Camelot

Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country said the handsome guy on the small T.V in Carlos Medinos hotel bedroom. Carlos rolled up another spliff while his date, a crusty redneck blonde named Tammy Lynn, was taking a shower. Carlos looked at the television and laughed. He sprayed tobacco juice out of his mouth, hitting the edge of the yellow sheets on the bed and dripping down to the floor. Tammys hoarse Southern voice, damaged from both rough liquor and rough fellatio, scratched over to Carloss eardrums. Whatre you laughing at, sweet pea?. Carlos wiped the brown stain away from his mouth. Nothing honey. Just something stupid on the TV. He reached into his briefcase. Im going to do for this country the same thing this country did to me: absolutely jack shit thought Carlos as he pulled the Smith and Wesson out and ran his hand down the side. Tammy Lynn came out. Her mascara had come off and she didnt smell like exhaust fumes anymore. She saw the gun in Carloss hand and gasped. Carlos turned to her and gave her a tired smile. If I had wanted to kill you I would have done it days ago. Relax. Wow thats real assuring there Carlos. You sure are a romantic. Carlos loaded a clip. Hey I didnt remember asking if you liked my fucking line of work or not. Sorry. Jesus. What are you gonna do with that gun anyway? Carlos stood up. Do what the boss told me to do. Same as always. He tucked the gun into the back of his pants. Tammy sounded especially sad. You dont have to do everthing your boss tells you to do. Carlos looked at her. He made his way to the door, conscious of the fact that is he didnt go know hed never be able to leave Tammy in this sad state she had slipped into. You dont know my boss then.. He tossed seven twenties on the table. Keep the change. I came early this time. You sure youre gonna be alright? Those drugs we were taking, they were pretty damn strong. Might be a bad time to go about a risky operation. Carlos groaned. Jesus woman Ill be fine. Goodbye. Carlos closed the door behind him. Sometimes these broads can get a little loopy, he thought to himself as he turned around. His first thought was that he was not in the parking lot of a Super Eight Motel in Reno, Nevada but rather a heavily wooded area with a river running by his feet. There was also in place of his brand new 1960 Corvette there was a man covered in grey scale armor with silver and blue paint kneeling at his feet. My lord and liege, said the armored man, I am entirely in your service.You have saved my life: now I am free to be your eternal servant. Carlos looked to his left. Next to him laid another man in armor that was gold and white, covered in blood pouring from deep gashes in his back. Carlos looked at the scene. Shit.