"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."

- Tyler Durden



Sin City
Friday

The city is louder than you could imagine. The sounds echo for miles through the desert. The streets of old Las Vegas are polluted with paper and other pieces of garbage blowing all around. Inside a casino, hundreds of people in a simulatneous motion pull coins from a cup and insert them into the slot machines. Hoping for a prize? Hoping for riches? Hoping for freedom? Everyone is there for their own reason. Maybe they just like the pressing of buttons. Or just the thrill to spend endless time and the risk of amounting to nothing. As the robots continue their automated motions, seven floors up in a hotel room restroom, The Ex-Detective wakes up.


Raising his head off the seat of the toilet, he cradles it in his hands. Sweat drips off his nose and it splashes into the bloody vomit-water below. There is a small bottle of tequila about a quarter full laying beside him. He picks it up, unscrews the cap, and takes a gulp. He swishes the tequila around his mouth for a few moments then swallows it with a gasp. He remains to sit and leans back against the wall. His face is pale and dark circles appear under his eyes as if he hasn't had a wink of sleep in months.

He lights a cigarette and manages to lift himself to his feet. He walks over to the sink and throws several handfulls of water to his face. He's dressed nicely. No plain tee shirt nor a fancy bow-tie. But nicely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls a small notepad from it. He shuffles through the pages, looking each over just for a moment. He takes another swig from the bottle and stuffs it and the notepad down his pants and walks out of the restroom. He walks down a narrow hallway to an elevator to take him to the main lobby.

Trevor- I don't really remember, but it seems like I've covered it all... Why the hell do I do this again?

Money...

The Ex-Detective rubs his eyes and stumbles into the lobby. A blurry exit sign shines and waves at him from miles away. He needs to go through the casino and avoid everyone he possibly can. He walks. It feels like someone is following him around beating him in the head with a ball-peen hammer as the lights and sirens go off around him. He reaches the door and exits out onto the street. A rush of relief crosses through his body as the warm Vegas air hits him. He makes it a few blocks then turns down one alleyway. A pair of headlights come on ahead of him and the headache he thought he had got a lot worse for a moment. Everything went black.



"You're a bit late, Mister Dedntik."

Trevor opens his eyes and the world around him is still black. He looks around a bit and pulls his arms but they're bound to the chair he sits in. He relaxes.

Trevor- So, this was easier than just giving me the address then, huh?

The Ex-Detective realizes what has happened to him. He had an appointment and these fellows were sure he wasn't going to miss it. Without bothering to loosen the nylon rope around his neck, one of the men pull the bag from his head. It jerks his head around and the rope nearly took his nose with it. Adjusting to the light he sees a familiar face staring at him from behind a desk in front of him. The fat man running the whole show.

Trevor- Are we still going to play Cowboys and Indians here or are we going to get down to business?

The Boss- YOU are the one at fault here, Mister Dedntik.

The Ex-Detective looks around the room and sees all of the other familiar faces.

Money.

The Boss gives a few men the motion and they approach the Ex-Detective. One lunges out and punches him in the ribs and another across the face. Blood splashes out of his mouth onto the floor. Another man from behind comes up and cuts the cables from around his wrists. The Ex-Detective falls to the floor and spits up a bit more blood. The Boss looks on and nods to the men. They lift him from the ground and throw him back into the seat from which he fell.

The Boss- I recommend you remember who it is you work for now, Mister Dedntik. Now, enough of this formal greeting. Tell me, Trevor, how's my detective?

Trevor- ... Does anyone have a smoke?

If no one has a smoke, you're all dead.

The Boss sits back in his chair and sighs. He waves to a lackey to provide his guest with what he needs.

Trevor- I'm not a detective anymore, remember? You did well to take care of that.

He reaches over the desk and grabs the glass of whiskey in front of the Boss. One of the lackeys slap the Ex-Detective in the back of the head and throws him back to the chair.

The Boss- Now, now. Get our friend a drink here. It's time to see what he's come up with.

The Ex-Detective pulls reaches into his pants and realizes the notepad and tequila are gone. He thought about it and should've known better.

The cocksuckers probably drank the rest of it on the way here...

After picking him up in an unorthodox way, they simply took what they needed. This is the third job he's done for this organization and is hoping it's not his last one.

The Boss pulls a large blueprint and the Ex-Detective's notepad from below and places them on the desk.

The Boss- Now, Mister Dedntik, let's see if you still got it, hm?

The Ex-Detective stands from the chair, takes a big drink, and begins going over all of the details this man hired him to get. Security details, anything from guards to cameras, populated areas, points of interest, et cetera. He feels a bit lucky this time but his stress level is about to it's peak.

"I wonder if it would be appropriate to ask them to stop at a liquor store before they drop me off..."


Fremont Street
Early Saturday

The Ex-Detective wakes up. He's lying on a couch in his apartment on Fremont Street, just a bit east of 11th Street. He peels his face from the couch cushion and sits up. His jaw cracks a bit from the shot he took earlier. He reaches over and grabs the bottle of Crown Royal on the floor and takes a chug. The apartment is falling apart, the furniture is old, and nothing except for a few lights really works. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a brown envelope loaded with cash. He begins shuffling through it, counting each bill on it's way by. He stuffs it all back in and walks across the apartment. He goes into his single bedroom and into the closet. Pulling a zippo from his pocket he lights a cigarette with it and uses it for a light. Inside the closet he removes a few loose bricks and retrieves a small safe box from inside the wall. He enters the seven digit code required for entry and opens it. The entire box is stacked nearly full of one hundred dollar bills. He pulls the money he just received from the envelope and stacks it nicely with the rest.

