Zone Of The Enders Fan Fiction ❯ Zone of the Enders: Triad 2177 ❯ Piano Man ( Chapter 12 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Jim Hauser has a hole in his soul; something that was lost the minute he made his greatest mistake...

Terrorists attacking Ryan Corp.?

Non Anime: Zone Of The Enders Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Romance / Mecha / Comedy / Adventure / Action / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.10.2003 | Pages: 11 | Words: 16.0K | Visits: 202 | Status: Completed

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<CENTER>"I'm sorry for what i did...I did what my body told me to I didn't mean to do you harm...everytime I pin down what I think I want it slips away" - Weezer, from "Butterfly"</CENTER>

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Jim stared at the new Orbital Frame. He was absolutely speechless; unable to comment, not knowing what this meant for his business.

Vera looked at it, turning her head to the side once in a while and trying to get a better view.

Nash made a low whining noise, his jaw in a dropped position.

Miryhn chewed on a candy bar, looking at the others' looks of shock. "It's just another Orbital Frame, what's the big deal?"

The other three all looked at him angrily.

Miryhn smiled and shrugged.

"The big deal is that I want to know why Edward Harsborough had an Orbital Frame," Norris said, rubbing his chin. He had been standing beside Miryhn in juxtaposition.

"Why is he here again?" Nash asked Jim.

"I called him about it and he demanded to come over immediately," Jim replied with a shrug.

"Nash, that's your name, right?" Norris said, turning to Nash.

"Yeah, what?" Nash replied with a sigh.

"Do you know if your father had any ties at all to criminal organizations?" Norris asked bluntly.

Nash shook his head. "I'd have no idea, honestly. I haven't talked to the man in years and now I guess we'll never know," he said, shrugging.

Norris looked back at the Frame and rubbed his chin.

"So do you want it or what?" Jim asked, taking a cigarette out of his pack in his pocket.

Norris looked at Jim with wide eyes. He then began laughing. "Mister Hauser, I have no use for this thing! Ryan Corporation specialized strictly in LEV-based weaponry. We're not allowed to possess Metatron-mantled humanoid machines. It's just Earth's policy for the duration of their occupation. There's no way I could possibly accept this thing," he explained.

"What? You told me you'd buy Masturbate and Fried Tag here when you were through having us merc for you!" Jim shouted angrily.

"Masamune!" Miryhn pointed out angrily.

"And Freya!" Vera chimed in with the same tone.

"I don't give a damn! They're just two monuments of trouble just waiting for me to put up with and now I have a third one to deal with!" Jim shouted in reply, pointing to the new Orbital Frame in the crate.

"Please, I can guarantee you that as long as you don't use these machines at your leisure or in the public eye, you'll be fine! Earth is too busy dealing with the racism and terrorism in Mars's central counties to cast an eye at us former weapon developers and employees," Norris said, walking up to the new Orbital Frame. He hit a button on the side of the cockpit and hopped in, working the computer.

"What are you doing now?" Miryhn asked in between chews.

"Checking the inventory on this thing. You might be able to use this to your advantage, you know," Norris said, humming Beethoven's 5th to himself.

Miryhn drew a puzzled look. "And how do you know how to do that? You said your company doesn't even make Orbital Frames. How do you know how to work one?"

"Mister Troxel, I've been looking into this matter of Orbital Frames turning up in the hands of such outlandish people, I leapt at the opportunity to be a good citizen. We managed to capture a few before they shipped to their recipients and we've been running tests and then disposing of them for their Metatron," Norris explained, pulling up a few floating screens.

"So why'd you let us keep the Frames we found?" Miryhn said, finishing his candy bar.

"Because you and the girl are talented Runners. I saw so after the way you eliminated Tarver Urenbach. You needed a source of income, so I let you keep them to do mercenary work for me. Oh, Norris, you're so generous!" Norris said, patting himself on the back.

Miryhn raised an eyebrow. Something was fishy about this to him. "And how exactly are you going to use us and our Orbital Frames? Who are you fighting?" he asked, now deeply suspicious.

"Geez, look at this line-up. Shot, Burst Shot, Homing Lasers...all the bare essentials. The specialty weapon is a handheld Plasma Cannon in the Vector Trap, dubbed Zeus' Lightning. Methinks this Frame's name is 'Zeus', guys...obviously because also in the Vector Trap is a giant hammer," Norris said, running his finger down the list.

"Answer my question," Miryhn said, his tone lower and more insistent.

"You guys have a long distance specialty here. There's nothing but projectiles and even Homing Missiles as standard equipment!" Norris said, shutting down the computer and hopping out of the cockpit.

"And who the hell is going to fly it? I'm sure as hell not going to try, I can barely fly this ship!" Jim said, lighting up.

"You can say that again!" Miryhn said with a grin to Jim.

Jim sneered.

"Yeah, but me and Miryhn have Freya and Masamune...so..." Vera said, looking at Nash.

The others looked at Nash as well.

Nash looked back with wide eyes. "Hey, not me! I'm not going to do it! I fix shit, not pilot! That's not in my contract!" he pleaded, waving his hands in front of himself.

"Well it is now!" Jim said with a grin. "There's no way around it. You brought it here and now you gotta be responsible for it," he added, taking a long puff of his cigarette and blowing it out his nostrils.

"What are you talking about? I already signed something!" Nash cried out.

"That was that, this is the verbal part of the contract I'm telling you about," Jim replied with a grin.

"Oh, Captain, oh my Captain...don't make me do this! I swear, this isn't cut out for me. I'm not violent like...him!" Nash said, throwing his index finger at Miryhn.

"Hey! What's that suppose to mean?" Miryhn replied with an angry look.

"It's suppose to mean you like going out and being a raving lunatic with that Frame!" Nash replied angrily.

"Better than sitting on my ass all day in the coolant room when I should be fixing the microwave!" Miryhn snapped back.

"Boys! No more fighting or no dinner tonight!" Vera said jokingly.

"I'm the one cooking! I call that!" Nash snapped at her.

Norris walked up beside Jim and sighed. "Are they always like this?"

"Afraid so. You'd think I'm more like their father than their boss sometimes. I always gotta break this shit up sooner or later," Jim said, taking another long puff of his cigarette.

"Well, I need to be going on my way. Call me again if and only if you have any more serious concerns or if you can find out how Edward came across this thing," Norris said, starting to walk out of the hangar.

"Sure, fine, I'll keep in touch," Jim said loudly in reply. He then turned to his crew who was still arguing amongst themselves. "All of you can it! We have a long day tomorrow as very second we get a call, alright?" he commanded loudly.

The others suddenly stopped. They all shot him angrily looks.

"Fine, I'm going to take a shower," Vera said, tossing her hair around some and heading for the interior door.

"Another Martian Chocolatey Chew bar sounds good right about now," Miryhn said, leaving for the interior behind her.

"I'm going to go work on the blender," Nash said, digging a screwdriver out of his pocket.

"Oh, no you all don't!" Jim said, rubbing his cigarette out on the floor.

All three turned and look at him. Jim had a wide grin on his face.

"You two are going to help him unpack this thing. Then you're going to give him a crash course in piloting. Got it?" Jim said, pointing to Miryhn and Vera, then Nash.

Vera and Nash whined. Miryhn drew an angry look.

"No arguing. Anyone who disobeys gets their paychecks docked for a month. Got it?" Jim said, folding his arms. "Now, hurry up. I want you all fresh and ready tomorrow for anything," he added, walking out of the hangar.

Vera and Miryhn looked at each other. They both looked at Nash.

"Look, you can take your shower any time. The sweet, smooth, delicious chocolatey flavor of a Martian Chocolatey Chew is a rarely felt urge," Miryhn said in all seriousness.

