“One…two…THREE!”

Twilight wasn’t sure whether or not to feel amused at the three men straining to remove the broken pressurizer from under the floor. The replacement part for Skeeter’s hydraulic lift had arrived late in the afternoon, and the three of them had immediately gotten busy disassembling the rather large contraption so they could install it.

A task made slightly difficult by the fact that said replacement part weighed more than any two of them put together.

“Are you three sure you don’t want help?” she asked.

“Nah, we’re goo-GAH! FUCK!”

“Mah bad.” said Arnold sheepishly as he lifted the heavy machine off of Allen’s foot.

“Not that we don’t appreciate the offer, ‘cause we do, but it’s always jus’ kinda been the three of us. Ah know it probably sounds like traditionalist bullshit…and in all honesty it probably is…but we jus’ wouldn’t feel comfortable acceptin’ outside aid, even if that aid can use teminumkesis.” Skeeter explained before turning his attention back to the task at hand. “Alright…ya’ll two get up on the lip n’ get ready to haul this sucker out.”

Twilight nodded, supposing the mechanic’s answer made sense. After spending so many years as an unofficial family, some activities must feel almost sacred to the three of them, even something as mundane as replacing broken equipment. It was friendship on a level similar to what she had with Cadence and-

Wait…what was that last part?

Twilight looked back down at a breathless Skeeter, the question dancing on the tip of her tongue.

“Twilight.”

She looked over to see Allen staring at her, an amused look on his face as he leaned on the now-fully-extracted pressurizer. “Yes?”

“Don’t. You’ll save yourself a gigantic headache.” He looked down at Skeeter with a grin. “You did that on purpose.”

“Ya’ll can’t prove that.” the mechanic responded as he walked over and turned up the radio on the worktable.

Twilight shook her head at the antics of her three companions as they dragged the old part away and began the taxing process of carefully lowering the new one in.

“You should really invest in some sort of small crane for projects like this.” she commented.

“Actually, Ah’ve already got one. See that big square metal arch thing near the ceilin’ at the front?” She looked around until she noticed a large heavily-worn piece of equipment near the front of the garage, the top of it almost touching the ceiling. The bottom of the machine was set on tracks that stretched the length of the building, and a hook was attached to a track which ran under the top. “That beauty used to be able to slide back and forth across the shop, carryin’ machines and parts of all sizes. Sadly, she went shortly before the pressurizer did, and Ah ain’t had the money to git ‘er fixed.”

“Too bad.” she replied. “That would probably be pretty useful right now.”

“Probably.” Allen agreed. “But hey, no sense crying about something you can’t ch-AAAH! DUDE, SERIOUSLY!? AGAIN!?”

“Ah’m sorry! Mah hands keep gittin’ all sweaty!” Arnold said defensively.

Allen turned back to the new pressurizer, shaking his head in annoyance. Twilight silently wished he’d lighten up and stop taking it so personally. It was only an accident after all.

She watched as Arnold shot a grin at Skeeter, who responded with one of his own.

Wait a minute… she thought as she looked between the two men. That wasn’t an accident!

Twilight shook her head in confusion. Why would they intentionally drop the heavy piece of machinery on Allen’s foot? Had he done something to them and this was their way of getting back at him? No, that couldn’t be it. Not with the way they were grinning to each other.

Were they picking on him simply for the fun of it? To get a reaction from him? That seemed more likely.

He looked up at her for a moment, face contorted slightly with the effort of keeping the heavy machine in the air. She looked at Skeeter, then Arnold, then back to him as she tried to convey the information to him. She was slightly surprised when he simply nodded and mouthed his reply. I know.

She raised her hand, a pink aura surrounding it, and looked a question at him. He appeared to disagree at first, then shot a look at Arnold, the ghost of a smile still on the marine’s lips. He glared at him for a moment longer, then turned narrowed eyes back to Twilight and nodded.

