"Get out."

"I can't do that for you."

"No. No answers. Leave. Leave us. Leave us alone. Things are always fine until you are around."

"On the contrary, 'things' are not fine at all until I am around. Without me there would be no 'things.'"

"That's not true."

"Oh, but think about it, and it is. It's all right to admit it; without you there would be no 'things' either. I need you to be as you are to create situations, just as much as you need me. Mind you, I don't like who we are right now one bit. Why do you think we all feel so out of place? It's because none of us are in our right places. We are all made to do things we don't want to do, yet are doing anyway. Oh yes, you too, though you may not know it. I want it all to end too, you know. You think I like this uniform? You think I like being associated with doing good? Believe me, I want it to end as much as you do. But you see an end where nothing changes, where you are frozen in time on a continual rampage. Where is the sense in that? There cannot be a you without a me, and after all the only point to us in the first place is to have the whole episode end sooner or later, preferably with a bang, and then repeat. We are forever being ripped apart and thrown back together again. That is the continual wrong. The rest of us know at least part of the wrong, except you. But don't feel bad. Someone had to drag things out with ignorance; it just so happens that you were the one, this time. You, and the third, wherever the third is."

"I'm not ignorant."

"Oh, but you are, you are. Don't be offended."

"Fuck you."

"As I said, don't be offended. I am not calling you stupid. Only ignorant. You don't know the wrong, and you don't know what went on before this episode. I do, and Crazy does. Somewhere out there is someone else like you, who doesn't know. That is who you belong with, not Crazy. Crazy is for me. Crazy is me. And I am Crazy."

"No!"

"Put the gun away, please. You know you can't do that in here, and you know you can't hurt me anyway. There will be a time for it, I am sure, but not now. Nothing so ignoble and commonplace will be allowed."

"You. You're a cheap lousy fuck, and you don't tell me what to do in the House."

"Now, son--"

"I am not your son."

"Oh, but you are. And I am yours."

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know what you're talking about! You don't need us, and we don't need you, and nobody needs anybody. You get out now, or I'll kill you. I swear I will kill you however I have to. Crazy is not yours. He's my only friend, and he has nothing to do with you."

"I just can't make you understand, can I?"

"No, you can't."

"What is the first thing you remember, son?"

"What?"

"You heard me. The very first thing."

"Fuck you."

"I'll tell you what it is. It's going to knock over that pancake restaurant, isn't it?"

"No."

"Yes, it is. It sounds silly to say, I know. One's first memory shouldn't be associated with pancakes, I don't think. But you don't know anything else, do you? You are saddled (or is it blessed?) with a blankness that I don't have. It explains why you want things to go on as they are, when the rest of us know that they will not. You don't remember past the confines of this episode. It provides you with your conflict. It gives you your poignancy."

"You're crazy."

"You're beginning to come around, I see."

"No. You're not Crazy. You're crazy. And you're wrong."

"Am I? Then tell me the first thing you remember."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No!"

"Then tell me this: how did Crazy know what I used to look like before I ended up in this ridiculous uniform? Or let me ask you this: how long have you known Crazy? Where did you meet him? What did he look like a year ago? Or a month? Or a week? What do your parents look like, or what are their names, or what-"

"Stop it! Will you stop it! Nobody says I have to think about who I am or what I do!"

"There are many who would disagree with you there, son. They call it responsibility. You know, you ought to be happy: you live in a world right now where you don't have to take responsibility for yourself. You ought to try and enjoy yourself while you can. You ought to, but you won't. No matter. Things will happen as they happen. We're all bound to come together again at some point. When the third finally shows up, it will probably make more sense. I'll bet he doesn't remember anything more about before this episode than you do. It would make sense that way."

"I don't want to hear you anymore."

"You haven't got a choice, son. You haven't got anywhere else to go, and I'm not leaving yet. You've been formed with an unnatural attachment to someone who, in the end, doesn't really exist by himself like you do. It's like I told you, we're all out of place here. I've been formed and forced to run around after you and perform all sorts of mock heroics like an idiot, with this uniform and this shiny badge. Somewhere out there is the third, with yet another set of deformities. And, of course, Crazy-"

"Yes?"

"Oh yes, you're interested now, aren't you? Well Crazy, poor fellow, is torn between doing what he loves to do and having to listen to you."

"You're wrong again."

