospital looked as though it had been decommissioned many years ago and had sat neglected since. Debris was scattered about with aged gurneys and other hospital equipment lining the hall. If I didn't know better, I'd think a tornado had whipped through here at some point, leaving everything in shambles. The smell of damp air wafted through the hall carried by a slight breeze, causing me to sneeze.

"Shhhhh," Bryce said. "If anyone is in here looking for him we don't want them to know we're here too. Now listen, none of those idiots outside know any of this, but you and I both know that there is only one morgue that Royals transport to."

I nodded along, but this was all new to me.

"I know that he isn't here. The problem is, I don't know the actual location of the morgue where Royals transfer into the city," Bryce continued. "I just had to duck in here so I could get you alone and see if you remembered. Do you know where it is?"

"Bryce, it was a long time ago," I said, trying to remember the details of that fateful night.

"Didn't Hidell tell you where it was?"

"No, he was always very tight lipped about those sorts of things. All I knew from our conversations was there was just one spot, but he never told me where," Bryce explained.

"I was so disoriented, when we got outside I tried my best to find a sign, or landmark, but with the rain and haste of Van..." I trailed off.

"Shhhhh," Bryce interjected.

Just down the hall a flashlight illuminated the area. Bryce grabbed me and pulled me into a dark room out of sight.

"Shit," Bryce whispered. "Someone else is here. We've got to get out of here before they find us. Now think hard, there had to be something?"

"There was a statue out front; it was St. Jude. Beyond that I wouldn't be able to tell you where the building was located. I mean it was more than thirteen years ago, but it definitely was St. Jude," I said as I rambled to help jog my memory.

"You have to be kidding me," Bryce said as his face lit up. "I know the place, now let's go."

"Wait, I don't get it, why are we doing this?" I asked. "What is so important about this Werth guy that would compel you break into buildings in hopes of locating him?"

"Not now, I will explain later," Bryce replied as he peered out into the hallway. "They're gone, come on."

We crept out from our hiding place and walked toward the door we had moments earlier entered through, but Bryce stopped me just short of opening the door. The crew hadn't moved from where Bryce had instructed them to stay, but they were also clearly aware of the other group that had infiltrated the hospital. Flashlights gleamed out of the hospital windows and reflected off the building across the way. Bryce's boys were up to something. Reading their body language, I could see they had no plans of us coming in to inform us of the other search party.

"What the fuck, Bryce?" I whispered. "It looks like your crew has some ulterior motives."

"That's what I was thinking," Bryce replied. "Just follow my lead."

With that he opened the door and ran toward the group, trying to stay within the shadows to avoid any detection. I followed a few paces behind, doing my best to copy his frenetic pace.

"That was close, when did that other group show up?" Bryce asked everyone.

"We just noticed them about the same time you two came barreling out of the door," one of the other members said.

Bryce looked at him then panned across each person, staring into their eyes, attempting to read the slightest reaction to his focus.

"Okay, well, the bad news is he wasn't here, but I think we know where we'll find him. Let's head out!"

I could almost feel a divide forming within the group. There was no honesty amongst these scoundrels and I was more aware that danger loomed ahead as we closed in on the morgue that years ago acted as my entrance point into the city. I made my way to the front of the group again to find out what Bryce was thinking, but as soon as I did I could hear the murmurs from the rest of the group start behind me. They thought I was with in with Bryce, but in fact I was as much at odds with him as anyone. To the group, though, it looked like a much different story. If I didn't figure something out quickly tonight could be my last night in the city.

"Bryce. Bryce?" I whispered, trying to get his attention with little luck.

He was so focused on the street signs that he paid me no attention, stopping every few blocks to reorient himself. I searched for anything that looked familiar, but with every sign, shop, or building I second guessed whether or not I had been past them on my first night. That is, until we came across the statue. St. Jude.

"What are we doing at the asylum?" one of the men asked.

"This is the spot, according to Conner," Bryce replied. "Now, Conner and I will head in to check things out and you guys stay out here as lookouts."

"No fucking way, Bryce," one of the group members said as he stepped out from the rest of them. "We're starting to think you and Conner might be planning something. Maybe you and Conner should stay here and we'll go in. How about that?" he continued.

"Why don't you take a step back, Rodney? You're looking a bit foolish right now. We're a team here," Bryce said, standing nose to nose with the other man.

"Bullshit," Rodney said as he shoved Bryce in the chest.

Reeling from the shove, Bryce became enraged. His eyes were on fire, and his brow furled.

"Fuck you, Rodney," he yelled as he pulled a gun that had been secretly holstered against his rib cage and pointed it in Rodney's direction.

The entire group froze. Any shred of trust built in the last hour dissolved instantly in the presence of the weapon. Bryce cocked the gun as he and Rodney stood in an intense stare-off. I could see the fear manifest as Rodney's hands shook.

"You made me do this, Rodney," Bryce said as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Bryce took a step in Rodney's direction as everyone watching gasped, fearing what we assumed was coming next.

"Oh shit, Bryce!" yelled one of the men in the group as he pointed at stranger lurking toward the asylum from the other direction.

"Who is that?" Bryce asked as he did a quick head count of the group.

The figure's presence caught us all by surprise; he wasn't with us and this forced Bryce to drop what he was doing and begin running toward the asylum. He raised his gun and fired a shot at the stranger, which sent the entire crew into chaos. It was every man himself as the group began to run toward the asylum. Rodney wasted no time, reaching for his own gun while Bryce's attention was on the stranger in the distance. He fired a shot that narrowly missed Bryce. I ducked for cover behind a trash can as Bryce turned around and again drew down on Rodney, this time not hesitating. Pulling the trigger, Bryce put a bullet between Rodney's eyes, causing his body to go limp and fall at my feet. Taking no time to admire his work, Bryce continued toward the asylum to catch the unexpected visitor, who by this time had already ducked into the building.

I stared at Rodney's lifeless body. I was becoming too used to this sight, but nevertheless I sat motionless, staring at his lifeless body as the rest of the group disappeared into the shadows. My attention was finally broken by a flash of light reflecting out of a nearby alley. At first I thought it might be my mind playing tricks on me until I saw it repeat itself. This might be my chance to break off from the group safely, so I took my chances. I got to my feet and looked around to make sure it was safe, then headed down the alley to investigate. The rest of the group by this time had entered the asylum and I could only wonder how Mitchell was going to take the attention he would soon be receiving.

I walked cautiously. I didn't pass by a stack of boxes or dumpster without investigating to ensure this wasn't going to be an ambush. With every step I took my heart rate increased. Behind me a rat race to find the city's newest resident was happening and in front of me was complete uncertainty. I don't know which path was the right one but I had already made my choice. There was no going back now.

"Hello?" I called out, not sure if I was prepared for a reply.

Finally I reached the end of the alley; a brick wall blocked my path. Had I been mistaken? Maybe I hadn't seen a flash of light at all, or perhaps it was just a street light bouncing off a puddle? I let my guard down a bit as I started pushing boxes away from the walls, taking a more brazen approach. There had to be a doorway or some passageway around this dead end. I was sure I had seen something from down here. It was just then, out of frustration, I kicked a stack of boxes and papers, revealing the silhouette of a large man standing in a secluded doorway.

"Oh, shit!" I said, jumping back in surprise.

I then took a closer look, cocking my head to the side. I knew this man, or I had seen him before once upon a time. I leaned in closer to get a better look.

"It's you. You're that bum," I said in surprise.

It was the man I had seen on my first night in the city when Sophia and I had stopped off at the store for some smokes. His face had definitely weathered since our last encounter, but there was no doubting it was the same man. His eyes were locked on me as he stood silently. Without speaking a word he motioned me with his hand to follow him, then turned and disappeared through a doorway that had been hidden behind the boxes. I looked behind me to make sure nobody could see me before I followed him inside, but the group was long gone.

I stepped into the hall just in time for him to say, "Close the door behind you, it's cold out there."

I followed his instructions, making sure the door was latched behind me, and followed him up a flight of stairs.

"You know, I didn't mean anything by the word bum. You just caught me a little off-guard," I said, apologizing for my poor word choice.

He gave no response as he continued on his way up the stairwell. When I reached the top of the stairs I looked around at the room I was standing in. It was grand in size, completely open with windows lining the walls nearly all the way around. From this room you could see in any direction, the view was amazing. There were no formal walls but he had partitioned off a kitchen, bedroom, and sitting area, making it quite a cozy little place.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" the man asked from the kitchen where he stood.

"Please."

"Feel free to take a seat," he offered as he pointed to an area with some couches surrounding a coffee table.

"This place sure doesn't look city issued," I said.

"You're right, but it fits me nicely," he explained.

I wandered over, but before I sat down I took a second to take in the view. I could see the asylum that Bryce and his guys had chased that stranger into. There was another building tucked back beside the asylum but it was hard to discern what it was due to the surrounding overgrowth. It was all quite picturesque, but my focus was on the building that everyone else was in. It looked so quiet, with no signs of life, but I knew that whatever was taking place inside must be bordering on horrific.

"That's St. Jude's Hospital, the patron saint of hopelessness. Most people refer to it as the asylum though. It's rumored that long ago the ones who couldn't handle the transition to the city would be sent there to be tested and rehabilitated. That was long before me or any of the current citizens of the city resided here. With all of the improvements made to aiding people through their transition process it became rather useless, except for on nights like this one," the bum explained as he got comfortable on a sofa.

"What do you mean tonight? I don't follow."

"And apparently you are willing to die in order to find the answers you so desperately are looking for," he replied with a condescending tone.

I looked at him blankly. His words alluded to a deeper knowledge of the city and tonight than I would have originally thought. I looked around the room; there were no television screens in sight.

"I don't need those damn screens to tell me what the weather can. I got rid of them years ago," he said, bringing my attention quickly back to him.

"You're not who I think you are at all, are you?" I asked sheepishly.

He cracked a smile and shook his head. "No, I am not. Not unless you pegged me as a Royal."

As hard as I tried there was no hiding my reaction. This guy was a Royal? I fell into the chair across from him, trying to gather my words, but with that bombshell dropped how could I?

"Who are you?" I asked him for lack of a more profound question.

"Maurice Rhinehardt," the man said.

"Rhino?" I asked in disbelief.

Maurice Rhinehardt was the toughest linebacker in the league when I was a kid. I hated him because he played for the rival of my favorite team, but you had to respect the guy's talent. They called him Rhino because his pass rush was nearly unstoppable when he got a full head of steam. Grown men were flung aside like ragdolls as he barreled toward the quarterback. I was young so I didn't fully understand the details, but he started to deal with a lot of injuries, forcing him to retire prematurely. Sure I was happy, but it left a void in the league for years after.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.

"After I retired I started feeling the effects of all those collisions. Nobody told me the guy delivering the hits could endure as much damage as the guys getting hit," Rhino explained. "They knew so little about concussions back then. I retired to make sure I could take care of my family but it was already too late. Depression, insomnia, the intense headaches; I dealt with all of it on a daily basis and it just became too much to handle. It made me a bad husband, an absentee father; life just wasn't the same anymore. I felt all alone and saw no other way out," Rhino said with regret in his voice.

"Wow, man, that's crazy. I'm sorry. I had no clue. I was so young when you played; all I could remember is how often you knocked my team out of the playoffs. I wasn't your biggest fan," I said in a sober tone. "You were so damn good though. The league sure missed you when you left; hell, even as a rival fan I missed the intense battles that you helped to provide. Things just weren't the same when you left," I said, thinking back to those good old days.

"Well, I appreciate the compliment. So you were a vandal, huh? What a shame," he said with a smirk, referring to my allegiance.

"So why live in a place like this?" I asked, looking around at his residence. "I'm not saying it's bad, I actually like what you've done with the place. And the view, you can see in every direction, but didn't Relocations give you a nice house in the hills or something?"

"Oh, they did. But you and I are a bit different, Conner. No offense, but I was a family man. My partying days were long gone and as enticing as it was I just didn't want to be a part of that city life."

"But why dig through the trash for food?" I asked, interrupting him. "You must have your finances in order; you're a Royal after all."

"Oh I'm sitting on piles of money I'm sure somewhere in some bank account. I didn't want to be tracked, so I cut up the cards, and left the house and car behind. Man, it was a nice car," Rhino said, smiling. "I chose to live off the grid; they probably don't even think I exist anymore, and that's exactly how I want it."

"And you're happy?"

"I sleep through the night. It's been so long since I've had a headache I don't even remember what they feel like. I'm a whole person again," Rhino said confidently. "I do miss the country. I'm a farm boy at heart and living cooped up in this city gets to be a bit much at times. But you can't have it all, I guess," he said, a bit remiss.

I thought back to my time in the city, all the parties, the money, the power, but had I ever been as sincerely happy as Rhino? Just then a gunshot rang out from the street below, causing Rhino to jump up from his seat.

"It sounds like the show is about to begin," he said as he walked to the window.

I followed him, but was less comfortable standing in such an exposed position in front of the window so I took my position peering over the back of the chair I had been sitting on. Two men had made their way out of the asylum, one nearly to the street frozen with his hands in the air wearing nothing more than a pair of white shorts. The other man who was holding a gun was about ten yards behind, but closing on him fast. My breath lightly fogged the window as I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the glass. The man with the gun was definitely Bryce, but the other man wasn't a part of our welcoming committee. Bryce walked up to him, gun still pointed his direction, forcing him to kneel and reach for his foot.

"Is that..."

"The Royal you were looking for? Yes," Rhino said, filling in the blanks for me.

