Ch 1: The Hangover

21…

To any normal person, 21 is just a number like any other. To people in my situation, 21 is everything.

It's the difference between victory, and defeat. Between the best night of your life, and the worst. Between life…and death.

…ok, maybe that last one is an exaggeration, but you get my point.

Why is 21 so important to me right now? Well, the answer is simple.

…I'm in Vegas, baby! Yes, Las Vegas, the city of bright lights, drunken nights, and five dollar lobster.

So, as I sit at a black jack table in the famous Caesar's Palace, with ten thousand dollars on the table, I'm praying for twenty one. Although, I guess it doesn't matter that much. Even if I lose, I'd still be leaving with a lot more than I came with.

Having just graduated St. Mary's University in Minnesota, my best friend and I scrounged up all the money we could and took a road trip. We both started with around one-thousand dollars five days ago. Now, we're betting at least ten times that. Honestly, I lost count of how much money I actually have. To the others at the table, we just seem like lucky bastards, but in actuality, we know very well what we're doing.

What we're doing isn't illegal, although certain institutions frown upon it. However, it does require a gifted mind and a lot of practice.

Me…I have neither. I can't even finish a game of solitaire without rage quitting. Luckily, Craig, the super genius, just happened to be my friend since freshman year of college. So, after an enormous amount of persuasion, he agreed to learn how to count cards.

He handles all the actual work, and me, I just have to wait for his signals. As an actor, that's something I can easily do. It's just as easy as memorizing lines and waiting for my queue.

Craig and I are sitting at opposite ends of the table, pretending that we don't know each other for the sake of the people who may or may not be watching us through security cameras. After five days of doing this, I can definitely say that the people watching aren't nearly as strict as they were portrayed in the movie 21, but I would rather not risk having Laurence Fishburne break my cheek bone with a tiny hammer.

In between us are two others, a man and a woman. The man is definitely older, probably somewhere in his mid-thirties, and looks rather disheveled. His black hair is untidy, his facial hair is patchy, and he's wearing his suit in a way that suggests he just rolled out of bed.

The woman is around our age with long blonde hair and a fancy red dress. Frankly, she completely outshines the rest of us in terms of appearance. Craig and I may have dressed for the occasion, but she had all of the looks to complement her dress, making her look like someone straight out of movie.

To be honest, I felt a bit out of place, but can anyone blame me. You can dress me up all you want, but I'm still the pasty-faced, spiky-haired geek I always was. Not that I'm in any way shy, but I just kind of had the feeling that I was out of place while sitting next to her.

But, as usual, how I look isn't important to me right now. What is important is the enormous amount of money I have on the table. So, being that about half my winnings are at stake here, I anxiously watch as the dealer begins handing out the cards. As usual, I only focus on mine at first.

…eight…three.

I bite my lip. Of course, I already know that the smart thing to do when the deck is hot is to double down, but I'm not about to start going with my gut instinct. That's exactly how you lose money here.

I quickly glance across the table at Craig, who had just been dealt a ten and a jack. His eyes flick in my direction, making sure that I'm watching, and then he cracks his neck. Right side first, left side next.

Translation… "The count is +13."

Thirteen more high cards then low cards and quite a few neutral cards that would still give me a high number. That confirms exactly what I was thinking. However, it didn't do anything to help my nerves. No matter how good my chances are, there's always the possibility that I might lose.

I glance around the table nervously. Why did everyone else have a good hand? The woman in the red dress just got twin aces for crying out loud. And the slob…holy shit he already has twenty-one. Even the dealer has a queen flipped up for the rest of us to see. How can the deck be hot when there are so many high cards on the table? Did Craig lose the count? …no…no he didn't. We have a signal for that. God damn it, I need to calm down.

As expected, Craig stays. He has twenty already, so taking a hit would just be a death wish.

The woman is next in line. She splits her aces and is immediately dealt a pair of queens to match. That's two winning hands right there.

So, considering the slob got blackjack, the dealer then turns to me expectantly. This is it, do or die…

I put on a fake smirk. "If I win this, everyone's drinks are on me tonight."

That definitely got the tables attention. All eyes are on me now, waiting to see what I'm going to do. Counting out the appropriate number of chips, I lay them down next to my first stack.

"Double down."

