Fate sat on the plane, looking out the window towards the tarmac. The seat next to her is empty.

He said he'd come, that he had business to attend to in New York and that they could use the time to get to know each other better. She'd met him here in Vegas; Axel had sent her to secure a contract for the working girls at the Arizona to step up their game and make bigger money while spending time with richer men. The deal was a good one, everyone was walking away happy, but Fate had forgotten to move her feet. She stayed on in Vegas for longer than intended, spending time with, well, a romantic sociopath. 

Now, after what really only amounted to a couple dates (if you could call them that), she had to get back home. She had a dog, among other things to attend to. While she enjoyed Vegas, it was nice getting back to New York, and away from the constant neon trauma to the eyes.

Fate checks her watch, and looks again out the window. She watches as one of the baggage handlers rolls an unloaded cart away from the plane. As he turns toward the terminal, she catches his profile.

No. It can't be. 

Goosebumps pop out on her arms as she tries to maneuver in her seat for a better view as the man is walking away.

A resemblance, that's all. Even if he's still alive, he wouldn't be in Vegas.

She can hear the stewardess fawning over a newly arrived passenger. Judging by that reaction, she knows who it is and can't help but smile. She looks up into eyes the color of good whiskey. 

"Julius. Glad you could make it."

It had been a long day for me. Despite having a flight to catch, there are certain tasks that you cannot help but complete with great dedication. Counting your business's earnings is one such task. I had nearly drive Sarge and my accountants crazy all morning, going over heaps of banknotes and comparing their grand totals to the estimates I had previously calculated.

Naturally, being the fucking genius that I am, I wasn't satisfied until both sets of numbers were reconciled. It was a rush to the airport then, all the while hoping and praying that I won't miss the flight. It was with great relief that I boarded it then, and realized that I was not going to be killed by Fate for missing our flight after all.

You know things are going well for you when the first thing you encounter after a great struggle is a well endowed stewardess with a cute smile, inviting you alluringly into an aircraft. Considering myself to be a member of the privileged species known as men, I dropped her a few of my choicest pick-up lines and watched with satisfaction as she blushed and giggled, her manners towards me turning even politer and buttery smooth.

After showing the staff my tickets, I am directed to my seat, beside the person who was no doubt awaiting me expectantly, and who I reasoned must be in a towering temper at my tardiness by now. It was with great surprise then, that I saw Fate Presor smile widely at me as I approached her.

Dressed in her usual impeccable fashion, her attractive features made my heart beat faster as I got closer to my seat beside her. "Julius. Glad you could make it." I plopped down into the seat beside her, grinning widely and rearranging my plum coloured velvet suit. "Ms. Presor, how delightful to see you here."    

Raising an eyebrow at the sudden formality, Fate settles back in her seat. The stewardess has begun her little speech - exits in the front, exits in the back, in case of an emergency landing, bend over and kiss your ass goodbye. She'd heard it a thousand times before, on countless trips back and forth across the country.

As they buckled their seat belts and listened to the rising whine of the engines, Fate takes another glance out the window. No sign of anyone out there now. Exhaling, she reclines her seat that whole inch backwards and tries to relax as the plane taxis to the runway. Big Boobs keeps passing by, checking and rechecking things that just don't need to be checked, in order to get Caesar's attention. It's cute at first but soon becomes irritating, and she's tempted to throw her shoe at the woman but the plane is now throttling up and beginning its fast dash down the runway.

It's a clean takeoff, with no expected turbulence. Everyone unclicks their seat belts and lights up a cigarette en masse, and the stewardess is now making her way down the aisle with the drink trolley. When she arrives at their row, Fate orders two gin and tonics. As the stewardess leans over to place them on Fate's tray, her cleavage is delivered first class into Caesar's face.

"I'll take two more of those, actually, save you the trip back," she says, snatching up two more minis and, on impulse, shoves a cocktail napkin down the woman's rack crack.

"Whoops," Fate says bitchily.

Fate rolls her head and stares at him morosely. 

"You're fucking kidding me, ri..."

At that, a concussive explosion rocks the plane, and as the overhead bins pop open and spew their contents, drinks, snacks, and people fly upward through the failing lights. Screams and gasps of terror travel up and down the fuselage as the plane tilts perilously to the right. Fate is thrown into the window and only Caesar's reflexes stop him from crushing her. In a fantastical turn of events, she's now on her back and looking up at him, his arms braced on either side of her head. At any other moment on any other day, her hormones would have kicked in and she'd make the very best of that situation, but right now, there's nothing but stark raving terror in her eyes. 