"Is that all you do? Eat, sleep, and slack off?" Vera asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yep! And damn proud of it!" Miryhn answered with a smile and a thumbs-up.

"Do you two mind? I'd kinda like to get this all over with," Nash said, irritated.

Miryhn and Vera looked at each other again.

"Alright, let's be fair. I'll get it out of that thing and you show him how to work it, ok?" Miryhn said, offering his hand in agreement.

Vera hesitated. She was afraid he'd cut a corner or something, but she figured grunt work like moving a crate shouldn't be too hard. After all, the way he worded it, he'd do it himself. He'd be there all night! She smiled and shook on it, saying,"Deal!"

Miryhn grinned and dug the transmitter out of his pocket; he then jogged over to Masamune and leapt into the cockpit. The Frame sprung to life and slowly stood up. It walked to the frontside of the crate and drew its katana.

"Hey! Wait a sec! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Vera shouted, running up beside the crate.

"Might want to move. It's been a while since I've done this," Miryhn's voice said from the Frame.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Vera asked.

"Haven't you figured out by now with him not to ask questions?" Nash said, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind the workbench.

Masamune then did a few stances, taking two steps back. It slid forward and in the blink of an eye did a small set of cuts. It re-sheathed the katana and reached out, tapping the top with its index finger. The crate slid apart into six sections and off the back of the Frame inside. The six sections fell into a convenient pile behind the new Frame.

"See? I still have the touch," Miryhn's voice said confidently as Masamune shrugged.

Vera glared at Masamune. "Show-off," she said sarcastically.

"Alright, I'll toss the crate scraps, you hold up your end," Miryhn's voice said as Masamune proceeded to move all the debris out the back of the hangar.

Vera sighed and stood up, walking towards Zeus. Nash quietly followed. Vera threw him in the seat of the cockpit and leaned on the side, thinking about where to start. Miryhn parked Masamune in its spot once the debris was cleared and walked by with a wide grin and a wave. Vera sneered and turned her head.

"Time for that Martian Chocolatey Chew!" Miryhn said happily, reaching for the door.

Just then, Jim opened the door and stepped in, knocking Miryhn over.

"Excuse you. Where are you going?" Jim said, looking down at him. Jim had a old red coat thrown over his shoulder.

"I have to pee. Is that going to dock my pay too?" Miryhn said with a note of sarcasm.

Jim gave him a glazed stare. Miryhn smiled and laughed it off, going through the door. Jim sighed and continued out past Vera and Nash, putting his coat on.

Vera glanced over her shoulder at Jim as he passed. "And this button is...where you going, Captain?" she asked.

"Out, just like all of you seem to love doing," Jim said, bitterly sarcastic.

"Damn, what a pill. Alright, see 'ya later," Vera said, indifferent to his tone. She turned and resumed pointing out things to Nash.

Jim rolled his eyes and walked out of the hangar of the ship; going out of the dock hangar next and locking the door behind him.

"So you got it?" Vera asked, looking quite miffed.

"Eh, just one more quick review, please?" Nash asked innocently.

Vera whined loudly and leaned up into the cockpit again. "Alright, your thumbs primarily controls the turning and basic maneuvers. The four "buttons" on the right set are mostly for weapons, attack patterns, and the like. The stuff near the edge is for picking menu selections in mid-combat, Burst, targeting, etc." Vera said, pointing to each half-sphere.

"I think I get it now," Nash said, scratching his head.

"If only you had an A.I. like ADA to teach you this crap and not me," Vera said, groaning.

On her saying "ADA", the console lit up and the computer started up by itself. Several lines of energy ran around the Frame, ending in the shoulders, feet, and the human-shaped "face" of the Frame's eyes.

"Good morning. I am backup combat A.I. network component ADA, pleased to meet you. Please submit your data for Runner registration," ADA's familiar voice said from the console.

Nash blinked, staring at the console. Vera did the same.

"Vera, do you think this crap about there being an ADA 'network' is true? I mean, this just seems awfully convenient," Nash said, shrugging.

"Look, you handle that part on your own. Ask it any more questions you may have. I've had enough babying you for one night," Vera said, walking off.

"Yeah, but it did help! Thanks!" Nash shouted gratefully.

Vera froze. This was probably the first time he had ever thanked anyone for doing anything for him. She shook it off as him being hyper again and left the hangar, eager for a shower.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

It had been a long time since Jim could leave his ship. He had finally returned to Tharsis County after six long years and he was going to go indulge in his second substance abuse problem: alcohol.

After about a half hour of walking into town, he reached his destination: Bill and Joel's Gentleman's Lounge. He burst in through the door and belted out a loud laugh. There was no reply; as he looked around, Jim noticed that the bar was quite dead. The bar was kept in good upkeep and looked quite swanky; almost like a family theme restaurant because of the all the crazy, random objects attached to the wall. There was even a short runway where a pole dancer apparently earned her keep towards the back of the room. On the left were booths; one of which had two men who were passed out. On the right was the bar itself with three more modestly dressed men chugging down mugs of beer. Two men in particular stood up and acknowledged him; one was in a booth doing taxes on a calculator and the other was the barkeep himself.

"Only one man can make such a lame entrance," the man from the booth said, standing up and walking up to Jim.

"And it's gotta be The Piano Man himself, James Hauser!" the barkeep said with a grin.

"Stop calling me that, Joel. And it's nice to see I got your attention, I guess, Bill," Jim said, nodding to the barkeep and then glancing at the man from the booth as he sat down at the bar. Bill and Joel were identical twins; both had a mess of curly black hair, long faces, and dark blue eyes. The only way to tell them apart was that Bill had on a business suit and Joel had on a barkeep outfit with a red velvet coat.

Joel grinned and put two mugs on the counter. He squirted beer into each from the tap and slid them down to Jim and Bill as Bill sat down beside Jim.

"So where the hell have you been these past...what, five or six years?" Bill asked before knocking back his mug.

"Avoiding my tab," Jim said with a gruff laugh.

Joel grinned and shook his head. Bill chuckled and patted Jim's back.

"Yep, that's you, Jim. Always the selfish man. Never pay back what you owe and living up to your ears in debt," Bill said with a smile.

"Damn right," Jim said, offering his mug for a toast.

Bill gladly clicked his mug to Jim's for the toast and they both took a long gulp.

"But really, what have you been doing with yourself?" Joel asked, leaning against the liquor cabinet.

"Yeah, what ever happened to what's-her-name? You know...Katherine?" Bill chimed in, slowly swirling his beer around in the mug.

Jim paused. He took another gulp of his beer. "Man, this beer tastes like piss. You know that?"

Joel laughed. "That's 'cuz it is piss! Don't you know we can't afford fancy imports like the old days?"

"Figures," Jim said, taking another long gulp of the mug and finishing it. He offered it to Joel for a refill.

"Jim, you haven't answered our question yet. You've been missing for six years and so has Katherine. What's the deal? We missed it when you two came in here and performed," Bill said, finishing his mug too as Joel refilled Jim's and handed it back to him.

Jim took the mug and took a long gulp from it. He set it down and hung his head, clearing his throat. "Didn't feel much like playing the piano anymore. That's all," he said in a softer tone.

"So you leave for six years?" Bill asked with a bright laugh. Joel joined in the laughter too.

Jim finished his mug of beer in one gulp. He set it down and handed Joel his cash card. "Here, clear my tab. I found a legit means of money for the time being," he said, still a bit softer than normal.

"Jim, what's wrong?" Bill said, suddenly changing to a tone of concern.

Joel uneasily took the card and swiped it. He ripped Jim's tab off the pole of clipped-up tabs and typed in the amount. It was deducted from his account and Joel tossed the tab in the trash can. "There you go, all cleared. Come on, tell us what the deal is," he said, also concerned.

Jim took the card from Joel and stuffed it back in his pocket. He cleared his throat loudly as he stood up from the barstool.

