[Veritas]

The Loyal Community > General Discussion > Cousin George is boxing at Excalibur!!
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LoyalDevina: Cousin George is going to be boxing at the Excalibur on July ** Friday! There's going to be 4 nights of boxing to qualify for the finals. tickets are 30 dollars for each night. GO GEORGE!!!
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Greekgoddess: I didn't know George was a boxer
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KrisLee: YAY GEORGE! GO 'HEAD WIT' YER BAD SELF!!
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OU812: I am SOOO THERE!
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BlueSkye: How long had george been a boxer?
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RUReady15: I wonder if Criss ever boxed with George? You know just for fun
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LoyalCaitlin: I hope Criss is there he has to be because its his cousin whose fighting that night
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FIGHT NIGHT AT THE EXCALBUR!!

Amateur Boxing Association Exhibition Match:
July **, July **, Aug **, Aug **

TICKETS: $30 ($20 12 and under)

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Quarter Finals:

First Match: Draveling v. Ellsworth
Second Match: Theodoros v. Strumpolis
Third Match: Meyer v. Lacie
Fourth Match: Clement v. Ruhr

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Criss felt a little strange being a spectator instead of a performer that afternoon at the Excalibur. He, his brothers, and their mother had been granted free ringside passes to the boxing match, but it still felt a little strange to him. He was so accustomed to being the star that to watch someone else perform felt alien to him. On the other side of the stage he was a nonentity, just another member of the audience.

The last time he was in the arena was for the Quad Drag Escape demonstration. George had been his assistant then, driving the quadrocycle around the dirt-floored arena with himself tied to the end of it, struggling to escape the ropes binding him (He remembered how he struck his head on the wall at one turn; thankfully, he had been wearing a helmet). The audience had cheered wildly as he freed himself from the ropes, but he didn't stick around for the applause; he had quickly left the arena to catch a red-eye flight to New York to be with his mother for her emergency heart operation.

Tonight, it was George who was in the spotlight, while his famous cousin would sit among the spectators. Criss mingled with the other fans in the lobby, taking time to sign a few autographs and pose for photos, alleviating the uneasiness. Word on the fanboards had it that Cousin George would be in the Excalibur match, and the Loyals had turned out in force to cheer him on. Many proudly showed Criss the posterboard signs they had made for the occasion. Pleased that his Loyal fans would extend their devotion to his cousin, he personally held them up for the cameras and autographed them with a black magic marker.

"Now I know George will win tonight!" he crowed.

There were more autographs, more pictures, more hugs, and more good wishes for George. In the middle of it all, Criss suddenly became concerned about his mother; he looked around but didn't see her anywhere. He spotted his brother, JD, nearby. "Hey, JD, where's Mom?" he called out.

JD scanned the lobby. "It's okay," he called back. "I see her--she's by the bar!"

By the bar? Puzzled, Criss walked over to the lobby bar. His mother was not a heavy drinker, so why would she be hanging out at the bar? he wondered. Upon approaching, however, he saw the reason--in the familiar form of a former mobster dressed in a tailored suit, holding a Manhattan in one gnarled hand and his mother's arm in the other.

Criss laughed in surprise. "Springs!" he cried. "Hey, good to see you again, old man!"

Danny Springer held up his drink in greeting. "How ya doin', Angel?" he rasped. "Nice to see you again. And yer ma, too."

"So, what brings you here?" Criss asked.

"Same as everybody," Springs replied. "Here to see the match. Ain't seen a live fight in years, and the price was right, so I thought what the eff, y'know? So I come here, and damn if I didn't run into yer mother here! Ain't life a crock?"

He sidled up closer to Dimitra. "Didi here tells me yer cousin George is in the second match tonight," he said.

"That's true."

Springs took a swig of his Manhattan and frowned. "The drinks aren't as good as they are in the Luxor," he said disapprovingly. "They're all right, but they ain't as good. Oh, well. C'mon, Didi, let's get our seats."

"You don't mind if Danny sits with us, do you, Christopher?" Dimitra asked.

"No problem, Ma," Criss said, shrugging.

