Happy Deathday

The next morning, Cooper arranged a meeting at the lunch table, in one of the suites of 'Klirkson Star Motel'.

"Now listen up, comrades," Cooper Black began, after a sip of Starbucks. "Today's our final day, to earn back what was ours, by right. The previous missions were miscalculated and returned as flawless failure. We've lost quite a bit of money that could've been recovered. I had hired you, Puercto Rickon, and Fredrick Max," he pointed at the two NATO soldiers. "But I haven't said whether or not will I pay you, right?"

They simply nodded.

"Right. So I have decided that I will indeed pay you all handsomely, if we can get back the money by sunset. If not, then sad to say, I'll kick you outta the gang," Cooper smiled in his awkward habit of smiling whenever he put terms and conditions straight.

A political map of the USA was spread out on the table, with many lines drawn, depicting routes and 'planned' roads.

"We also have a new member with us, yeah," he patted Vandermann's shoulder like a long-lost brother. "It has been an honor to have you by our side, Vandy. You've proven your worth, I guess," he turned to the NATOs. "Well... as for you two, I've got better plans. Go back to HUAC177 and report to General Skywalker for a few... um... plans, I've prepared for Mission Forkenstein. You know what I mean, righ'? Good," he bade them away.

Cooper got some suspicious and curious stares from Luke and Vugerton.

"Um... they're part of... an agency for whom I partly work for," he dabbed some perspiration from his forehead. "What? What's wrong? Oh, don't worry you guys... I'm not part of anything 'evil'," he drew a sigh. "'Kay. Exodus and Vandermann, I regret to tell you this—" the door shut with a thump as the NATOs left. "The deaths of the people so far, haven't returned a single buck!" he got up from his chair and armed a Gatling gun. "Today, will be a fruitful day, I tell you! Today, there mustn't be any mistakes. Gentlehomies, let's take to the streets!"

And so, the trio left for the location of another debtor: Phoenix, near the Grand Canyon, bound for more money. But will they succeed in their mission, or will it be less profitable than the last? Or, will it be the difference between life and death?

***

The three members of CB's team rode their Jeep Wrangler, early morning, bound for Phoenix. More soundtracks from Mahir Beats (MH21) rolled in the Mp3 player. PET bottles and aluminium cans of 'Red Bull' and 'Coca Cola' were fully stocked, equivalent to the amount of ammunition they carried this stance. With the subtraction of two men from aboard, the ammo crates fit in comfortably.

They wolfed down giant hamburgers the size of paving stones, sizzling with sauce, and luscious with mayonnaise. Their 4x4 Jeep passed a milestone, engines roaring in the crisp morning breeze of dawn. Their 4x4 sent dust particles billowing after them. Luckily (or maybe unluckily), most of the west coast of America was currently deserted, due to the Russian invasions that struck violently at the coastlines. The cunning Russian military made their dens away from the reach of peoples' vision. No wonder why many Hummers and LAVs were found patrolling the highways.

Inselbergs, buttes, gorges, and mushroom rocks remained scattered around their environment, on either side of the road. The scenario clearly stated, "Turn back, folks, or get lost! This is the Grand Canyon of Arizona and Phoenix."

When they reached a place called Flagstaff, they stopped their course to refuel, for a brief break. They ordered burritos, to get themselves back to the 'wanderlust' mood.

After a short period of three hours, Cooper knew they were in the wrong direction. They came face-to-face with an altitude in the Earth's crust. It rose to a height of about 3851 meters above sea level.

"Humphrey's Peak?" Cooper scratched his head, and led his fellow members back, southwards.

They had lost a total of five hours, by arriving at the wrong point, in the wrong direction. Unlike many other sci-fi tech agents, Cooper Black didn't trust the coordinates. Vandermann had accidentally placed his SMG near the vehicle's built-in compass. It came into contact with the magnetic field, interfering with the directions. Hence, he was the one at fault.

***

And now, introducing...

...Philias Cacroe!

He was the best liar in the whole, round, wide world. He was the greatest gangster, cruelest mugger, and money sucker. He inspired millions, and most of them had become well-known criminals like himself. His family were all dead (father died of smoking, mother of choking, brother of drinking), so he rented a small hotel on the outskirts of urban Phoenix.

He was peacefully having a cup of cappuccino coffee, when the doorbell rang, and three sweaty, hairy fists knocked on the door, at the same time. It made a sound similar to thumping a block of wood, with an iron rod.

No answer. They rapped again, at different intervals.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Philias Cacroe expected them, to be new recruits for learning stealth craft.

On the third wave of blows (actually, they were 'kicks' this time), Cacroe dared to open the latch, unlock the padlock, and input the digiSMART code into the digiLOCK. The birch doors burst open, and Cooper and his troops rolled sideways, as they barged through.