"Jim! Come on, what's the deal?" Bill asked, turning in his seat.

"Look, I'll tell 'ya what. I'll come back tomorrow. I'll tell 'ya if I feel like playing the piano again," Jim said, adjusting his baseball cap on his dark brown hair and walking out the door.

Bill and Joel watched in silence as Jim left. They turned to each other and Joel shrugged.

"Guess we just wait and see, Billy," Joel said plainly.

"Guess so, Joel," Bill replied, glancing at the door once more before leaving for his booth.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

The next morning, Jim woke up earlier than the others as he usually did. Jim always thought that by doing so, he'd eventually rub off on the rest of his crew and make them work a little harder around the ship. What a pipe dream that turned out to be; he'd been doing it for months and even though it was his habit now, the others didn't notice at all.

Jim, clad in his white bathrobe, walked down the hallway of the crew quarters. He peeked in Miryhn's room and saw him tangled up in the sheets. Ever since the air conditioning had been fixed, Miryhn demanded it be put to near freezing. This prompted everyone else to dig out their sheets and comforters naturally; and Miryhn was always asleep in a burrito of sheets with only a pair of shorts on. He had his headphones on, plugged into his extremely rare compact disc player. Jim knew he was probably listening to some really weird electronic group like he always did. He never understood how he could sleep to that beeping and clicking over and over again. As usual, his hair was an absolute mess; Jim could barely make out an arm and a nose under his grey mane spread out over the bed. He kept his head on one pillow and the other was hanging half off the side with Miryhn's arm laying on it; this being the only thing that escaped Miryhn's sheet-burrito and was barely hanging on.

Jim then walked over and peaked in Vera's room. Vera was laying perfectly still on her back with the covers up to her nose. She rolled over and grabbed one of her pillows; hugging it tightly.

Jim made one last stop at Nash's room. Peaking inside, he saw Nash not even asleep on the bed. Nash had somehow fallen off the bed in his sleep and was laying in the mounds of debris from various electronics and leftover appliances. Somehow, to Jim's amazement, he was wearing silk pajamas with his initials on them. How he managed to keep these clean when the rest of his wardrobe was filthy was anyone's guess.

His voyeurism resolved, he continued down the hall and into the hangar. Inside he walked up to the grand piano parked on the cargo elevator. The night before, after he got back, he went down to the sublevels and got the piano out of storage. He raised it up to the hangar with the cargo elevator and left it there overnight. Something about going back to Billy and Joel's had awakened his interest in playing the piano again. He decided his first performance after so long would be a good old-fashioned wake-up call.

Sitting on the bench, he stretched his fingers with loud popping sounds sounding as he stretched further out. He laid his hands on the keyboard and did a few motions in the air of playing. He then threw his head back as he struck a loud two-octave A flat major chord. He rocked his head from side to side, playing a G and then E flat major chord next. He then leaned in close, playing a C major arpeggio as lightning speed. Leaning back, he begun to play a very fast and lighthearted tune.

It was only moments later that all three of his crew were standing there; none of them exactly pleased by his performance. His audience was Miryhn, shaggy and cloaked in his comforter; Vera, giving him an angry, wide-eyed stare in her revealing nightgown; and Nash, arms folded and tapping his foot in his gaudy pajamas. Jim smiled and stopped. The then broke into playing "The Entertainer" at a softer volume.

"What the fucking hell are you doing, Captain?" Vera asked, furious.

"Playing my piano. Any objections?" Jim said, continuing the song and smiling.

"This isn't fucking worth it, I need breakfast," Nash spat with anger, turning and leaving.

Miryhn just made a loud moan and followed Nash.

"Nobody's sleeping in from now on. We're getting up early and working our asses off!" Jim said with a loud laugh.

"Lunatic," Vera said while rolling her eyes before turning and leaving.

Jim finished the tune and shot up, slamming the keyboard shut. He strolled off with a bounce in his step after his crew.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

While the others were having breakfast, Jim had already showered and got dressed. He walked into the kitchen, greeted by the half-asleep angry looks of his crew. The card table they used for meals was set with Nash's "quick and easy" waffles (slices of bread put in the waffle iron with butter), two boxes of Choco Puffs cereal, and bottles of milk and orange juice. Miryhn was slurping down a bowl of Choco Puffs with his hair hung all around his head like a willow; there was a small part in the front there he was putting the spoon in his mouth. Vera had her head propped on her shoulder, chewing on the waffles and staring into space. Nash was shoveling food in his mouth as fast as he could.

"Sheesh, you people need to go to bed earlier or something," Jim said, taking a seat and grabbing a box of cereal and pouring it into a bowl.

No one replied. An awkward silence fell on the crew.

Jim cleared his throat and smiled, pouring milk on the cereal. He began eating along with the others. The thought of the awkward moment seemed to fade from their thoughts, breakfast was obviously more important. No matter what maniacally pointless thing Jim had planned next, they didn't care.

Soon, Peniel walked in and started circling one of the table legs. Vera looked down at him and whined loudly.

"Damn it, I forgot to buy Peniel any cat food. He ran out last night!" Vera said, reaching down to stroke Peniel slowly.

Peniel purred happily.

"Just feed it something else," Miryhn said, his voice scratchy and rough from not having used it until now.

"Oh? Like what?" Vera asked, sitting back up and eating at her "waffle" some more.

"Lemme handle that," Nash said, grabbing a box of Choco Puffs. He reached back and poured some into the cooking pot they fed Peniel from.

"Don't feed my cat that shit!" Vera said, her cheek stuffed with food.

"Do you want it to starve or something?" Nash said, putting the box back on the table.

"Yeah, I'm not putting up with it chewing on the furniture!" Jim said firmly.

"If you feed him that, I can assure you he'll be leaving even more nasty surprises around for you to clean up," Vera said, nodding at Peniel as the cat began eating the cereal.

Miryhn began snickering.

"I'd like to see that happen," Nash said, calling her bluff.

"Suit yourself. But you're cleaning it up, got it?" Vera said, finishing her "waffle".

"Whatever!" Nash said with a shrug.

"Dumbass," Miryhn said with a chuckle.

"Give it a rest, you two. Today is going to be a long day if Norris calls," Jim said, finishing his cereal.

"And what do we do until then?" Vera asked, taking her plate to the sink.

"Train hard and be ready to go at a moment's notice. We're hardcore mercenaries now, not pansy salvagers. This is where the real cash is!" Jim said, flexing a muscle.

"What ever happened to being deep-sea treasure hunters, huh?" Nash asked under his breath before shoveling some food in his mouth.

"I need to train like I need a hole through my head," Miryhn said with food in his mouth, glancing down at the bowl.

"I think you mean Nash needs to. I feel confident enough too," Vera said, stopping in the doorway.

"No, I mean all of you need to. I'll be gone most of the day, so just keep a damn eye out!" Jim commanded, finishing his cereal. He got up from the table and walked out in a hurry.

Vera stared at Miryhn and Nash; they stared back.

"Wonder why he's in such a hurry to get out of here. I thought he loved this ship," Miryhn said, swallowing a mouthful of cereal.

"That guy is a weirdo. Waking us up with piano music and then running off with this weird peppy attitude about things," Vera said, leaving the doorway and heading for the stairs.

"We're all pretty odd, you know?" Nash said, tossing another buttered slice of bread on the waffle iron.

"Damn straight, I guess," Miryhn replied, mouth full of food.

Peniel finished his breakfast and purred happily before trotting off to find his own adventure for the day.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

The rest of the day passed slowly and leisurely. It was that around noon and Jim still hadn't come back.

It was nice having a day off. Miryhn was forced to go buy subs for the whole gang at lunch. Nash finished fixing everything in the ship he could think of. Vera balanced their accounts and made a supply run. For some reason, they all expressed a feeling of increased productivity without Jim around. The thought of the three of them having a ship together was expressed by Nash; but they all laughed it off.

