“This is the life isn’t it?! Would you just look at that!” cried out Tyler, stood on the balcony overlooking the Las Vegas strip.

“There are Pringles in the mini bar too!” Dylan called out as he came to join Tyler.

“Nice,” Tyler said. “You should get fired more often.”

“I’m suspended. That’s all.”

“Yeah, whatever it is. It means we can actually have a boy’s vacation without the worry you’ll be needed somewhere else. Just five nights of sun, money and strippers!”

“No, no strippers bud,” corrected Dylan, patting his friend’s back in mock compassion. “And remember, we’re not quite twenty one, so not quite the money bit either.”

“Then remind me why we’re here?”

“Because you wanted to be closer to Mindy, if I remember you saying?”

“Oh yeah,” he said grinning. “Shall I text her or you?”

“Bud, she’s in space right now. Why do you think I agreed to coming to Vegas?”

“…Because she wasn’t going to be here…?” he grumbled. “Ah c'mon, I’m not that bad.”

“You’re the worst,” Dylan laughed as he picked up his bag. “Look, shall we say half an hour to get settled and we hit the pool downstairs?”

“Dyl, I shall forgive you for your misconceptions on my character for that brilliant idea. You’re on.”

Dylan left Tyler to get sorted out, the anticipation of the fun in store for them electric.

***

It was day three of the vacation and the two friends had found their rhythm of sunbathing, working out, pool parties and all you can eat buffets. Tyler was in a mood after being rejected from a girl he found attractive and was sleeping off his disappointment in the sun, sprawled out fast asleep on the sun lounger by the pool.

“Ty… Ty…?” No answer. “I’m going for a walk.” Dylan sat up and slipped into his Italian designer branded sliders, pulling a vest over his head. Some girls nearby giggled as they watched him leave but otherwise they left him to it.

He left the sizzling heat from the sun and silently thanked God for the beauty of the air conditioning that was being pumped through the hotel.

He wandered for a bit, past the slots and past the tables, subconsciously aiming for the concierge desk to enquire about the tickets they’d ordered for the circus acrobatic show that evening.

He waited his turn in the queue and looked out on the street outside. Their hotel was right on the strip in a good location, just near the main bustle of the crowds but not slap bang in the middle of it.

Dylan lost himself in empty thoughts as people hypnotically walked past, but it wasn’t long before he came to when the steady passing of the people outside soon changed and people began running from left to right.

Dylan’s heart quickened as he processed the urgency in those as they fled the as of yet unknown threat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are having to go into lockdown due to an ongoing incident on the strip,” announced a voice over the PA system. “Please do not panic, and please do not leave the hotel.”

Dylan sprung into action, dashing for the doors as the shutters came down. He managed to through under in time and got up on the street. He grabbed a passing woman mid run.

“What’s going on?” he demanded from her.

“There’s a man with a sword, just slashing people!” Dylan let the crying woman go and swore out loud. He ran into the road as it was clearer than the side walks and ran towards the chaos.

As he got nearer, Dylan assessed the carnage. Emergency services weren’t even on scene yet, but they could be heard approaching.

On the ground, lay in rivers of blood about thirty people spread out over a small area in various stages of distress and condition. In the middle was a shirtless, bald, skinny tattooed man with his back to Dylan.

“Put down the sword!” Dylan barked, walking slowly closer. The man, who was around five and a half foot tall, threw the sword to one side straightaway. It clattered to the ground and the man turned.

He had an eerily cheerful grin on his face which thoroughly disturbed the suspended Collective member.

“What’s… what’s so funny?” Dylan asked.

“Well I just didn’t believe I’d actually get the chance to do this with you.”

“Do what?” Dylan asked, confused by his choice of words. But he didn’t have long to think it over as the man charged full speed at Dylan, whose instinct was to charge back.

When about ten foot from collision, Dylan went into a cartwheel then a somersault and landed behind the man, who quickly turned back.

Dylan punched him in the face with a right hand, then a left, and a right hand again. He paused and the man lifted his head to look at Dylan square in the eyes. He was smiling again, so Dylan stepped forward and smashed his forehead into the middle of the man’s face. The foe went down on his back hard, but he was still smiling.