…why the hell did I just do that? Why didn't I just say hit? Do I really expect to win, again? How could I…oh shit. Why are my lungs collapsing?

I fumble around my pocket for my inhaler, shove the nozzle in my mouth, and immediately breathe in the medicinal vapor, eliciting a chuckle from the woman in red.

…damn asthma…making me look like a geek…although, considering past experience, I don't really need any help with that.

The dealer grabs a card from the deck. Oh God…I can't watch this…but I have to.

The card flips and…

"Hell yeah! King of spades, baby! That's twenty one!" I shout with an added fist pump, looking like a damn idiot in the process. However, for once, nobody is staring at me awkwardly. Quite the contrary, they're cheering me on. I suppose my intention of buying them alcohol after this hand has something to do with that, but I'm too ecstatic to care.

The dealer frowns, as he turns his other card over.

…7…that makes seventeen, he has to take a hit. He draws another card and…

Five! Dealer busts! Everybody wins, and I've officially made over $40,000 in one trip to Vegas!

My first reaction, embarrassingly, is to get up and do a victory dance. However, remembering I'm in public, I simply resort to cheering and wooting with the rest of the table. Once the excitement finally dies down and all of us are given our chips, the slob speaks up.

"So…how about that drink?" he asks hopefully. The woman in red smiles in agreement and Craig is already piling his chips into his plastic bag.

Well, they say quit while you're ahead…

Still grinning like an idiot, I nod. "Sure, where's the nearest bar?"

The woman in red spills all of her chips into her tiny hand purse in one smooth motion. "Follow me, I know a good place."

…ok…this isn't exactly what I had in mind.

Apparently, the place she was referring to is a nightclub attached to the other end of the casino. Pulse-pounding bass, flashing lights, you know, the works. Places like this normally give me a headache after about five minutes, and considering I'm coming here to drink, something tells me I'll be in a lot of pain tonight.

Still, it isn't all bad. We managed to get a table in the corner away from all the noise, ordered four shots of tequila, and told the bartender to keep them coming.

Once said bartender leaves, the woman in red raises her glass with a smile. "To our generous benefactor."

I smirk at that and clink it with my own before gulping it down and slamming it on the table upside down.

She smirks. "You're just out of college, aren't you?"

I blink at that. How did she possibly know that? "Uh…yeah. My friend and I just graduated. But how did-"

"It's a gift." She interrupts with a smug grin. "I'm good at reading people. You seem to be around that age and the way you just drank that shot screams 'frat boy'"

I chuckle a bit, reminiscing about my last frat party while she turns to the slob. "And you're a workaholic who's here for business and had some free time to hit the casino."

He leans back in his seat. "Actually, I'm here for the ADAA dodgeball tournament. Don't you watch ESPN 8?" he says nonchalantly.

I snort at that. What do you know? Another guy with an actual sense of humor. The blonde on the other hand isn't nearly as amused. "…smartass."

"Well," I say, trying to keep the conversation going, "if we're going to be drinking all night, and I have a feeling we are because I'm paying for all of you, I think introductions are in order, yes?"

The woman takes the initiative. "My name is Cora, I just graduated from med school." She states proudly.

"Yippee for you." The slob remarks sarcastically, earning him a glare from the annoyed blonde. Something tells me that he's only here for the free booze. "If you must know, my name is Parker. I'm a lawyer and yes, as she stated, I'm here on business."

"Craig, engineer and game designer." He states as quickly and quietly as possible, obviously not wanting to be here at all. I really need to get him to socialize more, because quite frankly, he sucks at it.

And that just left me. "My name's Dan, I was a theatre major…guess I'm an actor now, but I can't really call myself that until I've had a professional job."

Cora cocks an eyebrow, making me a tad uncomfortable. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing…just…big guys like you aren't usually into that kind of thing." She answers.

I shrug. "Yeah I guess that's true, but that just means I'm competing with less people for the role of the villain."

She's about to say something else, but the next round of shots come and it seems to halt the conversation.

So…we have two anti-socials, a smoking hot, if not slightly bigheaded, future doctor, and a six-foot-five theatre geek, all consuming a fair amount of alcohol.

…what could possibly go wrong?

Ok…this…is totally awesome.