From our vantage point we were too far to hear the conversation that was taking place but I was more than happy to be as far from this encounter as I currently was. Mitchell Werth continued fiddling with his foot while Bryce was frantically barking some kind of orders at him. Finally he got his toe tag off and handed it over to Bryce. I couldn't imagine a more hair-raising introduction into the city than what was unfolding. Mitchell again raised his hands up in surrender as he pleaded for Bryce to leave him alone. He made his way to his feet and turned to walk away as Bryce lowered his weapon, giving me reason to exhale.

"Thank God, he's letting him go," I said, relieved.

But no sooner than I said those words did Bryce again raise his gun, take aim, and fire it. His target dropped to the ground in the middle of the street and remained motionless. An emotionless Bryce looked at the tag in his hand, holstered his gun, and headed back into the asylum.

"Why did he do that? He got what he wanted," I mumbled in complete disbelief. "Wait, you knew this was how it would go down, didn't you?" I asked Rhino, shifting my focus away from what I had just witnessed.

"It's not the first time I've witnessed a hunt, if that's what you're asking," Rhino replied solemnly as he sat back on the couch across from me.

"You saved my life," I said in disbelief. "You knew what was about to happen and got my attention to split me off from the pack, didn't you? Why?"

"You bought me a sandwich," Rhino replied simply. "In all my years in the city most people won't even approach me, let alone help, which is fine. I do alright. You, though, gave me something when you didn't have to. No good deed goes without reward."

I was blown away by his act of kindness. If it wasn't for Rhino I might be lying next to Mitchell and Rodney in the streets right now. It was unsettling that with all the risk I had taken I still didn't know the truth about half of tonight. It's bittersweet. On one hand I was alive, but when would I have another chance to unravel the mystery that surrounded this city?

"You said it only took the weather for you to know something was up tonight?" I asked Rhino, referring back to earlier in our conversation.

"Indeed. When's the last time you heard thunder strike?" Rhino asked as I stared blankly at him. "Only on the nights as big as this one, when a Royal transfers, does the thunder and lightning show up," he explained. "And if you're smart when you hear that sound you'll head indoors to avoid the hunters."

"You know how they roped me in? They called it a welcoming party. What a farce that turned out to be. What I don't understand is what we were hunting for; but I went reluctantly to figure out how one man could put the whole city in hysterics, and why Bryce was so hell bent on finding this him first."

"He wanted his toe tag," Rhino interjected.

"Well I get that part, but I don't understand why," I replied.

"It's their ticket home. That's why Van came to get you," Rhino explained.

My eyes immediately shot open. "How do you know about Van?" I asked frantically.

"The same way you know that your friend Bryce killed that gentleman. I saw it," Rhino said.

"You were here the night I showed up in the city?"

"Yep. I recognized Van; he and I were acquaintances. Boy, the look on your face as you followed him outside... You kept looking around like a lost little puppy," Rhino said with a chuckle. "He is long gone now, I never saw him again. A brave son of a bitch. He went out looking for you alone that night and you're lucky, because the crowd that came after you two left would have torn you apart."

"So my tag was his ticket home?" I asked in confusion.

"Yeah, people get bored with life here. Getting everything you want eventually loses its satisfaction and instead of freedom it starts to feel more like a prison, and all they want to do is escape."

"Escape, back to the real world? That doesn't make sense. I've been here for years, don't you think people might notice a person just showing up in the real world again years later out of the blue?" I asked.

"No, see when you committed suicide you left a bookmark at your time of death. When you transfer back, you don't do so in a linear fashion. You would go back to the moment you ended things and continue on from there. I know it's a lot to wrap your mind around. It's best not to think too hard on it. If you're happy now, stay happy."

"How do you know all of this?" I asked in amazement.

"There were always rumors that surrounding the idea that there was a way home, but in a city where the tales get taller as the night goes on you have to decide what's real and what not to believe. But one night when I was just a young buck here in the city I stopped off at a dive bar for a nightcap, and what would transpire in the following hours changed my perception of everything. I'll never forget it. I walked through the door to find a man who was going on about how he had discovered a way out of this city. Everyone jeered him, figuring he was just another drunken lunatic, which only fueled his anger. He bet people, argued, pleaded.

"'Put your money on the table!' he hollered at the room. Then in a moment of pure insanity he pointed to the televisions in the room and said, 'If you want to see the proof, watch those screens, but leave your money on the table because I'll be back to collect it,' and stormed out of the room. None of us in that bar thought much of it as we laughed and ordered another round of drinks. The next thing I remember shook me to my core. I nearly dropped my glass of beer when I turned to look over my shoulder at those screens and realized that that lunatic was on one of them staring at us. He had this deranged look on his face as he held a gun to his temple. The bar went silent as everyone else began to notice what I had. He stood motionless, staring at all of us, and while we knew he couldn't truly see us it felt as though he was looking into our souls. Then he pulled the trigger and put a bullet through his temple, leaving the room in complete shock. Nobody picked up their drinks nor said a word; we just stared off into nothingness trying to make sense of what we had just witnessed. We didn't know if we should stay or go so we just sat and waited, staring at the front door of the bar. Not wanting to believe it but knowing in our hearts he would be walking back through that door soon to collect his winnings."

"Did he?" I asked, practically sitting on the edge of my seat.

Rhino didn't say another word. He just looked at me and nodded. I could see the fear in his eyes. Just reliving it was enough to leave one of the toughest men alive paralyzed by fright. I took a sip of my coffee as I stared back at Rhino.

"You said things weren't linear, but how could you tell?"

"There was no denying it was the same man, but so different when he showed up on that TV screen. Everything about him looked so youthful, younger and refreshed. It was like in the real world when you would watch your favorite actor in some of his first works. It looked like him but the wardrobe, hairstyle, it was all different. It looked as if years of his life had just been washed away. But when he returned it was the same aged face before everything went down," Rhino said somberly.

"How did he do it?" I asked, trying to again shift the conversation.

"That's the one thing I don't have the answer to. Something to do with a toe tag, but how it all works is beyond me. I'm not really sure anyone knows, but why would I care that much anyways, right? Never felt the need to dig any deeper. Why look for answers when I'm plenty happy with my life?"

"Ain't that the truth," I agreed. "I don't want to overstay my welcome but I sincerely appreciate everything you have done for me," I said to Rhino. "If there is anything you ever need, you know where to find me."

"I appreciate that," Rhino replied. "You don't have to go though. Hell, Bryce is still out there. It might be safer to stay here for a bit. You can sleep here if you would like; you're really no bother. It's actually kind of nice to have someone to talk to," Rhino said.

"Thank you, but I think I'll be okay. I need to clear my head anyway," I explained.

"Well, you are always welcome," Rhino said as he stood up to walk me to his primary entrance.

"When you head down this flight of stairs, hang a left and take the first door you come to."

"Thank you, and I mean it, anything, just say the word," I said as I walked down the stairs.

When I got outside I lit up a cigarette and looked up at the night sky. It was still cold, but the clouds had cleared. Ahead of me stood the statue of St. Jude, staring at me through the dark of the night.

"Hopelessness," I murmured to myself.

What had transpired inside that building tonight? With more answers only came more questions, but one thing was for sure.

I let out a sigh. "This city just isn't the same anymore."

# Chapter 7

I took one last drag from my cigarette, tossed it to the ground, and turned to head home, but the asylum was calling to me. Was Bryce still there, had he connected the dots and escaped or had he slipped out the back, disappearing into the night? I stared at the asylum grounds and wondered what exactly had transpired inside that building. To my left, under the faint glow of the street lights, lay the bodies of Rodney and Mitchell, making the danger feel that much more real. I knew Rhino was standing behind the windows of his home watching over me, wondering what was going through my head. Hell, even I had to wonder what was going through my head. I had to find out for myself what happened, but was it worth testing my luck once again?

I reached into my shirt to pull out the rosary beads hanging around my neck as I whispered a silent prayer. I wouldn't call myself a religious man by any means, but I would gladly welcome any extra protection right now. My body and mind were fighting one another; there was no stopping my curiosity so I headed across the street on a mission to find the answers I so desperately longed for. I stayed within the shadows as I crept up on the building, monitoring my surroundings for the faintest sign of life. Overgrown bushes and boarded-up windows made it difficult to see inside, though as I got closer I could see the inconsistent flickering of lights.

I watched my step as I walked up the crumbling cement stairs that led to the main entrance, realizing once I reached the top that one of the large wooden doors was open. The anxiety was killing me; I tried my best to control my breathing as I leaned in, peeking my head through the door. Sitting up against a wall just feet inside was the body of a young man with a spray paint can just out of reach of his lifeless hand. I jumped back in surprise at the sight. Taking another moment to again control my breathing, I composed myself then stepped inside.

The boy wasn't a part of our welcoming committee. He couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old. As I approached to him I could see blood soak through his darkly colored shirt, culminating in a small pool on the floor beneath him. The figure in the night that compelled Bryce to storm the asylum so abruptly wasn't even hunting for the Royal, he was simply planning on exploring the building and leaving his mark with graffiti. What an absolute shame. I reached down and closed his eyelids out of respect then moved on toward the front desk just beyond, which displayed an old hospital floor guide. I had to wipe the dust off the years of neglect it in order to read the hospitals layout:

To the Right: Chapel

To the Left: Examination Rooms

Cafeteria

Upstairs: Patient Rooms

Infirmary

Basement: Morgue

I looked to the right, but the entire wing looked to be in the dark except for a beautiful stained-glass window at the far end, which was lit by the street lights outside. Common sense told me not to head toward the morgue, but better judgment was quickly losing out to curiosity. I headed down the left corridor, passing by wheelchairs and other random medical equipment that was scattered throughout the hall. All the doors to the exam rooms were open. The rooms were only lit by the hall lights, but even with that I was able to view some of the most horrific-looking restraint devices. I couldn't have dreamt up anything more awful than to be strapped down as doctors poked and prodded at me with their archaic methods. I could almost hear the screams of those poor souls that had been abused here, and wanted no part of further investigating these rooms. I would stop every few feet to listen for anyone else who might still inhabit the building.

I came upon the stairs. Everything in my being told me I didn't want to again travel down into the depths of this building. I knew though if I turned around now I would regret never finding out what transpired. It started with a step, then another. One by one, listening, analyzing any faint creak or thud. These old buildings were full of unfamiliar sounds, and I wasn't about to let one of those noises go unnoticed or misconstrued. The stairwell weaved back and forth, leading me into the down deeper beneath the foundation. As I edged closer to the basement I began to again hear that subtle hum of electricity coming from the lights above, reminding me of the night I woke up here.

The stairs ran out; I was back. I hadn't been here in many years and it was as unwelcoming a feeling as ever. The noise of an outdated boiler running, forcing steam through the corroded pipes running down either side of the corridor, clouded my ability to detect Bryce or anyone so I was even more careful as I walked the maze of halls in the building's underbelly. I must be close; the hall got staler with every step I took. While this was the place that brought me a second life, the undeniable scent of death wafted my way.

Suddenly the ground felt spongy beneath my feet. Looking down, it was obvious as to why. Just behind me was a pool of blood I had stepped in and was now tracking down the hall. In my haste I had completely missed it and was now leaving a trail of evidence to my presence. I panicked trying to come up with a way to hide the damning footprints. I looked for anything that I could use to clean up this mess but it was too late. The sound of arguing down the hall stole my attention away.

"Hurry up, we have one more body upstairs!" a voice from down the hall yelled.

I tiptoed toward the voices, trying to make my footsteps as sporadic as possible to hide my path. Inch by inch I got closer to the voices. They were coming from the morgue.

"What is taking you so long? Get him out of here and into the cooler and then get the kid upstairs," Bryce demanded.

Now I was just outside of the morgue. The door was opened a crack, and I peered through to see if I could identify who Bryce was talking to.

"I'm working as fast as I can, sir. He's heavy. Can you help me, Bryce?" the other voice asked.

"How about this, you get this one in the cooler and I'll grab the kid," Bryce said, compromising.

I realized someone was walked toward the door I was standing behind, so I had to find somewhere to hide, and quickly. Next to me was an open door, which I lunged into. The smell was awful but I had little time to find an alternative so I frantically looked for a way to conceal myself. I looked around only to realize I was in the cooler. Bodies covered in white clothes were stacked four-high in open shelf compartments on every wall, with a couple of freestanding gurneys in the middle of the room. I grabbed a sheet from the nearby shelf and jumped on the gurney, covering myself to blend in with the surrounding death that filled this room. The sheet was thin enough that I could make out figures in the room, but only faintly.

"What is this?" Bryce asked as he discovered the bloody footprints.

I held my breath, waiting to see if I had been detected.

"God dammit!" Bryce shouted. "You're tracking bloody footprints everywhere, way to be discrete. Now get this oaf moved. I will be right back," he continued as his footsteps faded into the distance down the corridor.

Bryce's accomplice cursed under his breath as he tried to drag a dead body into the cooler.

"Damn, you are one heavy bastard," he said as he groaned.

I could hear the dead body's heels dragging on the ground as the man struggled to get him from the morgue to the cooler. I did my best to control my breathing, but the man was huffing and puffing so hard that I wasn't sure he would notice either way. He bumped into the gurney I was laying on as he drug the body past me, making it hard to keep my wits, but what choice did I have? The man continued to struggle as he tried to get the body on one of the top shelves, and after a minute or two of exertion he finally succeeded. The sweat began to form on my brow. Even in this refrigerator, my nerves were getting the best of me. How much longer could I stay here? Time stood still as I listened to the man dress the body in a white sheet. In the distance I heard footsteps returning. My fingers started itching for a cigarette, my body yearning to be free from this frozen state; nonetheless, my curiosity got me into this mess so now I had to wait it out.