A little while after lunch, Nash was tinkering with one of his "brilliant inventions" on the workbench. Miryhn, bored as hell, walked in and looked over his shoulder as Nash worked.

"Do you mind?" Nash said as he whipped around, irritated.

"Yes, I do, actually. Where's Jim?" Miryhn said, stepping back some.

"How the hell should I know? Did that guy from Ryan call?" Nash said, turning back to his work.

"No," Miryhn said, jamming his hands in his pockets.

"Then go...watch the comlinks or something," Nash said, shooing Miryhn off.

"But it's boring up in the bridge. The rest of the ship is more interesting," Miryhn said, picking up a random gadget off the workbench.

"Give me that!" Nash shouted, snatching the part from Miryhn. He sneered and resumed working.

"Sore-head," Miryhn said, starting to pace around slowly.

"Look, if you're bored then go do something in town. Vera already set the comlink so that any incoming stuff will come on every port on the ship," Nash said, removing his glasses and rubbing the temples of his nose.

"Sounds good. I'll hit the local arcade," Miryhn said with a grin on his face. He immediately left the hangar.

Nash sighed and continued his work.

A minute later, Miryhn walked by with his sword on his belt and his sunglasses on.

Nash glanced and raised an eyebrow. "What's that for?" he asked, puzzled.

"What's what for?" Miryhn asked, stopping to glance back at Nash.

"The sword?" Nash said, pointing his screwdriver at it.

"Yeah, so?" Miryhn asked with a shrug.

Nash stared for a moment. He sighed and turned back around. "Whatever, weirdo!" he exclaimed.

"It's real bad ass, you know?" Miryhn said with a grin.

"It's also rather anachronistic," Nash quipped.

"Whatever, weirdo! See 'ya!" Miryhn said with a casual wave as he began to leave again.

"Who ever heard of a guy carrying a sword around with him in this day and age? Sheesh..." Nash said, shaking his head.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

About an hour later, Vera walked into the hangar. She had angry look on her face, searching furiously.

Nash looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. "Problem?" he asked innocently.

Vera looked back at him. She raised an eyebrow back. "Seen Miryhn?" she asked, impatient.

"Yeah, he left to go to the arcade or something," Nash said, resuming his work.

Vera cussed to herself.

Nash glanced at her again. For some reason, Vera had changed from her usual fashion of tank top and shorts. She was now in a sleeveless white blouse and green pleated miniskirt. She kept her white high-heeled boots, though. Her hair was also down instead of the usual high ponytail.

"What's with the image change?" Nash asked, looking back down and resuming his work.

"Oh, yeah, this," she said glancing at herself. "I dunno, I was sick of that look. It was purely because it was so hot around here. I decided to look more feminine," she said, strutting up to the workbench with her hips rocking back and forth.

"Whatever," Nash said, indifferent while continuing to work.

Vera laughed. "That's why you're never going to have a girlfriend, Nash. You don't know hot stuff when you see it," she said, running her hands along her curves.

Nash looked at her and laughed back. "Vera, don't flatter yourself," he said before realizing his mistake.

Vera glared at him. She walked to his side and pushed his stool over, sending Nash to the floor.

Nash writhed a moment and sighed, letting himself go limp on the floor. "Guess I deserved that, eh?"

"Damn right you did. Now, did he happen to take anything with him that I could reach him on? Or did he happen to tell you where this arcade is?" Vera asked, squatting beside him.

"He didn't say where. I guess if you really wanted to find him, just use ADA's network. You two both have the transmitters, right?" Nash said, climbing up and picking up his stool.

"Interesting idea," Vera said, standing up. She dug Freya's transmitter out of her skirt pocket and examined it.

Nash sighed and snatched it out of her hand. He looked it once over and began pressing seemingly random spots on it. Small lines ran along the sides of it more and more rapidly. He handed it back to her and she snatched it back.

"Alright, what did you do now?" Vera said, looking at it.

"I pressed random buttons until a signal came up," Nash said, a proud smile on his face.

"Brilliant. Now what?" Vera replied, unimpressed.

"The transmitter is active. What is your wish?" ADA's voice said from the transmitter.

"How convenient!" Vera said, grinning. "ADA, can you call Miryhn's transmitter? I'm sure he'd take it with him," she said into the transmitter.

"I can and will do so. By the way, note that you only have to press the button in the lower left hand corner to active this apparatus," ADA said.

Nash laughed and grinned.

Vera glared at him, making Nash stop immediately and look away in shame.

Suddenly, loud dance music played through the transmitter. Vera raised an eyebrow.

"Miryhn?" she asked into it, curious.

The dance music continued along with a few muffled cheers and shouts.

"Miryhn?" she asked again with a little more volume. She heard a muffled grunt of surprise.

The dance music continued as there was a loud thunk and several people cheered.

"Miryhn!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

There were several sounds of fabric rubbing across the other transmitter.

"What the hell are you doing calling me? I'm kicking ass at Dance Dance Revolution here!" Miryhn's voice shouted above the loud dance music.

"Where are you? We have to go see Norris about something right now!" Vera said firmly.

Miryhn whined loudly. "But I'm on the hard soundtrack! There's people betting on me and everything!" he said, the music and cheers continuing in the background.

"Tough! Where are you? We're coming to pick you up in the convertible," Vera said with a scowl.

"The arcade on Seville and Quarterly. Now go away, the slow part is over and the beat is picking up again," Miryhn said and he cut off the transmission.

Vera cut off her transmitter and stared at Nash.

Nash stared back.

"I didn't know he played DDR," Vera said, sloping her brow.

Nash shrugged and started walking for the cars.

Vera shook her head and followed after Nash.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Miryhn laid in the backseat, staring at the ceiling with his sunglasses on. Nash sat in the passenger seat with his elbow against the armrest. Vera drove carefully and slowly, going out of the city to the industrial districts along the outskirts.

"Could have waited three more minutes. I almost beat the whole game," Miryhn said with a sneer.

"Don't start," Vera said sternly.

Miryhn mumbled to himself and turned over on his side, face to the back of the seat.

"And don't nap either, we're almost there," Vera said, pulling to a stoplight.

"Give me a break, I still don't think I've completely woken up from Jim's damn wake-up call," Miryhn said, scratching his back.

"I don't blame you. Something is up with him," Nash said, carefully examining his left hand.

"What do you mean?" Vera asked, pulling through the green light and accelerating.

"Well, he was actually kind of...hyperactive," Nash said, looking over at Vera. "You know, like something was happening that he was truly happy about. Or maybe he was happy about something he was about to do. After all, he rushed out of there pretty damn quickly after we ate," he continued to explain.

"Maybe it was something he had been meaning to do for a while. We've never been to Tharsis together like this," Miryhn said, rolling to his back.

"I guess that could be it. He never leaves the ship, I guess it had to be something important like that," Vera said, glancing over as she turned a corner.

"Jim never talks to us about where he's been and what he's been doing with his life. He's just our hard-assed boss and nothing more, it seems," Nash said, looking out the passenger window.

"Nothing wrong with keeping some things to yourself," Miryhn said, propping his arms behind his head.

"You'd know about that, wouldn't you?" Vera said in a monotone.

Nash raised his head and looked at Vera, then Miryhn. Miryhn didn't move, Vera bit her lip.

"What do you mean, Vera?" Nash asked, curious.

"It's nothing, nevermind," Vera said quickly, slowly shaking her head.

"I think we'd all know. How'd you get that scar on your hand, Vera? Who was that brown-haired chick in that photo on your desk, Nash?" Miryhn said plainly.

Vera and Nash were both silent. Nash cleared his throat.

