It wasn’t hard at all the idea of leaving my town and my belongings in order to live in the big city. When Audrey and I married, this neighbourhood was a great place to live, but as superpowereds rose and started battling one another in every corner, the upkeep to maintain our lovely town was just too much.

Before I left, I checked up on Jen one last time. Gave her the keys to my place with all the money I had in it. She took it and agreed with the two conditions I established. She would leave Herc for good and meet this Social worker once a week. It just felt like the right thing to do. My new life didn’t seem to be as overwhelming as I'd expected to be. Perhaps my younger brain was able to cope with it better. As I left the door with Pringles in my arms, I spotted something odd. A brand new Harley Davison right in front of my house with a big purple dildo stuck on the bench.

Thinking about my new coworkers and someone’s particular sense of humour, I approached the bike. To my surprise there was a card attached to the dildo, it read:

“Choose wisely the things that you want to embark on and then ride it hard to the bitter end.

Love, Frank and Cedric.”

Removing the dildo off the bench, I walked towards the trash can. Jen stopped me in the way, took it from my hands and gave me a big hug.

I hopped on the motorcycle and put Pringles on the sidecar. Frank even remembered to buy Bike Goggles for both of us. I turned on the engine, and the beast humms accordingly. Boy oh boy, that is sweet!

The two most fierce companions ever assembled tore the road on their way to New York City, headed to one of the most prestigious headquarters in the world, the American Legionnaires HQ, home of the deadliest heroes on the planet.

Even though I was already scheduled to start as a rookie, I would have the chance to satisfy another desire before the meeting. As a teacher I was barely making any money for most of my life, if it wasn’t for Audrey’s working as a clerk I would’ve been forced to take a second job. But that wasn’t the case anymore.

As soon as I connected to the system, Molly informed me that Frank had deposited seven million dollars in my new bank account, after asking her to confirm with Frank if he made a mistake, she recognized that indeed the amount was inaccurate and that Frank had added another seventy million dollars to the original sum. She also informed me that the transference was encrypted and, after using considerable part of her capabilities decoding it, the wisdom of my fearless leader came to light once again: “Money is nothing but a thing. Peace.”

It took about six hours for us to arrive at our destination. New York became one of the most modern cities in the world, being the Meca from the new tech coming from abroad. Self-driving cars, facial recognition and the latest news on the War on Villains. Precognition surveillance was now available due to a partnership made with the Tracolaxorans. All of the United States watched the new system in effect, pondering if it should be adopted by the rest of the country. All over the news, people debate if this situation will turn into a real life Minority Report.

As I parked my motorcycle at one of the busiest spots on Central Park, a tall man with a Mohawk stopped me in the middle of the street. He wore a worn leather jacket with spikes on its cuffs. He looked at my bike, spat on the floor while pointing his finger at me. “Driving is murder you fucking prick!” and walked away.

The funniest thing wasn’t really the statement, it was that even though most people kept walking unbothered by the scene, others would give a tiny nod or smile as they passed us by, endorsing his subtle way of enlightening others. For a second, I was almost mad to be addressed in such a manner, but then I looked at the skyscraper where my new apartment was located and walked into the beautiful place.

A vallet and a doorman in uniform waited at the front. “Good morning, sir.” I nodded as I walked into the building, thick glass doors sliding smoothly. On the inside a glamorous decor incorporated nature, marble and glass. They all interacted effortlessly hiding the heavy tech that was used to make the seamless fusion. It was the new trend in architecture or so they said.

As I walked further in, beautiful receptionists patiently waited at the desk.

“Hi. I am Ernest Montgomery. I am here to pick up the keys to my new apartment.” I offered my ID.

“Welcome, Mister Montgomery. There is no need to present any documentation and there are no keys to your new apartment. Our locks are already synched to you and Pringles’ biodata. Congratulations on your purchase. Is there anything I can do for you?”

The attending had blue eyes and blonde hair. A Victoria's secret model in business attire.

“Yes, send a bottle of champagne and a masseuse to my apartment in half an hour, if you may.”

“Certainly, sir.”