"Bryce, is that you?" the unidentified man hollered down the hall.

"Yeah, do you have a spot ready for this one?"

"Yeah, we will need to tag team this one, the only slots available are up top," he explained. "So we cover this guy up then we head to the mausoleum?"

"That's the plan," Bryce replied.

"Two people can share a toe tag, huh," the other man muttered, sounding unsure.

"Okay, let's toss him up there on the count of three. One, two, three," Bryce said as they heaved the kid on the top shelf.

"Here, toss this on him and let's go," Bryce said as he tossed a sheet to the man. "Now what were you asking?"

"The toe tags, we can both use Mitchell's tag to go home?" the man asked while covering the kid's body.

"You know, I'm not sure I know the answer to that, and I don't think I'll ever never need to," Bryce said as I heard him pull the hammer back on his gun.

"What..." the man began to ask, but was cut short as the gun went off.

His body fell from the shelf where he was covering the kid, landing on top of me before collapsing onto the floor. I prayed that the sheet covering me wasn't compromised, exposing my position. Pinching my eyes shut as if that would help cloak my hiding place, I held my breath.

"What do we have here?" Bryce asked rhetorically as he walked toward the gurney.

It was all over, he had spotted an arm or a leg. I prepared for the worst yet I remained still, holding out hope that by some miracle he might spare me. I could see him getting closer and closer. He put a hand on the hand rail of the gurney. I clinched my fist to be ready to strike when the moment was right, but at the last moment he bent down and retrieved something off the floor. When he stood back up, I saw a spark. It was a lighter. It must have fallen out of the other man's pocket on impact.

"He won't be needing this anymore," Bryce said with a chuckle and pocketed the item.

Bryce then slid the man's body crudely under the lowest shelf, leaving him on the floor, not even covering him with a cloth before exiting the room. I laid still, gently exhaling, slightly in shock over my good fortune. It felt like I was on that gurney for an hour or more, but I wanted to give Bryce as much time as he needed get as far away as possible. A mausoleum? That was this city's escape point?

I finally felt confident that enough time had passed and sat up, exposing my position. I couldn't stand another second in the stale, dead air. As I got to my feet my eyes immediately were drawn toward the last member of the welcoming party. It wasn't easy but eventually I got him picked up and placed on the gurney I had minutes ago used as my hiding place. I covered him with the same cloth I used to conceal myself and exited the cooler, closing it behind me. I was in no hurry as I made my way out of the basement of the asylum. I walked with little motivation, back through the corridor and up the stairs. I peeked around every corner, listening for Bryce, but he wasn't in the asylum; hell, he might not even be in the city anymore.

I reached the front door and stepped back out into the cold night, making sure to signal across to Rhino, letting him know I was alright. I couldn't see him, but somehow I could tell he was watching.

I walked some of the old side streets that often get overlooked on my way back to give me more time to clear my head. Nothing looked the way it once did. I came into this city feeling like a stranger and was anointed king, but I had never felt more estranged than I did right now. Euphoria had fractured into a million pieces as a city that was everything to everybody had exposed its ugly truth. It was nothing more than a prison without bars. What had I really accomplished?

My aimless walking brought me back to the gentlemen's club. I stood and looked at the façade and then out at the parking lot to see it was again full. It was a place where people came to dwell on a world they were secretly lusting to escape back to. People basked in the reflected glow of my sham of success, asking for handouts, adding themselves to my entourage, just to be associated with a Royal. Let it burn to the ground, let its ashes smolder and disappear into oblivion. Let them find their own way. Pick your own poison to help you mask your discontent.

As I entered the club the people barely even noticed I had even returned; I doubt some even knew that I had left. Nobody cared that I hadn't found the newest Royal. They would beg, borrow, and steal to make a living, then willingly handed it over to me in the name of entertainment. I looked at nobody as I headed into the back office to retrieve my car keys.

"Mr. Haro, you're back," Niles said in relief. "What happened? Where's Bryce?"

I didn't answer his questions as I walked past him, stepping behind the bar and heading down the hallway to my office. I shuffled some scattered papers on the back desk until I uncovered my keys, snatched them up, then turned to leave, but not before Niles jumped in front of me, forcing me to acknowledge him.

"What the hell happened, sir?" Niles asked insistently.

"Nothing, we didn't find him," I answered.

"Where did the rest of the guys go? Where is Bryce?" Niles asked again.

"I don't know, we got separated along the way," I replied.

I walked past Niles and headed out the back door, never looking back. There was no doubting that Niles was aware I was holding something back but nothing else was said as I exited in my customary fashion. Before anyone else could attempt to stop me I got in my car and sped off into the night, heading for my sanctuary. My mind was full of confusion. I had yearned for answers but now that I had them I was completely disenchanted by this whole damn city and its hollowness. For all its utopian allure, was there any true happiness here or was the whole thing a fraudulent masquerade?

I hardly cared anymore. I had everything, wealth, power, respect, but what does any of that mean when your existence is so shallow? I miss the relationships I left behind, the pointless conversations amongst friends and the chance when life got out of control to look up and gaze at the stars. I just want to fly away, escape the moment and forget all that I now knew about this city.

I reached over, unlatching the passenger side glove box. Amongst the maps and various cigarettes, papers, and trash was a bottle of pills. They were hardly prescription but they were exactly what the doctor ordered. I popped the lid off and guzzled every last one. My fingers began to tingle as they flirted with total numbness while the blood coursing through my chest began to warm my entire body. I let out a satisfied exhalation and smiled with a feeling of total peace. Nothing mattered now and I was okay with that.

I pulled into the driveway but just left the car where it happened to come to a stop, pulled the keys from the ignition, and stumbled trying to get out. I shuffled across the driveway; my head wobbled as I did my best to focus on the ground beneath me but I tripped multiple times on my way to getting up the steps to the front door. I lost track of how many times I dropped my keys as I tried to unlock the door. I let out a laugh; even the most frustrating result was nothing more than humorous now.

Finally getting the door unlocked and open, I headed to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of liquor from the cabinet. I removed the cap, tossing it across the room, and took a pull off the bottle. My face was covered in anguish as the liquor collided with my taste buds. _What a cheap bottle of alcohol,_ I thought as I took another swig. I staggered into the living room, avoiding objects in the darkness. Only the glow of the ever-present screens illuminated the otherwise dark house. I got to the couch, paused, and put the bottle to my lips, lifting it high in the air and consuming the rest of its contents. The bottle fell from my hand, bouncing along the floor as I fell limp onto the couch. Laying there lifelessly, letting the chemicals take effect. Nothing could faze me now.

# Chapter 8

I don't know if it was days, weeks, or longer, but the time that passed was a blur. I faded in and out of consciousness as I shared lines of coke with my inner demons. I strummed a beat-up old guitar, interrupting the melody only to take a drag off my cigarette. Empty liquor bottles covered the coffee table while papers littered with lyrical scribbles made their home on the floor. Did I want my old life back or to end my existence altogether?

The pendulum swung back and forth to the answer of that question, only leveled out by the constant chemical abuse I was assaulting my body with. Uppers, downers, whippet or sip it; all my self-medicating couldn't keep the walls of my fortress from closing in on me, leaving little room for sanity. I sat up for hours laughing at these damned screens. Those poor fools didn't know how good they had it and they were about to give it all up, but who cares, join in the puppetry where everything looks grand on the exterior but lacks any shred of true happiness beneath. The constant ring of my phone only ceased when I heaved it into the koi pond out front. Finally I had peace. I could do what I wanted; all I wanted was to escape reality. Insomnia was running my life; I lost track of what was real and what was a dream.

A knock at the door startled me. Was it real? Was anything? There it was again. I stared at the door, trying my best to discern whether or not my imagination was getting the best of me yet again.

"Conner, open up!" a familiar voice yelled from outside.

I paused for a moment, was I hearing things now? I shook my head, trying to wake myself from my groggy state. I struggled to get to my feet then slowly paced toward the door. I navigated through the empty liquor bottles and drug paraphernalia, cautiously wondering if I had finally gone mad.

"Who is there?" I asked as I laid my ear up against the door.

"It's me, Conner. Niles," the voice replied. "Now can you let me in?"

I cracked the door open so I could get a look at the figure and saw Niles standing there holding his briefcase in his typical rigid fashion.

"You look like shit," Niles said, unfiltered. "Sorry, sir, I mean are you alright?"

I opened the door and let him in, clearing a path for him as I walked back to the security my couch.

"Want a hit?" I said jokingly as I lit up a joint.

"Uh, no, sir," Niles replied.

"I'm just messing with you, man. What's going on?" I asked with grin, trying to mask my emotions.

"Well, sir, I'm worried about you. It's been weeks since I saw you and, well, I still haven't seen Bryce or any of the other guys who went out with you that night," Niles explained.

"Bryce is gone," I said, cherishing another drag off my joint.

"Gone?"

"Yep. So how's business?"

"What do you mean, gone?" Niles ignored my detour in conversation.

I stared blankly at him for a moment, trying to coerce him into going along with my attempted subject change. "He's gone. How's business?" I repeated.

"Well, it's been better. Some of the allure seems to have vanished with you not being at the club. I guess everybody likes seeing you around, it's like their chance to rub elbows with a true Royal," Niles said in a somber moment. "I did need something from you if you had a moment though."

"Well, what can I do for you, pal?" I asked, mocking his seriousness.

"The high rollers have some winnings that you need to authorize. I've done my best to keep them patient but, well, if you won the amount of money a couple of them have, you'd be ready to collect too," Niles explained as he opened his briefcase.

Niles handed over a list of winners and authorization slips. "Couldn't you have taken care of this?" I asked as I shuffled through the paperwork.

"No, when you and I formed our partnership you never authorized a payoff level for anything over ten," Niles said.

"Holy shit, is this correct?" I asked, looking at Rick's winnings.

"Yes, sir, you made him a millionaire," Niles said, chuckling.

"I guess ole Mitchell didn't die in vain after all," I muttered under my breath, causing Niles to snap a cockeyed look back at me. "Isn't there some way you can take care of this meaningless bullshit next time?" I asked as I signed off on the documents.

"Well, we would have to get the gaming documents amended," Niles replied.

"Perfect, get working on that and I will come by in a few days to sign things over to you," I said nonchalantly.

I could see the confusion written all over his face. He was taken aback by the fact that I was so willingly walking away from the success that had changed his life, but that was just it. It was and always would be everything to him, but to me, it was just another empty shell and I was done.

"Sir, I don't understand," Niles said.

"Niles, this whole thing is because of you, you're the brains. It was a fun ride and I enjoyed it while it lasted but I'm just tired of the darkness that constantly surrounds my existence. I need to see the light again, feel the sun's warm rays. I want something different," I explained, taking the last drag off of my joint and putting it out in the ashtray in front of me. "If you knew what I knew, you might feel the same, but for now I need to retire for the evening. I'm feeling kind of tired. I will come down to the club in a few days, get the documents prepared, and I'll sign what we need to transfer things over to you. Oh, and do you still have the ... land guy?" I asked for a lack of a better description.

"Land guy? You mean land as in real estate?" Niles asked back.

"Yes, that's the word I was looking for; I need you to do me a favor. There is a piece of land I've had my eye on for a while, see if it's available. I should have enough in my accounts to cover it. Just transfer things around and make it happen," I said as I scribbled an address on a piece of paper and handed it to Niles.

"Might I recommend something to you, sir?" Niles asked.

"What's that?" I replied.

"It's clear something happened. I don't know what, but I've never seen you like this. Take a few days and get yourself together and come down to the club and let's talk about this rationally," Niles said. "In fact, here, let me get you something," he continued as he got up and walked into the kitchen.

I could hear Niles riffle through the cabinets and refrigerator, but gave little evidence of what he was doing in there. Less than a minute later he returned holding a glass filled to the brim with a brown liquid of the worst hue you could imagine. I feared I already knew the next words that would come out of Niles' mouth, but I nervously awaited them nonetheless.

"You need to drink this, sir, it will counteract the drugs in your system," he explained. "It will knock you out for a while too, so try your best to get upstairs and settled before it kicks in," he continued as he handed me the glass.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically as I analyzed the liquid. "What the hell is this?"

"I call it, Niles' elixir," Niles explained with a smirk. "Trust me, it will get the job done. Now get some rest and come see me when you are feeling up to it."

I held the glass high, acting as though I were toasting Niles, then did my best attempt to down the elixir as quickly as possible. Try as I might, there was no avoiding that flavor. I choked down every last drop before turning promptly to head up the stairs. I grasped the rail tightly as I struggled to keep my equilibrium. Not even saying goodbye to Niles, I made it to my bedroom and collapsed on top of my bed. My head was spinning as Niles' shit water waged a war within my body against the drugs that I had binged on for weeks.

I don't know how long Niles sat downstairs contemplating the conversation that had just transpired, but it was clear he was caught off-guard. Regardless of what I did, he would be taken care of, at least for as long as he wanted to run the show. I could bow out gracefully and hand him the reins and it could be all his. It all made sense in my head but with me quickly losing consciousness I wasn't sure how reliable my thought process was. I was mere moments away from falling asleep.

