Gator lets me crash at his place for a while. We stayed up pretty late last night catching up. I explained my plan to him, told him what I needed. He was happy to oblige.

"Are you sure this is gonna work, dude?"

"Nope." I admit

He laughs. "It's a bit dramatic though, isn't it?"

"Hey, I always put on a show."

We take Gator's private plane, a contraption that would put the Wright brothers to shame. We load it with all the stuff we need and fly back to the place that sufficed as my home while I was caught between two opposing forces in a war - Salvatore and Toreno. I don't have much time to admire the scenery on this trip, due to the fear that the plane might spontaneously combust at any moment, and Gator swerving through trees at breakneck speed, skimming the water so close I get caught in the spray and even pulling the odd barrel roll, leaving me to hang on for dear life.

"Seatbelts are for losers anyway man!" he yells from the front seat.

"No, seatbelts are for people that want to stay alive!" I yell back. "Do you know where you're going!" I joke

"Not at all." he answers with all seriousness.

"Great. Just keep circling the island till we find a spot."

"Gotcha."

After about half an hour of searching and amateur stunts, we stumble (even the plane manages to stumble) across an old, abandoned airstrip.

"Dude, I gotta be honest with you", he yells as we approach the ground, "I never learned how to land one of these things. . . as a matter of fact, this is the first time I've actually flown one."

I try to determine if he is joking. A streak of panic crosses my face when I realise he is totally serious.

The plane nose dives for the ground. I grab the stick and yank it towards me, levelling out slightly. We hit the ground hard, and trundle along the runway. Slowly we step out of the plane, which is now on fire, and stroll away with unbeatable nonchalance. A faint explosion is heard in the distance.

After what seemed like hours of walking around aimlessly, we arrive at the hotel. I head to the elevator as normal, but with a new found confidence in my company. We reach my door and I unlock it, then open it carefully, fingering the pistol in my coat pocket.

It's clear.

"So, anyway, this is my part of the plan, I can take it on my own, so I guess you can stay here till I get back."

"No way, man. I'll come with. For back up if you need it. I'll be, like, your getaway driver." offers Gator.

"Hey, dude, I've seen your driving skills. I'll be the getaway driver."

I would like to think this is the last time I enter this casino. I exit the car Gator "found", leaving him in the passenger seat. I notice the glances from the bouncers, but ignore them and stroll to Mr Leone's office.

"Ah, good to see you again." he says. "Is it done?"

I don't answer. I wait for him to call the bouncers off so they leave the room, like he always does.

"Yes, yes, my good men. You may leave. As per usual."

A quick check to make sure he is unarmed. How cocky and pompous, I think. So confident in his safety that he doesn't even carry a piece.

I take out my pistol, and point it at him, watching him squirm and watching the beads of sweat form on his brow.

"Goodnight, Mr Leone." Dammit, I should have said something better. . . ah to hell with it. I fire, and leave him, choking on his blood as I walk to the door.

This is the hard part. Getting back out. I ease the office door open, and creep out, breaking the world speed record for the nonchalant walk. If all goes to plan, I should have two minutes before the whole building blows skyward. If all goes to plan. . .

The bouncers, probably curious as to why the boss has not recalled them, burst into his office. I curse loudly and start to run. Sprinting along the seemingly endless casino floors, I glance behind me to see the goons streaming out of Salvatore's room and thundering towards me. I spy the concierges ahead, noticing that they spotted me a while ago and were already advancing. I dive behind a blackjack table, and try to negotiate the terrain, like a soldier in the heat of battle. And that's when I notice the bomb. Gator must have made a miscalculation. It's gonna blow in ten seconds!

Guns blazing around me, I duck and roll around the tables and games machines, trying frantically to get to the exit. I stand up into sight and lure the bouncers close, before leaping over the table and sprinting for the door. I dive through the door frame and roll down the steps, hands over my head, curled into a defensive ball like a hedgehog.

The noise is deafening. The roar of the flames, the explosions, the screams. Slowly, I pick myself up, and pace unsteadily towards the car, where Gator is sitting, watching in awe at the spectacular display. He says something, but I can't here him because of the ringing in my ears.

"Drive to the airport." I manage. "It's the only way back since we trashed the plane."

"You're paying for that, by the way."

"What?" I reply, pointing to my ears, pretending I didn't hear him.

Gator begins the drive to the airport, which takes twice as long as it did for me since he has no clue where he is going and won't listen to my directions.

Upon arrival, we conceal our weapons, and head to the ticket booth.

"That'll be 200 each." smiles the woman serving.

I reach into my pocket to fetch my wallet, but hear Gator's voice.

"Sure, it's right. . . HERE!" He pulls out his gun and aims it at the woman. Politely, she hands over two first class tickets.

"E. . . Enjoy your flight." Her smile has lost all its warmth.

"And you were gonna settle with cheap seats." laughs Gator as we begin the journey.