'Good night.'

Garret was taking it all in. It was the first time he had come to Vegas. And now here he was, much like everyone else in the city, at the bar in the casino of a 7-star hotel. Not long ago, he was driving down the road with bright Neon lights on both sides, wondering about which hotel he should stay the night. He had picked 'The Ritz' simply because that's where the most wealthy frequented - an obvious choice for a man such as him.

The casino was drenched with a myriad of heavy emotions - from frustration, pain, anger, jealousy and hatred to happiness and ecstasy - and a blend of cigarette smoke and the smell of liquor. The reddish hue of the lights, alongwith the music, induced a slight sense of dizziness but Garret paid no heed to it. Afterall, he was where he wanted to be. Garret was taking it all in.

Garret called out to the bartender and asked for a Vodka Martini with extra olives. His drink arrived swiftly and he took a sip. As he put down his glass, a tall, dark and suave man in a jet black tux came and sat down on the stool besides him. His hair was long, heavily gelled and combed behind. He had sharp features and a strong jawline. His face was expressionless. He faced the bartender and said in a baritone voice, "A Vodka Martini with extra olives, please. Three, to be precise." "Three what, Sir? Olives, right?", said the bartender. "Obviously", said the dark man.

Garret took a look at his pot-belly and at his unpleasant memories involving women that had been with him only for his wealth and that left him eventually because he wasn't attractive enough. He let out a soft chuckle. The dark man faced Garret and said in a dead voice, "Excuse me? Do we have a problem?" "No, certainly not! It's just that I am having the exact same drink as you are yet we are so contrasting personalities. I am sorry if it bothered you in any way", laughed Garret. "You don't even know me, do you?", barked the man. "Gee...take it easy, so much for starting a conversation...", stammered Garret. The man downed the entire drink and paused for a brief moment before turning to Garret and said, "I am sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with some thoughts. Hello, I am Ramirez", holding out his hand. Garret extended his own and shook Ramirez's and said, "Garret." "So, what brings you here, Garret?", asked Ramirez. "Ahh...just some ground work for a work related assignment. And you?", asked Garret in return. "I am a...facilitator", answered Ramirez.

Garret let out a soft chuckle again and said, "You sound as if you are a hitman or something of the sorts." "Please, I do not like that word. I merely eliminate unwanted elements", said Ramirez matter-of-factly. Garret almost rolled over from his stool. He couldn't believe it. He thought Ramirez was joking because he himself certainly was. But Ramirez was dead serious. Atleast he looked the part of a professional assassin. "You are not here to kill me, are you?", stammered Garret with a half-smile. "Are you not wanted by anyone?", asked Ramirez. "I hope that's not the case!", quipped Garret. "Don't be too sure, Mr. Garret", said Ramirez. "No, really, I can't think of anyone wanting me dead!", said Garret. "Is that so? Then you are safe. Unless, ofcourse, you keep your mouth shut about my identity", said Ramirez.

"My lips are sealed."

"Very well."

"So, what's your weapon of choice?" Garret couldn't really believe it. He decided to play along.

"A silenced Beretta."

"May I see it?"

"No."

"Ofcourse. Ofcourse. So tell me Mr. Hitman, how do you sleep at night? Doesn't the fact that you are a murderer haunt you?"

"Never does. Never did. Never shall. The thing is, Garret, the world is full of people of two kinds - those with power and those who seek it. It's Nature's Law - Survival of the Fittest. In this order of Nature, some elements are, let us say, obnoxious. I am but a spoke in this wheel, a screw in this complex machinery. I am, as I said, a facilitator."

Garret stared in amazement. He couldn't really digest the words coming from the cold and calm man sitting in front of him. He couldn't decide whether what he had just heard was wisdom or blasphemy. He had never looked at the World in such a way. He had always had an objective view of the World he lived in.

Garret, after downing his drink and after a deep breath, said, "Phew! That was some heavy stuff there Mr. Hitman. So, have you got any signature style or something? You know, like those Boondock Saints, shooting through the eyes or something like that?"

"Not really. I merely wish my target 'Good night' before I finish the job."

"Oh, I see. So what would happen to me if I go to the police right now and tell them about you? You can't possible kill me here!"

"I never said the Beretta was my only weapon of choice, did I? Why do you think I am having the same drink as yours, Mr. Garret? It is because I intend to mock you. Why do you think I asked for precisely three olives, Mr. Garret? It is because three is the number of minutes you have before I wish you 'Good night'. You see, Mr. Garret, I slipped something into your drink when you weren't looking. Yes, Mr. Garret, you were my job here in Vegas."

Garret now stared at his drink and then at Ramirez's dead face with a half-open mouth. Within a couple of seconds, Ramirez broke out in a howl of laughter, his face contorting in a way Garret had never imagined. Ramirez was laughing so hard that it brought a wry smile on Garret's face. He was perplexed. Ramirez, amidst his laughter, said, "I got you, didn't I? You should've seen the look on your face. I can't believe how easily you bought that!"

"You are one terrific actor Ramirez."

"That I am. Listen, I really have to scram now. How about we meet for dinner in 20 minutes? My treat. I am staying in 805, come by my room and we'll head out. Grand?"

Before Garret could answer, Ramirez was already heading out of the casino.

"Very. See you later", said Garret to himself.

In his room, just as Ramirez got out of the shower, he heard a soft knock on the door. 'Garret', he thought. He wrapped himself in a towel and opened the door.

It was Garret. And he was aiming a Beretta straight at Ramirez's forehead. "Good night", said Garret.