Gabriel Hastings's Story

There he was, drifting in nothingness. He was floating through time and space. Memories came and went, friendships created and lost. He remembered every gamble fueled night, every drink induced bet. He remembered growing up. His father, a drunken gambler. Heh, the apple never falls far from the tree. His mother a strong, but silent woman, watching her husband dug both of them into debt. He remembers his fathers death. He remembers his mothers sacrifice just to dig themselves- dig James out of debt. She would not let her child grow into a man in debt. She paid her price for her husband so her son may live.

Live he did. He took to the bottle like his father, and gambled. It was a good thing his mother wasn't alive to see him grow into his father. Yet, he had something his father never had. Luck. Instead of losing all he had, he won. He preserved where his father had lost. He had thrived and survived in what had killed his father. He managed to buy an apartment with his luck, and he lived. It might not have been cozy, for Luck never forgets a debt, but he lived. Under the heel of Freya's boot, as well as being Luck's cruel joke, he never would live normal. He survived, yet he never truly lived. He had not a goal, only gambling and drinking his life away to just try and survive.

Then one night, he was given a chance to do something bigger. Something more. Gabriel offered him a job that would pay his rent and bills. Obtain an item for the Insurrection. This window led him to becoming one of the Insurrection, to lash out against his lot against life. To rage against the machine, and to push back. To live. He made friends, close friends in the Insurrection. Eliot, Peter, Alan, Charlie, Greg. It then led to even more friendships such as Vincent, Vivian, and even the magician Alex for the one night he knew him. He finally began to live...

... Then with a flash of lightning, he was gone. Luck could not save him from this.

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At the funeral, as graves were made for the heroes of the fight, no one would notice James. They wouldn't see him as a hero for he had done nothing heroic. They wouldn't see him as a leader, for he never led. He was just some old gambler and drinker. Who played the risks on the battlefield. He would die unnoticed and forgotten, like his father. Gabriel. His friend. His rival. The man who had introduced James to the insurrection, the man who had put him on the course that led to that day. Gabriel gave a eulogy for Charlie, and not him. Fitting, Charlie was more of a hero than he was. She deserved it. He was just some gambler and tramp. No one would notice nor care about him.

“There isn’t much to say, is there? If you knew anything about Charlotte- Charlie- you know that she’d do it all over again given the chance. And that, I think, is a property uniquely hers.” A pause. “I’m not a man who believes in God. So I don’t think she’s anywhere better now than she was before. Honestly, for the first time I can recall, I almost wish I did. At the very least, though, I intend not to squander the opportunity she- they- created for us. We can only keep moving forward.”

Heh. They. That was the closest James would get to be mentioned. Even by his first and good friend, he was not mentioned. Then a flower was placed on Charlie's grave. A white lily. Then another. Then another. All flowers for her. And then. Something else floated to the top of her coffin. It wasn't a flower but a card. A Queen of Hearts. Then a hand stopped Gabriel. A gambler stood and looked the man in the air, a solemn smile spread across his face. James. He had survived.

The lightning bolt had not killed the man. It passed through his body and killed all of those around him. He was left alone in a crater, coming to his senses late. His was blind when he awoke and his hat had been incinerated as it flew off his head. He sat up blinded by the powerful lightning bolt, but alive. He was sore, and his shoulder where the lightning had entered his body was burnt, as was his left boot where the arc left his body. Yet he survived. Luck had given him one last gift. Life. However the lightning took with it the powers of his luck. He could feel the emptiness that the sixth sense occupied. He was free, yet he felt a sadness. A sadness that reflected in the smile he gave to Gabriel. Under the dark sunglasses he wore, his tears could not be seen. Light still irritated his eyes, but they said it would go away within another week.

"The quite life," He began, "It does sound promising. I hear the country is beautiful," James said, nodding towards Vivian. "But it's not for me," He added, the weight of his words crashing like the waves. He pulled his eyes from the man in the wheelchair, his friend, and looked towards the city, "No, I'm staying here... Freya. Someone has to keep a check on Freya. Make sure she doesn't keep the stomp these people into the mud," He said, the realization slowly coming into the light. He turned back to Gabriel, "I'm the last of the insurrection. It gave me a purpose. Fight against Freya. I still have fight within me. I'll keep up Charlie's and Greg's original purpose. I'll continue the fight for them. I wish you the best of luck, my friend," He said, shaking Gabriel's hand, "And I hope you both find peace," He said, hugging Vivian.

As the two of them left, James strode in the opposite direction, towards the city. He still had a purpose.