She returned her attention to the twins, who tensed as they prepared to drop the heavy machine again, together this time. Skeeter mouthed a countdown to Arnold, who grinned as they prepared to assault Allen’s foot for a third time.

3…

Skeeter looked over at Allen, making sure he hadn’t noticed them.

2…

Twilight prepared herself to act as she wrapped her magic around the twins’ feet.

1…

Allen smiled as he felt the pressurizer begin to drop and pulled his foot back.

Now.

“AHH! SON OF A BITCH!” the twins screamed in unison, yanking their feet out from under the heavy machine as Allen stood hunched over in laughter.

“What in the name o’ Lincoln’s knickers just happened?” Arnold asked, pressing down on his toes to make sure they were still intact.

“Ah dunno!” Skeeter said with equal shock. “Mah foot wasn’t even under…the…”

He trailed off as he noticed Twilight innocently continuing to observe his old crane. Too innocently.

He looked to his left. Allen smiled back at him.

He looked back and forth between the two for a few seconds, slowly comprehending the situation. “Sonuva…”

“Karma’s a beautiful gal, ain’t she?” Allen said cheerfully.

Skeeter glared accusingly at the girl on the edge of the alcove, who had also turned to smile at him. “Karma’s a God damn cheat, ‘s what she is.”

Twilight sniggered. “Oopsie!”

Skeeter rolled his eyes and looked back at the pressurizer. “Alright, let’s quit fuckin’ around and line this sucker up so Ah can bolt ‘er in.”

“Hey, you guys started this.” Allen replied, still smiling as he grabbed a corner.

After they finished aligning the new part, Skeeter ordered his two assistants to take five while he mounted it to the floor. They did so without complaint, perfectly content to leave the mechanic to his business while they went to get a cold drink. They completely ignored the beers in the fridge in favor of waters, since there would be plenty of time for drinking later that night.

For a while, they all just stood around the worktable, listening to the racket made by Skeeter’s tools as he worked. Twilight sat on a stool, her eyes wandering over the many pieces of equipment in the shop. Allen took the occasional swig from his water bottle as he leaned against the table. Arnold stood up straight, occasionally glancing over at where his brother remained crouched by the base of the pressurizer, ready to act if he needed help.

He needn’t have bothered, though, as said brother emerged from the small alcove in the floor and wiped the grease and sweat from his face. He too approached the fridge and made to grab one of the ever-present brown bottles inside.

“Ahem.”

He turned around to find Allen raising an eyebrow at him in an expression he knew all too well. He looked away and saw his brother wearing a similar expression, while Twilight simply looked at him in silent pleading. He locked eyes with all three of them, then sighed and retrieved a water bottle instead. He took an exaggerated few gulps, then spread his arms out wide with his mouth still full, receiving a few eye-rolls in response.

He then took his rightful place in his fold-out and joined his friends in the companionable silence that had fallen over the garage, broken only by the music coming from the radio.

“Hey Allen, don’t you have to meet the Administrator soon?” Twilight asked suddenly.

“Yeah, I’ll have to go get ready soon.” he replied, then with a sigh he added, “And since Beauty’s still out of commission, I’ll be taking the turdmobile there.”

“Git ready?” Skeeter repeated, confused. “Whaddya mean?”

“You know; shower, eat something, make sure I’m ready for a gunfight…the basics.”

“‘Kay, them last two I get, but a shower? Why ya gotta look pretty fer that jackass?”

“Because whether I like it or not, that jackass is still my boss until he hands me my paperwork, as well as the only reason I’m going to be able to disappear. I’d prefer not to potentially jeopardize that plan by wearing your garage to our meeting.”

“Disappear? Where are you going?” asked Twilight.

“Canada.” Skeeter replied.

“Actually, I’m staying here.” Allen corrected.

Skeeter looked at him in surprise. “Since when?”

“Since yesterday. Admin called and told me he could do some magic tricks with my public records so that I could keep my basic profile and still stay off the radar. Basically, I’m going to be the same person and a complete stranger at the same time, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Twilight reassured him.