"No, no. You once said I made you think about the things you had done, and about their consequences."

"How did you know that?"

"Shush. You once said I made you think about the things you had done, and about their consequences. Listen to me now, son: you made you think about them. It's your true nature beginning to rip through these straps of conformity. Crazy feels for me but doesn't know why. He doesn't want to kill me but knows he is in a position which requires it of him. And he likes to kill besides. You've muddled him with your ridiculous talk. Well, either he's good or I'm bad. Which do you think, son? Is he the good guy? Or am I the Bad Guy?"

"We had this fucking conversation the last time we were in here."

"Indeed we did, and the question was never resolved, as I recall. But I might put the same question to you, which I did not do the last time. The question might be put to all of us. Are we good or Bad?"

"I don't care whether I'm good or bad, as long as I get to kill you."

"I might kill you. I might kill Crazy too, though I don't want to. There's no saying that everything has to open and close neatly. Not all ends have to be tied up. Maybe there is no third, and I'm wrong. Maybe I can just kill you and Crazy and go on by myself. I've been made to try and kill you both. I have to try, at least; without it there's no excitement. I wouldn't like it much, ending up in this uniform, but maybe that's it. I don't know. Maybe I'll kill you right now."

"Yeah? You want to kill me? You want to do it? Do it. Don't just point that gun at me. Put it right up to my face and do it, you fucking pig. Do it. You won't make it out of the booth if you shoot me in here. I don't care who you fucking are, the House Man will break you in two with his bare hands, and you know it. You want to make an end of it? Fucking do it right here. And I hope you remember it well when Crazy rips your head off your shoulders."

"Vivid. But remember, son, that I won't make an end of it by killing you. Nobody will make an end of it by killing anyone else. The end will just happen, and there will be some dead people lying around afterward."

"When is the end? When? If it's supposed to happen, when the fuck is it going to happen?"

"It's coming, son. The end is coming."

Crazy came out from the back of the House screaming, with gun upraised and about to fire.

Hot Dog and O'Malley both heard the footsteps approaching, and both knew who it was. Just before he appeared, O'Malley smiled faintly behind his dark glasses and stood. Hot Dog turned with a look of horror on his face just as Crazy entered.

"Crazy, no! No!"

But it was too late. Crazy, healed and energized by coffee, had lost himself in his rage and confusion, and was releasing it the only way he knew how. In doing so, he was about to open fire in the House, and that era of their lives would be simply and irrevocably shut off from them forever. Hot Dog knew that they had to get out of there now. If a shot was fired the House Man and Rick and Tommy would kill them if they stayed.

In the instant that O'Malley stood, Hot Dog knew that he did so only to provide a more visible target for Crazy's anger. Crazy's scream sounded throughout the House. Hot Dog could feel the pressure on the trigger of the gun. It was halfway depressed. Then three quarters. Crazy was screaming. O'Malley was smiling. Crazy was too far away for Hot Dog to be able to stop him. The trigger was nine-tenths depressed. Crazy was screaming, eyes closed and not even looking anymore. Ostensibly, in the last flash before the strange sound of gunfire filled the House, Hot Dog found himself in a position he never would have thought conceivable: in midair, diving to save O'Malley from a bullet.

Crazy fired. The magic of the House was gone forever.

The bullet caught Hot Dog in the left shoulder as he connected with O'Malley. Hot Dog grunted in pain. It was like no pain he had ever known. O'Malley laughed in surprise as they tumbled into the booth across the aisle.

"Hello, Hot Dog!" he said, jovially.

"Crazy! Stop!"

The House Man's face tightened into a grimace as he heard the shot. "Oh, boys," he said. Then he reached under the counter for a sawed-off double barrel shotgun.

Hot Dog had done the last and only thing he could have under the circumstances. He had seen that Crazy was going to shoot at O'Malley, so he had tried to remove O'Malley from Crazy's line of sight. It hadn't worked.

Now he was on top of his enemy in the booth. He was trying to get his gun out to hold O'Malley off while they tried to escape from the House. He got it out and held it up to O'Malley's face. In one fluid motion O'Malley threw Hot Dog off of himself with one hand and drew his pistol with the other, standing up to take aim at Crazy. Hot Dog's shot went wild, hitting a pipe and bursting it. Water sprayed. O'Malley's gun centered on Crazy's head. Perhaps this was the proper end after all.