The impact was bone crushing, and Fate felt several ribs snap as her head cracked into the floor, ceiling, wall, whatever the hell it was now. She must have passed out for a minute, for as she came to, Caesar was already out the emergency exit, screaming at her to take his hand as a waterfall of frigid water cascaded into the snapped aircraft. Reaching out for him, she grasped with two hands and yelled in agony as her broken ribs ground together while she was hefted out of the plane. Her body went numb instantly as it met the cold Atlantic, and she was immensely glad for that, but she was struggling to breathe now, for multiple reasons. Kicking her legs weakly in an effort to assume a floating position, she looks up at the stars through the cloud of her own steamy exhalations. She didn't want to die out here, but there were worse ways to go, one would suppose. She can't feel it anymore but she assumes Caesar has her hand. She should probably say something nice to him, in case this is truly it, but nothing comes out of her blue lips. Maybe if she thinks it at him, he'll hear her.

I am so sorry I made you get on the plane. Please forgive me for that. If you should make it, and I do not, I think I know what happened. The plane was tampered with...maybe an explosive tucked into the baggage compartment, I just don't know...by a man I once ruined. I saw Thomas Leeds outside the plane, I'm sure of it now. He lived in Philadelphia several years ago, and we attempted an armed robbery together. He was shot, and I thought he was dead, so I ran with all the money. And kept running, all the way to New York. 

Take care of yourself, Love. Maybe I'll see you on the other side.

And give Axel the finger for me.

Caesar pinches her nostrils and breathes deeply into her lungs, once, twice, three times before Fate's eyes spring open and she turns her head, violently vomiting out the seawater she'd swallowed. Her ribs scream bloody murder at her for the trouble, and she's scared to breathe at all now, taking in air in tiny, slow sips. Flopping back over on whatever piece of aircraft detritus Caesar had propped them on, she looks over at him and sees a huge, jagged piece of metal protruding from his chest. She reaches over to pull it out in a panic, but he pushes her hands aside quickly. "Don't! I'll bleed out," he says, his skin already pale. She opens her mouth to argue, but she's blinded by the searchlight of a coast guard ship, out seeking the black waters for survivors.

The hot desert sand was blowing into my face, as the truck ploughed on through the sand dunes. I was dozing fitfully as the torturous sun beat down upon us all through the rips in the truck's canvas roof. "Sir! Wake up sir! We are here!" I awoke with a start and saw Sergeant Barone, gently shaking my arm. All nineteen of my men, including Sarge were geared and ready to go.

I blink my eyes groggily, and pic up my steel helmet from the seat beside me, and put it on. The truck had halted outside a village, and upon my orders, my men disembarked. I looked into my service mirror before getting down. A smart young man of 23 in the uniform of an Italian tenete (lieutenant) looked back at me, his face unmarred by any scars or blemishes. 

Putting the mirror away, I hopped off the truck, and we marched towards the village. They had seen us coming of course. Just as we reached the centre of the settlement, the two elders arrived to speak with us. I ordered Private Johnny forward to act as a translator. He was the only one among us who could speak the native Ethiopian lingo.

"Private. Ask them to bring forth everything of value that they have and to hand the goods over to us. Tell them that if they do so, we will leave without any further trouble. Also impress upon them that there will be dire consequences should they not comply." Johnny conversed with the village elders for a couple of minutes, and then turned back to address me in Italian. "Uh......sir...they asked us to go fuck ourselves sir.."

I nodded grimly. I had expected nothing better from these stubborn Abyssinians. "Thank you Private. Return to your position. Sarge, you know what to do." The two of us stepped forth, and we acted in unison. I whipped out my standard issue sidearm, and emptied three chambers into one of the village elder's chest, while Sergeant Barone ran the other one through with the bayonet on his rifle. 

"Platoon! Open fire! Kill them all!" I watched with a sadistic satisfaction as my men opened fire on the fleeing villagers with their bolt-action rifles and sub-machine guns, cutting them down as they tried to reach the safety of their homes. "Platoon! Divide into your squads! Search and destroy!" We split into four squads of five men each, and went from house to house, slaughtering everyone inside and grabbing everything of value. We had soon surrounded the central building of the village, where their local council met. On my orders, my men tossed grenades in through the windows, and after the sweet sounds of the explosions had died down, I marched in myself to look for survivors and loot.

