Raymond Sykes was walking down the long, empty hallway, towards his now dead adopted daughters apartment.

In his thousand dollar suit, he didn't look like he belonged, but he did belong, because in the past year, he'd lost both his children, and now he was absolutely sure that someone was deliberately out to get him. If they managed to spook Nicole enough that she felt the need to take her own life...then yes, there was something worth being afraid of. As he reached the hall that housed her loft, he spotted all the cops and medical personnel there to attend to the crime scene. Raymond entered under the caution tape strung across the door and walked in, spotting Nicole's body lying there against the large window that led to the balcony. He spotted the bottle of alcohol on the ground beside her, the gun on the other side, still gripped in her hand. He wasn't a monster. He wanted to cry. She might've been adopted, but she was his daughter regardless, and this broke his heart. Still, he managed to hold it back and keep himself composed.

As he stood there, thinking, the noise of the police and emergency medical response team working behind him, all he could think about was what Nicole had said, about agents coming to see her. She hadn't given him names, she hadn't given him a group they'd worked for, nothing. Just 'agents'. That was going to be hard to narrow it down. And they'd rattled her so thoroughly that she'd offed herself. Course, Raymond had no way of knowing that she was actually rattled by his threats, not the agents, but that was a benefit they had against him now.

"Sir?" a voice asked, and he turned to see a woman with her hair tied back, standing there in a cop uniform.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Just thought you'd like to know that there seems to have been some things taken from the apartment," she said, opening her notebook and reading them off, continuing, "specifically files from her home office, one of the drawers was left open. No idea what it was they could've wanted, but-"

But she didn't have to finish, because Raymond knew, and the moment she'd said it his blood ran cold. He quickly excused himself, flew to the office and shut the door behind him. He dropped to his knees and began digging through the open drawer, his eyes narrowing, his breathing shallow. No. No they couldn't have taken those. But they did. They were gone. All the doctored papers of his dealings with the casinos, everything, it was all gone. His bank account information, their joint account, all of it. Raymond let himself sit there on his knees on the floor for a moment, letting the fear flood inside him for just 5 seconds before he collected himself once more and then exited. As he passed by the cops, he spoke low.

"Send the information to my office," he said quietly, "this is an internal matter, and I'll see that it's handled right."

But the thing is...he didn't know one very important detail. He didn't know how involved Allie Meers was. And right now, Allie Meers...was looking at a pinata.

                                                                           ***

"That pinata is an affront to God," Zoe said.

She and Allie were standing right beside an enormous pinata shaped like Tony's head; each had a drink in their hand, Zoe with her soda and Allie with her ginger beer to curb her alcoholic tendencies. Allie puffed on her hemp cigarette and took a swig, before nodding in agreement.

"Maybe he WANTS to make God angry," Allie replied, "maybe that's his whole intention. For he be a wicked man, lord strike him down!"

Zoe and Allie giggled and, after putting her empty can in a nearby receptacle, Allie leaned on her cane and together she and Zoe headed on through the crowd in the yard. It felt weird, but neither wanted to admit it. Just how close to the truth they were, and yet didn't know what exactly to do with that information. Still, here they were, at his birthday party, acting like there was no weirdness surrounding them and, for the moment, each girl appreciated the facade of normalcy.

"Are you still thinking about leaving town?" Zoe asked as she picked up a little shishkabob off a nearby passing tray.

"I don't know," Allie said, shrugging, taking a long drag from her cigarette, "it sounds good, but...am I moving on or just running away, you know? It's really hard to know which it is I'm actually attempting. 'Starting over' can have many different conotations, and often not the one you want it to be."

"I think it'd be good to get out of town for a bit, if nothing else," Zoe replied, biting into the pork and shrimp skewered snack, adding, "it might do you some good to get some distance from things even if only momentarily."

Allie chewed her lip, and thought about what Zoe was saying. She had a point. It might be good to get away from everything for a bit, just to put some distance between herself and the situation. As they headed further through the crowd, coming up to a table overflowing with gifts, they spotted Nick, whom Allie had come with, dipping some chips into a bowl of hummus. Allie stopped and looked at him, one brow raised.

"Hummus? Seriously?" she asked.

"I'm a nurse, it'd look bad on me if I ate food that wasn't healthy," Nick mumbled as he chewed.

