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Post by The Wyrd on May 14, 2022 21:38:00 GMT -8
Pain.
It was the first thing that welcomed Croupier back from the brink of death. Next it was the smell of a sanitized room, a whir of an air conditioner, and the coughs of some elderly man in the hallway.
Then came the beeps and whirs. The machines attached to his body, life support that had kept him alive. An IV in his forearm, oxygen under his nose. A crispy-feeling hospital gown, and the bright, bright flourescent lights.
In the first minutes, a nurse had come by to give him some morphine, a smile on her face and a gentle tone telling him he was very lucky to be alive. A doctor came an hour later as he was being fed intravenously to advise him he had been through four surgeries to sew his guts back into some semblance of function. It would be hospital visits for a while, scans to check his recovery, medications to ensure no infections. Then, rehab. For a long time, it would be rehab. The abdominal muscles were in bad shape. Physiotherapy and kinesiology would be a part of his life for months -- if not years.
Two days had passed since he had been mere seconds from death. It was a bleak picture. It took a while for things to get sorted so that Croupier could even sit up. His phone was with his personals, probably in a locker somewhere. The television showed the date and CNN was running on mute showing something about the President's political woes.
A knock at the door.
"Mr. Miller?"
A younger looking female suit in the doorway. Cute, but not gorgeous. Charcoal gray suit, not expensive, gun on hip. She held up a badge with a polite smile. Her partner, a clean-shaven gray-hair with really nice looking Oxfords matching a well-pressed black Hugo Boss. Clearly, the senior. He gave Croupier a bit of a wave.
"I'm Detective-Sergeant Kent, this is Detective Honeywell, Vegas PD. You doing all right? May we sit?"
The female cop spoke in a soft tone, concerned.
"Great to see you awake, sir. Folks have been really worried you weren't going to pull through. Do you remember what happened?"
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Post by Croupier on May 15, 2022 5:45:24 GMT -8
Coming back to life had been exhausting.
Between the seemingly never-ending cycle of nurses coming to check his vitals and doctors bearing bad news about a long and rough recovery, Croupier felt a state of numbness that washed over any feeling of pain in his abdomen and neck. The morphine drip was delicious, but did little to take away the bitter taste in his mouth during those moments when he was alone.
He failed. He fucked up. He never even had a chance against his double, and it gnawed on him worse than the physical pain.
When he realized his phone was missing, Croupier asked for a nurse if he could have it back - just to call some friends. Let them know where he was. Panic began to race in his mind as he realized he was alone in the room; and he had no idea what happened to Bosko. Or anything that happened after he passed out. For all Croupier knew, the big man could be in another room, or laying in the morgue because of him. And on top of that; he had no idea what happened to his double after all that. Did he escape? Dead at Bosko's hands? Arrested? Almost none of them were good options; and the more time he had in the room to himself, the more Croupier's anxiety began to build. Someone in the Courts had to be informed.
The thought was interrupted by one that made him laugh; which in turn made his insides ache anew. Did work know he was in the hospital?
His eyes had been resting on the tv when the knock drew Croupier's attention to the door. What remained of his stomach fell away when the inevitable stepped into the room. The detectives looked like they were straight out of a police procedural; clean-cut and attractive without being full-on sex symbols, wearing good quality but not bank-breaking attire. Hell, even their tone of concern was practiced.
It hurt to shift and sit upright, but Croupier did his best to move into a sitting position. Instead he looked like he was leaning back in a recliner.
"All things considered." Croupier's voice was hoarse and dry while he turned his hands in the usual clearing motion. In the dealing profession, it was a way of indicating Croupier had nothing up his sleeves - no chips he could pocket nor any cheating devices or cards to give him an edge. As a Fairest, it was just as much a sign of honesty and trust.
Turning his eyes up towards the ceiling in contemplation, Croupier licked his dry lips and shook his head, "No... no I don't remember too much. It's all kind of a blur." It may not have been the whole truth, but Croupier needed to know what they knew first. Going in without information almost got him killed.
And he was sure they had plenty of questions for him.
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Post by The Wyrd on May 15, 2022 9:34:18 GMT -8
Honeywell gave an understanding nod.
"I'm afraid you were the victim of an attempted homicide, Mr. Miller. Eyewitnesses mentioned you and a friend entered the bar and were attacked by a fellow with a knife." She held up a hand, as if to offer consolation. "Don't worry. He's in custody and your friend is doing okay. He was assaulted as well, but aside from some stitches, he'll be all right. Perhaps a bit aggressive at the scene with first responders, but who can blame him?"