You know what? The mohawk dude was right. I’ve been rich for a day and I already feel entitled. If I wasn'tt already a prick when this day started, I probably would be once the day was over.

Passing through the lobby I found the elevators, It was the first time that I rode one made completely from white marble. No buttons or any other commands. The door closed and opened immediately. For a second I thought it was some sort of malfunction, but the door opened directly inside an apartment. I guessed my apartment. I let Pringles off the leash as I roam through the place. My new living room alone was bigger than my whole house.

The place had a warm feel to it. Lot’s of wood and metal. It was completely different from the reception. The tables were low, having some type of japanese theme to them. Simple and elegant. However it is the wall that surprised me the most.

There were two huge blank canvases on it. But as I stopped to stare, a moving painting started playing on its own. It featured a black and white motion picture with Aubrey in it. Occasionally spots of color would appear, giving contrast to the beautiful scenes displayed. The first painting showed many moments of her. Our wedding, her graduation, the protests she participated in, the nights where she studied alone, the moments where I had to take care of her.

The other showed my students. What truly caught my attention was that not only I could see some of the most cherished moments that happened in my classroom, but it also continued afterwards. Students that I lost touch with for a long time were shown, thriving in their new busy lives. My vision became blurry as I kept watching the scenes, my faithful companion the only one to console me. Money and power were fantastic things to have but this... this was the moment when they earned my loyalty.

It took me a little bit of time to recompose and continue my tour. I walked around the apartament, every single room inside of it was just perfect.

As I enter my bedroom, I see a black box wrapped with a pink lace in the middle of my bed. I pull the lace and open the lid. Inside of it I see a gun, its color matching the box. It is a Colt 45 Single Action Army also known as the Single Action Army or Peacemaker. There were two reasons that I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was the case. First, no Clint Eastwood fan wouldn’t. Second, this model was custom made from Vivian Ward, a weaponsmith that worked exclusively for The Company, therefore making it illegal for me to sell it to anyone else.

There were images forming and moving on the steel. The white lines running through it were thin like spiderwebs. They would touch and splint forming new threads that appeared and disappeared as if the gun was a living thing. The weight and the cold from the steel was an odd feeling to get used too. Never thought of myself as a gunslinger.

This time I knew that somebody would have something to say about it. Probably in three, two, one…

“Hello, Agent Montgomery.

We detected that you are in possession of a restricted firearm.

Checking Agent privileges…

Agent has been cleared to use custom made firearms.

Your Colt 45 was tailored to your measurements and expertise. Vivian Ward says congratulations on joining the force.”

“Please tell her that I am deeply thankful.”

“Message has been sent.

Agent Cuningham advises to bind the gun to you as soon as possible. Do you wish to do so? (Y/N)”

“Yes.”

“Synching the firearm to you… Synching is complete. Binding the firearm to you… Binding is complete.”

I considered myself a pacifist, partially because I believed it and partially because Audrey wanted it, but holding a gun like that really did something to you. It felt like something I could get used to. Hell, if they sended it to me, I’ll probably have to eventually. Taking my explorations a little bit further, I walked down the hallway and found even more moving paintings hanging on the walls.

In one of them Frank rode a unicycle dressed as a clown in what looked like a giant maw from some type of massive carnivorous beast. He would go up and down cycling over the pointy teeth. Fire raged around him but he was grinning and juggling all the while, bright colors painted the surreal scene.

The second one, had Cedric dressed in a silver kimono, cherry flowers both growing and withering were the only part of his clothes that didn’t have a somber color to it, forming a starking contrast. He didn’t wear a moustache back then. He held a serene smile as his hands held a beautiful sunflower. There was an asian man by his side who was dressed in a indigo kimono as pretty as his. The man had a contradictory pose both solemn and yet proud.

The last picture was taken at my home. I didn’t realize they took it. I was holding Pringles with both hands over my head. A perfect imitation of the Lion King. I held my eyes half open, laughing about some stupid joke Frank made. Pringles had his trademark Michael Jordan pose with his tongue out type of look. Frank, Cedric and I had a pure expression of joy. One of those candid moments that often go unnoticed was captured for posterity.