After the second round of drinks, I figured one of us needed to stay sober to keep us from doing anything stupid. And of course, it had to be me, which I thought would completely suck, but I've just had an amazing revelation.

The only thing more fun than getting drunk with two strangers and your best friend, is watching two strangers and your best friend get drunk. It was around the fourth shot that they started acting a little loopy and actually started talking to each other. However, I've kind of lost track of how many they've had so far, and they were now completely out of it. So far the conversation ranged from Craig thinking the female bartender was hitting on him, to Cora wondering what it would be like if she had eyes on her hands.

How the conversation changed from misperceived flirting to a scene from Pan's Labyrinth, I'll never know, but I wasn't really complaining.

They're in the midst of one of their giggling hysterics when the bartender comes with another round. I'm questioning whether it's really needed at this point, but then I focus in on one glass in particular.

It…has a worm in it. What the hell? I knew some tequila bottles had worms in them, but they really served them in shot glasses? Or was it just a mistake? It had to be a mistake, right? I mean, who the hell would drink a worm shot?

Unfortunately, my question is answered as Craig reaches across the table. I reach for his hand to stop him.

"What the heck are you doing? You do see what's in that shot glass, right?"

He glances downward and his eyes widen. "Whoa…there's a worm in there…awesome!"

Parker starts chuckling. "Lucky bastard…those things are supposed to be ten times better than marijuana."

Craig shakes his head. "Nah man…that's just a myth."

"Actually," Cora explains with a slight slur in her speech, "It's completely true…"

I give an amused smirk. "Learn that at med school, did you?"

"Yeah…what of it?" She says, followed by an odd hiccup sound.

"In that case," Craig states before turning to shout to the bartender. "Yo, barkeep, gimme three more worms!"

I laugh a bit, never seeing this side of Craig before. Still, I have to stop him there. "Craig, I may do some stupid stuff, but I'm not drinking a tequila worm."

"Oh come on!" He says, lazily draping an arm around my shoulder. "It'll be fun."

I shake my head as the bartender comes with three more shots with worms in them. I give her a confused look. "That was awfully fast, do you get people ordering worms often?"

She laughs a bit and nods. "More often then you think."

"See?" Parker says. "People do it all the time, it's no big deal."

I look down at the worm in front of me as the peer pressure starts to sink in. Ok, so it's a worm…a worm that gives you freaky hallucinations…and apparently people drink these things all the time.

…I really shouldn't…but seriously…what could possibly go wrong?

I lift the glass up. "Alright fine, bottoms up."

I down it just like I would any shot, and everyone else follows.

We all sit there in silence, waiting for something to happen, and after a solid minute, I finally decide to speak up.

"You sure it's not a myth?" I ask.

All of the sudden, my answer comes in a way that I definitely didn't expect.

The worm starts to take effect. It's not that I was feeling weird, but rather, a lack of feeling. My entire body went completely numb. "Hey guys…I don't feel so good."

Ok…that's freaky…I know I said something but…I didn't really hear it…in fact, I can't really hear anything. Even the music playing in the background doesn't register. All I can hear is a dull humming in my head.

My eyelids feel heavy so I close them for a second, but that only makes me feel dizzy so I quickly open them back-

Holy Shit!

What the hell happened to Cora and Parker and why the hell am I looking at two salarians! I shake my head. Really? Why was I hallucinating about salarians? How the hell did my mind even come up with that? I haven't played that damn game in at least two years!

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see a krogan in place of Craig, only causing me to freak out more. Not thinking at all about what I'm doing, I get up and run, or rather stumble, away from the table.

I turn the corner and…

Ok…what the hell was in that fucking worm?

Where there was once a crowd of completely normal people dancing the night away, is an alien mosh pit. Turians, asari, and, granted the occasional human, are all dancing amidst the flashing lights. I stand and stare in disbelief as my legs begin to quiver. I suddenly realize that I can no longer support my own weight.

I tumble backwards to the ground as the room starts spinning. People seem like their moving a mile a minute and everything is passing me in a blur. The dull humming sound slowly gets louder until the point where it sounds like a fucking air raid is passing overhead.

I clamp my hands around my ears and tuck my head into my knees, trying desperately to muffle the noise, to no avail. I close my eyes out of fear, but then, suddenly, everything stops.