Of loot, there was plenty, in the form of various precious metals and works of local art. There was a survivor too, and he was looking at me with fear in his eyes. The bolt-action rifle he was clutching, was far too big for his tiny hands. Out of instinct, I aimed my sidearm at the ten-year old's head. "Drop it kid. Drop the weapon and run away from here!" I barked at the child, but it was no use. He did not understand a word of Italian. "Drop it goddamn it!" I yelled at him, half-ordering and half-pleading.

When he started to bring the firearm to bear at me, I knew how this would end. Remorseful for the first time, I pulled the trigger, and my revolver spat fire and lead with a thunderous sound. Something was wrong however. The flash from a revolver was never this bright. I bring my hand up to shield my eyes, but find that it is being held down by something........or someone.

Upon opening my eyes, I see that I am surrounded by two nurses and a doctor, who are asking me to stay put and shut up. Fuck them. I rip my hand away from the doctor's grasp, and grab him by the shirt. "Where is Fate? Answer me right now before I smash your face in!"

Fate strolls the aisles of the library, replacing returned books. Two weeks after completing a Master's degree in Library Science, she's gotten a job as assistant librarian in Philadelphia's main branch.

She hates it. 

Whispering to patrons as she stamps their books, quietly scolding the children that occasionally scamper up and down the stairs, brain dying in the interminable silence. In order to keep herself occupied, she's moved from sleight-of-hand antics performed upon her unsuspecting coworkers to flat-out theft. Wallets and purses are her specialty, and on occasion, a watch or ring. She doesn't need these things. She's just bored shitless.

On a quieter-than-usual rainy rain, only one patron lingers in the aisles before closing time. Politely approaching him to inform him of the time, she already has his wallet in her fingers when he grabs her wrist roughly.

"Not so fast, dear. I believe that's mine."

Petrified, Fate opens her mouth to deliver any lie that will get her out of this situation. "I..."

"Save it. You're pretty good, but you've still got a ways to go. Care to learn?"

Stunned, Fate pauses, but then finds herself nodding her head. 

Two weeks later...the fateful bank job. Thomas had honed her skills enough to think they could pull it off. But he hadn't counted on a last minute change of security personnel. An extra guard meant an extra gun, and an extra bullet Thomas had never seen coming. It found his way into his back and through his front as he and Fate had been exiting the vault. She'd paused long enough to see the blood gout from his mouth and his eyes glaze over...and then survival instinct had kicked in. She'd grabbed the fifty thousand and run for the doors, tears streaming down her face. 

And now, here she was, tears streaming again as she painfully sat up and slid off the hospital bed. Removing the IV, she applies pressure to her arm in order to staunch the blood as she moved toward the closet and pulled out her disastrous clothing. As she's dressing, a nurse comes in and tells her she can't leave, her ribs are cracked. Fate snorts, and then winces. "Watch me." 

It takes her fifteen solid minutes, but she's dressed and an alarming shade of white for her efforts. Opening the door, she begins the slow process of finding Caesar's room. Lucky for her, he was an even worse patient than she. She can hear him cursing and abusing the staff, and possibly some furniture, three doors down. Placing her hand on his door frame for support, she smiles. Her sociopath.

"I never got my tiny bag of peanuts," she says, a playful pout dancing on her split lip. It wasn't intentionally manipulative, but it always worked. Her bizarre sense of humor had a way of taming his beast. 

My temper and my heartbeat both shoot down as Fate enters my ward, looking pale, but grinning. She said something about not getting peanuts, but my mind was already very far gone, with delirium, the anesthetics, and extremely high blood pressure when I was abusing my doctor. I let go of the poor man's shirt and looked at Fate. She looked like an angel. She WAS an angel. My angel.

I looked around the room, blinking stupidly and wondering why the nurses had slipped restraints onto my legs and my left arm which wasn't busy trying to strangle my doctor. Funny. This must be some kind of ritual these men and women in white carried out to induct now people into their mysterious cult. I looked to my left and noticed that the vase which used to stand on my bedside table was now lying in a bajillion pieces on the floor. I do remember tossing it at the nurse.....or was it the doctor? However, I have no idea why. Seems like a pretty fucking stupid idea.