O'Malley was blown off his feet by the blast of a sawed-off double barrel shotgun. The House Man had been aiming at Crazy from behind the counter, and had fired just as O'Malley stood, catching him instead. O'Malley's gun flew from his hand and went sliding across the floor. O'Malley went sliding after it. Crazy, still screaming, now fired in rapid succession as O'Malley and his gun slid toward him. Bullets were having their usual lack of success on O'Malley, hitting windows, mirrors, and the like.

Hot Dog landed on the countertop and slid backward into the coffee maker. There was a full pot resting on top which tipped over on impact. Scalding hot coffee poured all over Hot Dog and burned him. He cried out in shock and pain and writhed on the countertop. The House Man pumped empty shells out of the shotgun and turned both barrels on Hot Dog just as the coffee was spilling on him. Hot Dog's jerking motions caused him to fall off the counter on the far side just as the House Man fired. A good portion of the countertop exploded, as well as the coffee maker.

Rick and Tommy came running out from the back. Rick had a single barrel shotgun in his hands, and was preoccupied in loading and pumping it when he entered the booth area. He did not notice the water which had collected on the floor and which was still spraying volubly. He slipped and fell backward. The shotgun went off and the blast caught Tommy just as he was entering. Tommy flew back into the altar room, knocked over a few candles, and was still. The candles began to burn the floor of the altar room.

O'Malley's gun slid between Crazy's feet just as his clip ran out. He made a grab for it but it was gone. He looked up just in time to see O'Malley's fist extremely close to his face. Then he was on his back with a broken nose and O'Malley on top of him, smiling.

"Hello, Crazy!" he said, jovially. Crazy brought his knee up hard between O'Malley's legs. O'Malley's smile widened but he did not flinch. Crazy used all his strength to flip O'Malley over and land on top of him. He began to beat his head systematically on the floor.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! I know who I am! Fuck you!" he screamed. O'Malley seemed to be riding up and down rather than being beaten. He sustained no damage, and smiled the whole time.

"We certainly have made a mess of things, haven't we?" he said. Then he made a quick movement and flipped Crazy over the top of him and made a lunge for his pistol, which had stopped nearby. At the same time Rick, who had stood and pumped his shotgun, fired again, hitting Crazy in the left leg as he flew through the air. Rick pumped again. Crazy landed in a corner booth above the wet floor. O'Malley reached his gun and turned it on Rick.

"You are definitely not the third," he said, and shot him in the abdomen. Rick fell back again and the shotgun went off, hitting the jukebox. The jukebox exploded, spraying glass and change everywhere. Water hit the exposed inside of the jukebox and it short circuited. A massive power surge tripped every circuit in the House, plunging it into dimness illuminated only by the fading light coming in through the storefront windows. One socket, however, was not wired through the circuit breaker, and this was the socket that the jukebox was connected to. It continued to short circuit. Rick was immediately electrocuted, and O'Malley, who had begun to rise to his knees, was thrown backward from the charge in the water. His gun flew from his hand again. Crazy was trapped in the corner booth, unable to jump to the dry part of the floor because of his injured leg.

The House Man had come around the counter to shoot Hot Dog when the lights went out. Hot Dog was crouched in the corner where he had landed. He still had his gun. He did not want to shoot the House Man, though he knew the House Man was trying to kill him. He took advantage of the sudden dimness and jumped up at the House Man, attempting to knock the shotgun out of his hands. He managed to bat it away from himself, though the flash of the powder seared his face as the House Man fired. The blast went over the counter and blew the bottom half of the stove apart. Gas began to hiss out. The House Man grunted and backhanded Hot Dog across the face with the barrel of the shotgun, then pumped his shells out again. He raised the shotgun to finish Hot Dog.

Hot Dog felt his gun go off in his hand and saw a bullet hit the House Man square in the chest. The House Man did not fall over or even flinch, but stood, astounded, with his mouth wide open. He looked down at the spreading stain on his shirt. He looked back up. Neither of them moved. Then, before he could pull the trigger of his shotgun, four powder flashes flared in the darkness, four gun reports were heard, and the House Man fell over with four of O'Malley's bullets in his back. O'Malley stood with the gun pointed at Hot Dog's head.

"Hello, Hot Dog!" he said, jovially. "I saved one for you, don't you know!"