"Exactly," Miryhn said, laying an arm to his side and leaning his head back more on the other arm.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Jim's search was over. After a day of asking around old stomping grounds, he had found his way back to the old apartment building.

There, at the top of the stairs of that crumbling tenement was his the old home: apartment 4-B. Jim smiled and reached for the handle to open the door. The handle came off in his hand, so he tossed it aside and kicked open the door. Stepping inside, clouds of dust instantly rose off the floor and smoke screened the entrance. He waved his hand in front of his face and dusted off his jacket as he shut the door behind him. All around him the old puke-green wallpaper was peeling and cracking, revealing the wall boards. He took a few steps, his boots heavy against the creeking old wooden floor. Most of the furniture was still there, but turned over or covered in layers of dust and mildew. The windows were glazed over and the dust was stirring in midair in faint light coming in the windows. To the left was the archway into the small kitchen. To the right was the living room which had doors to the bedrooms and bathroom. In front of him was the dining room table and chairs. Everything that made this place a home to him was long gone; go be honest, this made him feel uneasy, like he was staring at a hole in his very soul.

Jim walked into the kitchen, glancing over the counter top and stove. He stared at the perfect rectangle on the wall where the calendar once hung; that was where he kept tabs on all the gigs he sighed up for. All of his refrigerator magnets were gone as well as the notes and reminders he kept. He sighed and walked into the dining room again.

He glanced slowly over the dining room table. The table sheet was gone as well as all the fancy porcelain table settings. The two hutches were barely intact; all the plates were gone and the shelves collapsed. The glass windows in the doors of the hutches were smashed beyond repair and barely on the hinges. On the built-in shelves above, all the pictures he kept were gone. He walked up and searched the shelf with his hand, finding only one photo. He pulled it down and looked at it; it was just an old photo of himself swinging a mug around with Billy and two other guys they had started drinking with that night. She must have taken it while we weren't looking, he thought; or when we were too hammered to remember, he added to this thought with a chuckle.

Jim took the picture and put it in his pocket. His next stop was the living room, so he walked into it and stopped in the middle of the room. The old red couch was still there; his ass-grove was still in it from all the nights he spent watching the game after work. One of his bottles of beer was still on the table along with the ashtray and an old flyer from the shipyard. Jim smiled, remembering how he was always bushed after arriving home. He worked as a loader/unloaded in the shipyard; that's why he was so buff and rugged. That was probably the first thing she noticed about him, second was that he could play the piano. The TV was missing from the small set of shelves it sat on. Underneath, where he kept his old wrestling DVDs, was bare as a bone as well. She always hated how he watched "such trash"; she always insisted on watching wholesome old sitcoms and comedy-romance movies.

He looked at the doorway to the guest bedroom, but he turned away. There was no point in going there, he knew his the piano in there would be gone as well as everything else that he missed about this place.

He stood up and faced the master bedroom doorway. Something about it warded him off, the urge to tear-up coming to him. He drew a determined look on his face and marched in the bedroom. Inside, there was nothing but a mattress and box-spring on a bed frame. The dresser and nightstand were long gone; the closet door open and bare. All the picture frames and paintings were gone, leaving rectangular spots on the wall. The thing that caught his attention most was the gaping hole in the wall in the opposite corner. It wasn't so much the size of the hole; it was actually quite small. The thing that got to him was the red stain all around the hole; as well as the red stain that trailed down the wall and partially on the floor.

"Katherine," Jim said, biting his lip. Tears came to his eyes as he walked to the wall; he reached out and felt around the edges of the hole. This hole was what he had come for; it was the reason he didn't play piano anymore and the reason he had been running for so long. He dropped his head and wept silently.

Katherine was an odd woman at first. Jim had met her the night he played at the employees talent show when he had finished playing a piece by Schubert and put half the audience to sleep. As he left the stage, Katherine, a mild-mannered accounting employee, smiled at him and took his hands in hers. "These are such talented hands. They must be mine!" she said, her face bright with excitement. There was no need to explain what that mean: she wanted to perform with him. Jim blushed, slowly nodding and reluctantly agreeing. Katherine hugged Jim, then walked away and up the stage to perform her moving rendition of Stolkov's 2nd (a late 21st century opera movement). The whole time she sang, Jim stared at her in a trance.

She was extremely beautiful to Jim; moderate size breasts, nice hips and curves, and long green hair that was extremely well-kept. He had later found out that her family had green hair genetically inserted into their gene pool since in this day and age every possible appearance was possible. As she stood on the stage, singing to a recording, wearing an exquisite opera gown, Jim's heart skipped a beat. When she finished, she smiled and looked straight at Jim, blowing him a kiss. Jim smiled widely and waved back. She put her hands together and rested them on the front of her poofy gown, bowing like a true professional. Jim knew it was cliched, but he swore it was love at first sight.

In the weeks that followed, they kept it strictly professional. Katherine would only come by his apartment to practice their performances in the guest bedroom. Jim didn't care much, just hearing her sing was enough to bring a smile to his face the whole time they practiced. Of course, when she'd leave, he'd grab a beer and plop onto the couch to watch wrestling. There was no point in playing while she was gone, it just wasn't the same song without her voice to it.

Jim remembered what he thought one day: it wasn't just the songs they performed that needed her in them for him to be satisfied. He knew that it was her missing from his life that made him so depressed. He just couldn't seem to be happy without her around. He smiled the whole time she was there in his apartment, even when they weren't practicing and were just chatting over some coffee at the table. He knew he had to make her his, or he'd never meet another like her. She wouldn't be the one who got away.

So one day after a gig in a club across town, Jim sheepishly asked her to go back to his place. She asked why they needed more practice and Jim told her that it wasn't for practice. Jim, confident or perhaps blindly stupid, decided to spill his feelings to her right there in front of the bar. When he had finished, tears were in his eyes. He quickly grabbed her and hugged tightly; there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity for such a fine woman to pass up. Katherine began to cry too, suddenly hugging him back. "James, I feel the exact same. I love you too," she said bluntly. Jim smiled and hugged her tighter; she was right, they were in love. It may have just been a common love for music or a physical attraction, or both, but they were obviously in love. They went back to Jim's apartment and spent the entire night together, falling asleep in each other's arms on the couch.

In the months that passed, Katherine moved out of her smaller apartment and lived with Jim. They decided to take it slowly, going a step at a time and not doing anything they'd regret until they were sure they wanted it. They continued to practice daily and perform gigs all over town; they became notorious for being such a talented couple. Both kept their jobs in the shipyard in the meantime, hoping to stash up enough money for a real home and maybe even a family. Soon, they even got married in a small and hastily-thrown together arrangement. Jim was a complete man, he had never felt better in his whole life. Everything was set; he had a wife and a future.

However, something unexpected happened. There was a mass lay-off at the shipyard and Katherine lost her job. Jim was saved from being fired, considering he was a valued employee. He continued to slave away to support them both. Katherine, on the other hand, stayed at home on the couch, watching soap operas all day. Whenever he came home, she was usually asleep on the couch or laying there, glazed over from not having taken her anti-depressants for the day. She never sang, she never left the couch. She'd stay up late watching TV and never come to bed. Jim would have to force her to take a bath and eat his rather simplistic meals. There was no way around it: she blamed herself and obviously took being laid off as a hit to her integrity. She constantly questioned her self-worth, quizzing Jim on things he found to be ridiculous like why didn't he tell her she was useless and why she couldn't do anything right after she worked as hard as she could. Jim would just shrug and walk to his piano to stare at the keys. He didn't play much other than pecking at a C or A flat; he couldn't play anymore music. His angel was silenced, her despair stopped his fingers; the music was gone and so was their dreams.