As I left the hallway, I realized that there is only one room that I haven’t checked yet. I wasn’t sure if I would cook at all with my recently acquired wealth, but I was still curious. Gun in my hand, I entered the kitchen just to see the strangest sight of the night. A japanese girl, barely twenty years old, was in my kitchen in a maid outfit, flailing her arms looking intently towards the oven. Her eyes were wide, neither moving or blinking.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?”

Her head moved slowly, arms still flailing, like a skydancer in a gas station.

“Good morning,” she answered. Her voice was deep. Deeper than Cedric’s and the way the sound rang in the air left an eerie feeling that made me shiver. She stepped closer.

“Stop right there or I will shoot you!” The adrenaline was running so high that my whimpering warning was the only thing I managed to do. My gun was still resting limply by my side. Her reaction was just as strange. She hid her face by tucking her chin and looking at the floor, poorly hiding the malicious grin plastered on her face. Her arms rising in a staccato motion. I have never seen anything like it.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, boss.” She giggled. The deep sound reverberated inside of me. The echoes of her laughter making a multitude of sounds, every single one was different. Higher, lower, loud cackles and soft whispers. It would be an amazing thing to witness in a different circumstance. “Didn’t know…” She looked me in the eye. An inner pupil blinking horizontally. “...you so squeamish.” The voice that finished the phrase sounded just like any average twenty year old girl would.

By now, my heart was struggling trying to find a way to escape from my chest. The change in her voice only increased my panic. My left arm was battling to point the gun at her, shaking like a leaf as every instinct in my body screamed of its futility, that I should just run, that I didn’t know. Gun pointed at her head, I asked.

“What… what are you doing here?”

“Me? I work here, boss. The papers. Look.”

Her voice held some type of eastern bloc accent to it, sounding like a poor imitation of a Russian girl. Despite my predicament, I scoffed.

“As a maid?”

“Bodyguard.” She flexed her flimsy bicep.

I tilted my head, hope welling inside of me.

“What’s your name?”

“Nothing you understand, but it’s ok. Call me Sweeney.” She smiled, her face stretching further than what it was humanly possible.

“Molly, do you know who this creature is and if there are any contracts or transactions involving Sweeney?” I ask her mentally.

“Istigt’themord Grorhetheïnalius Inmatpik’thar, a.k.a Sweeney, is an ex-convict from the Company rehabilitation facilities. Originally sentenced for two centuries for illegal distribution of classified armor, mass genocide and treason, she got her sentence overturned, being retried as War Criminal. She is currently on probation. Agent Frank Carruthers is listed as her probation officer. Part of the requirements for her release include work as security personnel. Currently hired as Class-S guardian tasked to your protection.”

I lay down my gun. My free hand was still on my chest. Glad that my trousers were unscathed.

“Why do you have to introduce yourself in the most terrifying way?

She giggled. “Boss of boss asked. I do.”

“Goddamn it! Does Frank never chill?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Now that I can look at her without being terrified, I can see that her avatar is quite pretty. A long black hair with a very delicate face. It was your typical japanese teenager. However none of it mattered, I would never forget what lay underneath. I fiddled with my gun while avoiding eye contact.

“Can you please change the ma-”

“I dress normal. This.” She pointed at the outfit. “Just to fuck with you.”

“The man is thorough.”

She shrugged.

“Anything else I should know?”

Sweeney patted her body. Looking inside the pockets of her uniform, until she found a crumpled piece of paper and read the note.

“Don’t use gun. Don’t choose skill. When you go sleep, everything make sense.”

She nodded gravely, tossed the paper on the floor and walked out. Despite how I felt, I decided to probe her a little further before she could cross it, so I asked her.

“Don’t you think that this outfit is a little bit demeaning?”

“Me three hundred thousand pound Grorhetheïnalius warrior. Why care?”

“I should’ve realized.”

“Good.”

Sweeney walked off and I kept thinking about my initial reaction over that terrifying creature. I had a long road in front of me and many things needed to change.