The arena doors opened, and the audience filed inside to take their seats. Criss could see the ropes encircling the square ring in the arena. He allowed his mother and Springs into the front row first, then sat down in a seat three down from the aisle, next to his brother, JD. If he had known who would be taking the seat on the other side, he would have sat farther down, for as bad luck would have it, some fat slob carrying an armful of nachos and cheese with a half-gallon of soda plunked his huge posterior in the second chair from the aisle. "Boy, I'm glad this place has tables!" he bellowed to Criss. "Makes it a whole lot easier!"

Criss groaned inwardly. The slob gave his reluctant seatmate a closer look and recognized him immediatly. "Hey! I know you!" he bellowed again. "You're Criss Angel! Yeah!" He extended one cheesy hand toward him. "Name's Benny Worth! You remember my sister, Casey, don't you?"

"Nice to meet you," Criss murmured, reluctantly shaking the sticky hand. "And, yeah, I remember Casey."

Benny shoved a handful of nachos into his mouth. "She still likes you, man!" he mumbled through mashed corn meal. "You think of going out with her sometime?"

"She's busy, and I'm busy, okay?" Criss told him impatiently. "She's got her work, and I got mine!"

Benny swallowed. "Oh, I get it," he said. "You'd rather go out with those Playboy bunnies like Holly Madison! Oh, sure, I understand! Can't blame you though. So, whaddya do, let 'em tie you up? Or do you tie 'em down?"

"Will you just back off?" Criss snarled.

"Hey, c'mon, dude!" Benny chortled. "We all know what you're into! All those handcuffs, ropes and (bleep) you get yourself in for your show--you gotta be into the bee-and-dee scene! It's pure Freudian! Go figure!"

"I never mix business with pleasure," Criss told him.

Benny snorted. JD nudged Criss. "There's a seat on the other end," he said, pointing down the row. "You wanna move?"

Criss shot up without a word and threaded his way down the row to the empty seat next to Springs, relieved to be away from the vulgar banter of Benny Worth. Benny simply shrugged and went on shoveling nachos and cheese into his mouth. Criss sat down with a heavy sigh. Geez! he thought. With a brother like that, it's no wonder Casey prefers to be a live-in caregiver!

The lights dimmed, signalling the beginning of the match. Spotlights shone down on the boxing ring, its mat blinding white in the limelight. A tuxedoed MC climbed into the ring, clutching a radio-controlled microphone.

"Ladeeeez aaaaannnd gentlemennnn!" he bellowed into the microphone. "Welcome to the quarter-finals of the Amateur Boxing Association Exhibiton Match!"

[Veritas]

"There will be four rounds, lasting three minutes each," the MC said, enunciating every syllable. "For the first qualifying round, we have, at two hundred and fifteen pounds, Tom Draveling!"

Draveling held up his hands, hailing the crowd. The MC continued, "And his opponent, at two hundred twenty pounds, Glen Ellsworth!"

Ellsworth waved to the audience indifferently, obviously wanting to get down to business. The fighters warmed up by stretching, shadowboxing, and twisting their necks and limbs while the referee took over for the MC. The ref summoned the two boxers to center ring; they tapped gloves as a token of respect. "Round One," the ref said.

The bell clanged, and Ellsworth and Draveling exchanged blows under the observant eyes of the judges. After four rounds, Draveling was ruled the winner, eligible to go on to the next stage. Ellsworth staggered out of the arena, bruised and battered.

"Damn good fight there, kid," Springs said. "That Draveling's got a good arm."

"Wait until you see George," Criss countered.

The MC reentered the ring. "For the second qualifying round, we have, at two hundred eighteen pounds, George Strumpolis!"

The Loyals in the arena went wild, screaming and chanting George's name and holding up their posterboard signs over their heads. George waved to Criss' fans, now his fans for tonight, as he climbed into the ring. Springs was astonished at the crowd's reaction. "You'd think he was the heavyweight champion of the world with that kind of reception," he commented.

"And his opponent," the MC shouted into the microphone, "at two hundred twenty two pounds, Greg Theodoros!"