There was an unearthly scream as O'Malley fired, and for a moment, in the darkness, Hot Dog saw eyes of sheer electricity flash. He was not sure whether it was one pair or two.

Hot Dog and O'Malley fell at the same time; Hot Dog from O'Malley's bullet in his left midsection, O'Malley from Crazy diving into him from behind. Crazy had pulled himself up in the corner, balanced on his good leg, and dove for all he was worth. Now he lay on the ground.

Water sprayed. Flames leapt. Gas leaked. Electricity sparked. Blood flowed.

O'Malley picked Crazy up, got an arm around his neck, and began to drag him toward the exit. "Oh, Crazy," he said softly, into the other's ear, "we're having some fun now." O'Malley's gun was empty, so he reversed it to hit Hot Dog unconscious with on his way by. Hot Dog was trying to pull himself up by the counter with his right arm. The left side of him felt dead. He smelled his own face. He would have shot at O'Malley, but was afraid he would hit Crazy. And it would do no good anyway. He was going to die in the one place he thought he would never die in. O'Malley reached him and smiled wordlessly, raising his gun. Then he took on a curious angle. Then he fell forward, dropping Crazy.

The House Man pulled harder on the ankle he had grabbed. O'Malley slid alongside him and the two locked arms around each other's neck.

"You shoot me," the House Man coughed. "You ruin my House. You make my boys turn. Now there's no one. Not even you." The House Man was fixated on his final task of choking the unchokable. His face looked fairly ashen in the electric flashes from the short circuited jukebox. O'Malley was not suffering but could not break free. Hot Dog picked up Crazy and the two supported each other toward the door. The House reeked of gas.

O'Malley called after them as they exited. "Don't you worry, boys! We'll make an end of it yet!" Hot Dog could not see his face, but knew he was smiling. The last thing he saw before the door swung shut was O'Malley now on top of the House Man, finishing him. The House Man's head swung back and the glaze left his eyes for a moment as they fixed on Hot Dog's countenance. Hot Dog saw only pain.

The door shut.

They were fifteen yards away when the House exploded. The flames in the altar room and sparks from the jukebox had ignited the gas from the stove. The flames rose high. Blackened bits were flung carelessly by the blast. The House was no more. One large flaming form was thrown high and far, landing hard on the ground. Then it stood and began to follow the two men somewhat unsteadily while attempting to extinguish itself.

"I see you, boys! Wait up!" The flaming figure began to be obscured by a pall that was drifting in from an unseen source.

Hot Dog and Crazy limped as fast as they could down the street, toward a high rise building close by.

There was not much that could be seen. Thick acrid smoke drifted in and out of nowhere and did not dissipate. To an outside observer it might have seemed to envelop the high rise building and obscure it.

Inside the high rise building this was the least of anyone's worries. Seven dead security guards lay in the lobby, relieved of their guns. Dozens more ran to and fro in the smoky hallways, shouting and firing on one another accidentally. Late-working businessmen and women tripped and fell down stairs, hid under their desks, were cut down in the crossfire of the security guards. Three police helicopters, one less than the city's entire force, circled the building and shined their searchlights into the smoky interior, illuminating the occasional frightened face pressed up against the glass. National Guard members stormed the front entrance and accidentally entered into a robust firefight with the security guards. A tank was parked outside, its turret swiveling nervously. A terrorist bomber, who thought the entire affair was centered around him, panicked and flung himself down an elevator shaft. The scene was one of general chaos.

Hot Dog and Crazy burst through a door onto the roof of the high rise. There was not much that could be seen. The gravel rooftop crunched underfoot as they limped forward, still supporting one another. They had four of the seven dead security guards' guns, but this did not make them feel very secure. Hot Dog flung Crazy up against the edge of the building.

"Ow! You ass."

"Who are you, man?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Shut up. You tell me now. What's going on? Who are you? How do you know what you know? Where did we come from?"

"This is no time to be getting philosophical."

"Who is O'Malley?"

"He's a fucking pig."

"And so are you."

Crazy punched Hot Dog in the face, breaking his nose. "Don't you ever say that to me. I'm no fucking pig."

Hot Dog moved to Crazy. Each put a gun under the other's chin.

"You fuck."

"Fuck you."

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean, man? I'm Crazy."