Jim finally took a stand one day. He woke her up from one of her late afternoon naps and shoved the want-ads in her face. He insisted she try to find a new job and get over the lay-off. The only way she could be happy, it seemed, was to get on with life and pick up where she left off. However, this backfired in his face. Katherine accused him of being pushy and forceful. She called him insensitive and selfish, just worrying about the money rather than her. Jim, of course, knew this was not the truth. He cared about her happiness and her well-being and no matter how much he explained, Katherine just accused him of being selfish.

A few weeks passed and Jim was fed up. He was so confused and lost; he had no idea what had made such a radical change in her. He found himself depressed and drinking often, sometimes breaking into tears and missing his old Kathrine. He just wanted her to smile again and sing along with him, he just wanted them to be happy again. It was her fault for being so weak, it was her fault for being such a bitch about things. And most of all, it was her not trying to love him back the way he was loving her. It was all her fault, it had to be.

So Jim's frustration and sadness turned to anger; slowly, but surely. Every time he came home, instead of begs and pleads for her to get up and get on with life they spent time fighting and arguing over how neither understood the other truly. Katherine even threatened to move out often, but Jim knew it was an idle threat; she was just too weak to be on her own anymore physically and emotionally. She only stayed with him for company. That's all he was: human interaction. It was obvious, she didn't love him anymore.

Jim had enough. Something had to be done; he just couldn't let this woman live with him anymore. He was petrified of being all alone again, but he prepared himself for the worst one night and called her into the bedroom one night. She somehow dragged her lazy ass off the couch and into the bedroom, standing in front of him as he sat on the bed. She folded her arms and scowled, looking quite impatient. Jim sighed, seeing her features; her complexion had paled, she was thinner from starvation, and her beautiful green hair was now an oily and stringy mess. Her bathrobe was covered in food stains and spots where he assumed she didn't feel like leaving the couch to use the toilet. She was unwashed, filthy, and rotten with spite. Jim's feelings overflowed just seeing her like this, both angry and sad at how she had let herself go. He drew a serious look on her face and began to explain to her the situation.

He was firm about it, telling her every single thing he felt and thought, just like the night they admitted love. When he was through, he sat and sighed while looking into her eyes. Katherine began to cry and shout, claiming that she had loved him all along. She felt that in her time of need she wanted to be more intimate while he simply treated her like a baby. She accused him of not loving her like he use to anymore and gave him chance after chance to redeem himself.

This was the last straw for Jim. Not only had she never told him this before, but she honestly expected him to bow down and worship this self-righteous beast of a female. She was no longer human, just an ugly blob who never spoke her mind or did anything productive and now she expected this of him? A flame in Jim's mind flared up and he gritted his teeth, drawing a furious look. Katherine mocked him and spat more of her spiteful remarks, now insisting that even if they split up, he should accommodate for her until she got on her feet. Jim knew he didn't owe her anything and he would have been glad to tell her that. However, his body acted before his mind did and with one swing of his right fist, he knocked her into the wall. Seething with anger, he grabbed the table-lamp and with a mighty swing, smashed the heavy porcelain cudgel over her head. Blood poured from her head with the hit, the sound of her skull cracking against the wall echoed in his mind. He drew back his fist to finish the job and at the last second deviated. His punch went alongside her head and into the wall, making the same hole he was looking at in the present.

Jim didn't even take the time to check on her. The moment he pulled his fist from the wall, he screamed as tears immediately came down his cheek. He took a few steps back from her body and whipped around. He ran, panicking and grabbing every stash of money he could from the whole apartment. He grabbed his coat and fled the building, running as fast as he could. Ever since that day, he had been running; running from his mistake and running from his punishment.

He stayed at a cheap motel, loathing himself and sulking on occasion along with taking in heavy liquors. He knew that the police might be looking for him, so he had what he now thinks of as a lapse of sanity. He went back to his old shipyard and with the help of his buddies, bought The Entropy using most of the cash he and Katherine had saved up. He departed immediately, having only a small stock of equipment and rations; he didn't care, he just had to get away from the life he was leading. He just wanted to start fresh and hopefully smooth over his mistake. Could he be redeemed? Could time heal his wounds?

That was six years ago.

Jim raised his head and looked at the hole again. He shed another tear and stood up, walking out the door. There was nothing there for him, just bad memories. A firm reminder of why he chose to live as he does. There was a price to pay and a hatchet to bury; it was time to go come clean to some of his last remaining true friends.

He walked to the door and opened it; as he stood in the doorway, he glanced back at the bedroom door.

"There was a hole here, it's gone now," he said, under his breath,"Just like it was never there. I'll make it that way." He began to hum a solemn tune to himself and shut the door behind him as he left.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Vera, Miryhn, and Nash had arrived at a small office building near the industrial district. Once arriving in the doorway, they were lead by armed guard to a meeting room just down the hallway. They were seated and left to wait for several minutes. Not long after, a few men dressed in rather militaristic uniform came in and sat in the other chairs. They all sat in complete silence for several more minutes.

By now, Miryhn was getting rather fed up with waiting. He rotated his pinkie finger around in his ear, pulling out some earwax and rubbing it on the armrest of his chair. Vera sneered and smacked his chest with the back of her hand from the chair beside him. He looked at her angrily and then glanced at the door. Norris walked in with Lamar in tow, stepping to the head of the table.

"I thank you all for coming here today. There is a matter that needs to be settled with the utmost importance," Norris said, folding his hands behind his back. "As you know, in this day and age, you're either someone or no one. This company happens to be a collective 'someone' and for such, we pride ourselves in being a top weaponry manufacturer with an impressive militia for our protection. This loosely assembled bit of protection is simply in case outside forces decide to make us pincushions for some anti-war movement...and today, you will prove how effective you are in the face of real terrorists. No doubt they are another group of upstarts trying to make a stand against us, Ryan Corporation, who partially backed the U.N.S.F. after BAHRAM's dissolve," he continued.

Miryhn raised an eyebrow and adjusted his sunglasses back up his nose. "Mind me asking who's responsible? And mind me also asking why the Earth forces stationed mere miles away are obviously not involved?" he boldly asked. "I doubt any of you are from the U.N.S.F., are you?" he added, looking at each of the other men at the table.

Norris looked at Miryhn and laughed. "Excuse me, but what is it of the concern of mercenaries to know that?"

"Nothing, just curious," Miryhn said, leaning back in his seat.

"Yes, quite...well, as of an hour ago, we spotted an unknown force coming from an undetermined place south of a Ryan mining colony. It is obviously moving to attack that establishment and you are all to stop it with any necessary force. This is just a case of this fine company protecting its own assets, so don't spare their lives. Kill them if you must; capture what you can. You will be reporting to Commander Wolfgang from here on out, so that is all. Good luck," Norris said before walking out the door.

Just then, one of the men sitting at near the head of the table stood up. He stepped to the head of the table and stroked his thick grey beard. His bald head reflected the ceiling lights in everyone's faces. He made a low grumbling noise before taking a step back and throwing an index finger forward. He pointed to each person at the table, saying,"You are all zat z'tand in zee way of victory and defeat! Never, never, never give up!"

Nash stared at the man, wide-eyed. Vera did the same. Miryhn held in a burst of laughter, making snickering noises.

"I am your commander, Robert Wolfgang! Retired Marz military for forty yearz and previous member of Earth Marinez. I know combat and zee Phantoma piloting like zee back of my hand!" Wolfgang said, showing the back of his hand proudly.

Nash and Vera continued to stare. Miryhn threw his hands over his mouth, holding in the laughter.

"Now, go and prepare for zee battle of your very livez! I will zee us to victory! Justice will alwayz triumph!" Wolfgang said, throwing a fist out in full extension, raising his voice to a grand level. He then slammed his fists on the table, crying out,"Zay it with me! Victory!"

The men all jubilantly replied with a hearty,"Victory! Victory!"