“Kind of.” Arnold said, scratching his head. “Why were ya’ll plannin’ on headin’ fer oak leaf country anyway?”

“Because I didn’t know Admin can do what he’s doing with my records. I thought I was going to have to leave the country so the feds couldn’t get to me, but I keep forgetting that Admin’s a freaking magician.”

“Well, shit man! And Ah was gonna start cryin’ at the bonfire party tonight!” Skeeter said, trying to refrain from laughing and look angry at the same.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Allen sassed.

“I still fail to understand why we’re blowing up a perfectly good automobile.” Twilight said, shaking her head.

“There ain’t nothin’ good about that monstrosity.” Arnold spat as he glanced over at the Prius in disgust.

“What’s wrong with it? It seems to be in good working order, and I read in one of your automobile enthusiast magazines that it can run on gas or electricity. That seems pretty efficient to me.”

“We wouldn’t expect ya to understand, seein’ as ya jus’ got here n’ all.” Skeeter explained. “That…thing…has rejected mah every attempt to give it performance upgrades and therefore make it more than a mindless machine. There’s nothing Ah can do with it, and that’s frusratin’ to say the least.”

“That’s why we hate it.” Arnold continued. “Allen’s reason fer hatin’ it goes along the same lines, but his is more…practical.”

“I understand exactly what you mean. He relies on his car to get him out of situations like the chase we were in two days ago. The Mach 1 handles quite effectively, can reach a higher speed than most vehicles, and has enough weight to hold its own when it has nowhere else to go, whereas the Prius, and I quote, ‘handles like a pregnant whale’.”

“Couldn’a said it better mahself.” Skeeter said with a chuckle.

“Shh.”

Everybody turned to look at Allen, who was fiddling with the volume dial for the radio. Twilight noticed that the music had ended, replaced by a man’s voice. Her heart sank as she heard what was being said.

“-the events of late Saturday evening. While it remains unclear who caused this city-wide power failure, its effects were devastating nonetheless. The death toll is set to reach above one hundred, and a good many more are in critical condition, despite the precautions taken by the city after the previous incident. The victims range from elderly patients on life support at home to critically inj-”

Skeeter abruptly stood up and switched off the radio. Allen made no move to stop him, instead hanging his head.

Twilight hugged herself as she felt the guilt settling in. They could have avoided all of this. The chase, the virus, their capture…it all could’ve been avoided if she hadn’t been such a fool. She was responsible for every life that had been lost that day. Essentially, she had killed all of them herself, and it weighed on her conscious like an anvil.

“This is all my fault.” she said miserably.

Allen immediately looked up at her. “What? No! Absolutely not!”

Twilight stared back at him, confused. “If I hadn’t gone off-”

“It’s not your fault.” he insisted, cutting her off. “You had every right to react the way you did. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine for not telling you about my job and for not thinking to look for a tracker.”

“Al, shut up. Ya’ll got as much right to blame yerself as she does.” Skeeter said sternly. They both stared at him in confusion, and he sighed before elaborating. “None.”

“So then who’s fault is it, Skeeter?” asked Allen flatly.

“Not to be rude, but this isn’t really the type of accident that just happens.” Twilight continued. “Someone has to be held responsible for this.”

“Personally, Ah blame the feds.” Arnold piped up. “Everything was fine n’ dandy before them starchy bastards showed up. Ah feel like they put ya’ll in a position where ya didn’t have any choice but to do whatcha did.”

“Exactly!” Skeeter said, gesturing toward Arnold. “Ya’ll wanna hold someone responsible? Hold them responsible! Everthin’ that’s gone on this past week’s happened ‘cause them fuckers can’t leave well ‘nough alone!”

Twilight looked over at Allen uncertainly, who calmly shook his head at the twins. “It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it ain’t! Ya’ll both need to quit overcomplicatin’ shit. Feds show up, feds cause trouble, feds don’t give a shit. End of story.”