"No. You're more than Crazy. You and O'Malley are partners or something. You be straight with me or I'll blow your goddamn head off."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm not Crazy? I am Crazy. I don't know what it is with O'Malley, I swear to God. All right, there's something weird about him and me, but I don't know what it is. He fucks up my head. But I tried to kill him in the House, you saw me! I thought maybe I would be able to do some damage to him in there. I didn't mean to fuck everything up. I want to know what the deal is with him too, but I'm confused too! I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!

"How come you know what he used to look like? How come you remember so much? Why don't I remember anything? Who the fuck am I? And where did all this motherfucking smoke come from?"

The Lanky Man stepped out of the haze and grabbed Hot Dog around the neck. The two arguing men had not heard the gravel rooftop crunching under his feet as he approached. Crazy raised his gun. The Lanky Man flashed out with one Lanky leg and caught Crazy just above the knee where Rick had shot him. Crazy howled and went down. The Lanky Man whirled the astonished Hot Dog around.

"What the fu--"

Hot Dog could say no more. The Lanky Man put one hand on each side of Hot Dog's face and squeezed. Hot Dog's mouth opened. Through the pall the Lanky Man saw a glint. He pried Hot Dog's mouth wide open and peered in.

Deep in his mouth, there was a single goldfish scale set into his tongue.

There was a sound of gravel rooftop crunching underfoot. The Lanky Man released Hot Dog and the two men turned just as a highly singed O'Malley materialized from the gloom. O'Malley smiled quizzically at the Lanky Man.

"Hi, Third," O'Malley said, and then hit him alongside the face with the butt of his gun. Then he grabbed Hot Dog painfully around the neck. Hot Dog tried unsuccessfully to reach behind him and claw O'Malley's face. O'Malley put a pistol to his head.

"Got this off a security guard," he snickered. "Got three of them, in fact. I'm sure to get demoted for that."

Crazy had gotten to his feet. He and the Lanky Man both pointed their guns at the struggling pair across from them.

"Go ahead, shoot," said O'Malley. "But I'm curious. Who are you shooting at? Who do you really want to kill? Do we all know who we are? Crazy? Third? Hot Dog? We've come this far, we really ought to get it right who we're aiming at."

There were sounds of confusion of the roof as a couple of random cops found their way through the door and stumbled around in the pall. They began to stumble in the direction of the voices.

"Fuck you, pig," hissed Hot Dog.

O'Malley was a blur as he reversed his gun and hit Hot Dog on the side of the face, then reversed it again and put the point back to his head before Crazy or the Lanky Man could do anything.

"First mistake. How many times, Hot Dog? How many times do we have to go through this? Don't you know what I am at heart? Well. I'll tell you what I'm not." Another blur as O'Malley shot dead the two cops who had stumbled into sight. Both had a vapid expression which turned to surprise as their commander killed them. They fell over.

"I'm not a pig," O'Malley finished.

"O'Malley! You fuck!" screamed Crazy. "What the fuck you chase us around for, you're not even a pig! What the fuck is it with you?" His eyes blazed with electricity. The Lanky man silently pointed his gun.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," said Hot Dog. O'Malley kept his grip.

"Maybe," he said. "You know, I should really be the vindictive one here, Hot Dog. You should be satisfied with yourself. You've already had the pleasure of killing me, once. It should be my turn now."

"You're fucking crazy."

"We'll get to him in a minute. But first," O'Malley said, looking up at the other two men, "let me take you all back to a scene similar to this one."

There was a sudden blinding light and an intense barrage of wind as the three police helicopters rose above the roof level. All three trained their lights on the scene below as the pall began to blow away.

All was becoming clear.

"I daresay this time around is a little more grandiose," O'Malley shouted above the noise. "But there we were, on a rooftop, and I had my proper outfit on. My proper one! Ask Crazy about what it is! He knows! I'm going to have it again soon, too! You see? It's the end now, Hot Dog! I don't have to keep up appearances anymore! I can kill cops if I want! And you, Hot Dog - you know what you are? You - are - a - cop!"

Crazy screamed.

"No! You lie!" Hot Dog writhed in O'Malley's grip. O'Malley was ecstatic with glee.

"Oh yes! You are! And your long-legged friend over there is as well, aren't you, Third?"

"I've never seen that fucking guy before in my life, you fuck! Crazy! Help me!"