The Loyals booed loudly, drowning out the cheers from the rest of the audience. Theodoros climbed into the ring, ignoring the animosity of the Loyals, and waved his gloved hand over his head. "Theodoros," said Springs to Criss. "Sounds like another Greek to me."

"Just a coincidence," Criss said drily.

George and Theodoros tapped gloves respectfully, took their stances, then waited for the bell. A pause, no longer than a heartbeat, then KLAAAANNNGG! The match was on. Theodoros came at George with his left. George blocked it with his right elbow and hopped away. Theodoros came in swinging, but George socked him in the chest with his powerful right hook. Theodoros was unbalanced but came back with a devastating right cut to George's head. George reeled from the blow. The Loyals screamed for him to rally. He regained his composure long enough to receive a numbing blow to the chest, payback for the one he gave Theodoros. The Loyals cried out to their champion to come back.

Furious now, George went on the offensive, hammering Theodoros wherever he could connect. The Loyals went ballistic at this powerful display of brute force from their idol's cousin. They cheered, they whooped, they screamed for more. Finally, the bell rang, signallng the end of the first round. Both fighters retreated to their corners, exhausted. Impulsively, Criss hopped the counter and ran to his cousin's side, heedless of his mother's cries for him to come back. Those Loyals who saw him cheered; some took pictures of him at George's corner.

Seamus Linehan stood second for George, waiting with a bottle of water and a towel. "Good goin', Georgie," he said, handing his fighter a towel and water. "Remember to pace yerself; ye don't wanta be wearin' yerself out before the final round."

George nodded, panting. Criss trotted up to his cousin's corner. "George!" he shouted. "George!"

He took George's arm, damp with sweat. "I'm here for you, George," he said encouragingly. "You can do it! We're all here for you!"

George looked down at Criss and smiled through his padded helmet. "Thanks, Criss," he said. "But you'd better get back now. The second round's gonna begin any minute."

"I'm with you, George!" Criss cried. "I'm with you all the way!"

Linehan clapped a heavy hand on Criss' shoulder. "Ye heard the man!" he snapped. "Off wit' ye!"

With that, he shoved Criss aside, away from George's corner. The Loyals screamed for him as a security guard escorted him back to his seat. Criss made a feeble wave and sat down by Springs. His mother scowled at him from the next seat over. This was George's night, not his, she reminded him. Before Criss could protest, the bell rang for Round Two.

The second round was much like the first; both fighters pummeling each other into submission. When George nearly went down, the Loyals cried hysterically. When Theodoros went down, they cheered wildly. Neither man, however, yielded to the other; they stopped only when the bell rang, ending the round.

Criss wanted to rejoin his cousin, but a warning look from his mother kept him in his seat. "Relax," Springs said. "He's fine. He's got one helluva right arm there, your cousin! I wager he'll win in the third."

"It ain't over 'til it's over," Criss stated. "We still got two more rounds to go."

Round Three began. Despite exhaustion, George and Theodoros went at it as if it was only the first round. Theodoros came at George with his right. George skipped away, feinted with his right and delivered a hard left to Theodoros's jaw. Theodoros went spinning, but came back with a blow of his own to George's head. George doubled over, his head throbbing. Suddenly, he felt a crushing weight come crashing down on the back of his neck, sending him plummeting to the mat. The crowd was stunned for a moment. The Loyals screamed frantically for George to get up again. The ref blew the whistle. "Illegal move, minus three points," he informed the crowd.

The bell rang, ending Round Three. George was escorted to his corner by Linehan. Again, Criss wanted to rush to George's side, but this time Springs stopped him. "It's all part of boxing, Angel," he reminded him. "He's gotta take his punches like the rest of 'em. There ain't nothin' you can do about it but sit tight until the final bell."

Criss sat helplessly, watching Linehan revive his cousin with a bottle of water. "C'mon, George!" he cried out. "You gotta pull through for this one! Do it for the family! You can do it, George! We're all pulling for you!"

The bell for Round Four clanged. George stood up from his corner and stepped up to Theodoros, his game face firmly on. Before Theodoros could take a stance, George hammered him with his fiercest right cut. He didn't give his opponent time to block or slip away, but kept punishing him for his near fatal blow to the back of his neck. Criss, Springs, JD and the Loyals cheered him on as George pounded Theodoros into the mat.