My head was pounding as I rolled over. I had no reference for how long I had been asleep but the cottonmouth I was dealing with was an obnoxious clue that I needed something to hydrate me. I sat up in bed, rubbed my eyes, and looked at the clock; it was 9:23 AM, but what day was it? I stood up and tried to get in a healthy morning stretch but the pain in my skull intensified, forcing me to grab my head and hold it tight. I walked toward the doorway, stopping momentarily to admire the screens, but there were more pressing matters at the moment and that was a drink. Walking into the kitchen I noticed how clean everything was. Niles must have stuck around and cleaned up a bit. My drug paraphernalia was all gone with only a note on the counter in its place.

"Left something in the fridge for you – Niles."

Opening the refrigerator door, I cringed thinking about what Niles could have left me, but nevertheless I was desperate to relieve this migraine. On the top shelf there was a glass filled with a dingy green liquid. I just hoped it tasted better than the bitter brown drink from earlier. To make sure I found it he had another note attached to it that read, "Yes this one, drink up!" I investigated it first, smelling it and assuming he was again trying to attack my taste buds, but to my surprise it smelled refreshing and citrusy. I took a small sip and was again pleasantly surprised.

I closed the refrigerator door and left the kitchen to find my seat in the front room. It looked as if Niles cleaned me out of any drugs here too. I couldn't help but chuckle; it was obvious that he wanted my mind clear before I went through with my decision to get out of the business. Little did he know I had a secret stash; on the mantle there was an ornate urn. I smiled as I picked it up and opened it to grab a joint, but there was nothing inside.

"Damnit," I uttered with a begrudged smile on my face.

I had to admit, that little bastard got me. I finished my drink, which almost immediately squashed my headache, then headed upstairs and freshened up before driving to the club. I knew Niles would do everything in his power to change my mind, but anything he tried would be futile. I hopped in my car, tossed a handful of fish food to the koi, and drove off. The streets were the same, the signs, the landmarks, yet this time it all gave off a new sentiment. Was this the last time I would see them? While I didn't have a drawn-up plan, I knew things would never be the same. How could they be, how could I allow this constant emptiness of an existence continue? This city built me up and when I got to its core it tore me right back down. I was content to disappear, find the happiness and fulfillment that had always escaped me. No person or thing could ever change that feeling now.

My parking spot was vacant, as it always was. I shifted into park and climbed out of the car. I took a deep breath followed by an exhale and headed toward the back door, running my finger along my vehicle, letting it know I'd be back soon then we were out of here. I snuck in through the back door in typical fashion and into the office undetected. I took my time walking through the back hallway, pausing periodically to look at some of the framed pictures that depicted some of the blinded better times I had in the city. As I neared the bar I could already hear Niles' voice.

"Alright, and here are your winnings," Niles said as he took the betting slip and handed a small stack of bills to a never-before-seen patron. "Mr. Haro you made it!" he exclaimed with a smile on his face. "I assume you are feeling better today?"

"I'm getting there," I replied.

"Well, you look much better. I got all of the paperwork you had asked for, why don't we go into the back and look over things," Niles said as he motioned me to follow him into the back office.

"What day is it?" I asked.

"It's Thursday, sir; you were only asleep for about a day, depending on when you woke up of course," Niles said with a chuckle.

I grabbed my customary seat while Niles dug through the filing cabinet, pulling stacks of papers out to present to me.

"First, we will start with the amended documents. I've got everything updated so I can maintain the books in your absence; I will just need you to sign on the marked lines to make it official," Niles explained as he pointed at the sticky tabs that were adhered sporadically thought the document. "And I spoke with my mortgage broker. You are in luck; actually he was a bit surprised you even knew about that place. It wasn't officially on the market; it's been abandoned for years. How did you know about it?" Niles asked out of curiosity.

"Does it matter either way? A friend led me to it years ago," I said reluctantly.

"Okay, well here is the deed, you just need to print your name here and sign here," Niles informed me.

"Perfect, I'll take a look at this later," I said as I tucked the deed back in its envelope and stowed it away in my back pocket.

"Congratulations on the new property," he said in an unsettling tone.

Niles looked at me, dumbfounded. I could tell he wanted to ask me something but he didn't even know where to begin. I guess he never really thought I would walk away from all this, and even though I had informed him that this was going to be the case he was still surprised it was all happening, but still there was something else bothering Niles. The wheels were spinning and after what seemed like an endless silence he finally asked me what he'd had on his mind for weeks.

"Did you kill Bryce?" Niles asked as his voice quivered.

"Are you sure you want to go down that path, Niles?"

"Sir, you need to know my respect for you has always been paramount," Niles said with great emotion in his voice. "But I look at the chain of events, and your actions since returning that fateful night when Mr. Werth committed suicide. Nothing makes sense, and while my head is telling me you would never harm another man, I can't find a single more plausible reason for your recent actions," he explained.

"Niles, I will tell you this one time. I didn't kill Bryce," I said firmly.

"Then why give this all up? We have an empire, what are you trying to escape? We are in the center of the universe. I just don't understand what would cause you to become so withdrawn and erratic in your behavior," he rambled, trying to make sense of everything.

"I peeled away the layers of this onion and in the end I found that the core was rotten," I said philosophically.

Before Niles could reply we were both startled by the sudden onset of rain beginning to pour outside. In near-perfect harmony we both snapped our heads to look out the office window, then looked back at each other. By now both Niles and I knew little positive was happening when the weather turned. Before either of us could interject a man came down the hall and poked his head through the office door looking for Niles.

"Hey, Niles, you should probably get out here," he said with concern in his voice.

Without hesitation Niles and I got to our feet and headed out to the bar to see what the commotion was all about. The aura in the room felt all too familiar. Everyone was fixated on the screens in total silence. If a pin had dropped you would have heard it. The dancers stopped dancing while the men all sat on the edge of their seats. It wasn't until I got around the corner that I saw firsthand what had the room so subdued. It was happening again.

# Chapter 9

"Niles, check it out!" one of the patrons hollered as we entered the room.

"I apologize, per our updated policy to the betting standards we are now closed to any further plays until this Royal's deed is done," Niles explained to the audience as he looked me in the eye.

Niles was fully capable of running the show, but it felt as if he was still looking to me for affirmation of some kind. Whether it was to make me feel needed as he had stated time and time again since I announced my intentions to him, or he truly felt out of his league being in charge, he was showing me the his desire to keep me in the fold.

I broke eye contact with him to more closely investigate our newest potential Royal. The screens had again transformed from a grid to one single feed focused on this person. As I walked closer to the screen I couldn't help but glance over to the corner Bryce and his crew had occupied the last time an event like this was transpiring. This time though it was void of any activity. What were the odds that after so many years void of any activity we would have two potential Royal relocations in such a short time period? I snaked through the crowded room to get a better look. It was a young woman who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. Alone she sat while we all watched in anticipation of what she was preparing to do.

"Hey, Conner, get down, we want to see," a voice from behind me yelled.

I didn't care; I was more interested in the subject at hand. Making it to the front of the room I stopped and stood mere feet from the screen.

"Seriously, Conner, what the hell?" another voice yelled.

She was sitting on a toilet wearing nothing but some shorts and a plain white T-shirt; her long wavy blonde hair partially covered her face, making it hard to get a clear picture. I could see her fiddling with something in her hand; it was small enough that it couldn't be a knife or a gun, but again it was difficult to make out. I paused for a moment, and then cocked my head to the side as my fingers began to tingle. I knew this room. My knees buckled, causing me to stumble into a couple gentlemen seated just behind me.

"Get out of here," I yelled to the patrons in the room, working to regain my balance. "Everyone get the fuck out of here!"

"Come on, Conner, we want to see what she's going to do," a member of the crowd said. "Don't be a buzzkill."

I got to my feet and forced my way back through the crowd, marching toward the bar rack. Niles stood motionless as he watched me, not saying a word. He knew who it was on the screen and it left him speechless. When I got through the crowd and back to the bar I reached over the counter and pulled out the shotgun that always had been stashed there. I raised it in the air and fired off a round into the ceiling.

"Now get out," I said as everyone ducked for cover.

The crowd rose and filed out. No words were said as the room emptied. Only Niles and I remained inside as we stood side by side staring at the screen. No words were said; there was nothing Niles could say or do until I broke the silence.

I laid the gun on the counter and sighed. "It's Evie."

"I know," Niles said somberly.

Niles moved his jaw slightly, grinding his teeth, but there were no words he could say to a father watching his daughter's final moments. Time stopped as I continued to stare at Evie, who was wrestling with the same decision I had contemplated years ago in that very same bathroom. I couldn't help but feel guilty for putting her in this position and I just hoped she would make a wiser choice than I had. My hand shook every time she moved and I wanted to yell out to her, but there was nothing I could do. I was helpless. Finally she moved, raising her left hand to her other wrist.

"Don't!" I exclaimed, causing Niles to look in my direction.

After a brief pause she reached over to the counter and dropped what she was holding and stood up. She disappeared as quickly as she had shown up, and the screens reverting to their traditional grid format. I exhaled in relief that it was over, but questioned how long it would last.

"What does this mean Niles?" I asked, hoping for an optimistic response.

"Well, sir, many people contemplate it multiple times before actually going through with it," he explained. "I wish I had more optimistic news but if you are looking for cold hard facts, she is more likely to show up again and every time she does it's more likely she will go through with it."

I again sighed. "Thank you for the honesty. Are we done with the paperwork for now?"

"Yes, I will get the revisions submitted on the amended documents, and unless I can talk you out of it I will empty your liquid accounts and get that land you enquired about," Niles replied, hopeful that I would have a change of heart.

"Get it done," I ordered. "I appreciate everything you have done for me, Niles, but it looks like I have some loose ends to tie up now. I'll be in touch," I said as I shook his hand and turned to head toward the back door.

"Be safe, sir," Niles said before I left the room.

I looked back to acknowledge that I heard him then continued down the hall toward the back exit. The rain had subsided nearly as fast as it started; beads of water rested on my car, but that was the only remaining evidence of the weather change. I hopped inside and got comfortable. The engine roared to life as I turned the key in the ignition. I sat as the car idled, trying to decide what I was supposed to do.

I was at a crossroads. A day ago I was planning my escape into the sunset never to be seen again, but in its traditional fashion the city took everything I thought I knew and flipped it on its head. Evie was in this situation because of my past transgressions, and for me to turn a blind eye to that truth would be the greatest travesty of all. This was my one shot to undo all the wrong that I had done in my life. This moment had presented itself and I knew what I had to do. But there was one person who I needed to find. There was one person who could align all the puzzle pieces.

I tore off into the night, pushing my car to its limit as I headed to where it all began. Nothing could slow me in my mission, and for the first time I felt I was losing the battle between my mind and my body. My blood was boiling, aggression taking over.

I pulled up at the bar Van had brought me to years ago. Nothing had changed. The same sign flickered above the door, the surrounding area looked just as desolate. I was long aware of the bar being around, as it was in competition with the club Niles and I established, though the term competition was a stretch. Yet here it was, still in business, so I exited my vehicle and cautiously entered, intent on finding the bartender.

Inside there was as little activity as there was outside. As I found a stool to sit on at the bar I noticed a woman was behind the counter tending. I took a seat and waited for her to acknowledge my presence.

"What can I get for you?"

"I'm looking for the bartender."

"I'm sorry, honey, he won't be in for a while. He's my relief but I just started. It will be a few hours," she explained.

"I'll wait."

The woman was a little taken aback by my attitude but remained composed, offering me a drink. I sat at the bar, not focusing on any one person or object while I sipped on my whiskey, only speaking up when I needed a refill of my lowball glass. The establishment itself was a blast from the past. While everywhere else had adapted to the changing times, this place resisted. It was one of the few places in town you could see the old outdated screens. The bartender was apparently content with things just as they were.

The woman working the bar kept my glass topped off but I felt little effect as waited. My blood was boiling. Every minute that passed felt like an hour. I had no time to waste, yet no had no choice but to wait until he arrived. I looked at the bottom of my glass, knowing I needed another refill, but when I looked up the woman was gone. Scanning the room, I finally saw reason for optimism. The woman was partially down a back hall off to the side talking to someone. I couldn't hear the conversation, but when she looked over her shoulder to make eye contact with me, she turned away and nodded to the other party, I knew there was reason to trust that the bartender was in. Moments later the woman walked back to her post behind the bar and continued to work, towel drying glasses and organizing the bar never looking at me. Just when I was ready to speak up I finally I got what I wanted.

"The bartender will see you now, Mr. Haro," she said, still looking the other direction. "He's in the back; I understand you know the way."

I didn't even look up to acknowledge her as I got up from the barstool and headed down the hall Van had led me down years ago. Amazingly even in the back nothing had changed; it was as if the bartender wrapped his bar in a time capsule. Entering the back room, I saw the bartender had his back turned pouring himself a drink.

"Mr. Haro, it's been too long," the bartender said. "Can I pour you a drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Do I sense some attitude?"

"No attitude," I replied in a less-than-convincing fashion.

"Feel free to grab a seat. Let me guess, you hear for answers?"

"That would be nice. It seems you left out some details the night Van brought me here," I said with a strong hint of sarcasm as I sat across from where the bartend had settled in.

"Well, Mr. Haro, it was a pretty heavy situation you found yourself in that night. Van and I gave you as much as we thought you could handle but you're right; there is more to the city than meets the eye. What's troubling you?" the bartender asked as he settled into his chair.

"Why did Van really bring me here?" I asked bluntly. "Was it to protect me or was I his ticket out of here?"