"Yo Cacroe! How's my money you borrowed? All sold out? Give me back my cash, or I'll blow your brains out! You stupid schmuck!"

Philias stood rooted to the spot, unable to decide what to do. His nervous eyes peered from corner to corner, looking for a good gun.

Cacroe's room was full of dust, books on crime cases, guns of different sizes - from 9mm pistols, to Kalashnikovs; criminal magazines, and was littered with rotten pizza slices, burger buns, spilt ketchup, and pieces of crumbled paper. A heavy M1014 shotgun rested on an oaken desk, full of drawers bearing cartridges, shells, magazines, and bullets.

An open glass window revealed the road, 20 feet below, outside, surrounded with concrete buildings, apartments, cafés, amidst the backdrop of an evening sky, fresh with its purplish hue.

The criminal squeezed through the window with ease, thanks to his lean and flexible body. In fact, he had been in the Olympic gymnastics thrice, before turning evil and defile.

Unfortunately, his calculations weren't accurate; he dropped like a stone being dropped into a pond, landing on all fours, on top of a taxi cab, parked below.

"Oy! Get 'im!" Cooper Black reloaded the Gatling in his hands. He barraged away ruthlessly at anything that stood intact in his sight, from dumpsters to glass windows, props to cars; but not people. People weren't on the streets today. But with all the chaos and wreckage they were causing, it took only seconds for the neighboring people, to peer out of their windows.

The older folk - not understanding what this sort of fight was all about - dialed 911 on their phones. Soon, the area was full of people gazing out of every window visible, enjoying the live action. From tiny toddlers to retired elders - all remained silent as the 'group of troublemakers'(what they called Cooper & co. and Philias) fought with big guns with loud noises.

ROAR! DANG! WHIZ! TUONG! TANG! BANG! DHASH!

While Cooper distracted Cacroe, Vandy and Exos tumbled rapidly down the stairs and found a vantage point each. Vandy took position behind a ruined dumpster, while Exos Luke crouched behind a crate with dimensions 4x3x4 meters. They gestured to Black, "We're ready."

As for the criminal, he found a hiding spot, too, on the other side of the street, under the shadow of a roadworks barrier. Out of his pocket, he produced an ultra-sophisticated model of the traditional Colt.45 semi-automatic handgun.

"Alright, everyone, in positions?" Cooper whispered into a miniCOD (mini–Communication Operating Device).

"Yes, sir," replied Vandermann.

"Yesss... er..." replied Exodus. "Black, I'm not sure about this!"

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" snarled Cooper Black. His black pupils reflected the sight of the body of Philias Cacroe bursting with the impact of so many bullets, launching bits of meat, and sprays of blood around its environment.

Finally, it all ceased.

Cooper Black couldn't believe he'd done it; he couldn't believe they had it! They couldn't believe..

BANG!

Police sirens filled in every corner of his mind.

***

A blinding flash of light.

He was there... pointing a gun...

A blinding flash of light.

...he was there pointing a gun...

A blinding flash of light.

...he was there pointing at his own reflection...

Complete darkness.

...he put his finger on the trigger...

Complete darkness.

...he pulled the trigger...

Those eyes. Those eyes, bleeding face, falling body...

"Cooper... Black..."

He got nearer.

"...the letters..."

Then he understood.

***

"Cooper Black, wake up sir. Take these letters, from Joe Black," Vandermann said to a stranger, sitting on the floor of his jail cell. Instead of a cowboy hat that usually shaded his face, it was now free. His wild hair stood flaccid. Vandermann showed him the clutched envelopes. "Take the letters, sir. I should've given them to you earlier."

They were in an underground maximum security chamber, surrounded with rocky walls, held in place by wooden frames. The other cells were empty; only Cooper's cell wasn't vacant.

It used to be an abandoned mining shaft, but since the government wasn't paying the jailors much money, they had to rebuild this shaft as an underground prisoner managing institute.

The builders wanted to be misers ("Hey, let's be misers!") and they saved $49.79 by using wooden frames instead of iron ones. The electricians wanted to be the worst misers ("Hey, we're the worst misers, yo!") and saved $500 by stealing the old incandescent bulbs and selling them for $80 each, to the shaft's owners. They made a total profit of (C.P.=$0, S.P.=$80x10, P=SP-CP, T.P.=$800!) $800. But $300 were needed to bribe the cops to keep their mouths shut. As a result, the UPMI became the worst, I mean the WORST, prison on the planet!

For example, there weren't any toilets, nor any food to be given to the prisoners, and no guards — wait, 'no guards'?

