Black, red, gold. A fashionable color scheme. A tale of wealth and fortune, an Eden of shining lights and luxury in the barren desert. The narrow streets between the white-walled buildings with their red-tile roofs. Layers of overlapping buildings rising in ghostly tiers toward a blue sky.

Begin again, in the night.

Too long spent in an unfinished monument to human greed. The streets once paved with gold and promise now derelict. The walls caved in. The Sunrise and Sunset, Puesta del Sol and Salida del Sol, forever blotted out. Monsters that filled the air with their rasping breaths, stalking through the rotted halls, whispering in the darkness like zombies from an old holotape.

It was time to go.

There was a treasure of gold buried in that elegant fortress. It called to him every night, a temptress without a face, a beacon through all the years, decades of obsession. A desire for revenge against a man long dead.

His victory would have no meaning.

Let's sway, again, tonight.

The hissing abominations patrolling the streets were becoming vicious and unpredictable. Supplies were low. Everything had changed. The fragile chrysalis that surrounded his world for so long had shattered. That woman had come and gone, turning his prison on its head. She had left with a king's ransom in gold, bound for the oasis she called home.

It survived after all these years. So many riches to acquire, secrets to unlock. Vegas, a place to restart, to let go of the old ghosts that haunted him still.

Your arm, on my shoulder. Your cheek, against mine.

Dean tipped his hat to the beautiful woman made of lines and light, who once upon a time, he had loved. There were second chances even for monsters like him.

Where, can we go?

"Fair advice, Vera," he said, and left the Sierra Madre forever.

When will we find, that we know?

He did not look back.

To let go…