The bartender didn't even flinch at the question taking a sip from his glass. He placed his glass back on the table and adjusted his posture, preparing to give what I assumed would be the typical political answer, but as he opened his mouth to speak I interjected.

"I mean, come on; I can't believe that bullshit you two spun. Only the brave reside here," I said, repeating the words the bartender had told me on that fateful night. "Fuck that tired old rhetoric. People hide here. The only people who reside here have deficiencies that they hope nobody will ever see. Why else would we all be so ashamed to tell others why you committed suicide? We party like gods to forget about the isolated existence we loath, lost in the hollow glow from those TV screens, secretly wishing somehow we could escape back. We buy into the lie and ignore the truth."

"Van was tired of living the lie," the bartender volunteered evenly. "He loved the life here at first but he began to see how shallow it can be. Van knew there had to be more to all this shit, but like you he couldn't quite put his finger on it. So I told him the truth. Years and years ago there was a man who had a theory that if there was a way into the city, there had to be a way out, and I'll be damned, he was right. As the story would have it that man got liquored up one night at one of the local watering holes and showed everyone that he found a way home. Walked out the door and not an hour later reappeared on one of those screens and blew his damn brains out. Then he walked back into that very same bar to collect on the bets he had made with some of the patrons before had left," the bartender explained before pausing. "Judging by the look on your face none of this is new to you, but this is where what you think you know and the truth might deviate. What that man claimed was that to leave the city you needed a ticket home."

"The toe tag," I whispered to myself.

"Correct, there was only one way out of the city. You had to be laid to rest so to speak. Not far from where you entered the city, in fact. Just across the way on the very same grounds there stands a mausoleum," the bartended explained. "The problem is nobody truly knows how all the pieces fit together. With all of the theories that have come out over the years, people desperate enough to go home try their best to connect the dots hoping it would lead them there. When Van rescued you, he did so in a desperate attempt to also rescue himself."

"Wait, something doesn't make sense here. Why would Van run the risk of rescuing me and bring me all the way across town to your bar if he could have just taken my toe tag next door to the mausoleum?" I asked.

"See that's where people begin to get mixed up. The only tickets back home come on the toe of a Royal, and to be used that person must remain alive until the tag is used," the bartender said. "Each toe tag comes with a swath of DNA on it, and the person whose DNA is being used must be alive or else that tag will expire. If Van left you in the morgue he ran the risk of you dying before he made it to your crypt."

"My crypt?" I asked.

"Yes, in the mausoleum, all of the Royals have a crypt designated for them. Van's only way out of the city was through your crypt," the bartender said as he finished his drink. "Let me ask you this, are you asking me all this so you can go home, Conner?"

"It's not for me," I said vaguely.

"Is it for Evie? No matter how great the life we live here is, we all left something behind. It's that one thing that eventually fuels a yearning to get back to a world we once rejected. For you, Conner it's that little girl who's all grown up now.

The rain again began to fall outside, reminding me that I was running short on time. I needed to save my daughter.

"I appreciate your time," I said as I got up to shake the bartender's hand.

"Conner, be safe," the bartender replied as he looked out the window at the rain.

I wasted no time exiting the bar and getting in my car. I sped off into the night, heading back to my house, knowing this would be my one chance to undo all the wrong I had done in my former life. The rain didn't let up during the drive, causing me to fear the worst. I parked and ran into the house, preparing myself mentally for what I feared I would see on the screens. Just as I suspected, I entered the living room to see Evie again sitting in the bathroom. I helplessly watched, hoping for the best but fearing in my heart that she had already made her mind up. I gently touched the screen, wishing I could brush the hair away from her face. It was all my fault. I would give up everything to undo the damage, to give her back her father. I had been so caught up in escaping my own misery that never imagined how hard my death would be for everyone around me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering moments I got to share with her when she was a little girl, how pure those moments were: giving her piggy back rides, tea parties, and those sunny days at the park pushing her on the swing set. It was the best I ever had and I squandered it. Opening my eyes again, I did a double take as she had disappeared. The screens returned to their normal orientation and I had time again, but how much?

I took the opportunity to head upstairs to my room. I grabbed some clothes and tossed them in a duffle bag, then dug deeper into the drawer, finding my revolver. I took a moment to examine the gun. It was the one that I had used to kill Hidell, saving Sophia in the process. Everything about this weapon reeked of evil and I sensed that it would live up to that expectation again tonight. I checked to see it was loaded the tucked it into my waistband and retreated into the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Everything had so quickly spiraled out of control. I didn't know if it was me or the city, but everything had changed. I turned the faucet on and splashed some water on my face. I hardly recognized what this city has caused me to become. Emotionless, cold, I was not a shred of the man I once was. I dried my face with the hand towel, silently making a vow to myself that tonight wouldn't end it in tragedy. I continued to stand there motionless, trapped in a long stare with myself. Never again would I let anyone or anything my destiny. Never again would I take the coward's way out. It ended tonight.

I walked out of the bathroom, slinging the duffle bag's strap over my shoulder, disregarding the screens all together. In my heart I knew Evie was the star actress again or soon would be. I went to the kitchen to turn on the gas burners but snuffed out the flames, letting the gas escape. When it was all over there would be no trace of me in this goddamned city. I stepped out the door, shutting it behind me, looking up at the overcast sky. The rain was already coming down and this time there were no signs of it letting up. I pulled my coat up over my head and walked through the rain toward the car. I knew what this meant but I still tried to plausibly deny the truth behind this stormy weather. That was, until the lightning flashed followed by that ominous crackle of thunder. It was done, and I was her only hope. I threw the bag in the car and took off.

Nobody will get to Evie before me. I won't fail her again.

# Chapter 10

I parked my car in the shadows across the street from the asylum grounds. I had little time before hunting parties started flooding the streets looking for my Evie. I exited my car, grabbing the bag of clothes and adjusting my revolver caused me to brush the envelope I had hanging out of my back pocket. I had nearly forgotten about the deed. I turned to look up at the windows that lined Rhino's home. I couldn't see through the reflection but I knew he was there watching over everything. I walked down the alley that lead to Rhino's back entrance and wedged the envelope between the door and its frame, followed by a knock. I had no time to waste, so instead of waiting for him to come down I turned and headed toward my destination across the way.

The rain was still falling so I moved quickly, trying my best to keep within the shadows as I headed toward the asylum's front doors. I never imagined I would be stepping back inside this building but I had no other option. I tried my best to pay attention to my surroundings. I let no sound go undetected but in my haste it was hard not to overlook the simplest sign of trouble. I opened the front door slowly and crept in, looking around for signs of life. There was an eerie calm in the lobby, and for a moment I felt that I might be able to slip in and out before anyone else showed up but I knew deep down nothing in this city goes that smoothly. I caught the door, making sure it didn't slam behind me, then I headed left down the hall toward the morgue.

"Conner," whispered a voice in the darkness, elongating each syllable.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up and chills ran down my spine. I jumped into one of the open examination room doors and reached for my gun. I peered back out into the hall but saw nothing. My heart raced. Somewhere lurking in the shadows beyond the reach of the faintly lit hallway was my adversary. I feared he was here for the same thing I was, but who else would know to be here, and how did they know me? I did my best to calm down and regain a normal breathing pattern, but it was all short lived as the mystery voice continued to mock me.

"Conner," the voice chanted again.

His voice sounded so familiar, yet I struggled to place it. Did he know where I was hiding? Should I stay, should I move? My mind was a mess, and the added stress of knowing that Evie was locked downstairs confused and alone didn't help to calm me down.

"You didn't think I had forgotten about you, did you? Why don't you come out and play?" he said.

I became completely unnerved as the mystery individual threw something down the hall that made a loud metallic clinking noise every time it collided with the objects that were scattered around. My reaction was to fire a warning shot, but that would only give my position away. I crouched down to conceal myself further and listened as the object rolled to a stop at the end of the hallway. I held my breath, hoping I was safe in my hiding place, but knowing that I had to get downstairs before he or someone else did. Every minute that went by was another where Evie was stuck in that horrific morgue refrigerator. I gathered my wits and peered out into the hall, but this time before I could brace myself or pull my head back the sound footsteps running toward me closed in on me. The mystery individual had gotten a running start and struck me in the head with his leg, causing me to spill into hall. My gun slid across the hall and my bag fell off my shoulder as I crashed to the floor. I rolled over, ready to defend myself from a repeat attack and to get a look at who assaulted me.

"You didn't think I left, did you?" the man asked.

When my vision dialed in I was in complete disbelief. "Bryce?!"

"Did you miss me?" He bent over to retrieve my gun from the floor. "We have some unfinished business, I believe," he said, admiring my gun before taking aim at me.

"I don't understand. I thought you escaped," I said, still trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Not exactly. I did everything the way I was told, I tied up all of my loose ends, did what I thought I had to, but it didn't work. It got me thinking that you might have known more than you let on that night," Bryce said with a unusual amount of intent in his voice. "You're a smart guy, Conner, tell me the truth; you know how to get out of this Godforsaken place, don't you?" Bryce asked, still pointing a gun at me.

I was frozen on the floor. I did know, but his ticket out of here was attached to my daughter, and there was nothing I wouldn't do to protect her from the evil in this city. If Bryce got his hands on her it could close the door on her escape, or worse. I didn't even want to think about the potential outcome of that situation but I had to think fast; time was running out.

"Conner, your silence is damning. It couldn't have a little to do with your daughter being downstairs could it?" he asked with a smirk. "Don't worry, I will treat her real nice," he continued. "Now get up."

I had no choice but to comply. I was hostage to his demands, and if I didn't come up with something fast I would lose the one last thing that mattered to me anymore. I shuttered at the thought of Evie downstairs in that cold, stale morgue drawer. Bryce didn't care about her, he would dispose of her just like he did the rest of his group of henchmen and I would be forced to stand by and watch it happen. There was no way I could let that transpire; nothing would befall my Evie, not over my dead body. I got to my feet, collecting my things, and stood across the hall from Bryce, staring at him deadpan.

"This way, Conner," he said as he waved me in the direction of the stairwell with my gun in his hand. "You know, I think we could have been good for each other, friends even. Well, that is if you hadn't killed Hidell," Bryce rambled as he walked feet behind me, still holding me at gunpoint. "You didn't think nobody knew you did it, did you? Let me guess, this is the gun you did it with, isn't it? You always have been the nostalgic type."

It was clear he was trying his hardest to get a reaction from me, but I wasn't biting. I continued to slowly walk toward the stairwell. Revenge wasn't his motive, but he was relishing the position he was currently in. I arrived at the top of the stairs, pausing for a minute then holding my breath as I made my move to begin my descent into my own personal hell.

"Wait just a minute, Conner," Bryce said, startling me. "This feels fishy; you have someone else with you? Nobody would be so willing to just hand over their only daughter like this. I'm not about to walk into a trap. Move aside," he ordered as he motioned me to stand away from him and the stairwell.

Bryce cautiously approached the edge of the stairs, doing his best to peer around the corner to see if everything was clear and safe. I furled my brow, perplexed at what I was seeing. He continued to aim the gun at me, but in a less authoritative fashion. Something had him spooked. I never knew what happened to him after he disappeared into the night while I lay under a sheet on a gurney, concealed from his site. Whatever events transpired clearly didn't go the way he wanted and now he was being cautious. I could read the concern on his face.

"Okay, it looks good. Let's go. After you, Conner," Bryce instructed, pointing me down the stairs first. "You didn't think I would trust you to follow me, do you? Hurry, your daughter is waiting."

My throat became dry. I did my best to avoid giving any visual signs of my helplessness but I was running out of time and Bryce knew it. My hands were clammy, and I could feel the sweat develop on my brow. I gritted my teeth, trying to stay composed and taking a step toward the top of the stairs. One foot after another, I focused on each step being deliberate as to not give away the emotions that were tearing my insides apart. I reached the top step, looking at Bryce as he stood there aiming the revolver at me, mere inches away. I would never forgive myself if I allowed this man to harm my Evie. But right now I had to follow his orders, what other choice did I have? I was her only hope. I took a deep breath and exhaled, preparing to enter the depths of this building. I lifted my foot to take that dreaded first step but before I could complete that motion my moment came.

Crash! The sound of glass shattering startled both of us. A rock sailed through a large window above us, causing shards to rain down. We both did our best to protect ourselves, putting our hands over our head as we huddled under the falling debris. I looked at Bryce; he had lowered the gun, averting his attention from me. On impulse I extended my hands out and pushed him, sending his body plummeting down the stairs toward the next landing far below. I let out a yell of satisfaction as Bryce groaned with every impact he endured on his way down. The sounds were horrific as his body was brutalized by the unforgiving stairs, finishing with one sickening snap of his neck as his ragdoll body came to a rest on the cold tile. My breathing had become heavy, animalistic pant as the adrenaline caused my heart to race. Cold, vacant eyes starred up at me from far below; Bryce was dead.

I made my way down the steps and stood over his body, almost wishing I felt some sort of remorse, but like so many other emotions, remorse was just another that the city had stolen from me. There was only one thing I still cared about so I headed down the stairs, picking up the revolver and continuing toward the morgue. As I headed down the all-too-familiar corridor, I realized that the likelihood of me being alone was remote. Someone had thrown the rock through the window, but whom?

I gripped my gun tightly and continued to move through the bowels of this Godforsaken building with as much haste as my feet could handle. I thought about all the possibilities of my savior. Rhino, it had to be him, but what if it wasn't? Was somebody after me, or worse yet, after Evie? I peered around every corner to check for potential threats, but it was clear there was just one way in and one way out, so if anyone was around they would be coming up behind me. Finally I saw the door to the morgue. Cold and uninviting, it was a relief to me to see it was still closed. As I got closer I could hear faint screams of panic coming from behind it.