“What will it take to wipe that smirk off your face?” Dylan snarled angrily.

“Give me your best shot,” the man spluttered back. Dylan got into a ready stance for more fighting but he noticed the man’s body mass and muscle definition changing in front of him. Weird, but not the weirdest thing he’d ever seen.

The man picked himself up with ease and squared up to Dylan again. He threw a punch at Dylan, who leant backwards to dodge it and with the momentum, hit a successful punch of his own to the man’s abdomen.

A quick look up and he had noticed that the police had arrived and had the pair surrounded.

Dylan turned his attention back to the man who was now laughing hysterically, like someone had told a joke. But Dylan didn’t get the punch line.

“If we’re going to carry on like this, I beg of you, please just tell me what is so funny,” Dylan asked getting ready for another round. The man straightened up, revealing even more toned muscle definition. “…And just what is the story with your body?”

The man stepped back and with lighting quick speed, sprung forward delivering an almighty punch to Dylan. One quicker than he could react to. Dylan was flung back into a nearby glass bus stop, shattering the glass as he went through it.

“Ok, that hurt,” yelled Dylan as he emerged from the debris, kicking out glass from between his foot and the slider he was wearing.

“The more you punch me, the stronger I become. I absorb your energy.”

“And your muscles grow... Ok so I get it now. Great,” he sarcastically drawled. “Which sucks because after that, I just want to punch you so bad.”

“Well I don’t mind if you do. You’re going to have to do something in order to stop me,” he said before jumping in the air at Dylan and landing straight on top of him. He pummelled down onto Dylan who took the first few hits without getting one of his own back.

After a few tough ones, he punched back, just enough to cause the man on top of him to shift his body weight and give Dylan the chance to flip himself up back onto his feet.

“Ok Mr Punchbag, I just want a fair fight.”

“Come at me then.”

Punchbag went on the offensive again, throwing punches after punches with his enormous arms that Dylan learned to move quicker in order to dodge. Flipping, spinning and ducking, Dylan allowed Punchbag to do all the exerting but he wasn’t sure how long he would need to keep it up. The police were still surrounding them and patiently kept their guns aimed in the hope they could move in.

Some movement a few metres away caught Dylan’s eyes. A floating sack approached from behind Punchbag. It appeared to levitate straight towards him and then it flew up, enveloping Punchbag within it.

Nauyerdunt blinked into existence with a cocky grin on his face. “Oh, so you’re here?” he asked, tying a rope around the bag Punchbag was squirming in. “Aren’t you on suspension?”

“Yessss, but I wasn’t just going to ignore this.”

“No, perhaps not.”

“What are you doing here Nauyerdunt?” Dylan asked.

“I’ve got orders for you to stand down.”

“Orders? From who?”

“The boss.”

“The Secretary wouldn’t-”

“No, Amer Hamilton. She’s the boss really, isn’t she.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe this. I had it covered. You didn’t need to come…” he started to say. “…all this way?” he finished in a more quieter tone as he tried to work through his confusion.

“Well how long were you planning to dance around him?” Nauyerdunt asked sarcastically.

“I wasn’t dancing, jerk.”

“It didn’t look like you were going to-”

“Excuse me, boys,” a police officer shouted out. “We can take the prisoner if you want to argue some more?”

“Punchbag is all yours,” Dylan snapped, throwing a foul look at Nauyerdunt. “I’m outta here,” he said walking back to the hotel.

***

Dylan sat on the sun lounger back by the poolside. Tyler stirred away and lifted his head up.

“You alright? What time is it?” Tyler asked groggily.

“Don’t know,” Dylan replied bluntly. He was furious with what just happened.

“What’s wrong? Why are you… why do you look like that? Jesus Dyl, you look like you lost a fight with a porcupine!”

Dylan recalled what had just happened to his friend. “… And I’m just so cross that I was undermined like that. I had it covered. But just because I’m “suspended”,” he said doing air quotes with his fingers, “doesn’t mean I still can’t or won’t do what I need to, to help people.”

“But how did he get here so quick?” Tyler asked as he examined the tan on his arms.

“That’s a good question,” Dylan agreed. “... A good question indeed.”