Allen stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. Skeeter wasn’t going to let up until he did, so they might as well skip the drama. Plus, whatever prevented Twilight from thinking that any of this was her fault was a good plan.

“Great. Wonderful. Now chug yer water, grab yer coat, get in that shitstain on wheels, and go get ready for yer meetin’.”

“Make sure ya’ll clean behind your ears when ya git home.” Arnold added.

“And brush yer teeth…”

“…and comb yer hair…”

“…don’t forget flossin’…”

“Thank you Mom! Thank you Dad! I love you! Goodbye!” Allen said loudly, smiling as he snatched his jacket off the hook and made for the front door.

“Allen…” Twilight said quietly.

He stopped and turned around, slightly concerned at her tone. “What’s up?

She glanced worriedly at the twins, then looked back at him. “Please don’t leave me alone with them.”

Allen rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. They’re not that bad. Besides, if I’ve managed to survive over a decade with them, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

She sighed anxiously in response, earning another eye-roll from him as he turned around, got in the “car”, and set off for home. He floored the gas as he turned the corner, attempting to compensate for the time that said “car” was going to cost him.

((((((*******))))))

The faintest hint of red was all that remained of the sun’s light, the moon shining brightly upon Las Vegas as she began to stir. Already the distant sounds of music, laughter, and police sirens could be heard. Night life in Vegas was approaching full swing, and soon Allen and his friends would be enjoying their own festivities.

But there was one thing he had to do first.

It was nearing eight o’ clock when he parked in an alleyway just off the main road, got out, and started walking. When he’d first started his training as a fixer, this had been the time and place where he’d meet the instructor before traveling to another location to begin the day’s exercises. It only made sense that they should meet at the same time and place for this meeting.

He hadn’t been walking for more than five minutes when the hospital came into view. A brightly lit six-story building which took up an entire block just by itself, he’d been here one other time under much darker circumstances. He shuddered at the memory of his family’s bloodied forms entering the sliding glass doors on wheeled stretchers, then shook his head to clear it.

Stay focused, man. he thought as he covered his face and took a seat on a bench on the sidewalk.

He slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed the Administrator, the dial tone sounding once before the line picked up. “Admin.”

“I’m here.”

“One second.” replied the artificially deepened voice of his employer. There was a few seconds’ pause, then they spoke again. “Where are you?”

“On a bench out front.”

“Alright. Give me five minutes.”

The line went dead, and Allen put his phone back in his pocket. He stretched, then crossed his arms and legs to wait. There was hardly anyone else around, most of the city being either at home sleeping or on the Las Vegas strip partying. One or two people were walking on the other side of the road, but otherwise he was alone.

Suddenly he saw a red flicker on the concrete in front of him, and looked down to see a glowing red dot crawling around on his chest. He raised an eyebrow at it. Laser sights? Amateurs…

He drew his phone again, about to redial the Administrator. If someone noticed the dot on his chest, they’d call the cops, and the meeting would have to be rescheduled. He had been waiting three years for this moment. He was not waiting any longer.

“Leslie! Turn off your damn laser before you give us away!” ordered a nearby voice.

The dot on his chest immediately vanished, and he calmly slid his phone back into his pocket. A few seconds later, a young man in a suit and glasses took a seat next to him, setting a black leather brief case on the ground between them. He had sandy brown hair and appeared even skinnier than Allen, and positively reeked of authority.

Allen did his best not to stare directly at the newcomer as he took in his appearance. He could swear he’d seen a much older version of this man on a podium a few years ago, before Goodman had taken office.

Instead of addressing him, the man took out his phone and began rapidly sifting through menu options, ignoring him completely. Allen immediately recognized the act and played along. To any casual passersby, they were simply strangers who happened to be sharing a bench as they waited for someone to pick them up. There was nothing outstanding about them, so no one would pay them any mind.

Both men were silent for a long time before Allen finally decided it was time to get the ball rolling.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not.” the other man answered in a slightly nasally voice.

“You can’t be more than a few months older than me.”