Vera and Nash looked at each other and gave an uninspired,"Victory..."

Miryhn laid on the table, in tears of laughter while the others chanted.

"Zat is right! To victory, men! On to victory!" Wolfgang said, marching out of the room the way the militia men came in.

The rest of the militia followed suit, chanting for victory and triumph.

Vera, Nash, and Miryhn were left all alone. Miryhn was still laughing as hard as he could.

Nash glared at Miryhn. "What the hell is your problem?" he asked, completely puzzled.

"That guy is such a damn clown! Where'd they dig him up from? Is he serious?" Miryhn said in between fits of laughter.

Vera rolled her eyes and got out of her chair. "Shut up and show some respect. We have to call the Frames over here and get ready to deploy," Vera said, brushing past Miryhn's chair and out the door.

Nash followed after her, not bothering to comment to Miryhn.

Miryhn sighed and shot out of his chair, following the others. "Love and peace! Justice will always triumph over evil!" he shouted as loud as he could while walking out the door. He burst into another fit of laughter after this.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Jim stopped on the sidewalk in front of Billy and Joel's. He wasn't sure why he was going; the truth probably wouldn't be acceptable to them. Somehow, he felt he owed it to them; he had been, after all, their main attraction every weekend in the past. He played his ass off on their lounge piano, drawing in healthy crowds of regulars and folks off the street.

Jim's true talent wasn't business. Nor was it running a freelancing ship. In his heart, ever since he was young, he felt he was a piano player. He loved more than anything to play and entertain. Whether it was simple lounge acts or playing grand piano at recitals and showcases, Jim loved nothing more than to play. A musician trapped in his lifestyle wasn't healthy, he thought, and perhaps it was time to finally come to terms with that. Perhaps it was time to come to terms with all he'd been running from; to come to terms with Katherine. For that, he needed a clean slate; to do that, he had to get over his grievances. Billy and Joel would be the first to hear it. They were his friends, after all; they'd understand better than anyone else, right?

Jim pushed open the door and took a step or two inside. There was a regular crowd there, but it was strangely quiet. Everyone sat there, drinking their drinks in utter silence or talking very quietly to one another. Missing from the picture were Bill and Joel. Jim decided to wait on them and sat at the bar.

Sitting beside him was an old man. His brown suit was ragged and smelled of old cologne; his skin was wrinkled and pale right along with his pale white hair. He raised a class to his lips with a quivering motion and sat it back on the bar. In his other hand was a picture of a small child. He kept glancing at it whenever he wasn't sipping down his drink.

Jim threw a few peanuts in his mouth and looked at the old man. He was curious about the picture. "Say, sir, is that your grandchild?" he asked boldly.

The old man glanced at him, placing his glass on the bar again. "Yeah, son, that's my granddaughter. Problem is, I just buried her. She got real sick on Callisto and didn't pull through," the man explained, staring at the photo.

"I'm sorry to hear that, I really am. My condolences," Jim said sincerely.

"I thank 'ya, son. It's a damn shame when someone my age outlives my descendant," the man said, taking another long sip of his drink. "Especially since she was the last one left in my life."

"You don't have a wife or kids?" Jim asked innocently.

"Wife died eight years back. My kids all died in Vascillia County. They were casualties when civilian buildings were hit by an artillery round three years ago," the man explained, now looking at Jim. "God bless my granddaughter, she was with me at the time on Earth. She was so upset...left with only me to take care of her," he said, looking at the photo again.

Jim looked back, straight into his eyes. The old man was obviously crying earlier; his eyes were wet and a bit bloodshot.

"I have no family anymore. All I have is my crumby job at the seafood plant because I can't afford retirement yet," the old man said, taking another sip of his drink. "The only one I can make love to now is my gin and tonic here," he added, tapping his glass with his index finger.

Jim was suddenly moved. "Sir, I really wish I could do something for you," he said empathetically.

"Well, what are you doing here, son? Come here to drink or entertain? That's all people do here," the old man said, pointing to the stage with the pole and piano.

"I'm...the piano man," Jim said, feeling nostalgic.

"Well, son can you play me a memory? I'm not really sure how it goes. But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man's clothes," the old man said, his eyes about to tear up.

Jim laughed and stood up. "I'll try, sir. I'll try," he said, walking to the stage. He climbed up and sat behind the piano, opening up the keyboard before stretching his fingers. He laid his hands on the keys and began a slow and mellow tune. Instantly, all the bar patrons glanced at him and began to converse while watching him. Jim noticed this and smiled, moving seamlessly into a slightly more upbeat tune. Jim looked at the old man at the bar; he was drying his eyes with a handkerchief. But the old man was smiling brightly, so Jim smiled back.

As Jim continued to play, he slowly made the tune more upbeat and catchy. Eventually he was doing a funky jazz tune, swinging back and forth slightly with the beat. He failed to notice Bill walk out of the back room and look over his shoulder. Jim jerked to the side and looked back at Bill, not missing a beat and playing as smoothly as before.

"Guess you felt like playing again, huh?" Bill said, walking to the side of the piano. He leaned against it, smiling at Jim.

"Guess I did," Jim said, smiling at each of the people watching him.

Bill laughed and began swinging his head back and forth to the beat, smiling like he hadn't been this happy his entire life.

"Bill, I have to ask. What the hell ever happened to John, the barkeep. He was a damn good friend of mine, you know. He'd always get me drinks for free after I played, you know?" Jim said, nodding to the bar. "He was quick with a joke or a light for my smoke, he was a damn nice guy."

"There was someplace that he'd rather be, you know? One day he comes up to he and says 'Bill, I believe this is killing me', as the smile ran away from his face. Then he says 'I'm sure that I could be a movie star, if I could get out of this place'! So he cashed his paycheck for that week and just up and quit. Never came back too," Bill said, jamming a hand in his pocket.

"Did he ever make it?" Jim said, continuing to play.

"I never payed much attention to it. I haven't heard from him in two years," Bill said, his smile turning to a frown for a moment. He then smiled and nodded his head to the beat again.

"And how about this crowd? I remember when you use to have tens of people packed in here daily," Jim said, glancing at some random patrons in the room.

"Well," Bill said, raising his free hand from his pocket to point. "That there is Paul, he's a real estate novelist. Never had time for a wife, so I guess he's one of those folks who drink at bars just to have company. See that guy to the right in the blue coat that Paul's talking to? That's Davey, he's still in the navy and probably will be for life. He says he can't hold a job anywhere else, let alone hold a steady girlfriend. The rest of these people I never took the time to talk to," Bill said, looking at Paul and Davey, then back to Jim.

"And the waitress? I noticed your old one is missing," Jim said, looking down at the keys as he did a fast little solo.

"She's practicing politics, trying to make it into office of the treasury while the businessmen she's running against slowly get stoned. Bunch of drug addicts running against her, I hear," Bill said, now doing a small dance along with Jim's music.

"Did she ever marry that weird guy?" Jim asked.

"Nah, he left her for some hot actress across town," Bill replied, continuing dancing.

"Seems like everyone that comes into your bar is just here to share a drink they call 'loneliness', eh, Bill?" Jim said, smirking at his metaphor.

"As I said about Paul, it's better than drinking alone, right?" Bill said with a shrug.

"But it's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday, right?" Jim said, glancing around while playing.

Bill smiled and nodded. "But I know it'd be more packed if you stayed and played. It's you all the old ones came to see and forget about life for a while. When you left without a trace, most of the people who came in daily started to disappear," he said, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" Jim said, raising an eyebrow.

"What I mean is...well, the piano...it sounds like a carnival! The microphone smells like a beer! People who sat at the bar put bread and cash in your jar and always ask 'Man, what is he doing here?'" Bill said brightly, smiling. "You were a little bit of light in some people's life and when you left, so did their happiness. Your music meant something to them, not just the booze!"