The doctor was now inserting a needle into my left ar- OUCH! That hurt you fucking dickhead!! Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Some kind of yellow liquid was being sent into my arm through the IV they had hooked up to the needle. I giggled to myself and wondered if it was piss. Why were they pumping me full of piss? I was pretty pissed off alreayd HAHAHAHAHA!!

But anyway, none of that shit is important now, because I am looking at Fate, and she is looking at me like I am a fucking retard!! Hi Fate! What's up? Why are we not on the flight to New York anyway? Things are becoming darker too. Hey can somebody turn up the goddamn lights please? I need to look at my Fate some more....... 

Several hours later, Julius awakens in a sparse bedroom. Fate had never unpacked in her New York apartment, and that would make everything a lot easier now since she just needed to ship it to Vegas. She was just here to tie up loose ends...namely, the dog.

Smelling eggs and bacon, he tries to sit up. Mistake. The pain is searing and immediate as his bound torso pulls at the stitches in his chest. Collapsing back onto the bed, he's starting to remember the events leading to this moment as the bedroom door opens and Fate steps in, tray in her hands. Smiling at him with her abused lips, she places it on the nightstand and grabs a glass of orange juice and a few pills.

"Here. Take the edge off, then get some protein in you. You'll heal faster. You're no good to me on your back. Wait. That came out wrong. Heal up, we've got things to do," she says, winking her blown sclera at him. It's gross, but sexy. 

"Oh, and this is my dog, Shepherd. C'mere, Shep! Meet your new da..."

Shepherd launches himself at Caesar as Fate screams.

Grabbing Shepherd by the collar with both hands and leaning her entire weight backwards, she pulls the dog off Caesar. Continuing backwards, she shuffles out the door and lets go with one hand long enough to shut the door. Moments later, she returns, alone and out of breath, wincing and holding her damaged ribs with one arm. 

"No idea what happened there. I'm so sorry," she says, looking down at Caesar with a sad look on her face. "Maybe Axel can take him, since it's looking like we won't be able to. Did he hurt your incision?" She asks, pulling down the sheet and looking at his heavily bandaged midsection. Seeing no blood blossoming there, she shakes more painkillers out of the bottle, offering him two more while swallowing a couple herself.

"You've been in and out since late yesterday. I paid two of the orderlies an insane amount of money to get you here after signing you out of the hospital against doctor's orders. I lied, said I was your wife," she says with a small smile.

"Neither of us should be doing anything for weeks but getting bedrest. But that's out of the question. My things are still boxed and I've called a moving company to transport them to Las Vegas. You and I have tickets on a train bound for Vegas early tomorrow. They can transport the dog. I'll just have to...muzzle him I guess," she says, staring off into nowhere.

"You may be right, I'll look into getting him looked at when we get home, but there's one last thing we need to attend to," she says, looking at him once more. She tells him the story of Thomas Leeds, and her suspicions that he's the one behind their misfortunes. With a murderous look on her face that Caesar had never seen before, she hisses out, "All that is his, is now mine. He'll be dead by my hand before we leave the city."

The look on Fate's face was unnerving. I had never seen her appear so lethal, not even when she caught me staring at one of Axel's girls' ass. I listened to the entire affair with Thomas Leeds intently. It was a most unfortunate set of circumstances. For him that is. I sure as hell would be crawling my way up Satan's asshole if Fate was hunting me down with a look like this on her face. 

"Killing him won't be simple." I tell her after a moment of introspection. "For one, we don't know where he is holed up. Not to mention that he definitely has a lot of resources at his disposal. You have to cough up a lot of dough to hire a person desperate enough to sneak a bomb onto a plane and die there, along with greasing the palms of security to let him through. Explosives capable of taking down an aircraft aren't cheap either."

I lean back into the pillow, and look at her shrewdly. "If we want to draw him out, we'll need to target his power-base first, his resources. This kind of money is definitely not legal, and is stored either as cash or gold. Do you know if he has any secret vaults or stashes where he might keep his wealth?"

Fate laughed. "You give him far too much credit, Love. He's not connected. At all. At least he wasn't when I ran with him. He kept his take in a storage unit rental. 

"This is his payback for running. I thought he was dead, but he's clearly not, and hell bent on teaching his protege a lesson. I say we teach him one first. Let's check out the storage unit, see if his habits have changed. I'm guessing no, he's old school.

"Christ, my ribs hurt. Here," she says, shaking more pills into her hand, offering him two more as she swallows more herself.