“And yet I’m a skilled hacker and the kingpin of what is quickly becoming the most powerful underground organization in the country.”

Allen nodded and turned a little to the left to face the man.

“Are all your guards as skilled as Leslie, Admin?”

“Cut him some slack. It’s his first real assignment. You can take your mask off by the way. We’re invisible.”

“You call this a real assignment?” Allen replied as he pulled the scarf down from his nose. “My first assignment, I was thrown into the deep end and told to swim. If he can’t handle that, then what’s the point of having him around?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve set an outrageously high precedent. No one has the drive you did when you were training.”

“Except you, right?”

The other man looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Cyrus.”

He was silent for a long moment, then sighed dismissively. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Minus the wrinkles and gray streaks, you look exactly like him.”

“Well, saves having to explain it to you then.” Cyrus replied before tapping the briefcase with his foot. “Your old records are in one folder, your new ones in the other.”

“Good.” said Allen, grabbing it and standing up. “Thank you for doing this, and it’s been…an experience working with you.”

With that said, he began walking away, much to the confusion of his former employer.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Retiring. Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Cyrus sighed in exasperation. “So I go through the trouble of arranging a face-to-face meeting with my most valuable operative before his retirement, and he just says thank you and walks away? That’s fucked up.”

“What did you expect, a poem? The only reason I agreed to have this meeting was because I wanted to meet the guy behind the creepy voice. Otherwise, you could have just left this at a dead drop.”

“I expected that you’d have questions.” replied Cyrus in a slightly irritated voice.

“Questions?” Allen repeated with a laugh. “I learned to stop asking questions after my sixth job, because you refuse to answer them!”

“Well, now I’m an open book, so is there anything you want to know? Maybe how in the name of God the son of a mayor of Las Vegas became your former employer?”

Allen shook his head in amusement. “Even if it wasn’t already obvious, I doubt I’d care. No…”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow as he sat back down on the bench, then recoiled slightly at his sudden angry expression. “…what I’d love to know is why I’ve been stuck with you for three whole fucking years.”

Despite his change in demeanor, the Administrator answered quite calmly. “I believe I explained that when I hired you.”

“I WAS A FUCKING KID!!” he shouted angrily, making the other man jump slightly. “I’D LITERALLY GOTTEN MY DRIVER’S LICENSE THREE MONTHS BEFORE YOU HIRED ME!! WHAT THE HELL MADE IT ALRIGHT FOR YOU TO HIRE SOME RANDOM STREET PUNK TO DO YOUR DIRTY WORK!?”

“Calm down you idiot! I can’t help you if you get your brains blown out!”

For a few seconds, Allen continued to bare his teeth at his former employer like some ferocious animal, then turned away to let his anger dissipate.

Three years of regret, misery, and bitter hatred that he’d buried deep in the back of his mind were all resurfacing at once. The repressed memories of his many victims and the details of their deaths had returned full-force to haunt him, playing through his mind like some demented home video, and the man responsible for those memories now sat beside him.

He turned back to glare at said employer. “Why?” he growled.

“Because I was on a time limit.” he responded. “Frost was monopolizing the fixer industry, buying off fixers left and right. In perhaps two years, he would’ve had a finger on every trigger in the city and no one would’ve been able to stop him. I needed someone that wouldn’t take long to train, and also someone that I could trust to get the job done every time.”

“And I repeat…I was a kid.”

“A kid that could shoot almost as well as some members of the secret service. You finished your training within six months, leaving ample time to track down-”

“I. Was. A. Kid.”

Cyrus sighed. “What do want from me, an apology?”

“I don’t know, how about some sign that you at least regret what you did!? You approached an innocent kid in his moment of weakness and gave him the opportunity to go after the bad man who did him wrong! Then, when he fucked up as he inevitably would, you used that as an excuse to keep him around for another three years!”

Cyrus stared unflinchingly as Allen continued to rant. “You played on a child’s anger, turned him into a murderer…and you don’t even seem to care!”

“Did you get the job done?” he asked.

