Kevin walked with a purpose. He knew where he was going and what he needed to do. He was all business. There would be nothing to distract him. His schedule allowed for extra time that would be spent as people on the street noticed him, recognized his face, and approached him in an attempt to befriend him. He appreciated the people and respected their admiration, and was happy to have done what he had done for them. But he was serious-minded and did not come out today to make friends. He knew how to get things done.
Kevin entered the grand stone building through one of the many glass doors. The air inside was a full 20 degrees cooler, and dry, and subtly smelled of being many times recycled. He was dressed not for war, but for business. It made him no less imposing. Heads turned involuntarily to watch him walk by and crowds parted without being asked. He entered a spacious lobby and was quickly met by three men also in business suits – older, shorter, facilitators. They shook hands and smiled. Kevin walked with them to an office just off the lobby and sat at a large desk. The three men spoke for a time about Kevin’s money and how much he had and how he could get more of it by letting them take charge of it. He found their presentation appealing and believable, and he decided that they could have twelve million of his dollars.
Kevin walked back through the lobby with the three men and enough people there had seen him pass through the first time that there were now three times as many people. Many of them tried to pretend that they were going about some other task when all they really were there for was to see him, but there were a few that boldly intercepted the group of suited men. Kevin was polite but economical with his time. He shook a few hands and smiled and signed two autographs but did not allow conversations to linger. He said good-bye to the three advisers and exited the building. His business here was done, and he was now headed to the training facility. War was coming again, and he would again stand and fight for the Bastion. They had secured The Prize, and he was determined to keep it.
Kevin’s investment ended up earning him over eighty million dollars. He was lucky.
Four minutes after he walked out of the stone building, three men in masks entered, drew guns, and attempted to rob the bank operating in the lobby. They were unsuccessful. All three were killed, as well as one bank customer, one bank employee, and one police officer. Kevin was lucky that he walked with a purpose.
On the other side of the city, Rajon shifted into sixth gear and blazed past other drivers on the freeway. He crossed under a bridge, behind which sat the cruiser of a state trooper. The state trooper was in pain and shock, as just seconds before he had sneezed violently, causing the hot coffee in his mug to splash out onto his crotch and burn him. He was not paying attention to the sports car that passed him by at 140 miles per hour. Rajon was lucky.
Paul had decided not to go out on Friday. His friends went without him. As he sat at home and watched a movie, there was a knock on his door. Felicia had dropped by on a whim just to say hello. Paul was happy to see her, as he had thought of Felicia often since he had last seen her (several years ago). He had always been interested in her, and she in him, but there was always a circumstance of timing that kept them apart. Tonight, they talked, relaxed, and then had sex for hours before falling into a restful sleep. Paul was lucky. His friends that night had found themselves spending a lot more money, getting into far fewer places, and drawing the interest of no women without their very popular, wealthy, and well-known friend along side them.
Good luck for one almost always means bad luck for another. The Bastion was lucky.
WuhHERD, brah.
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