"Help me, someone let me out of here," a feminine voice begged, followed by thumping sounds as the woman kicked at the refrigerator door.

My heart went out to her. I wished I could have made it here quicker, but took comfort in the fact that her time in that drawer was almost over. I pulled the heavy door open and entered the morgue, closing it behind me. I scanned the room with my gun in hand. I couldn't let my guard down, even in this triumphant moment.

"Is anyone out there? Let me out!" Evie screamed again.

"Just a minute. I'm here, I'm getting you out," I replied.

I stood in front of the refrigerator not knowing which one Evie was trapped in, so I holstered my gun and began feverishly opening doors one after the next.

"Hurry, get me out," she said with a panic-stricken voice.

"I'm trying," I replied.

I was running low on options. I reached for the handle to the very same drawer I had transferred in, held my breath, and pulled, opening the door.

"Finally!" Evie said as she reached her hands out from the darkness, trying to find any leverage she could to pull herself out of the darkness under her own power. Her legs kicked about and her hands grasped the outer coping of the drawer. Before she sprung out, I took the opportunity to wrestle her anxious legs, pinning one to the table and tearing her toe tag from her foot and placing it in my pocket. She pulled against the refrigerator's exterior with such might that her knuckles went white and her muscles tensed. Before I could even help, she'd already jumped to her feet and stepped back, distancing herself as she locked her eyes on me.

"Where am I? Who are you? What are you going to do to me?" she asked frantically, squinting because of the lights above us.

"Calm down, it's okay. Everything is alright now," I said calmly, trying to comfort her.

Even as she squinted I could tell, she had her mother's eyes; my little girl was all grown up. I couldn't help but smile as I stared at the beautiful woman she had grown up to be. For one moment I was able to forget everything that had happened since she was that little girl in the park. I was genuinely happy to see her standing before me. I moved toward her, wanting to pull her in close, making up for all the missed affection I should have been there to give her.

"Get away from me!" she exclaimed as she searched for anything to arm herself with, locating a rusty piece of metal on the table next to her. "I don't know who you are or where I am, but if you touch me so help me God, I'll hurt you."

"Evie. It's me," I said, hoping she would recognize me.

She held the rudimentary weapon pointed towards me, trying to ward off any attempted attack as she stared at my face. Time felt infinite as she analyzed the person who was standing before her. I held my breath, waiting for a response. Finally she lowered her weapon, dropping it to the ground as her eyes began to well up.

"Daddy?" she said as her voice cracked.

Tears began to run down her face as I stepped toward her and offered her an old gym sweatshirt I pulled from the bag. She slipped it over her head, concealing the typical white-underwear uniform that all transfers were so thoughtlessly provided. She looked up at me as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks. I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight as she began to sob uncontrollably. I stroked her hair, trying to console her as best I could.

"I've missed you," she said amidst the crying.

"I know, honey, I missed you too," I replied as tears began to stream down my face. "I need to get you out of here right now. We don't have much time," I explained as I took a step back and looked her in the eyes. "Stay close to me; I don't want to lose you again. Can you do that?"

I wiped away her tears as she nodded back to me. I handed her a pair of shoes for her to slip on, hoping they would fit better than the ones Van had handed me, then pulled my revolver from my waistband and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the morgue. Evie's eyes opened wide at the sight of the revolver, causing her to grip my hand tighter. Whoever had been behind me was now on a collision course with us and there was no way I'd let them stop me.

# Chapter 11

The flicker of outdated lights above our heads synced with my pulse while the concrete walls of the corridors reflected everything that the city had become: cold, empty. I had spent too much time in these halls and I couldn't wait to escape one last time and never come back. I didn't think it was possible to be more frightened of walking these passages, but as I looked back at Evie holding tightly to my hand, I knew there was more at stake this time than any past journey here.

Every sound caused me to flinch. I gripped the handle of my revolver tightly, but nothing could steady my hand, my nerves were winning the battle. I was deliberate with my every move. Never walking too quickly, always lurking as best I could within the shadows, and peering around every corner. We finally reached the stairs to guide us out of the depths of the asylum.

I peered up the stairwell, investigating, looking for any signs of other hunters. Looking back at Evie, I could read every emotion through her facial expressions. Fright, confusion, hopelessness, it was all there. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear that it would be alright and we were almost there, knowing that I couldn't be further from the truth but hoping my words kept her calm.

I pointed up the stairs, silently signaling our path while putting my finger to my lips, indicating the need for quiet. Evie nodded timidly and followed as I began my ascent up the stairs. Step by step the main level of the asylum began to come into view. Meticulously, I made my way up the stairs, knowing that Bryce's body would be waiting for me at the next landing. The sight of him lying there was sure to unnerve Evie so I paused just a few steps short and looked her.

"I need you to cover your eyes for a moment. I will lead you, just hold on to me tight. Trust me, honey."

"Okay, Dad," she replied, putting one hand over her eyes.

We continued up the stairs, Evie holding my hand tightly as she stumbled up each step. I didn't want to see Bryce's body any more than she did, but what really worried me was the chance that it was no longer there. Stranger things had happened in this place, and that thought got my adrenaline pumping. I took a deep breath as I gazed ahead, taking the last steps before I would be able to see if he was indeed still there. As my vision crested above the landing I was relieved to see he hadn't moved, or been moved for that matter. I looked back at Evie to double check that she was following my instructions. I could read it on her face that she was bordering on terrified, but she was indeed still shielding her eyes.

"We're almost done, Evie," I said calmly.

We stepped past Bryce and began to ascend the last set of stairs that would lead us back to the main floor of the asylum. I did my best to control Evie's steps, guiding her around Bryce's body covertly in fear that if she knew what she was passing she would send her into hysterics.

"Okay, just a few more steps."

Each step felt like a small victory and with just a few more left to go we were almost out, but as Evie tried to keep up blindly she caught her toe on the front edge of the first step, sending her tumbling down. Her only option was to catch herself with her hands, letting go of me and uncovering her eyes.

"Ahhhh, Dad!" Evie screamed as she stumbled just inches from Bryce's dead body.

I threw my hand over her mouth in my best attempt to conceal her screams.

"Shhhhh, it's okay, I promise it's okay," I said, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Who is that?" she asked as I removed hand from her mouth.

"He was the other man searching for you."

My answer was better received than expected; she grew quiet as she stared down at his lifeless body. Evie's body language told me there was a multitude thoughts going through her head as she tried to make sense of everything, but I could see it in her face that she began to understand what I had gone through to rescue her. She reached out again, grabbing my hand. She wanted to ask me so many questions but had no clue where to start, so I cut her off before she could attempt to utter anything.

"I will explain this all, we just need to get to a safe place."

She looked at me and again subtly nodded as I turned to continue up the stairs. The floor was covered in shards of glass from the broken window. I scanned the halls, but to my surprise we truly were alone. How could this have gone so easily, no confrontation, no signs of anyone at all? I noticed the rock that had made this all possible laying just down the hall from us. Something about it didn't look right.

Letting go of Evie's hand, I slowly walked toward it. Getting closer I realized that it was wrapped in something. A note of some kind was rubber banded around the rock, which intrigued me. I picked up the baseball-sized rock and removed the piece of paper to see what note might be scrolled inside, unfolding delicately because it was obvious from the touch this paper had seen years of wear and tear.

"Mr. Haro has been delivered. Now it's your turn to hold up your end of the bargain. I'll be awaiting your arrival at the mausoleum. - Donovan"

The weight of this note caused me to lose complete track of everything around me. The color in my face flushed away and my hands trembled. I was nothing more than a pawn. Van used me; that much I had learned from the bartender. But who was this note addressed to? The circumstances ruled out Bryce. It became apparent someone was toying with us.

"Dad, what is it?" Evie asked, breaking the silence.

Realizing we might not be as alone as I thought we were, I shot a glance down the halls we stood in again, and then grabbed Evie's hand.

"Come on, we need to go," I said, heading up the stairs to the second floor.

The second floor of the asylum looked much the same as the first. The single hall had gurneys and random medical equipment strewn about. Doors to patients' living quarters lined both sides with many of the doors ajar. I found an open room with a window that overlooked the mausoleum and darted in, pulling Evie close behind.

"Close the door, Evie," I whispered to her as I gazed out the window.

"Dad?" Evie said with insistence. "What is going on? Where are we?"

I looked back at Evie, who had sat down on an unmade bed. Answers were long overdue, but where to start, how to make this place make sense? I took a deep breath and pondered everything as I again looked out the window. It was so eerily silent, but I knew better. The same person who threw that rock was out there somewhere, watching, waiting. I looked down at my hand, clinched around the auspicious note. It had no further information for me yet I held onto it like I grasped onto the hope that this city would finally make sense.

"This is our second chance."

She looked at me, puzzled. "Second chance?"

"When I showed up here, much the same way you did tonight, I was told this is where the brave reside. The people who wanted to escape their miserable existence in the real world and were courageous enough to take their lives into their own hands relocated here and were given their second chance. Here you can be what you always dreamt of back in the real world. But it's all just a bunch of bullshit," I said, beginning to trail off.

"Why are you here, Dad?" she asked.

I looked at her as she stared blankly at me. The depth of her question was far beyond the simplicity of the words she used. The reason I was here had a direct correlation with why she was, and as much as I wanted to deny that truth there just wasn't a logical way that I could. I took the easy way out when things got difficult and there was no way to sugarcoat that, yet I searched for an acceptable excuse to tell her.

"Everything became overwhelming and I took the easy way out," I said honestly with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Evie. You were the light of my life, but when things got hard and people's expectation of me mounted I lost sight of that and gave up," I explained with a heavy heart. "I don't think there is any point in asking, but did you come here for the reasons I assume you did?"

"Do you know how hard it is to be the daughter of the great Conner Haro?" she asked, agitatedly. "I never had my own identity. Everyone thought it was so cool that my dad was the lead singer of Unlucky Bunny. Guys wanted to date me because of you; nobody ever knew who Evelyn Haro was nor did they care. They only cared about your legacy. Once I was old enough to receive your inheritance I spent my nights secluded away from everyone who just wanted to use me. I hid in that enormous house. It was so hollow. The only place I felt at home was in that bathroom. I would sit in there for hours. And yes, it was the same one you killed yourself in," Evie said with distain.

"How did you know that?"

"Because I was the one that found you, Dad," Evie said.

My heart sunk as I thought about how damn selfish I had been. I never once had thought about who would miss me, who would find me, or anything else. I just wanted to escape. I looked at Evie and knew there was no taking back what I had done; I could only muster those two simple words to her.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be, Dad," she snapped back. "You were my world, then you took the coward's way out and I was left to find you. It was the worst day of my life," she said as she began to unveil the details of that fateful day.

"Mama, are we going to see Daddy?" I asked with a big grin on my face from the back seat of the car.

"Yes, honey, we're almost there," Mom replied.

Those words only made the smile on my face grow bigger. I could barely contain my excitement; it was written all over my face. I had to deal with more adversity than most kids my age. You were always out on tour. Not to mention you and Mom never got married so I was stuck in a split home, living with Mom with overnight visits to your house sprinkled in between. In spite of those hardships it was those visits to your house I lived for. You were my world, Dad.

I squeezed the toy unicorn that I had won at the county fair playing that toss the ball in the cup game. I remember squirming in my car seat, hardly able contain myself, I was so excited to see you.

"Mom, will Daddy like my unicorn?" I asked.

"Oh, honey, I'm sure he will," she said, happy that for once it wasn't a damned stuffed bunny.

We finally pulled up at your house, which only caused me to squirm more, hardly able to be patient waiting for Mom to release me from the car seat. Mom got out of the car, walked around to the other side, opened the door, and unbuckled my car seat, allowing me to bolt toward the front door.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

The day was absolutely beautiful. The sun rays shined through the old oak tree out in front of the house, and you could smell the summer wildflowers blossoming. When Mom caught up with me at the door, she knocked loudly.

"Conner, are you there?" Mom asked with a growing frustration. "He does this every time; he knows this is his day to see his daughter."

She knocked again and waited momentarily as she peeked in the window for any signs of life.

"Damnit!" she exclaimed ask she looked at her wristwatch.

"Mama," I said.

"Yes, I know Mommy used a naughty word."

She was already running late for her evening plans, and the fact that you weren't answering the door pushed her to her breaking point. In a last-ditch effort she looked down at the doormat where you had from time to time left a spare key.

"Thank God," she whispered under her breath after finding the key.

She inserted the key into the lock and turned the handle, opening the door and setting me free to run inside.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" I again yelled as I searched through the house. "Where is he, Mama?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"I'm going to check upstairs," I said with a smile as I headed up the stairs, holding the unicorn in a strangle hold.

I went room to room looking everywhere for you, and just when I felt like I had exhausted all possibilities I stopped and listened. Not too far off in the distance I heard the faintest sound of music playing. It was coming from the bathroom. I grinned from ear to ear because I knew the song playing was one of your favorites. Following the music I walked toward the bathroom door.

"Mama, he's up here!"

Not waiting for Mom, I slowly pushed the bathroom door open and stepped inside.

"Daddy?" I asked when I saw your lifeless hand protruding from the tub.

I dropped my unicorn to the floor as I walked over to you, touching your arm, nudging you to wake up.

I called to you, "Daddy, wake up. Wake up, Daddy ... But you never did."