Allen stared disbelieving at the other man for a moment. “Well yes, but-”

“Then I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

Allen stared blankly at the stranger sitting next to him. He’d heard the words, seen his lips move…but he still wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What?”

“I hired you hoping that you would eliminate the people who stood in the way of a safer Vegas.” Cyrus replied, staring him dead in the eye. “You not only delivered…you excelled. Whether you like it or not, your skills paved the way for that vision and now I can make it a reality. As such, I do not regret tricking you into getting involved, nor do I regret the four years’ worth of blood on your hands.”

Allen continued to stare at him for a long time, the words slowly soaking into his mind.

As he fully comprehended what was being said, he was surprised to find that he wasn’t angry. He, in all honesty, didn’t know what to feel at this point. He’d been lied to and manipulated by this man for four whole years, and he was more surprised than anything else at the man’s indifference. Anyone else would have felt something, but his former boss could care less. It was mind-boggling.

“What kind of subhuman abomination are you?” Allen finally asked.

Cyrus turned to stare at the road in front of them. “I’m the monster I needed to be to get the job done.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” he replied. “Do you know what my dad said to me the night before his assassination?”

“What?”

“He told me what monsters are, and they aren’t what I thought they were. They’re people who aren’t bound by their moral code; not afraid to ‘fight dirty’ if you will. It’s generally accepted that these people go too far in pursuing their goals, and thus are generally rejected by the public. In most cases, that stereotype is quite accurate.” He paused momentarily for breath. “But sometimes, what the people need is someone who isn’t afraid to cross the line.”

“Like you?”

Cyrus nodded before continuing. “I didn’t realize what he meant until after he died. When Goodman took over and I heard the allegations against him, that he had been the reason for my dad’s death, I began to understand. Goodman’s hold over Vegas was all-encompassing. Finances, healthcare, education…it was all his to control. But it wasn’t because he was stronger than anyone else. It was because he wasn’t playing by the same rules as anyone else. He’d allied himself with a crime lord in order to achieve his ends, and taken other less-noticeable means to ensure that he stayed in power. And when I realized that, I knew what I had to do. I needed go even lower and fight even dirtier than Frost or Goodman. I needed to become a bigger monster than the both of them put together.

“I’m not proud of the things I had to do to get here, but I don’t regret them either. No matter how horrible my actions were, or how far over the line I stepped, everything I did benefitted this city. The things I’ve done have put a man on the podium who will ensure that the things that need to be done to make this city safe again are done. Vegas is on her way to recovery because I wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done.”

Allen was at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure whether to applaud the man next him or draw his silenced pistol and shoot him in the face. Three years of serving the guy, wondering what his motives were, and that was not the answer he’d expected.

For several long moments, they both sat in silence; Allen staring at Cyrus as he tried to think of a response, and Cyrus staring at the road as he waited for said response.

What do you say to something like that? he asked himself. He sat thinking for the longest time before the answer finally came to him.

There was nothing left to say. The Administrator had answered his question. This was the end of the conversation.

He got up and grabbed the briefcase off the ground again. Cyrus looked over at him, confused once more. “That’s it? You’re not going to say anything?”

“Nope.” Allen replied, not even turning around as he walked away. “I got everything I came here for. Thank you, Admin. Good bye.”

With that, he crossed the street and disappeared into an alleyway, heading for his car.

Cyrus stared at the alleyway his former associate had disappeared down for a few moments, then shrugged and made his way back the way he’d come.

Author's Note

1-A weird little something happened. I actually published this chapter last night. When I looked at it this morning, the chapter title was there but the chapter was not and it wasn't published. I'm not sure what the hell happened, but I guess it's not too big a deal now that it is up.
2-I've said it once and I'll say it again: I suck at idle chapters.
Please leave a comment with your thoughts and give me a thumbs-up if you're enjoying. Next chapter, we're going to blow up a piece-of-shit Prius in the middle of Death Valley using a highly unconventional molotov cocktail blend!
See you then!