"Nobody here knows you're a nurse though," Zoe replied.

"...shit, you're right, my story doesn't work," Nick muttered under his breath as Allie leaned up and kissed his cheek, just as Tony arrived on the other side of the table, drink in hand.

"Allie!" he said brightly, catching her attention; they shook hands over the table and he continued, almost jovially, "you having a good time? Do you like the pinata?"

"That's a loaded question," Allie remarked, making him laugh.

"It's something my wifes sister made for me," he said, "can't turn down a family member, right? Walk with me a bit."

Allie left Zoe and Nick behind and, joining Tony by his side, the two hobbled further along the yard as he sipped his drink and she smoked her hemp cigarette.

"So, how old are you now, a thousand?" Allie asked.

"Heh, old enough to be your father, and let's leave it at that," Tony said, "besides, it's disrespectful to ask someone their age, regardless of gender. Men, women, nobody likes to discuss how little time they presumably have left on this earth."

"This is turning into a bummer," Allie said as Tony put a hand around her shoulders while they walked.

"Here's the thing about success, Al," he said, "and you'll understand because you're successful yourself...success isn't about working hard or even luck. A lot of people try to get you to believe that it's one or the other, or some weird fucking amalgamation of both. If you work hard enough, you'll eventually make it. People will see your value and the effort you put in. Others will try to tell you that it all boils down to luck, and that one day, that luck will turn your way and suddenly you'll race to stardom like those before you. Right place and right time, all that malarky. Well, it's all bullshit."

"Then, pray tell, what is the secret to success?" Allie asked, and Tony smirked, leaning in and lowering his voice to a dull whisper.

"Random fucking chance," he said, "that's why casinos do so well, because people who come here expect random fucking chance to be on their side. And you might ask, 'well, what's the difference between random fucking chance and pure dumb luck, and I'll tell you...belief. Luck implies you BELIEVE you deserve to be successful. Random fucking chance is just happenstance. That's why people are so willing to think they might be winners in the city of Vegas. That's why we make so much money off them. And that's why, on occasion, one of them makes lots of money off of us."

"So it's all just random chance?" Allie asked, finishing her cigarette and putting it out on the top of her cane as Tony downed his drink and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his button down hawaiian shirt.

"Well, more or less. Every now and then there's other factors, variables and whatnot, but yeah, it's pretty much random chance," he said, "now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go bash my own face in for the delicious treats inside."

Tony patted her on the back and walked off, leaving Allie to stand there and think about what he had said. Had everything just been random chance? No. That took autonomy and agency from those living life, as if the decisions they made weren't part of the domino effect that led to said moments. Allie didn't like that one bit. She glanced down at her cane and sighed. She wasn't sure exactly what belief system she herself subscribed to...

...but it sure wasn't random fucking chance.

                                                                             ***

Molly climbed into her car at the casino parking lot and sighed.

She'd been there doing layout work for Tony's vault, and was exhausted. All she wanted to do now was go home, get into her sweatpants and lay on her couch, watching reality shows about cooking. Molly turned her car on and sat there, idling momentarily, while she tuned her radio to a specific station. She pushed her sunglasses onto her face and bit her lip, finally backing up and immediately hitting something.

"God dammit it all," she mumbled. She'd been up for far too long. She wasn't very aware of her surroundings. She really needed a break. Molly climbed out of her car and saw another woman, early twenties and in showgirl regalia, climbing out of her own car to assess the damage; Molly threw up her arms and loudly said, "I apologize and I take full responsibility, so there, now we don't have to make it into a whole thing."

"Oh, it's not a thing, I'm covered," the woman said, "so don't worry about it."

"...oh, well, guess that's what I get for finally being nice," Molly replied, making the woman chuckle; Molly furrowed her brow and pulled her sunglasses down, asking, "...do you work here?"

"Here and other places," the woman said, holding her hand out, "I'm Alessa, I'm a showgirl around town."

"That's pretty cool," Molly said, shaking her hand, "I always liked the idea of dance but I was never coordinated enough to go for the gusto."

"It's an exhausting job," Alessa said, pulling her showgirl headgear off and releasing a wave of beautiful chocolate brown curly hair, which she tossed around a few times before continuing, adding, "you have to be in exceptional physical condition, and even then it's exhausting. Not to mention the ridiculous beauty standards that are often pushed on you. Always underweight. Counting every calorie."

