The bright lights, the celebrity of it all. When Harison's bowling competition was going on he felt so alive, and now the only way he could even feel at all was to go to small bars littered across America and attempt to make a couple of dollars; seven bucks here, thirty there. It all felt so meaningless after twenty five million was placed into his hands. Was there something more to this world than being ridiculously good at rolling a ball and knocking down pins? No, there couldn't be. Chasing that high was the only thing that could even bring him out to try anymore, and with people slowly forgetting his name he was desperate to hit those peaks one more time.

House's Bar

It was a small quaint spot with lights aglow everywhere you looked, there were only a few people in the area and most of them looked to be the morally bankrupt type so it felt a whole lot like home. He still had a couple million from the big event and heard that this is where you could put that money to good use in making even more and once the bowler was a billionaire all of the options in life would surely open up that he was so desperate to have.

Walking over towards the dicing tables, he took a sigh and threw the first batch.

You win $2,500,000!

Just like that? There was no work required to this thing, it felt perfect for him and so he threw again and again. Every hour of the day was spent in these hallowed halls watching the numbers rise and slightly taper off, but never enough to deter him. He was worth hundreds of millions now and everything was looking good, yet still not enough people knew of his name. Would it ever truly matter until he won everything there is? Was two hundred million enough?

The days kept turning and the Bowler continued switching out his bowling ball for a pair of dice. The rolling was the same, but the money was all so much more lucrative. Every hundred million he won was another notch on his belt, but most stories do not stay on the positive side for the entire time which he would learn the hard way soon.

Unlucky! That $20,000,000 is mine.

Suddenly it seemed as if luck had turned its back on him. He was down heavily and climbing back up the mountain to get where he was at would be nigh impossible. Should be stop? Should be take his winnings and settle down to a humble life of only a millionaire? This couldn't be how such a heroic man's tale ended and so he merely decided to up the ante. Surely his 47% win rate could not crater much more and so banking on this thought he rolled the dice once more.

Sorry pal, that $50,000,000 belong to the House now.

Calculating his win rate he noticed it was now all the way down to 44%. This was the perfect time to go all in, to sell the rest of his possessions off and go for the big one. The life of a billionaire was not one for the wary or scared, you do not become that rich and powerful by being afraid of taking chances-- no, you rush right into it head strong and grab the bull by its horns, riding it out in a victoriou-

Nice try, but your $100,000,000 bet was a real stinker. I'll be taking that.

Reaching into his pockets in a futile attempt to find anything else to throw towards House he continued rolling the dice. Some were wins, but more often than not they were losses and with one last shove into his pockets only lint was returned to his hand. There was nothing left of his bowling winnings, and instead of a billion he would be destitute for the rest of his meager days.

With head down, he left House's Bar for one last time. He would continue his life in solitude in New York, only coming around to sell off some drugs here and there. For a bowler, life would not get much better than this.

The fall was complete.

The thickness of his legs made it so that backtracking everything was a lot easier done than for most people, especially since no one noticed the spectacular fall. You see, while he now had nothing to his name there was a humbling effect that had happened-- no more was he just the man who won at bowling, but he was now the one who won at bowling and lost it all, it was the type of story that needed to happen for the final flourish to begin, the come-back.

It would not be done through more gambling or even with the use of a bowling ball, he would give both of those things away and like a phoenix from the ashes he would be created anew. But what he would need first was a proper name to call himself, something that wasn't just the Bowler as that lent people the assumption that his entire life revolved around the single sport, and while it was the game of champions and was extremely respected amongst all of his peers equally, there were other layers to him that a name would help bring out into the forefront.

For example, he liked to paint. He wasn't good at it, but he tried it once. I bet you wouldn't know the man who goes by the name The Bowler would paint, now did you? Otherwise his name would be something like The Painter. So with this in mind, he walked over towards a small group of people and attempted to make a name for himself, quite literally.

"So, uh, hey guys, if you were to look at my face, what do you think my name would be?"

"Fuck off, we're busy here."

"Is that German?"

Denied more times than he would like to admit, a numbness began to form. Would he ever find a name? Could you just conjure one out of thin air like this or was the moniker he started out with what he was stuck using forever? There were questions and doubts flowing inside of his mind faster than he could answer them.

What was he to do? Would there ever be a way to make it back or had he peaked already?