As if there was any doubt...

The night sky plays a perfect backdrop for the uncontrolled orgy of shining lights in the middle of a damn desert known as the Las Vegas Strip. Amidst the losers who couldn't win big and the drunks who were kicked out of one too many establishments, is Derrick Montenegro, still carrying the briefcase he got when he arrived on Earth.

A large, hairy, shirtless man stops in front of the Chieftain. His face painted white, with black dots on his eyes. Without a word, he moves in motions mimicking actual exercise, something he obviously should actually do for once in his life. As he moves his arms about and shows a look of concern as if he was actually stuck inside of an invisible box, Derrick can't help but notice the man's rolls of fat jiggle almost as if they were being pushed by the cool breeze of the night.

Curiosity overwhelms the Chieftain, who decides to stand by and watch the fat, mute man perform his little act. A young couple, no older 22 stands near him, enthralled by the bizarre performance. Shaking his head dismissively, Derrick continues his walk, pushing the mime out of the way.

The rest of the Strip is likewise filled with morons, as the Chieftain soon finds out. Continuing his walk, a man with a desperate pleading look in his eyes and a six shooter in his hand approaches Derrick. He points the gun directly at the Chieftain's chest and shouts at him:

"Give me that briefcase!"

Derrick however just smiles and stares at the man, his eyes begging the poor sap to shoot him. The anger in the desperate man's eyes intensifies, much to the pleasure of the Chieftain. It had been far too long since he had used someone's own energy of wrath against them.

"Fuck. You."

A primal roar escapes the armed man's mouth as gets as close as physically possible to Derrick without being inside him. He pushes the Chieftain to the ground and stands over him, gun placed to his "victim's" temple. A crowd gathers in a circle around the two men, shock and awe radiating out of their very essence.

"I'm not going to tell you again, give me the damn briefcase!"

It was at that point when Derrick realized he still had possession of the thing the man wanted, that it was still in his left hand where it had been for hours. Smirking, the Chieftain calmly shakes his head no at the man.

"I don't want to use this thing man! I got debts to pay, though! I will if I have to!"

Placing his right hand on the man's shoulder, Derrick begins to laugh.

"Don't worry, you won't have to..."

The gunman begins to ease up a bit, pulling the gun away from Derrick's head.

Big mistake.

Using the hand that was placed on his attacker's shoulder, the Chieftain pushes him back and leaps to his feet. Angered, the gun wielding man aims his gun at Derrick once more and pulls the trigger.

A loud bang is heard, followed by a laugh from the Chieftain who's now bleeding from his stomach. Not appearing to be slowed down much, Derrick leaps at the shooter and punches him in the jaw, sending him down to the ground for once.

His eyes widened by the man who just knocked him down, the gunman doesn't even think to use the other five bullets. In fact, he tosses the gun to the sidewalk next to him and stands up, his now free hand placed precisely on the wounded part of his jaw.

"He lives! How convenient!"

The man rushes at Derrick, who nonchalantly grabs his arm and flips him over, forcing his back to land hard on the ground again. His hand still wrapped around the man's arm, Derrick decides that he isn't exactly finished just yet. Looking around the upper body of his supposed attacker, he appears to be measuring the grounded man up. Finally, his left leg lifts itself off of the ground and comes back down on the poor man's chest, forcing the air out of him.

"And, for my final trick!"

Letting go of the arm, Derrick turns his attention to the briefcase that's still in his left hand. A sickening smile crosses his lips as he kneels over the man who's just trying to inhale what air he can.

"You wanted my briefcase? Now you got it!"

Lifting the briefcase high above his head, Derrick uses both hands to slam the contraption made of hard plastic down on the man's face. When he pulls the briefcase back up, a stream of blood is seen flowing from the gunman's face down to his chest.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Derrick wipes the man's blood of the thing that's holding his money. He turns to the crowd and performs a single bow, to the applause of the now even more brain dead buffoons.

As he exits through the circle that crowd that circled him, he comes up to a fountain that must belong to the large building behind it. He clutches his stomach in pain, knowing now that the high he received from his "attacker's" anger has passed, and he's now back to his supposed state of normality.

He collapses in front of the fountain, blood really pouring out of the wound at this point. Unbeknownst to a couple that walks by him, the same that he had seen earlier admiring the fat man, he overhears the name of the building he's stuck in front of.

Caesars Palace...