Jim stopped playing. He had never realized it: the minute he left, he did the same thing Katherine had done to him. Like she had changed because of her own feelings, leaving him with nothing to depend on to be happy, he had run out on those that depended on him. This left a gaping hole in their lives like Katherine did to him. Jim bit his lip and glazed over his realization of hypocrisy. Obviously there was a difference between love and entertainment, but the fact that abandonment was still involved seethed at his conscience. Jim slammed his hands on the keyboard, mashing out a cacophonous chord. The old piano couldn't take it, though; and three strings snapped inside the soundbox. Every set of eyes in the bar was on him.

"Jim, what's wrong? Seriously, I'm worried about you," Bill said, an expression of concern on his face.

Jim lowered his head and began to tear up again. He raised his head and looked Bill in the eyes. "You want to know why I left? You do, don't you Bill? You won't leave me alone until I tell you, will you?" Jim cried out angrily.

"Calm down!" Bill said, his expression of worry intensifying. "Look, you don't have to tell me, it's okay!"

"No, I'll tell you. I'll tell you plain out. Katherine is dead! You hear me? Dead!" Jim said, standing up from the piano bench to fully face Bill.

Bill's jaw dropped. "What? What happened to her?" he pleaded.

"She died on the inside, so I killed her. I killed her myself because there was nothing left of her. I put her out of her misery and suffering...I just couldn't bear to look her in the face anymore!" Jim said bitterly, turning his face away to struggle with his tears.

Bill took a step back. Shock drew up his body and into his face. His expression drew up into an angry look. "Jim, tell me you're joking. You're just some piano player, not....look, just tell me this is all some kind of joke," he said, slowly shaking his head.

"No, it's all true. I killed her with my own two hands...because I wanted to move on. I wanted to live free once again before she had ever stepped into my life and made me so miserable. I came to that realization today and I regret every bit of it," Jim said, crying harder.

"Stop talking you sick son of a bitch..." Bill said under his breath. Bill stormed over to the bar and threw the swinging door open. He pulled a shotgun out from under the bar and aimed it at Jim. "I don't care if you're telling the truth or not, Jim. Get out! Get out, now! You're not welcome here anymore!"

Jim stammered, frozen in place. Jim was awash with emotion, there was no room for logic like running for the door in his mind. All he could do was ask himself why Bill was overreacting like he was.

"I said get your ass out of here before I blast your brains out!" Billl shouted, pulling the handle of the shotgun back and forward.

Jim caught the hint and at first thought, he raced for the door. He charged outside and down the street.

Bill took a deep breath and put the shotgun back under the bar. He looked around and all the patrons were staring at him.

"Tried to talk his way out of a tab," Bill said, slowly nodding.

The patrons all forgot about it and went back to drinking and talking.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Jim ran all the way back to the ship, slamming the dock hangar door shut behind him. He wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeves and entered the ship hangar. All three Orbital Frames were gone; Norris must have called while he was out.

Jim walked up to his piano and sat on the bench. He opened the keyboard and stared at the keys a few moments. Suddenly, the urge came to him to do something he always wanted to do. Jim placed his hands on the keys and began to play his and Katherine's favorite song: an old tune called "Dijurido". Back when they performed together, him and Katherine always did this song last. It was both their favorite, it was "their song". Then, during the days when Katherine became nothing more than a leech and a missing piece of his life, he always wanted to sit and play it once again in hopes she'd perk up and join in. Jim never really thought about what was stopping him; perhaps he was just afraid she'd ignore him even more, reminding him of how lonely he was. Perhaps he was just always scared of that happening; but he realized that right now, he was all alone anyway. She was gone forever.

Jim was lonesome, he had accepted that. He had no one to love and no right to love someone the way he did Katherine. All he had was music and his ability to play it beautifully. For him, at the moment, that was all he needed. He was lonely and the song joined with him and somehow, if only for a moment, he felt like a whole man again. "Dijurido" was no longer a song of his sadness and fear, but a song for the slight bit of hope he had at the moment. He smiled and laughed; he was a piano man, bringing raw emotion to life in his music; and that is what he'd remain for the rest of his life.

<CENTER>-----------------------------</CENTE R>

Norris stepped into the bathroom, breathing a long sigh of relief. He had been holding it ever since he began the meeting. As he stepped up to the stall door, he looked to his right at the door. Two men were standing there, in the blind spot behind the inward opening bathroom door; one was a black man with a baggy yellow outfit on, the other was a thin-faced white man with a sweatshirt and jeans. Norris raised an eyebrow and turned to face them.

"Norris Contraus? We had an order called in with your name on it here," the black man said, holding up a brown paper bag.

"How nice! Food from yet another secret admirer? What was sent this time? Chinese? French? Maybe even some Mexican or Italian?" Norris said with a smile.

"It's not ethnic, it's home-cooked," the white man said with a smirk.

"Oh, that's even better! Who this time? Stein family cooking? Something from the Layons? Perhaps Basilisk or Romero decided they want to start sending me little treats? Please, tell me, I'd love to know who to send a thank you note to," Norris said, putting an arm on the stall structure and leaning on it.

"Can't write a thank you note if you dead, sucka!" the black man yelled, pulling a small machine gun from under his sweater.

Before the black man could open fire, Norris pulled out a revolver from a holster in his jacket and shot the black man square in his forehead.

"Jesus! How'd you do that so fast?" the white man said, looking down at his dead partner and then back at Norris.

"I'm a gunslinger, just like my daddy and his daddy. I come from a long line of folks who know when to shoot and when not to," Norris said with a smirk, keeping his aim up on the white man.

"Damn!" the white man said, clenching his teeth. "Look, bro, I don't want any trouble. Just let me go and I'll just say your guards ran me off or something. Come on, be cool, man, be cool!" he pleaded, inching for the door.

Norris sighed and put his revolver away. "Fine, go, I don't give a damn," Norris said, going to use the toilet.

The moment Norris entered the doorway, the white man grabbed his downed partner's machine gun and ran for Norris' stall. Just as he put his hand on the doorway, Norris kicked the door off its hinges, sending the thug staggering backwards. Norris stepped out of the stall and shot the man twice; once in the chest and once on the left shoulder. The man collapsed to ground and began to futilely crawl for the door. Norris laughed and shot the man in the back.

The thug kept crawling for the door, giving whelps of pain.

Norris fired the last two rounds into his legs, laughing almost maniacally. He pulled another revolver from the holster in the opposite side of his coat and fired four more shots into the thug, causing him to finally collapse a few yards from the door.

"That's right, fuck all of you! You fuck with Norris Contraus, you're fucking with the man!" Norris shouted, waving his gun at the thug's corpse. "Those sons of bitches are never going to get their grubby hands on my business! Who ever heard of gangsters controlling weapons research and manufacture, huh? Fuck you all!" he added, screaming at the top of his lungs. He laughed manically and fired the last of his bullets into the thug's body.

Just then, Lamar burst into the bathroom. "Sir, are you ok? I came out of the elevator and heard the shots and-" he started to say before seeing Norris breathing heavily and leaning on the stall structure.

"I'm fine, Lamar. Just call janitorial and clean up this mess. Just a small case of self-defense," Norris said, putting his revolvers back in their holsters inside his coat.

Lamar sighed. "Sir, this is the third time this month an attempt has been made on your life and you killed them all! How are we suppose to know who's after this company if you keep killing all the assailants?" he asked, shaking his head.

Norris began to laugh as hard as he could. He shook his head and calmed down, doing a few Tai Chi movements with steady breaths. Looking more composed, he brushed by Lamar and out the door.

Lamar stared straight forward, baffled by his boss's actions. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone to call the janitors. "I can't decide if he's brilliant or insane," Lamar said to himself.

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