"Go George! Go George!"

"Kick his ass, George!"

"Come on, George!"

"Yeeeaaaahhhh! George!"

The final bell sounded. George withdrew. Theodoros stood there in the ring, swaying like a reed, panting. The cheering died down as the MC came into the ring with the judges' results. "The winnah, with twenty-eight points...George Strumpoliiiiiis!!"

Criss sprang out of his seat, yelling like a maniac. The Loyals screamed as if Cousin George had won the heavyweight title. Even Dimitra stood and applauded her nephew's victory. George held up his gloved hands, savoring the accolades. Even sourpuss Seamus Linehan broke out in a wide Irish grin for the Greek's win over his rival's team. It was a glorious moment for them all.

"There will be a fifteen-minute break," the MC announced, "until the next qualifying round."

The seats emptied quickly. Criss, JD, Dimitra and Springs left the arena to go into the lobby. "I knew George would win!" Criss crowed. "I knew he would! With a right hook like his, he couldn't lose!" He stopped suddenly. "You think we can go backstage and see him?" he asked eagerly.

Springs shook his head. "Not after a fight," he said. "He's gotta shower, get a rubdown. He won't be available for a while yet."

Criss thought about that. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he conceded. He checked his watch. "Well, I gotta go now," he said. "I'll see you guys later."

"Wait a minute," Springs said. "You ain't stayin' for the rest of the match?"

"Sorry, but I got a live show to do tonight," Criss explained. "I could only stay long enough to see George." He gave his mother a peck on the cheek. "Later, Mom," he said quickly. "Love ya."

"I love you, too, Christopher," she said.

"I love you more."

Criss ducked out of the lobby before he could be mobbed by the Loyals again. He had to make it back to the Luxor in time for his live show, and there was no time for more autographs or pictures. Springs could only shake his head in dismay.

"He's gonna miss a helluva fight," he said regretfully.

"Well, at least he stayed long enough to see George," Dimitra said. "That's the important thing."

"You stayin' for the rest of the match, Didi?"

Dimitra thought about it. "Well, I am rather tired," she said. "Now that I've seen George's fight, there's really no need for me to stay any longer. I think I'll just go home now."

"Well, I for one am staying," Springs insisted. "I paid good money to see this fight, and I want my money's worth." He turned to JD. "You drivin' your ma back home?"

JD nodded. "We've all had a long day of it," he said. "Nice seein' you again, Springs."

Springs gave Dimitra a hug. "You take care now, Didi," he said. "Come over to my place for dinner sometime, okay?"

Dimitra gave Springs a kiss on the cheek. "I look forward to seeing you again, Danny," she said, smiling. "Good night."

JD and his mother left the Excalibur. "You really like that guy, don't you?" JD said.

"Yes, JD, I do," Dimitra said. "I like him very much." She looked at her eldest son warily. "You have no objection about that, do you?"

"No. Why should I?"

"Because I went through a lot of trouble with Christopher about it when we first met," Dimitra replied. "He became very overprotective of me when Danny and I first went out together. I had to sit him down and explain to him that Danny is not taking his father's place in my life, that we're just friends. I hope you're not feeling the same way he did."

"Mom, I assure you, I have no objections about you seeing Danny Springer," JD protested. "He's a nice guy, really he is! So what if he was in the mob--if he's good to you, he makes you happy, I see no problem with it."

"Good. So long as you understand."

"Okay, then, let's go home and forget about it."

(to be continued)

[Veritas]

"Good goin', Georgie!" Linehan said as he rubbed down George's aching limbs. "Ye're a credit to this old sod! Ye heard 'em out there, cheerin' fer ye! Ye really got 'em out of their seats! Now ye're in the semi-finals in two weeks' time! By all the saints in Heaven, I'll make a champion out of ye yet!"

"Thanks, Seamus," George mumbled. "But they're more Criss' fans than mine. They're just there because I'm his cousin and I work for him."

"So they're your fans by way of yer cousin, ye're sayin'?"

"Guilt by association is more like it."