There were no words to explain how sick I felt. I had been so selfish.

"Evie, my biggest regret is giving up when life became overwhelming. It took me away from the only pure thing I ever had, you. Tonight I will try to make up for all that wrong that I have done in my life and for the disappointment. All the hurt I have caused you and all the selfishness that has long surrounded me. Your second chance isn't in this city. There is a way back, and I'm going to get you there so that you can avoid the mistakes I made and have a real second chance to do things the right way. The way I wish I would have."

I walked over to Evie and wrapped my arms around her, giving her a hug.

"That's my promise to you. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy," she replied as she again began to cry.

"There is a mausoleum on the same grounds as this building, that's what holds the key to all of this. It's not going to be simple though. This city is full of evil and whoever shared this note with me is out there, so I need you to stay close and listen to me," I explained.

"But what about you, Dad? What's going to happen to you?" Evie asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"I will remain here, happy that I got to give Evie a second chance, even if it meant giving up mine."

# Chapter 12

I knew that what I told Evie was only a half truth. My time in the city was as fleeting as hers, but our paths were headed in opposite directions. Everything that had transpired in during my time here had evolved into the moment before me. My fate was now in the city's hands. This place cared for no one and the hopes and dreams of its residents crumbled to pieces in the wake of its destruction. All of its empty promises couldn't hide the emptiness that befell people once utopia fractured, imprisoning us in a world we grew tired of. Watching onscreen a world so distant yet so familiar. Wishing, hoping, and plotting to escape back to. It's the one thing you can't have in the city that promised you everything. It turned people into animals trying to obtain it. Tonight I would break the cycle; I'd help Evie escape and tear the city down to its core, exposing its ugly truth in the process.

I opened the cylinder of my revolver again to confirm it was loaded and snapped it back into place with a flip of my wrist. I did my best to conceal my nerves for Evie's benefit, but not knowing what lay ahead for us was unnerving.

"What is the plan, Dad?" Evie asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied.

"I thought you had it all planned out."

"I do, I just am unsure of how it will play out. What I am attempting has only been once before to the best of my knowledge, honey. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you, that is my promise," I said to Evie, trying my best to instill faith.

I cautiously peeked out of the doorway, still wondering who was standing between me and getting Evie home. We would proceed with caution and leave the rest up to fate. Making our way down the stairs, I decided to forego the main entrance, continuing past it toward the chapel. The stained glass illuminated by the outside lights provided a lurid beauty at the far end of the hall. Being closer to the mausoleum would provide us an opportunity to sneak in undetected.

The chapel was as unkempt as the rest of the building. The pews were scattered randomly in the auditorium and it had been many years since the stoup had been full of holy water. In its disharmony the room held its own form of charm. We detoured into the auditorium, where I took a seat in one of the pews with Evie following suit beside me. I leaned forward as a statue of Christ hanging on a cross looked down over me and recited a prayer I had been forced to memorize as a child in seminary.

"Angel of God, my Guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this night be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen."

Lastly I made the sign of the cross and got to my feet. Any extra help at the end of this journey would be greatly needed. I exited the chapel with Evie and continued on our path toward the end of the hall. Just past the chapel was a utility area; it wasn't for casual use but I doubted anyone would mind us using it in this instance. The lights were off but the ambient light from windows and the hallway helped us weave our way through the years of storage that was kept within this area. Finally we came to a loading dock area. All of the windows were too high up on the walls to be of any use but in the far corner Evie pointed out a utility door with a window cutout. I peeked through to help orient our current location.

"Perfect, we are close."

Looking out the window, I could see our destination no more than a hundred yards away. This must have been the path Bryce had taken when I saw him disappear into the night. Walking the same footsteps of that man sent chills up my spine; I only hoped that that my journey would be more successful than his had been.

"Look over there, Evie. Do you see that building?" I asked, pointing through the window at the mausoleum.

"The stone one with the columns?"

"That's the one. That's where we are headed. We want to be as quick as possible and try to stay in the shadows as best we can. See over there to the left, there is a lot more vegetation on that side to cover us," I explained.

The grounds were surprisingly well maintained around the mausoleum. Manicured, lush green grass and scattered trees and shrubbery made for a great presentation. The building itself was simple in design but seemed to stretch back for a good distance with ornate glass skylights protruding out above the roofline. The building was neither uninviting nor scary but I feared what waited inside was quite the contrary. Yet everything remained calm. We were so close, I couldn't let my guard down now.

"Dad, why all the sneaking around?" Evie asked.

"Because someone doesn't want us to get there."

"What are you talking about, someone is after us? Who?" Evie asked anxiously.

"I don't know who. I thought it was the man whose body you saw on the stairs, but now I'm at a loss. I just know there is someone, and they don't want me to uncover the dark secret the city holds."

"Dad, you killed that man, didn't you?"

"I wasn't going to let anyone harm you. I did what I had to do."

Evie paused to think about those words. I could see the appreciation but she was still playing catch-up to the level of disregard for human life here in the city. I could sympathize with her struggle to come to grips with my actions, as I felt that way when Hidell had forced me to intervene and save Sophia's life.

"What do we do when we get in there, Dad?" Evie asked.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the toe tag I had taken off of Evie in the morgue.

"This is your ticket home," I said, holding up her toe tag.

"My ticket home? Why would I want to leave?" Evie stated, "I want to be here with you."

"I know, honey, but this place is evil; it preys on people. It turns the best of a man into an animal and doesn't look back. I love you too much to let you go through what I have here," I replied, almost pleading with her. "Think about your mother, Claire, and all those people who in your final moments you thought didn't care. They miss you, honey. The same way you missed me," I said sincerely. "There is one way out of this damned city and it's through that mausoleum. We need to get you to your crypt there with this toe tag to transfer you home."

"My crypt? You expect me to climb back into a hole in a wall? I'm pretty much done with confined spaces, Dad." Evie balked at my plan.

"Evie, I know how it sounds, but we don't have any other choice. You can't stay here. I wish there was a way I could help you understand. I lost more than I could have ever imagined the day I gave up. Not only did I give up a life with you, your mom, my band, but I ended up here, where I was subjected to sitting on the sidelines watching the real world through camera feeds," I explained with great regret.

"What?" Evie asked in surprise.

"Screens. Everyone's most intimate moments where they decide whether or not they want to continue to live is transmitted here. When I ended my life I was front-page news here."

"So you saw me when I...?"

"The moments that lead up to it, yes," I explained with a heavy heart.

I could see her entire demeanor change as she became overcome by emotion. Finally she could understand the anguish that this place created. This Godless city and all of its empty promises, how I grew to hate it so.

"When I knew you had made up your mind I left to recover you before anyone else could," I said, hoping to add a silver lining. "This place isn't your place, Evie. Are you ready to go home?"

Evie fell silent, acknowledging that I was looking out for her best interest. A single tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. It was hitting home that soon she would again be without her father. It hurt me just as much knowing that after all this time I was again abandoning Evie in a sense, but there was no other choice. I swallowed, trying to hold back my own tears. I needed to be strong now for her sake.

I scanned the room, transitioning my mind back to the task at hand. Once we got over there we would need something to get into the crypt. I sifted through the piles of tools laying around the shop area. Screwdrivers, hammers, and the occasional bucket of nails; most of what I found was beat to hell but finally I found an old pry bar partially hidden under some random refuse. I pulled it out and examined it. Rust had begun to eat at its core but it was still plenty strong enough. I handed it to Evie to carry.

"Here, hold on to this; if anyone approaches you wield it like a weapon. No hesitation, got it?"

I took one more look out the window to make sure the coast was still clear, then gently opened the door, letting the cold, crisp night breeze run across my face as I took my first step outside. Misted rolled over the grass-covered ground, carried by a light wind. Evie and I did our best to keep on our planned path, avoiding detection. While I felt in my heart someone was out here to stop us, there was an odd sense of calm that came over me. For just a moment it was as though nobody was watching. The mausoleum was almost diminutive in size, far smaller than you would think when weighed with its importance to this city. Built from stone, the double doors were constructed from metal, beautifully plain, but the ornate metal work showed someone had cared when they designed them. Two large hoop rings acted as handles and as we approached the door I could see a thick chain hanging from one of them. If this building was meant to be locked up, it wasn't right now.

Evie held the pry bar up to her chest, ready to attack in a moment's notice but afraid all in the same moment. I looked at her and she looked at me as we prepared ourselves for what was to come. Revolver in hand, I reached for the ring handle and pulled with all my might, swinging open the door and releasing a centuries-old creak as the door scraped along the concrete landing we stood on.

The interior of the mausoleum was not what I expected. The walls were decorated by the marble slabs that sealed individual crypts along each either wall. Ornate, gold-crested plaques were attached to the front of each crypt with names inscribed to identify the person who had been laid to rest. A floral aroma wafted throughout the building. The main corridor had numerous side halls that provided ample opportunities for someone to be concealed from sight, causing me to pay extra attention to avoid an ambush.

Whoever cared for this building clearly took pride in their work. At the end of the corridor was a beautiful, well-lit, circularly shaped room surrounding a lavish bubbling fountain. If ever there was, that room would be the place for a Royal's final resting place.

"Is anyone here, Dad?" Evie whispered.

"I don't know," I replied quietly.

Evie followed me as we crept down the corridor, doing my best to look in every nook and cranny that could be used as a point of ambush. I glanced at the nameplates as we passed by but none of the names inscribed rang a bell. What was more interesting was the lack of dates. This city truly was so self-absorbed that time was of no value. Everyone lived in the moment and while time passed, it was never kept. It was increasingly harder to remain masked within the shadows as we inched closer to the grand room. The light from the far room flooded into the rest of the mausoleum and the sound of running water continued to amplify. This was where my journey would come to an end, and even though the Grim Reaper felt ever present I wasn't sure who he planned to take with him. I had solace in the fact that whatever the case, Evie was almost home. I stopped short of the wondrous circular room and looked back at Evie, knowing this was it.

"I love you, honey," I said with a smile.

She just looked back at me, torn by what she wanted and what was best for her, but I knew no matter what she would finally feel the depth of my love for her.

"It's time to get you home," I said as I stepped across the threshold into the room.

A palace couldn't have held a more breathtaking room. Extravagant, white-marble columns reached up to the high vaulted ceilings. Each crypt was trimmed in beautiful gold leaf and had its own niche vase holding freshly cut red roses giving off the magnificent aroma I had noticed when we first entered. Never had I seen anything like this place.

I wandered the room, sticking closely to the walls, reading each nameplate. Looking at how high the crypt slots continued to stack up the walls I was in awe of how many Royals had had been a part of this city. There had to be a hundred or more, all with their own stories and experiences here. How they impacted the city, how they were remembered or forgotten, all that history in this one room. I continued to pace, looking for anyone I recognized, finally finding Hidell's name on a plaque. I rested my hand on his crypt and let out a sigh. I wished things had ended differently, but there was little else that I could have done. If I hadn't killed him he might be resting his hand on my crypt, wishing the same as I lay resting here. Snapping out of the moment, I remembered we needed to find Evie's crypt before anyone else showed up.

"Evie, look for your name on a plaque," I hollered to her.

Standing in complete awe of her surroundings, she hadn't moved from the entrance, so I pointed for her to work her way around the room in the opposite direction.

"My name?" she repeated.

"Yes, we don't have much time," I replied urgently.

I quickened my step as I scanned the names on each crypt. I did a double take finding Rhino's resting spot. The plaque simply read "Maurice Rhinehardt," hardly doing justice for such a profound man. Continuing my search, I began to worry that Evie's crypt wouldn't yet be here but I kept searching. I couldn't stop until all options were exhausted.

"Any luck?" I asked Evie.

"I don't see it, Dad," she replied.

"Okay, keep looking," I said, only half paying attention to her.

Time was beginning to work against us as the seconds ticked away. I became frantic in my pace, looking for Evie's name. The search was never ending; where was my needle in the haystack? I started looking up the stacks higher and higher, scanning each name, no longer paying attention to the rest of the room as I should have. I had to find it; I couldn't fail her now.

"Dad," Evie said. "Dad," she repeated more sternly.

I was so focused on the task before me that I didn't even notice her attempts.

"Dad!" Evie yelled, startling me.

"What is it, did you find it?" I asked hopefully, turning my attention to her.

"No, I found you," she said soberly.

I looked at her blankly as I tried to understand what exactly she meant. She was pointing at a crypt one row up from the floor. I slowly moved in her direction, wondering if there was any possibility that my crypt might help us. Sure enough, when I got across the room I saw my name written on the plaque. Even when it's clear that you're alive and well there is a certain anguish that comes with seeing a loved one's name this way. A tear rolled down Evie's cheek as she stared at the resting place that had been made up for me. This wasn't the first time she had looked at a plaque that bore my name. I grabbed the pry bar from her hand and tucked my gun away. The truth of everything would be behind this marble slab. If you could really go home, there had to be something inside: my toe tag, a note, some shred of evidence to legitimize all of this speculation. I wanted evidence, something that proved to me the stories were true.

"This is where we find the truth," I said aloud as I placed the pry bar in the seam between two marble slabs.

I leaned in and wrenched on the bar with all my might as Evie looked on, but just as soon as I did I was startled by a voice, causing my grip to slip off of the pry bar. I dropped it to the ground, causing a loud metallic clanking sound.

"Ah, Conner, you've made it. And you brought your daughter; I do love a family affair," Niles said as he appeared from the shadows.

"Niles? What are you doing here?"

