Alone, sitting on a gorgeous bench, Eliot pondered to himself. He looked at his surroundings and took special notice of the art and the craftsmanship behind each piece. Each sculpture was chsitled to achieve the utmost realism, each painting was splattered with colors that shouldn’t even be possible, and every column that held up the Diamond Pillar was too detailed to wrap his mind around.

They are so beautiful, but I wonder if they realize that they decorate such an awful thing, he wondered. A wonderful exterior that hides a grotesque interior.

Minutes passed by, and a few folks wandered across his path, but none really paid him any mind. The moment someone got in his vicinity, Eliot looked at them and asked, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

The somewhat bloated man turned with an inquisitive look and exclaimed, “Aren’t we all?” His laugh was boisterous, proud, and flemmy. He walked off, still with a chuckle under his breath.

That can’t be right...my friends are good people...and I'm the only horrible one, Eliot concluded. If everyone is bad, then surely that would include them.

After a few more minutes, a lady dressed in sapphire blue danced her way in front of him, surrounded by an entourage of men and women. Seeing the sparkling beauty before him, he asked the crowd, “Am I a bad person?”

A few of them stopped, but a couple of them continued to move, including the lady. However, one of the younger and most meager-looking of the pack looked back at Eliot and replied, “How should I know? I don’t know you.”

They then continued on their way.

Of course they wouldn’t know, Eliot agreed, they don’t know me as well as I know me. But do I really know me? I need someone who does know me to tell me.

And so, he made his way to see one of his closest friends.

***

Still stuck in his dreadful office, Zander was busy filing papers away in his drawer. He had to ensure that everything was prepared, well kept, and most importantly, hidden away until the right moment. Even still, the painfully dull experience of the sheer amount of numbers and the relative nature of business was getting to him.

“Ugh!” he exhaustingly sighed. “How does my dad do it?”

Just then, he heard his door open. He quickly reached and snatched the pile of papers that were on his desk.

“Y-Yes?” Zander called out.

“Oh, sorry Zander, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Eliot apologized.

“Oh, it’s you, Eliot. What brings you here? Aren’t you supposed to be making copies of my keys?” He then started to slyly try and put the papers away.

“Fang said they'll take care of it.” Eliot’s eyes then honed in towards Zander’s hands. “Whatcha workin’ on? What’s with those papers?”

Zander nervously laughed and replied, “You know, boring stuff to get ready for the big transaction.” He then opened the drawer and proceeded to put them in there, locking it as it closed.

“That’s true,” Eliot said. “I can’t even imagine how complicated all that stuff is.” He then rested his head in his hand, which now rested on Zander’s desk. “You really are amazing.”

“Haha, well, thank you, Eliot, I’m well aware.”

There wa a bit of pause, before Zander started to say, “Well, is there anything—”

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Eliot blatantly asked.

“Excuse me?” Zander was a bit stunned by the question and was completely taken back.

“Well...you know...I’m a bad person,” Eliot stated, his expressions growing darker.

“You aren’t bad at all—you’re one of the nicest people I know.”

“I killed someone!” Eliot exploded.

There was a stunned silence that hung in the air.

“I-I took another life, and I couldn’t even remember, and I let my anger control me and,” Eliot continued to ramble on, his emotions the most fierce Zander had ever seen.

“Eliot, I know,” Zander firmly said.

Eliot just looked up at him.

“But that doesn’t make you a bad person,” he stated, looking Eliot in the eyes.

“What?” was all that Eliot could muster.

“One action doesn’t determine if someone is good or bad. People are more complicated than that.”

Eliot stumbled backward a bit. “How are you of all people saying this?” he replied with a shocked look. “You’re always Mr. By-the-books. You always talk about how criminals and people who are found guilty in court are ‘menaces’ to society.”

“T-that’s true, but I’ve seen some things and have come to—”

“STOP!” Eliot cried out. “This isn’t who you are. I’m just like everyone you look down on.” There was an extra layer of bite to the words he spoke. He then looked Zander back, dead in the eyes, and demanded, “Tell me I’m a bad person.”

“I…” Zander gripped his desk, hard, “can’t.” He took a deep breath. “Sometimes there are circumstances where a person doesn’t have a choice but to do something bad. It may be their only way out.”

“What are you saying? Who are you?” Eliot’s fiery eyes began to leak water. “You would always talk about how people always have the choice in choosing to do the right thing. You always talk about how if people chose to do horrible things, then they are horrible people—it doesn’t matter why.”

Zander’s hands were beginning to shake, just a little. “But I was wrong. Sometimes, the means have to justify the ends, and sometimes, there are no ‘good’ means—just the lesser of two evils.”

“But look at me!” Eliot pleaded. “I killed someone. I. Am. Bad.”

“You're not,” Zander replied, his hands now firm. “You had no choice and no control. I’ve come to learn that perhaps I might have been wrong about some things. People are more complicated than I thought.”