"That's showbiz, baby," Molly replied, making Alessa laugh.

This was unusual to Molly, because she'd never approached anyone before. Allie and Zoe had come to her, Tony had hired her, she'd never been the one to make the first move in terms of friendship, but when life puts you on a literal collision course, she figured the best thing one could do was roll with the punches.

"...are you off work right now?" Molly asked, and Alessa nodded slowly, smiling.

                                                                                ***

"This is hopeless," Agent Siskel said, slumped over her desk, seated right across from Agent Tropper's.

"Nothing is hopeless so long as you have hope," Tropper replied, leaning back in his chair and reading through a file, sipping coffee as he did so.

"Yeah well therein lies the problem, I have no hope," Siskel remarked, "I'm just...this is all very useful, certainly, and it's factual, it'll hold up in a court of law, but she was right. She was right. We need to turn Tony against him, otherwise it's just all finger pointing between two very powerful, successful men, and, sad to say, they often are above the law."

Tropper sighed and finished his coffee, putting his mug back down on his desk and standing up, smoothing out his shirt and coat.

"I'm gonna go get lunch, do you want me to bring you anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, a reason to keep going," Siskel mumbled.

"Well, I don't think they serve that at this time of day, but I'll ask," Tropper replied, patting her on the shoulder as he passed by her, making her chuckle as he did so. Siskel leaned back in her own chair, feeling exasperated and at her wits end. Nicole had removed herself from the equation and had left, in her stead, many many documents chronicling her fathers criminal dealings while serving his time as governor, but Siskel was beginning to doubt that any of it would be concrete without, as Nicole had said, Tony turning on him for his own freedom.

Siskel sighed and got up, grabbed her own mug and headed towards the coffee machine. Once there, she began pouring herself a new pot and then, lifting the mug to her lips, breathed it in before taking a long, slow sip. She let it warm her, reinvigorate her, before she even thought about getting back to work. Nicole had said they'd need Allie Meers, but Siskel wasn't even sure how to go about doing that. And why would they need Allie and not just go straight to Tony? Fear of prison was often enough to get a man to turn on a business partner, so why would they need Allie? Did Allie mean something to Tony?

She shook her head and took another sip. Too many fucking variables. She couldn't take it.

And then she remembered something...Jenny. Jenny wouldn't turn on Allie, despite it being all too clear Allie had been the reason Jenny had been put in the pit and mauled, even if only accidentally. What was it about this woman that almost guaranteed her cult like dedication among those around her? She smirked. Thankfully, she could go right to the source with that question.

After all, she had a cult leader in custody.

                                                                              ***

Allie pulled her shirt off over her head and then, standing in just her jeans and bra, admired herself in the mirror as Nick came out from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. He stopped and watched her looking at her form, and smiled.

"Hey good lookin', what's cookin'," he said, and she laughed.

"Just admirin' the goods," she said, flexing, "like these guns."

Nick cracked up and plopped himself on the bed, watching as Allie stopped and turned to face him, hands on her hips. He smiled, looking up at her as she tossed her hair from her eyes and grinned at him.

"God you're hot," he said, "I guess that's probably why I keep coming back to you."

"It isn't my winning personality?" Allie asked, "I'm hurt, Nick, wounded even."

She climbed onto him on the bed and kissed him, pushing him on his back and mounting him fully. She felt his hands run down the curve of her back and she pushed herself closer, enjoying the intimacy between them at the moment. It had been a lot of work to get back to this, to having Nick genuinely like her again, but she'd been putting in that effort because deep down she really did love him, and missed him when he was gone. After sucking on his neck for a bit, she rested her face on his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair.

"This is nice," she whispered, and he nodded.

"It really is," he said, "I really love you, Allison."

Her eyes widened. Nobody ever used her full name, and hearing him say it, so genuinely too, made her want to cry. She buried her face in his chest and cried quietly. Nick knew her relationship with her folks wasn't great, and he knew that, besides Zoe, she didn't really have anyone else, so he was stuck between an odd combination of true adoration and odd obligation. Still, the love gfar outweighed the obligation, and he really did mean it when he told her he loved her. Didn't matter if FBI agents thought she was a killer, or if Zoe thought she was morally grey because, to Nick, Allie Meers really did live up to her stage name, and she truly was astounding.