After putting everything back to the way it was, he goes to leave the bedroom. He stops in his tracks after he catches a quick smell of cigar. The noisy city on the outside ceased to exist as you could hear a pin drop. He exits the bedroom and walks back into the front room. An old man sits in a chair in the middle of the room smoking a cigar. The man wore a white suit and carried a briefcase that set beside him.

Trevor- And just WHAT the fuck do you think you're doing?

The Ex-Detective can't make out a face. The lighting of the room, once again, is no good. All he can see is a silhouette breathing smoke. The stranger speaks.

"Hello, my friend"

A chill runs up the Ex-Detective's spine and he stumbles back.

That voice... I know that voice...

Trevor- Lou?

The man leans forward revealing his face.

Doctor D'Ville- Hello Trevor.

The Doctor smiles at the Ex-Detective and puffs a long time from his cigar. The cherry glows brightly and reflects off of his eyes.

Trevor- Well? What the FUCK do you think you're doing? It's been a long time, Doc. You look different.

Doctor D'Ville- Is that any way to treat an old friend? Perhaps, I've just come for a visit.

Trevor- I think we've had enough visits, don't you? It's been a long time, Lou. Just answer my question. I know you want something, what is it?

What the fuck happened to his face...?

The Doctor laughs to the Ex-Detective's face. He looks around the room.

Doctor D'Ville- My word, Trevor. A bit more supine these days, aren't we?

The Doctor walks over to the table which held the Crown Royal bottle. He opens it and takes a drink.

Trevor- It's hard to give a fuck when there's nothing to give a fuck about there Doc. I see you're still fighting some demons yourself.

Doctor D'Ville- My demons and I get along just fine, my friend.

The Doctor places the bottle back on the table and motions for Trevor to sit down.

Doctor D'Ville- This is not a session, Trevor. I have a bit of a request...

The Ex-Detective laughs.

Trevor- Ha! You? You have a request for me? Enlighten me, Lou. What could you possible want from me?

Doctor D'Ville- Your services, of course.

Trevor- I don't do that shit anymore, Doc. I've lost my touch. And if I remember correctly, I don't owe you shit. We're square, remember?

If the Ex-Detective's fingers could draw in the air, they would've drawn a box.

Doctor D'Ville- You're retired then? Hm.

The Doctor points to the television across the room and it lights up. The Ex-Detective watches himself be drug into a car, drug into an office, and tied to a chair. He watches himself speak to a to a man in a fat suit. The man throws him an envelope and the Ex-Detective gets bopped in the head once more.

No wonder my head's killing me...

Trevor- Thanks for filling in the gaps, Lou. So, yeah, maybe I get some work every once in a while. I am, or atleast I was, a little tied up at the moment.

Doctor D'Ville- What a dilemma then. I suppose there's no way to resolve this either. Unless?

Hmm.

The Ex-Detective looks at the Doctor. He looks over at the Crown Royal on the table and goes for it.

Trevor- Let's talk about this over a drink? Aye Doc?

The Ex-Detective tips the bottle back and closes his eyes. The two discuss what kind of plans the Doctor has for him.

Doctor D'Ville- I am currently in pursuit of my next patient.

I know what that's like...

Doctor D'Ville- His name is Todd Mischotti. An XWF cameraman that I've reached out to only to be led on a game of cat and mouse.

Trevor- So, you can't convince someone that they're crazy? Isn't that part of the job, Lou?

Doctor D'Ville- The cameraman is of no concern of yours, or mine. All I have to do is remove the influence behind his denial, my friend. When I remove Jacob from the equation and win the Television Title, Todd will be all alone. Now, you Trevor, I have a special assignment for you. I believe there is someone in the shadows. Watching. Although I do control time and space, I cannot take the time out of my schedule to address this.

Trevor- Someone is following you? C'mon Lou, and who's Jacob?

The Doctor stares a hole through the Ex-Detective.

Doctor D'Ville- Jacob is also no concern of yours. He stands in the way of achieving what I want. He continues to to mock my practices and refuses to listen to reason. Bantering on about my research and pointing out everywhere that I've lacked. I hope he's still counting my mistakes. Because the fact is, all of my inaccuracies before are irrelevant. A success in J-Pro? To be honest, I've never even heard of J-Pro. I'm aware of what it is so he can spare us all from explaining it and referring to me as "stupid". So, I never bothered with his past. Do you know why?

Jesus Christ... Lou you're crazier than I remember...

Doctor D'Ville- He parades around with it around his face. That ridiculous mask just screams, "Yes I have issues with my father. Yes I do drugs. And yes, if not now then at one time, I am very, very lonely." It's not the first time I've been called a phony and it certainly will not be the last. Provoking him will do me no good and making him angry is not a goal. I just don't want left out of anything special. There's a fire under that mask and I want it unleashed. I want the fury that brought the Television Title to his grasp. I want that same fury that brought him to the top of J-Pro. I want that fury unleashed on me. He may question whether I deserve a shot at him. In short time, it was EARNED. And whether he likes it or not, he will be treated. Gator... Jacob.. Is also no concern of yours, or mine.

Trevor- So, you want me to find out who's following you?

Doctor D'Ville- Precisely. I will handle the rest. I just want no distractions while I'm already dealing with a patient. If things get out of hand, my friend, do not hesitate to take extraordinary measures to fulfill my wishes. This next session of mine is very dear to me.

Trevor- ... And you'll take care of my problem?

Doctor D'Ville- I wouldn't want to have any distractions for you either, would I?


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*Song "Where is my mind?" performed by the Pixies