Nick went back inside the car and stole a quiet drive back downtown. He spotted the colorful panorama of Jet's Arcade, a neon building full of fancy arcade booths and dazzling posters. Kids walked out of there, happy, exuberant, and young. Not having to think about the taxes of living and just soaking off the memory of playing some really amazing arcade games. Nick inhaled the pestilential envy. He used to come here a lot when he was ten. He was happy. He had friends. He was carefree. Now...

Nick took the revolver and sucked the barrel into his mouth. Tears kissed the sleek metal paint. One press would do...one click. Blood would splatter everywhere on the seat but at least the sight of the arcade would put an eternal goofy grin on his face. C'mon...Why aren't you doing it yet you imbecile?! The gun lingered.

There was a strange bumbling sight outside. A horde of teenagers was running into the game store next door to the arcade. There was an eagerness in their step, a taste of expectation. Imbued with hesitant curiosity, Nick put the gun down and followed them into the store. It wasn't a massive, capacious building but it was enough to house the newest and hottest virtual reality games. There was a massive alluring shelf on the side of the building that advertised these games.

A large bumbling crowd of kids gravitated toward this spot, plucking the game cases from the shelves and tossing them away like last week's cereal boxes.

There was a stiff, excited air that Nick couldn't ignore. More kids were piling in, a mixed feverish crowd. They were a bit older, around their mid-twenties. They should've been at home working on their college essays, eating a snack, taking a jerkoff, and yelling at their parents for forcing them into an arduous degree. But something had goaded them here.

"Dammit, I can't find the bugger!"

"Where is it?" another kid piped up.

"I found it! Nope, that's just a receipt..."

The scramble was on. But among the chaos, Nick saw something bright and red on the floor. Something that every kid seemed too indifferent to notice. He picked it up and at once he recognized that hellish red glow, that branded A on the thin piece of silky fabric. Nick stared with bated breath, hands trembling.

He held the final ticket to Chaos. He was officially the last player in America to enter the game.

One of the boys withdrew himself from the crowd. He staked a breath like a winded bull, tired, ready to hang in the towel. His eyes momentarily met Nick's and his face lit up, cognizant. "No way, he has it!"

The crowd turned to Nick with raised faces and shouted. It instantly became a frenzy.

"I'll buy it off of you!"

"How much do you want for it, kid?"

"Give me the ticket, I saw it first!"

Nick ran out the door before he was drowned by the sea of people.

"My store! I can't believe he found the ticket in my store!" the storeowner cried manically. "Come back any time kid!"

Nick popped out his iTech watch and tapped the screen. A holographic wall launched from the watch. It alerted him of a new message.

This was the new way of communicating, no one used iPhones that much. iPhones weren't even a thing anymore. In the decades that followed 2020 up until 2048, Apple had become so huge that it became iTech, the technology giant that everyone became familiarised to. They didn't just stop at a billboard, computers, phones, TVs, and cars, they also created a holographic watch that replaced the iPhone. The same one Nick had strapped on his wrists.

The brief, mysterious message had told him to meet a man named Greshen at the VR Room on Sunday by noon. This was it. It was finally gonna happen.

Nick went back to the car, picked up the gun, and flung it into the air. "Maybe next time, you son of a bitch!" he shouted triumphantly.

He drove back home, unable to remove the goofy mask on his face. What would Jonathan make of all this? Surely he'd be elated...but then again, he wasn't the one who'd found the ticket. Nick clicked his tongue, he'd never really been the jealous type either.

Jonathan was still sitting on the doorstep. This time with a beer in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He saw Nick charging up at him, flailing something red and silky in the air. He stirred, jolting himself up on his feet, laughing as he embraced Nick with a hug.

"You did it!" he shouted.

"I did it!" Nick yelled.

"You fucking did it!"

"I fucking did it!"

Jonathan jubilantly wrung Nick around the neck. "What'd I tell you, you're gonna be rich and famous, little brother!"

Nick kissed the ticket. "We're gonna be rich and famous."

"Nick," said Jonathan, the sweetness in his voice suddenly grave and tense.

"Yeah?"

"Try to win for us. Show the world what the Galloways are all about. Mom would've wanted that..."

Nick stared at the ground, the smile smeared away. "What about you and the cops? They're going to throw you in once they found the body."

Jonathan scratched his head and laughed. "One gut wrenching thing at a time, Nick. I'll see if I can make arrangements. You just worry about getting that breadbasket."

******************

The next day Nick drove to Mickey's house. A single family home near a quiet, sedative neighborhood. Nick rapped on the door. The day was still scorching sunny and the clouds seemed so humongous that they looked as if they were gonna fall down, inducing a stormy nebulous haze on the terrestrial plane.

The door creaked open and the frame of a lanky character emerged. Mickey Porcaro stared at Nick, arms crossed, and a smug smile crept up on his face. If Jonathan was the angel, Mickey was the rodent. He had a rat's face with pimples dotted all over it and large perky ears. He wore a trucker's hat with a grimy white tanktop, offset with a pair of muddy ripped jeans. It was a redneck's salivating dream.

"What's goin on, Morning Eyes?" There was a sticky note in his voice.

Nick's chin raised up. "Clouds are mighty big today."

Mickey's eyes lazily traced the sky. "Figures."

Nick refocused. "Anyways, I can't make it to the tournament, Mick. Something came up."

"Is that so," said Mickey. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a little ticket would it?"

Nick squinted. Lips firm. It seemed they were finally getting to the real conversation. "So what if it does, I found it fair and square."

Mickey raised up his hands. "Oh, no, Congrats bro! Honest. It's just that...well, you know what's pathetic?" Mickey revealed his yellow, crooked teeth. The rat had finally found his cheese.

"Spit it out," said Nick.

"Friends who lie. You said you weren't gonna play the game and I was only one call away from Enzo to find out you duped us. So don't get all high and mighty with me about finding that damn ticket, brother, it should've been me or Enzo!"

There was a frosty silence that could only have been broken by the bark of a shaggy dog in the distance.

"Like how you stuck tongue in cheek about those porn videos?" Nick said.

Mickey blew a squeaky mousy laugh. "Who knew you were so histrionic! So what, I missed a day. Just take your victory and go, Nick. I don't want to see your pathetic face here again."

Nick thrust a push at Mickey. He clattered against the doorknob, keeling over. Mickey scowled as he stood up, pointing. He had something in his hands this time. Something solid, brown, and metallic. The gaping hole stared at Nick releasing a wisp of smoke.

"Do it," Nick said, trembling. He was definitely bluffing. But he despised looking cowardly.

Mickey pulled the trigger. The barrel uttered a click. Mickey struck a sneaky grin. "April fools. Do you want me to try it for real this time?"

Nick puffed, shaking his head. This wasn't it. He was sick of getting into cavil fights. "You're the pathetic one, Mickey. What kind of friend are you? You've always been jealous of me even though I've been nothing but cool to you. You should be more honest, it looks much better on you."

Nick walked away, feeling as if he'd just lost a friend. If Mickey was ever even his friend.