Seamus chuckled as he applied more liniment to George's bare shoulders. "How'd the other guys do, by the way?" George asked.

"Well, Ellsworth is out, of course," Linehan replied, "Lacie and you are tied, and Ruhr's come up first place. Ye've got plenty of time to train, Greek! Make the most of it--don't go slackin' off after this!"

"No one's ever accused me of slacking anything, Seamus."

"I know, lad, I know."

Linehan slapped George's rump in rough affection. "Off wi' ye now, Greek!" he said jovially. "Rest up tonight--ye've deserved it!"

George got off the massage table and got dressed. "And tell that famous cousin of yers to keep in his seat next time!" Linehan bellowed. "I don't go grantin' privileges to no one! If he's not part of the team, he doesn't go near the ring!"

"Understood," George said, pulling his muscle shirt over his head.





Outside in the Excalibur parking garage, JD was cursing himself for not using valet parking as he searched the whole structure for his Range Rover. His mother was waiting for him by the West Entrance for him to pick her up, and he had promised he would be there in five minutes. Now, ten minutes had gone by, and he still hadn't found his car. "I must be going senile," he grumbled.

He had scoured the first level, then the second, then the third, and now he was on the fourth. "I know I parked by the elevators," he muttered. "It's gotta be here somewhere!"

He halted in his tracks and tried to retrace his route when they first arrived. I came in from the South entrance, then we circled up a few levels, then I passed a red sign pointing to the elevators, then I turned down a level, and--

JD turned a corner to where the ramp led downward. There! In that second spot by the berm was his Range Rover! Heaving a sigh of relief, he trotted down to his car and started it up. "I just hope I don't forget where Mom is," he said to himself. "South Entrance, yeah."

The Range Rover spiraled down the ramp to the exit. Just as he approached the parking toll booth, he spotted his cousin George. JD brightened at the sight of him and honked his horn to attract his attention. The car horn echoed loudly throughout the structure, startling George, the parking attendants and anyone else within earshot.

"Hey, George!" JD called out. "Over here!"

George spotted his cousin's Rover and trotted up to see him. "Hey, JD!" he cried out happily. "Good to see you!"

JD braked and leaned out the window. "Hey, George," he repeated. "Congrats on winning the match tonight!"

"Ah, it was just the quarter finals," George replied modestly. "I go to the semis in two weeks."

"I gotta pick up Mom at the entrance. Give you a lift?"

"Sure!"

George climbed into the Rover. JD drove to the toll booth, paid the fee, and pulled out of the parking garage. "Mom's by the South Entrance," he told George. "You know, her friend Springs was with her tonight."

"The former mobster?"

"Yep."

"Those two are getting pretty tight lately."

"Well, it's more for companionship than anything. The old man's, like, eighty-seven."

"Well, with modern medical science, even an eighty-seven year old man can get it on these days."

JD laughed. "Dude, all the modern medical science in the world couldn't get Springs back in action!"

George laughed, too. "Hey, I see your mom over there," he said.





She had stood there by the South Entrance of the Excalibur, waiting patiently for her son JD to pick her up. It had been a wonderful evening, seeing Danny again and watching her nephew win his first boxing match. She couldn't wait to tell her sisters all about it, especially George's mother, Molina. She would be so proud of him.

But first, she had to get back to Costa's house. JD had promised to be here in five minutes, and now he was five minutes late. Oh, well, it was so crowded in there, he probably couldn't find the car. Heaven knew how many times she had forgotten where she parked her own car whenever she went shopping. It was so easy to get lost in these places; JD would be here soon, she told herself.

A strange man walked toward her casually. At first, Dimitra thought it odd that he would be wearing a raincoat when there was no sign of rain, but that was his business, she reasoned, and gave him no more thought. She continued to look out for her son's Range Rover. The stranger in the black raincoat strolled along, staring straight ahead.

She never saw the headlights of the Range Rover approaching, nor heard the horn. The strange man opened his black raincoat wide enough to block the Rover from her vantage point, revealing his hairy, potbellied, naked body to her. Dimitra shrieked aloud at the sight of the flasher's repugnant form, framed in black. Satisifed, the flasher covered himself and ran back the way he came.




