006

"Welcome to Sin City!"

Someone was seen welcoming Gilbert and Dexmon upon their arrival at McCarran International Airport. A charming smile was seen on the stranger's lips-insinuating-according to Gilbert, and annoying—according to Dexmon. "Taxi?" ask him later. Gilbert Dexmon, his cat as the annoying man, was about to touch Timmy.

"Wow, what a cute kid," he smiled at Gilbert.

Gilbert just smiled, knot. "Let's go up, Dexmon," he invited

Dexmon said little, and he hugged Timmy tighter. He entered the cab and sat down while staring blankly out the window.

"Where Are we going? Bellagio hotel? Or do you need a cheap hotel Sir?" the guy sucks—the taxi driver asked from the rearview mirror in front of him.

Gilbert glanced at Dexmon. He also needed to learn more about Las Vegas. Come on, he was just a good student interested in something other than enjoying the worldly, especially in the entertainment capital of this world.

"Planet Hollywood Resort and Casino. I want you to skip E. Tropicana Ave, The Strip," Dexmon answered without asking Gilbert.

"You don't want to see Napoleon's boy? Wouldn't it be better if we went through E. Flamingo rd?"

"But with a fee from the street E. Tropicana, how's it going?" Dexmon asked, rolling his eyes, bored.

"I can't lie to you," the driver replied.

Dexmon stared at the streets of the Strip flat area. He then looked at the cat, who had been staring at his face. "Man, next it's your turn, understand?" the boy gestured and whispered several times about his plans to Timmy. Perhaps this is why Dexmon entered a psychiatric hospital—his habit of talking to cats is terrible.

Arriving before the Planet Hollywood Resort and Casino, Dexmon quickly opened the door, took out Timmy, and turned his beloved cat into a human. Dexmon nodded at Timmy, signaling that the cat may do what it should. Timmy quickly opened the door next to the steering wheel, BUGH!, and knocked the driver unconscious.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert panicked.

"Move seats! Drive this thing," said Dexmon, sitting next to the steering wheel. Timmy dragged their annoying hostage into the passenger seat and sat beside him. Gilbert only obeyed. Once again, the fear came back to haunt him. The existence of this boy is like a specter that haunts his psyche.

"It's the playboy club area, run the car and we should get one of the greats out of those whores!" Dexmon grinned.

~G.0.D~

The man ignited a cigarette and began to smoke an object with its magic as a poison that can undoubtedly eat age. Fint Rosvelt —perhaps more precisely, who pretended to be a woman seemed to enjoy the tiny object on her lips that was polished with flashy red lipstick.

His fake long yellow hair was deliberately tied randomly upwards to reveal his white neck. With a skimpy dress that was exactly like the usual dress worn by Playboy magazine models, the beautiful man succeeded in giving the impression of sexy and eliminating all male forms from himself. He tied a small scarf around his neck to cover the Adam's apple that was there.

"Georgia Rosvelt Gibrani," Heechul turned when a man called himself, sipping Jack Daniel's from a glass that fits in his hand gracefully.

"Hmm.. What do you want, Sir?" Flint asked without looking at the man still at home, thinking of him as a woman. Calling him a stupid name didn't make him feel good.

The name of a prostitute. Isn't that pretty disgusting? Even the name of the father who sold it, Gibrani, is there. Shows how the older man who had left her a few years ago due to overdoses of ecstasy in one of the big hotels in Las Vegas.

The stocky hand boldly curled around his waist and kissed the open surface of his neck. Fint didn't move much, staring blankly at his Jack Daniel's glass. The loud music heated the pub activities as if he could not hear. "Mother, forgive Father, who has been with you there, and also forgive me, who did not leave here for the sake of a happy life that I promised you," his inner voice said.

CRING! CRING!

A rattling sound was heard in Fint's ears, making him wonder why he could listen to such a slight noise during such a great commotion. He looked around, looking for the source of the sound. "Georgia, the boss is calling you," a bartender screeched, stopping the action of a pervert who was touching Fint's body.

"I'll be right back," Fint said, stepping into his dressing room, knowing the boss was waiting for him there.

CRING!

Again, the rattling sound disturbed Fint's hearing. He quickened his pace, finding a man he calls "Boss" lying on the floor. "Who are you guys?" Fint, trying to stay calm, his eyes flamed at a man dressed in black and an expressionless little boy who looked at him blankly.

The boy then got busy with his iPad. "Say Your Name?" the voice said from his holding device.

"Answer my question first!" Fint's orders are now pointing his gun at the boy and the man alternately.

"It seems to be true. You were one of the survivors of a bombing in the suburbs of Nevada a few years ago. The active Radio seems to make your ears and eyes much sharper," the boy muttered, then went back to fiddling with his iPad.

"What do you mean?"

"The sound that comes out of my toy, not the frequency of 20 to 20000 Hz."

Fint was petrified when he heard the statement. Damn it, he's stuck.

SEET!

Fint immediately pulled the trigger to shoot dead the rotten boy who scared him to death. BEETTSS! And since the man in black with China's face was behind him, changing the direction of his gun.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Fint's eyes were perfectly rounded when he saw the boss who lost his life with two bullets lodged in their heads. When Fint was about to shout, the black-clothed man's hand behind his back was already smothering his mouth. It's been a long time since Fint Rosvelt felt fear for himself, a feeling that tormented him a few years ago when the World War occurred. When his peaceful little town was blown up, he ran as far as possible with his father and mother.

The little boy cried loudly when he found his mother, who felt tightness in her chest area. The fear of losing such a precious person, the fear of being abandoned, and the fear of dying. The bomb did not just ruin his peaceful little town with an explosion. The bomb, too, killed those survivors who could still smell and hear radioactivity from the air. He was one of them and survived thanks to his rapidly adapting body. Was it a miracle, or was it fate from God—which he did not believe existed?

"I'm Dexmon Trevor Anderson, and the one behind you is Timothy. You have no choice, if you don't come with us you will be arrested by the police on charges of shooting your boss, if you come—you will create a peaceful world without fear of boys being sold as gigolos and prostitutes again."

How does this young man know his past?

"Calm down, everything will be fine," the man behind him whispered, making Fint calm down for some reason. Timmy let go of Fint's arms and walked back behind Dexmon.

"Come or stay?"

Fint took off the wig he was wearing, removing the makeup on his face roughly. Isn't this what he wants, to leave this world and get what he wants? World peace?

Tears helped him put the mask on his face. He was crying after years of never crying. "I'm coming," he said and immediately took off his shirt.

"Oh my god! What is this?" Gilbert shouted when he had just entered this room. Dexmon told him he was outside for a while. He felt his stomach churning as he saw the death of someone on the floor of the room. But he glared even more when he saw a woman—who he thought was a woman- now undressing before him.

BRUGH!

And Dexmon successfully passed out as he stood with blood streaming from his nose.

"Who is he?" Fint asked without stopping to change his clothes.

"Gilbert Havryll Abraham, psychiatrist," Timmy replied, patting Gilbert's cheek slowly to wake him up.