The gallery was coming to a close. Most of the guests had left and only a few of them remained being indecisive about if they were going to spend money on things or not. Jack was going around talking to people, embellishing stories, lying, and being charismatic. Julie was still there, brooding. Once in a while a thought of hers would pop into his head, but it would always be a question about Jack that would go unanswered.

Who is he really? Have I made a deal with a devil? If he kissed me, does that mean he likes me?

Or statements about herself.

I was foolish.

And there were those that wondered.

How did he know about the land? No one knows about that!

While Julie's future might have looked rather dark and foreboding, the future to Jack was looking shiny and bright. Once he got his biggest career launching, he knew he could finally leave his past behind.

Jack was in the ballroom, sitting at a table, eating a dessert of raspberry cheesecake with Ann, Timothy, and a jealous-looking Rupert, when the doors burst open. A man with red hair and an eye patch came bursting in. He wore a black vest with guns strapped to his belt. Leather boots with too many buckles stomped across the floor. Simon was in the arms of two men with guns strapped on their belts.

The room fell silent. Everyone was too stunned to react. The redheaded man swiped out his gun and shot Rupert. He fell over in his cake. Women screamed. Blood dripped on the floor.

"Missed, damn it," the man curled his lip.

Norman? Jack stood, but the man turned and shot someone behind him. George fell to the floor. Sally ran up to help him. Minister Palestone had his gun out, shoving his wife behind him.

"Put the gun down!" He roared and stomped over. "Now!"

The redhead man took another gun from his belt and shot the chandelier overhead. Women screamed and Palestone stopped in his tracks.

"Get down on the ground, Palestone!" the man shouted.

Palestone made a move forward. The man shot at his feet. Palestone yelped back.

"I said get down, dungshit!" The man's cheeks reddened with anger and the blood vessels showed through on his neck.

Who am I kidding? Jack was stunned stiff. Ann grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to the ground. She was down there with Timothy. Glass shattered somewhere. Jack could not believe what he was seeing. It was simply impossible!

"Who are you?" Minister Palestone could be seen standing his ground. Another chandelier came crashing down and he backed up towards his wife. She looked worried with brows furrowed.

"Who am I?" the man laughed and brought down another chandelier. "I am Norman Fellows."

"The convicted murderer!" Timothy whispered. "I heard he be put in jail up for death row!"

"I heard that!" Norman sang. "Who spoke? Stand up, my good man."

"Don't answer him, Tim," Ann hissed, but Timothy stood.

"I'm not 'fraid of you." His knees knocked.

"Timothy Durkinson, the holder of all that dragon's breath. Do you want to save your friends?" Norman sneered and licked his lips. He pointed his gun at George, who Sally had gotten to his feet and was carrying away. The gunshot brought George to his knees. Sally pleaded for him to keep moving, but he was shot again.

Minister Palestone took a step forward. "What do you want?" he cried out. George fell to the ground. Blood gushed from his wounds and trickled across the broken glass. Sally was still trying to get him to his feet when Norman pointed the gun at her.

"I want dragon's breath. Tell me where you got it. If you do, I'll leave your friends alive. If you don't because you're just like Dr. Gray, tryna protect the dungshits that live there, everyone will die, and you live with guilt the rest of your life. A twid for your thoughts?"

Timothy took a shaky step forward. "I'll tell," he said in a thin voice, "Just let my friends go, please."

"Aw," Norman cooed, "how sweet. You're protecting your friends." He gestured around the ballroom. "In a world of peace, surely, I would be merciful. I will keep my promise. I will be truthful and not lie to your faces. Surely. But can I have your word?" He shot the minster in the leg.

Minister Palestone howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Norman swiftly took it.

"You have me word!" Timothy cried. "Please, just let 'em go! If you want me, take me."

"I have your word, do I?" Norman sneered. "Well, if you will tell, I will go peacefully." He turned his back for a second and turned back. "But I think I need proof. Proof you're not lying." He slid a gun across the floor, and it stopped at Timothy's feet.

"Pick that up, come this way."

Timothy slowly walked to Norman holding the gun in his hands, away from himself like it was something he would rather not be holding right now.

But neither Rupert's blood, Sally's sobs, George's obvious death, or the crunching of glass as Timothy slowly made his way to Norman, were the center of attention in Jack's mind. He was occupied in more important, personal issues. Jack was still in shock, staring at Norman like he'd seen a ghost and he did feel that way. Norman Fellows had, five years ago, been put on death row. He was to have died during that year, or at the very least never leave jail.