The roaring noise cuts off and when I open my eyes everything is pitch black. I blink in bewilderment when my sense of touch finally comes back to me.

…I feel…cold. Not 8 below 0, freezing my ass off cold, but just…I don't know how to explain it.

It was as if all the warmth had suddenly left me…am I dying?

…somehow I would have thought that would be much more painful. Then again, I doubt I could die from eating a worm. Unless this is some sort of allergic reaction…but it's not like any one I've ever had before.

Before I have time to further think about my situation, I suddenly feel like I'm falling, but I never hit the ground.

Instead, I slowly slip into unconsciousness.

"Gah...fuck that hurts!" I scream as I cringe from the sudden wave of pain that shoots through my body. But hey, what do you know, I have my hearing back. I open my eyes, to find I'm still in complete darkness, but this was different somehow.

A pulse-pounding headache soon greets me as well. Although extremely uncomfortable, I'm actually a little glad for it. That just means that this freaky acid trip is over.

Now the question is…where the hell am I?

I try to stand up but only end up banging my head on the ceiling. When the hell did it get that low, anyway? I press my hands against it and…it's metal?

Since when are their metal ceilings at Caesar's Palace…or anywhere for that matter. I spread my hands out along the ceiling only to find that the walls are just as restricting.

…am I in a crate?

I place my hands back on the ceiling and begin to try and force it open, but it doesn't budge.

Well…that's just great. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here, and for that matter, how did I get in here in the first place? Did those idiots decide to pull a prank on me while we were all drunk off our asses? If so, this was definitel not funny.

Wait a second…what the hell is that on my arm?

I begin to feel up and down my right arm. It seems to be covered with some sort of…I don't even know how to describe it, it just feels like some smooth substance is-

"Holy Shit!" I'm completely scared out of my mind as orange holograms spark to life around my hand.

This…this is an omni-tool…why the hell do I have an omni-tool?

I can't still be hallucinating; this feels way too real to be induced by drugs. I had to be dreaming. Yeah…that's it…I'm in a dream…an extremely painful, uncomfortable, and vivid dream…holy shit I'm not dreaming am I?

But where the hell did this come from? This isn't supposed to be…oh shit…can't breath.

I fumble around for my inhaler, which is thankfully, still in my pocket and breathe it in, getting my lungs to settle a bit.

Ok…much better…now don't freak out, there's a logical explanation for everything, I just need to relax and figure this-

I accidentally tap one of the icons on the omni-tool and an orange blade shoots up within perfect slicing range of my face.

"Holy Shit!" I back up out of instinct and shove my own hand away, incidentally cutting a huge gash right through the top of the crate. As I do this, I hear a loud buzzing noise and the wall I've been leaning against pops off, sending me sprawling to the ground.

Well…that worked…note to self, do not fuck around with this omni-tool.

I stand up and brush myself off. Ok…I'm in an alleyway, but an alleyway where exactly? It doesn't exactly look like Las Vegas.

I look around a bit, seeing a few other crates like the one I just busted myself out of, but other than that, nothing much, so there wasn't much to go on.

I knew I had to get out of this alley if I was going to make sense of anything, but I honestly fear for my sanity too much to take a single step. There are only two conclusions I can draw. I've somehow gotten a hold of a piece of futuristic technology while I was drunk, or…

…I don't even want to think about the other possibility. But hey, other than the omni-tool, everything else is the same, so it's more likely that it's the first, rather than the ladder. So taking a deep breath, I step outside…into…the…

My brain short circuits as I step onto the sidewalk. Sure I don't see any aliens, but there is still enough evidence lying around. Omni-tools, public access terminals, V.I.'s, and flying cars are in every direction I look.

As I stare blankly at the world around me, I pinch myself just to make absolutely sure I'm not dreaming…but of course, I'm not.

This wasn't part of my acid trip…but it made for one hell of a hangover.

…Zack Galifianakis can kiss my ass…

THANK GOD! I've been meaning to write this for some time but never got around to it. For readers of my former self-insert, I'm sorry, but this isn't a re-write, I had a completely new idea that I liked and just went for it. To anyone who is new, don't bother going back to read the first one because it's really bad and I'm taking it down soon.

Updates may be erratic for some time because I've got a bit of a hectic schedule.

That's it for now.

-trope