Kent nodded too, but didn't add anything.
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Post by Croupier on May 15, 2022 11:17:33 GMT -8
Croupier listened in pitiable silence to the detective, picking out the most important information she could let drop.
"Th-that-" Croupier gasped in a weak, breathless voice. Phantom knives stabbed his gut anew with each word, "That's a relief he's okay. Bosko, I mean."
It was the truth; or as close as Croupier could get for comfort. Bosko was alive, that was a relief. The police had his doppleganger, that was less so.
The Leechfinger chanced a glance over at the silent partner. It was natural for someone who had just survived a brush with death to be nervous, and for Croupier he found playing the role of someone freaking out over a near-death experience to be surprisingly easy to play. He knew it was only a matter of time before Good Cop's compassion made way for Bad Cop's questions. Croupier took another gulp to work moisture back into his mouth. "D-did he say why he attacked me?"
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Post by The Wyrd on May 15, 2022 11:48:40 GMT -8
The silent partner shook his head, but Honeywell kept talking, leaning in just a little bit.
"Well, no. That's the strange thing. He's talking, but not about why he stabbed you."
Kent passed her a notepad, which she reviewed for a moment that might have been more agonizing than his stomach wounds.
"He's working very hard to convince us that he is Dan Miller. Stories from the past which can be verified with witnesses. Medical history, which we can verify against medical records. Doctors names. Names of old girlfriends. Embarrassing stories about breakups that he really, really wants us to verify. A blood sample which we were able to match against hospital records from the past. Even a polygraph."
She leaned back in her chair, placed the notepad on her armrest, and hooked one foot over the opposite ankle. Her professional-looking pumps were so uninteresting.
"For two days, this man has gone on and on about details of his life. Which tells me he's less worried about an attempted murder charge and more worried about someone who is trying to become him."
The pen gestured to Croupier.
"You can lawyer up now. You have the right to, for sure, and I'm happy to provide you access to legal counsel. However, clamming up doesn't help you. ICE is going to want to get involved, and I'll have no reason not to hand you over. Texas is shitty hot in the summer. On the other hand, you talk to me..."
A pregnant pause, like there was an out.
"Why do I have two Dan Millers?"
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Post by Croupier on May 15, 2022 12:22:41 GMT -8
That son of a bitch.
Croupier studied Detective Honeywell as she worked, admiring the level of detail she went in to tell him just how spectacularly fucked he was. There was messing up, and then there was digging a hole for yourself so deep and impressive the old mobsters who buried their enemies in the desert would have nodded with respect.
Despite the situation - or because of it - he smiled, "All of them? Even the one with Sarah West dropping me for my best friend, Tyler Kerman, on our way to senior prom for Rockhurst High? Because yeah; I still had to pay for my part of the limo."
It was his turn to lean in, though the pain in his abdomen made him pause, "I gotta say, I don't know. First time I saw the guy was last night. Got a weird ping saying my card was being used at a club I've never been to, so my friend offered to drive me out there so I could check it out. I get there, and there's some guy who looked kind of like me at the bar, but you know how well-lit those places are. I get a few in me, go to confront the guy, and next thing I know I'm here with nurses telling me I almost died and you telling me I'm under arrest."
"I've been Dan Miller all my life." Croupier insisted, "You want, I can go through all the same testing he did. Answer all the same questions. I'd off my blood if I had any left, but I'm sure you have samples already."
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Post by The Wyrd on May 15, 2022 13:37:27 GMT -8
Kent was writing in his little notebook. Honeywell nodded understandingly, but didn't reply to the story. When he mentioned blood samples, she shook her head.
"No, we haven't taken your samples without a court order. That would be against the law. But since you're willing, we're happy to arrange for all that for you."
She gestured idly with her pen toward Kent.
"What makes this even stranger, Mr. Miller, is that this isn't a case involving two people saying they're the same man."
Kent held up three fingers.
"When we run your information, we find three.
We'll leave you to rest, Mr. Miller. Once you're in better condition and have had a chance to speak to a lawyer, we'll handle the formalities. Kindly don't leave our jurisdiction, or this will become ICE's case. I trust we'll be able to find you at the phone number on your hospital file."
With that, the police officers departed.
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