“Well, you are wrong...and I am bad.”

“You’re not,” Zander replied, taking a step forward.

“I am. I’m lower than scum.” Eliot looked down to the ground and let waterfalls form from his eyes.

“You’re not.” He took another step forward.

“I am…”

“You’re not.” Zander was now right next to Eliot.

“I—” but before Eliot could even utter another word, Zander wrapped himself around Eliot. It was a warm embrace...a comforting embrace...a freeing embrace. No words were spoken. They continued to share their feelings, their emotions, through that embrace. And they both felt a peace and comfort that they had never felt before.

***

Another uproar. Vincent heard the sound of dozens of people cheering, yelling, and booing. While the emotions coming from that were varied, they all shared a common sense of heightened energy. He knew exactly where that energy was coming from and he was already on his way there.

During the previous day, he had played a fun game with marbles, and that seemed to cure his boredom. The way that there were things left to chance, but yet it still felt like a game of skill was exhilarating just to think about.

By the time he had made his way to that familiar table, it was already swarmed by an insane amount of people. They were all making noise and pushing one another in the hopes to see whatever was going in the center. Vincent didn’t even hesitate to force his way through the crowd. After all, he had a fun game to play, and apparently, with a famous person within the casino.

It didn't take him too long to muscle his way through, and when he did pop out on the other side, he saw exactly what everyone was witnessing. On one side of the table was a nicely dressed man, decorated with lavender accents that went with his grey suit. He seemed to be sweating a lot, seeing as his bald head was glistening.

On the other side of the table was the more fascinating man of the two. This man had an air of unbridled confidence to him. Not an openly flamboyant one, but a still, cold, and silent confidence. He wore what looked like a traditional Japanese male Kimono, but one that was tailored and changed to come together with his more western, black suit.

This man was obviously of Japanese descent, but something about a few of his physical features caused Vincent to believe that he also had a little Arabic blood in him. His peppered beard extended a few inches past his chin, which helped hide any emotional signs his mouth could be giving off.

The two men were locked in a game of Rolldago, although it confused Vincent how two people could be playing against each other in such a single-player focused game. The bald man then looked up at the other man and then back down at the one marble in his hand. He took a deep breath and rolled it on the table.

It ricocheted off of 3 walls before coming to a complete stop. It looked as if it was just about to land on a 1000 square, but then it just barely moved off of it and on to a -2500 square.

These numbers are bigger than I remember, Vincent thought.

The bald man froze in place. The other man just sat in his chair and watched. After what seemed like an eternity, the bald man looked up at the other man and desperately said, “Hanzo, you foreign fuck, there’s no way I’m that unlucky. Stop with this bullshit and play me fairly.”

Hanzo, unmoved from his current position, replied, “Luck is something that I do not control. It is something that favors those that deserve it. That is why I’m at the top, and you will always be at the bottom.”

The bald man clenched his fist, spit on the ground, and grumbled as he made his way back into the crowd. Vincent then casually made his way towards the table, ready to play some more—his itch was never satisfied from the day before.

As he approached the table, he noticed that Hanzo was surrounded by people that weren’t from the crowd. The people that surrounded him were all dressed in the same attire—which was somewhat similar to his—and they each had a thin, metal band around their necks.

A few of the people had some red marks and bruises on them, but for the most part, they seemed well kept and not unhappy. The one face that did stick out among them was one of a younger, Egyptian boy.

“Yo, Baako,” Vincent nonchalantly said.

Baako did not reply, rather, he just carefully looked at Hanzo, who replied to Vincent, blandly saying, “Do I know you?”

“Nope!” Vincent confidently said. “Wait,” he started to remember, “actually, I am the Collider champion, so there's that.”

“And what is a mere dirt wrestler doing at my table?”

“I want to play a game of Rolldago. I was playing yesterday and I was told a pretty famous person was gonna play today, so here I am.”

“So you’re saying that you want to play against me?”

“Yep.”

“Get lost.”

“No,” Vincent laughed. He then looked around for a worker. It took him no time at all to find one, and when he did, he asked, “Can I get some marbles? I'm ready to play a game.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Hanzo stated.

“Yeah, but I’m choosing to ignore it,” Vincent honestly replied.

The crowd began to boo in Vincent’s direction, saying things like ‘Get out of here!’, ‘You’re taking up his valuable time’, and ‘Let someone who’s actually got money play against him’. Vincent continued to ignore them.

“Annoying child,” Hanzo called out to Vincent, “I don’t have time to babysit you for your poultry amount of money. Now get lost or—”

Vincent put his card into the display screen, which then lit up. Hanzo stopped what he was saying and quickly glanced down at the screen. As his eyes returned back to where they were, he shifted ever so slightly back in his chair.

“You ready to play, old man?” Vincent snarky asked.

There was a moment before Hanzo responded, “You’re with Zander, aren't you?”

“So what? It’s not like he’s here.”

“Fine,” Hanzo stated, “let’s play.”