Cooper thrust his massive arms through the rusty iron bars, and tore them off... clean off.

"Vandy, thanks for dropping by and making me realize my mistake."

"No problemo. I had tried to explain, that killing innocent people..."

"Not about that, you fool! I never knew, that this place was unguarded! If I had known, I'd have escaped within forty-two seconds!" he shook his head and snickered at himself. "But let that all go, buddy. Come, let's get to street level."

***

"So-called maximum-security chamber! No guards at all! Making me a fool of myself, huh!" Black grumbled as they walked along the unknown road, with buildings lit with neon signs on either side. Cars, buses, trucks, etc. blocked pedestrians from crossing the street.

The street was similar to the one at Las Vegas. The entire place seemed like a clone of the actual Vegas. Cooper tried glancing at some of the signs: "Starlight Casino", "Deluxe Dream House", "King Kline's Palace", "Pompo's Pizzaria", "Middle State Casino", "Sweeter Thangs", "Dunklesteus Autos", "Cenarius's Scenario", etc.

The closest sign they saw, was a hotdog stall beside the sidewalk. It read, "Warton Wellington's Hotdoggies... 57, Vundoppler St."

"We're in Vundoppler street?" Cooper seemed startled. "I never thought the place even existed!"

Vandermann said nothing. The location was too ultra-modern for him. The array of concrete-and-glass towers and skyscrapers soared to astonishing heights. In the horizon, 24°up, and on a 010° bearing, the duo spotted a well-known building with its iconic slanted rooftop.

"Whoa, I didn't realize there was a Symbiocyte branch here, as well!" Cooper Black had known a friend named Harrison Garison. He lived in New York, working for the MBC. From time to time, he stole away into Symbiocyte to receive intel on technology. "Looks like there's an outlet or research center everywhere in North America! Right, Vugerton?"

Vandy nodded. He still wore his military cap and gear.

"Say, would you wanna go into one of those 'asinoes?"

Vandy nodded, again.

"Okay then," he squinted around, choosing a perfect casino. Unlike the other western parts of America they had visited so far, Vundoppler St. was teeming with citizens. Cooper's eyes danced around, trying to find a suitable casino while Vandermann checked his black wrist chronograph which displayed [8:43 pm]. "Aha, I got it!" Cooper slammed his fist onto his palm. "We go to... that one."

His index finger pointed towards the northwest, where a 50 m radius giant upturned frustum advertised its name with blue-red neon lights, "Fortune-K Casino", with the "K" illuminated by a yellow neon.

"Looks pretty awesome to destroy, right?"

Vandermann silently nodded, once more.

***

If you ever believe in heaven, after seeing the interior of the casino, you'll not believe anymore.

After passing through the polished birch doors, the duo stepped onto a red velvet carpet that stretch endlessly in all directions. It even covered the interior stairs.

The walls were layered vertically, with black marble at the bottom, white diorite in the middle, and peach granite at the top. The ceiling was made of a material that had a yellow luster so shiny, it looked like gold. It was so well-polished and neat, it behaved as a mirror, reflecting all the light and focusing it onto the people and flooring.

As for the lights, they were tinted yellow, hidden behind stained glass decorated with ornate frames, perched evenly at the top layer of the walls.

They had never been in such an atmosphere. It all so rich, so exquisite, so fascinating. Indeed, every American lived their dreams. The building was circular in perimeter, with air conditioning and soft orchestra music piped in through invisible speakers. The single hall was packed with rich couch potatoes who only made a living by gambling. A strong perfume was also present, which made you think of pink.

At the very center of the place, a giant maze of casino games stood arranged in a ring, with the harder games inside and the easier ones outside. Nonetheless, gamblers and addicts bustled near every game possible. The outermost ring was the easiest game: virtual 'match-3-and-win'. The innermost game (it was the hardest, so it was at the hub - a diamond chandelier hung about ten feet above) was the renown 'Wheel of Fortune'.

"Whoah..." both Cooper and Vandermann exclaimed, in awe. Sadly, they didn't have enough cash to afford ANY of those games. Instead, they chose to slump onto one of the purple leather couches situated throughout the perimeter of the casino ring. Though still energetic, the duo drew an abyss of sighs. "Phew.. damn my *ss, where's this Luke gone?"

Vandermann shrugged his shoulders.

"Nope, don't ask me. I haven't seen him since we split for the Cacore... Cac... oh, whatever that guy's name was!" Vandermann was helpless, too. Both he and Cooper were totally frustrated with the whole day's effort leading to no victory.

"'Kay, lemme see what I can—"

Cooper was about to dial Luke's number on his phone, when he caught sight of something unexpected, that made his heart leap.