"I knew you were dead set on leaving me and the club behind, but I just found the idea of that too hard to swallow so I thought I'd beg you to reconsider," Niles explained with a faintly villainous grin on his face.

"I don't understand. What's it matter to you if I stay or go?" I asked.

"I need you, Conner. Everything I've built revolves around you," Niles explained.

"But I signed everything over to you, it's all yours. It was always your genius, your ideas, your algorithms; you deserve the credit," I explained, trying to understand why Niles was so upset by my decision to leave.

"Ah, therein lies the problem. You're right, it was all my masterminding, but I needed the right face, and you were the one who made it all work. Without you the people lose interest. Everyone wants to be associated with the great Conner Haro," Niles said snidely. "You used to say that even the Devil worked for you, and you know what, you never realized how close to the truth that statement really was," he said with a chuckle.

"You were the one who threw the rock through the window?" I asked as I put the pieces together.

"That's the best question you can come up with in the midst of all of this? Yes, I was the one who threw the rock," Niles said. "I couldn't let Bryce kill you and I knew if he got to your precious Evie first you would be of no use to me anymore," he explained. "I worked so hard to create all of this and now here you are trying to ruin it."

"Niles, that was never my intent," I replied, trying to de-escalate the situation. "I don't understand. You created all of what, Niles? " I asked perplexed.

"What I created was an illusion," Niles said wickedly. "I awoke in this city and herded onto a bus with all the other regular citizens. Life was nothing more than a line, no different than the real world. Stand here, wait your turn, get a number. It was a joke, unless you were Royal. It didn't take me long to realize that if I were going to last here I needed to take matters into my own hands. Everyone is so blinded by glamour of the city, living it up like they were Royal themselves and hiding their insecurities as if they didn't exist. In a place that promises to give you anything I found wanting something I still couldn't have. I wanted power, but without being a Royal I would never achieve my greatest desire."

It was hard to believe the possibility that my closest confidant, business partner, and friend had been scheming this whole time. Was everything we had built on a foundation of deception? It further fueled my disgust for this place. I began to wonder if any of this was real. Did I wake up in a new city, did I transfer from the real world to some parallel, or was it exactly what the bartender denied on the first night I spent in this city? Hell is a specific description for a broad subject, but no matter how sliced it, this was Hell.

"Is any of this real, Niles?" I asked in frustration. "Are we living, breathing, evolving, or is this Hell?"

"The city is anything you want it to be, Conner. You can either flourish or become part of the herd. This place is more real than anything you have ever experienced. What matters is what you make of the opportunity, and I personally have worked very hard to flourish and you aren't going to mess that up for me now," Niles threatened.

"When I got here I was lost, dejected. I had been chewed up and spit out by society. If you had offered me a second chance I would have declined it, but I woke up forced into one and I had a choice to make. The first couple days I contemplated ending it all over again but I came to a realization: if I can transfer here, there must be a way to transfer back. If I could bring the knowledge of this parallel city back to the real world the accolades would be endless. I would finally be the buzz of the scientific community. So I put my background in physics to work as I began testing my hypothesis. It was trial and error at first. I used the guinea pigs that filled this city as my test subjects as I began searching for that exit. To lure my unsuspecting test subjects in I had to create a hoax that would peak their interest."

"The toe tags," I said, unraveling the mystery I had so long been chasing.

"Correct; those magical tickets home that come attached to Royals," Niles said sarcastically.

Niles was behind it all. Every story, rumor and myth that the city offered all lead back to him and his conniving ways. I pulled Evie's tag from my pocket and held it in my palm, staring at it. Was it over? I could feel the hope of sending Evie home quickly disappearing. This tag was nothing more than a flimsy piece of refuse that I had killed for, seen others kill for, and watched transform the best of us into something unrecognizable. I looked at Evie, trying to hide my heartbreak. I had failed her. She shot back a look that told me it was okay, but to me it wasn't. This was my one chance to undo all the wrong I had ever done and I failed.

I looked at the crypt that bore my name; how fitting as I stared at my final resting place and watched my hopes fade away. Everything was being laid to rest in this very moment. But what was behind that marble slab? It meant little now, but I had to find out. What if Van wasn't inside? What if my toe tag was inside? If I didn't investigate I might never find the validation I was in search of. I shot a glance back at Niles as he stood quietly watching me digest this flood of information. He could tell I wanted to see what was inside my crypt.

"By all means, Conner, open it up."

I retrieved the pry bar from the ground and again positioned it in the seam between slabs. I wrenched on the bar, leveraging myself to maximize my strength, but still it was no easy feat. I pried time and time again, making little headway until finally it pulled away from the wall. My headway spurred me on, giving me a second wind. I repositioned my hands, wiped a bead of sweat from my brow, and gave one final pull with all my might, dislodging the marble slab and causing it to crash to the ground, shattering into pieces.

"Oh God, that smell," Evie said as she covered her nose and turned away.

There was Donavan, his body enduring years of decay, and the putrid smell that came with it. His body looked anything but peaceful. He wasn't laid to rest, but rather imprisoned, judging by the way he was positioned in a hunched position on hands and knees right up against where the marble had entombed him. Broken fingernails and dried blood on his hands showed he was trying to claw his way out in a desperate final attempt to escape. I reached down to pick up a portion of the marble slab and flipped it over, verifying my worst suspicions.

"You buried him alive, you monster," I said as I looked back at Niles.

"He had served his purpose, Conner. I no longer needed his services after he delivered you," Niles retorted with a smile on his face.

"When he delivered me to you?" I repeated.

"Sure, how else do you think I got that note from Donavan? Oh, you really don't remember. Van handed you a note inside the bar the night he rescued you. The same note you then handed over to your cabbie just moments later. Did you even look at the driver?" Niles asked.

I thought back to that night. Replaying the events in my head I remembered Donavan's face as he shared a successful smile when he conversed with the bartender. The taxi driver had opened the door for me and stood next to it with an impassive look on his face. In all these years, every interaction with Niles, how did I never place that face? It was him; from the very beginning he had orchestrated every move. I was a pawn in his master plan, even passing along correspondence between him and Donavan on that fateful night. My blood began to boil. This son of a bitch controlled my every move. Nothing I accomplished here was my own. Nothing was spontaneous; it was scripted. I was the lead performer in Niles' master production.

"It was all you, everything I have been through, everything I have accomplished here, you scripted my every move," I said loathingly.

"I did what was necessary to accomplish my goals," Niles replied.

"I wasn't a Royal, I was a pawn!"

"You can't be too upset; after all, I did my best to take care of you. Your house, your car. Everything was hand-picked by me. You received much better treatment than I got when I arrived here. When I got here I was a failed physicist who saw an opportunity and made the moves I had to make. When I saw you show up on those screens I knew I found the final piece to my elaborate plan. The person who could help me create everything you and I have. Look how great our partnership has been," he added.

"I trusted you, Niles," I said in a daze.

"And you still can. If it weren't for me you would have died in the asylum before Donavan ever had a chance to rescue you," Niles explained.

"Because of your lies! Nobody would have cared about me or my toe tag if it weren't for you and your deceit."

"Come on, Conner, we own this city and everyone inside it. We are good for each other. Why leave with all the success and power we have? I'm sure we could find something for Evie here. The club is always looking for new entertainment," Niles said.

Niles' crude words only further infuriated me. I reached for my revolver, pulling the hammer back as I took aim at Niles. I stepped in front of Evie, shielding her from Niles as I centered him in my crosshairs.

"Now, you don't want to do anything hasty, Conner. Let's think about this; if you kill me how will you ever get your precious Evie home?" Niles asked calmly, a satisfied grin on his face. "If you kill me neither of you will ever get home."

"How do I know that you know the way, Niles? Everything I was led to believe has been a lie, yet you expect me to believe you know the way to get back to the real world?"

As soon as those words exited my mouth I realized that he was the one. The man the bartender had alluded to and the one who Rhino witnessed that night long ago. It was unbelievable. He really had found a way to bounce back and forth between the city and the real world we all yearned to get back to. What was even more impressive was that he had kept his findings a secret for all this time.

"Judging by your face you have already connected the dots. I'm the one," he said in a satisfied tone. "I knew there had to be and it took me years to find it, but if you could transport here there had to be a way back. One-way streets don't exist in the universe we live in. But if I let anyone know how there would have been a mass exodus. Even worse, I would lose my power over everyone. This city gives you everything you want, until you realize what you really want is what you left behind. I can show you the way; that is, if you can give me what I want in return."

"And what is that?" I asked as my heart began to race.

"I want you, Conner. I worked so hard and I'm not about to let it all crash down and fail because you had a moral breakthrough," he explained. "You left the real world for a reason, and you know it's more important that Evie gets a second chance."

"Dad, no," Evie said as her voice trembled.

I looked over my shoulder at Evie as she began to tear up. "I have to, honey."

"In the Bible the images of water were often used to symbolize new life," Niles ranted. "And while I'm not a man of God, I came to realize there might be something to that rhetoric. You see, it's this fountain that holds the answers to this city's biggest mystery, a symbol of new life in this room of death. I didn't figure it out right away, it took years of experimenting but when I did, I knew I had something far greater than anything I could ever have achieved back in the real world. So I held on to my newfound knowledge, continuing to manipulate who I needed to while I hatched my master plan. And look at all that we have accomplished Conner."

I looked around at the room. The sound of the fountain bubbling caught my attention as I took a few steps toward it and gazed at its rippling waters. Was this really the end? I exhaled as a sense of relief overtook me. The water was so serene, simple in its elegance. The answer to my question stood before me and, while it wasn't what I expected, it was everything I had hoped for.

"If this fountain is the answer to it all, why the mausoleum, why all the work to keep this room in such pristine condition?"

"I would expect more from you, Conner. Don't you see, I couldn't just let the fountain outshine the rest of this place. While the crypts are useless on their own, they work perfectly to hide the true portal home right in plain sight. Ask Donavan how well it worked," Niles said, pointing toward the corpse. "It actually became a point of pride for me, if we are being completely honest."

I stared him down, still pointing the revolver at him as I weighed my options. This was the moment, everything had led up to this and I knew Evie's road home rested solely on the next few minutes and what agreement Niles and I could come to.

"So if I stay you will let Evie go?" I asked Niles.

"I need the face of our business, Conner. Your precious daughter will get her ticket home, and you and I will continue to be kings amongst mere mortals."

"I just want to take care of my daughter," I said as I turned to look at Evie. "I'll do it," I said, lowering the gun and holstering it.

No sooner had I stored my revolver than the momentarily silence was interrupted by the sharp sound of a pistol.

The bullet tore into my chest. I stumbled backward, clutching near my heart. My heel clipped the edge of the fountain and I fell back into its waters.

"No!" Evie and Niles yelled in unison.

I struggled to keep my head above water as I gasped for breath in the shallow water. My blood mixed with the water, my body trying to compensate for the trauma. The intense pain burned deep into my chest and the room slowly began to fade as I saw a familiar figure step out from the shadows, pistol in hand. It was Rhino. I closed my eyes for one final time as images of the city flashed before my eyes.

Fuck this city. Everything it stood for and everything it took from me; let it drown in its own narcissism and let any shred of evidence to my existence here disappear into oblivion. Let me fade away and never be remembered. My hatred manifested in beautiful imagery, providing closure to everything I had known here. The gas stove ran for hours, filling my residence to capacity before the furnace kicked on, igniting the place, exploding into thousands of pieces of tinder; everything burned down to its bare foundation. Never again would that empty castle seduce a weary resident.

Images of Sophia smiling as she posed for the camera entered my mind. Flashbulbs extenuating every curve of her perfect body, never exposing the imperfection she hid deep within. She lacked true happiness, but not even I could convince her of that. The broken need their inner peace.

Rhino deserved that plot of land, the look on his face as he pulled up driving my sleek car, stepping out looking over the farm, sun shining down on him, feeling the warm satisfaction that had long escaped him. He would live off the land and never deal with the cold reality of the city life again. Where he would flourish, others were doomed to fail.

Rick sat at the club, pissing his money away on women and booze, making him like many others two-time losers in the city; but as long as the girls spun on their poles, he didn't notice how his fortune dwindled. The people would still party, the night lived on endlessly, and the bartender was there to fulfill whatever vice you needed. Masking its loathing and self-pity, the city never stopped. But for me it was my time to fade away. My only regret was Evie never made it home; for that I would be forever sorry.

Emptiness. If there was a more solitary confinement, I hadn't found it. The dark color of nothingness surrounded my being, which was caught between everything I aspired to accomplish and tried to escape. The curtain fell and I was torn away, suspended in the balance. This was my end. I'm so sorry I failed you, Evie. Just then, my minds infinite wandering was interrupted. Far in the distance I heard the faintest sound.

"We've got get him to trauma room one now. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Conner, stay with us, baby. Please hold on!" a familiar voice pleaded as sounds began to get closer.

It was Evie's mother, Claire.

"Is he going to make it?" she asked in a panic.

"It's too soon to tell. Let us do what we do, ma'am," another voice replied.

The sounds of gurney wheels squeaked as it was rushed down a sterile hall. The sounds of machines beeping rhythmically came from either side of me. Commotion abounded.

"Get that transfusion ready!" a strong voice yelled.

The gurney I laid upon continued its forward motion, but as it rounded the corner it came to an abrupt halt, crashing into something.

"Everyone out of the way!" someone yelled.

The sudden jerk of the gurney stopping startled me. I reached out, bracing for a secondary impact.

My eyes shot open. I'm home.