"Crazy is not yours to command, you little fucking peon cop piece of shit." O'Malley was suddenly fierce. "You belong with Third over there. Never seen him before in your life? How long has your life been, Hot Dog? Did you figure out your first memory yet? What comes before the pancakes?"

"I don't know!"

"What's before the pancakes, my pig friend?"

"Fuck you! I don't know! There's nothing!"

"Yes, there's something! Before the pancakes! Before them! Before the pancakes, there were the goldfish!"

The Lanky Man stood up straight and looked open-mouthed at O'Malley. The lights from the helicopters flashed off his scale.

"Oh yes, you know all about them, don't you, Leggy?" laughed O'Malley. "It was just us fish-eaters on the roof, wasn't it?"

The helicopters were still circling. The cops inside were unloading rocket launchers to take out the entire roof. They did not recognize the singed O'Malley as their commander and figured the safest bet would be to neutralize the whole area. Inside the building, everyone with a gun was still shooting everyone they weren't supposed to be shooting.

"You see? You were the one, Hot Dog! You were the one who never really wanted to kill people! You did it because you were made to, just like I didn't because I wasn't. We're in the wrong roles, buddy! And it's all thanks to three little cosmic goldfish swimming around in our bellies! Our very own trinity! Oh, they're funny little guys. Who knows what they do? They turned you into a Bad Guy with moral qualms, they turned Leggy here into a stupid lost dumb mute fuck, and me - well, they fucking split me in half, by God! Look at Crazy over there! He's my other half!"

"Hot Dog, you fucking pig!" Crazy screamed.

"Crazy, I swear I don't know!"

"Of course not!" cried O'Malley. "None of it makes any sense anyway! Who knows why the universe starts and ends with some little fish, and more than why your life starts with pancakes, you dumb shit? When some fish can have enough power to rule the world, you don't question what kind of fucked up world it is! You just go for those fish! And I've got one in me! You thought there were only two! But there were three of them! You cornered me on that roof, and I put that bowl down, and you only saw two, but you never thought to check my mouth, did you? Just like the careless pig that you are! Well, there was one in there, and then you threw me off the roof, and I just swallowed for all I was worth! Next thing I know I'm in a fucking cop outfit, and I'm only half the man I used to be! That's a bum deal, son, that's what it is! So sure, you bet I'm gonna chase after my other half. I love my other half, and he loves me too, don't you Crazy? Well now, here we are all mixed up, and I just want my other half back, and we're all gonna live forever, son, but you are always going to be - a - pig! Pig! Pi-"

Hot Dog reached behind him again. This time his fingers latched on to something solid and he pulled.

O'Malley's dark glasses came off. His eyes crackled with sheer electricity. They were the eyes of Crazy.

There was a change in O'Malley when the glasses came off. He was no longer bulletproof.

Hot Dog elbowed him in the midsection and stepped away. There was a strange whooshing noise as O'Malley and Crazy were sucked together. The figure before them now wore a dark hat, overcoat, garish tie, and small rectangular purple glasses. He looked a thoroughly Bad Guy.

"That's more like it!" he said. He had a gun in each hand. "One for each of you fucks." He looked up at the astonished Hot Dog and Lanky Man. "We got reamed on this one, boys. Next time will be better, I hope. No more of this role reversal/personality splitting shit. It's too confusing. I'd love to stick around and blow your rotten heads off, but I think it's the end now. Not that I'm not gonna try, mind you."

Overhead, there was an explosion as the three helicopters crashed into each other. The rocket launchers had triangulating computers built into them which pinpointed the exact location from which to fire for maximum efficiency, and all of them had pinpointed the same spot. Since the computers were wired directly into the controls of the helicopters, all three went to the same spot. The explosion lit the sky. One of the rocket launchers fired and the rocket went wild, streaking down and hitting the tank in the street. The tank began to swivel and fire randomly, wiping out cops and National Security Guards alike.

The three men raised their guns. They pulled their triggers.

At the same time, all the counters on the terrorist bomber's explosives simultaneously hit zero. He had been overly zealous, and had spent months rigging and synchronizing twenty-pound plastique explosives hidden in utility closets in each corner of each of the one hundred and forty-three floors of the high rise. The building, along with several of the surrounding blocks of the city, were engulfed in a tremendous explosion which rained fire in a half mile radius for hours.

From far away it looked like a shower of goldfish scales.

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