But how is he here? Free? And after dragon's breath? Jack recalled the one name Norman mentioned. Dr. Gray was that scientist that believed dragon's breath was real and that it was possibly an energy that one could make millions out of. The Arrow's Bend Aviation Center of Science had been broken into last week. Equipment to turn dragon's breath into energy had been partially created.

Could it be that Norman was the one behind it all? he wondered. The Slingers are part of it? Norman recruited them? Not just late Rocky, but Finch-James was in it, too. Jack realized he hadn't seen Finch-James in a while.

"Is it true?" Ann's voice sounded in his ear. Jack blinked out of his thoughts. He noticed that while he had been occupied within himself, things had changed. There were more men in the room, dressed in shabby clothes—the Slingers. Norman had Simon at gunpoint. Simon was crying, which was shocking. Simon never cried. Timothy was being bound at his wrists by one of the men. He hung his head and didn't look at Jack as they went by.

"Is what true?" Jack asked.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Simon cried, "I'm sorry, I told them. They th-threatened my family." He crumbled to the ground, mumbling apologies over and over.

"You're Knave Diamondo?" Ann whispered.

Jack blinked at her and then looked at Simon. "What in the name of Endil, did you say, Simon old man?" He gave a dry laugh, trying to lighten the situation. Trying to bring it around as he felt it slipping from his fingertips.

When Simon didn't answer, Norman kicked him. "Answer, old man!" he barked.

"I said you were Knave Diamondo. Were. Not anymore and never again."

Jack laughed. "Really? Lies!" He stood. "You would all listen to the words of an old man who had already been losing his mind? Really? My friends!"

Norman whistled and suddenly men sprung on him, holding his arms as he struggled. His hat fell off. Norman picked it up and put it on his head. "Fine fabric, Jack. I'll show you proof. Ever wonder what that little marking on his wrist means?"

Dungs and apples! Jack knew that if he struggled, it would look like he wanted to hide something. But if he didn't struggle to get away, they'd reveal what he was in the past. He was, but not anymore and like Simon said, never again.

"Gather around!" Norman said and shot at the ceiling. "I said, gather!" The others in the ballroom gathered on that command. 

Jack was forced to hold his arm out and Norman rolled up the sleeve and then his own. The small tattoo on his wrist was so small that someone would have to really look to notice what it was. It was half a playing card, specifically, the Jack of Hearts. The other half, Norman had. Jack of Diamonds. Wrists together and they would make one card. Together, they were Double Jack—Knave Diamondo was Jack and Knave Heartetto was Norman. How was Norman 'Jack'? His middle name was Jack. Norman Jack Fellows.

This is it. My life is over. Jack hung his head as shocked voices flew among his friends.

"How sad, traitor," Norman spat in his face. "You blame me for everything we did together, and I end up in jail. Death row!" His one eye glowered. "You really done me good after all we've been through. You ruined my life and now I've come to ruin yours'."

Enough is enough. Jack decided. He was not going to hold back now that everyone saw who he was. He head-butted Norman who groaned. The crowd scurried away. Jack yanked his arms free and threw a guy over his head. He grabbed a gun up from the ground and shot the men that came for him, killing some but only slowing down others.

"Get him!" Norman commanded, holding his head still, but the men he brought with him were all on the ground. Norman was never good at planning far ahead like Jack. That's why he needed Jack around.

"Pathetic. Just as I remember," Jack said and made for the door. He briefly locked eyes with Ann whose gaze of hurt pierced him more than he thought it would. He wanted to tell her that who he was today, the owner of The Kaleidoscope, was who he wanted to be. He didn't try to deceive her. It wasn't to cover up at all. He really was trying to be better.

Or maybe I WAS hiding.

Someone shot at him, and he ducked through the door. He ran down the hall, pushed through the backdoors and hurried to the office. He burst inside and up the stairs. A shadow came above him, and he punched Finch-James in the jaw. The chair Finch-James held poised to strike fell from his grasp and on his toes, making him squeal.

"You call that an ambush?" Jack scoffed and kicked him in the face. He didn't have time to change his clothes, but he did have time to take out his hidden guns from under the bed. On his way back out, he kicked Finch-James in his credentials, making him squeal louder.

"Dimwit bastard," Jack called over his shoulder.