The Rover circled to the South Entrance. "I see your mom over there," George said, pointing to the glass-enclosed foyer. "Hey, who's that guy with her? What the--? Did that son of a (bleep) just flash her?!"

JD slammed on the brakes and bolted out of the Rover, boiling with rage. George followed, kicking open the passenger door enough to rip it from its hinges. Dimitra simply stood there in a state of shock. The flasher trotted away, thrilled to the core. Unfortunatly for him, he ran toward an angry JD and George who were rushing to Dimitra's rescue.

The flasher never knew what, or who, hit him. He only felt the excruciating pain of George's fist squarely in his face, then the feeling of weightlessness as he went sailing several feet in the air. He landed flat on his back on the concrete, his raincoat open, revealing his potbellied body for all to see, his face a bloody mess, unconscious.

JD rushed up to his mother's side. "You okay, Mom?" he asked anxiously.

Dimitra regained her bearings. "I'm fine, honey," she said. "It's just that...that man over there..."

"It's okay, Mom," JD said, hugging her. "It's just some flasher, that's all. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Dimitra shook her head. "No," she said. "It was just a shock, that's all."

George, JD and Dimitra walked over to the prone form of the flasher. "God, what an ugly (bleeper)!" George commented.

JD glanced at the flasher, then looked away, cringing at the sight of the hideous body lying at his feet. "Oh, God!" he wailed. "I think I'm blind!"

[Veritas]

The evening progressed into night, then into the morning of a new day. The morning edition of every paper in Nevada cheerfully announced the capture of the Vegas Flasher on its front page:

CRISS ANGEL'S COUSIN LANDS VEGAS FLASHER AT EXCALIBUR

BOXER SENDS FLASHER DOWN FOR THE COUNT

VEGAS FLASHER IN CUSTODY

MAN ACCUSED OF SIXTEEN COUNTS OF INDECENT EXPOSURE

The columns varied in length, but the story was the same: Criss Angel's cousin, George Strumpolis, was competing in an amateur boxing competiton at the Excalibur. His cousins, including Criss, and his aunt, Mrs. Sarantakos, were in attendance. They all left after George won the quarterfinals, Criss to do his live show, Mrs. Sarantakos to return to her son Costa's house. Her eldest son, JD Saranatakos, was driving up from the parking garage with George in the passenger seat to pick her up at the South Entrance of the Excalibur. They witnessed the Vegas Flasher reveal himself to Mrs. Sarantakos, got out of the car, and ran toward the suspect. George Strumpolis struck the suspect in the face, breaking his nose in three place. He was taken to the hospital for emergency treatment, then taken into police custody. Strumpolis was also taken into custody for physical assault, but was released. No charges were pending at this time, it was stated.




The Loyal Community > General Discussion > GEORGE WINS MATCH & NAILS VEGAS FLASHER!!!
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KrisLee: I was at the Excalibur to see Cousin George fight in the amateur match on Friday. He WON!!! Now he's going to the semi-finals!! But the real action took place outside the ring. That creepy Vegas flasher who's been going aorund opening his coat to older women actually came up to Dimitra who was there to see George too and FLASHED HER!!! George and JD saw the whole thing and George came up and PUNCHED the creep right in the face!! The news said he broke the guys nose in three places.
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Greekgoddess: george is a hero!!!! but that who flashed Mama Angel
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[B]
OU812: Yayyyyyyyy!
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LoyalDavina: I am SOOOO GLAD George decked that . I still can't get that memory out of my mind no matter how many pictures of Criss I look at.
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RoseRed13: way to go George!! you kick his ass good!
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RUReady15: how dare that guy flash Dimitra! Was Criss there? If he was, he probably would have that creep good!!
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KrisLee: Criss was doing a live show that night. I doubt that he was there. If he was I would have hated to have been there
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LoyalDavina: I would have loved to have been there!! Criss would have so kicked that pervs ass!
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rachel02181: thank god criss wasnt there god know what he would have done
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JD, Costa and George sat on the sofas in the production office, enjoying a morning cup of coffee when Criss stormed in, a copy of the Las Vegas Sun clamped in his fist. The three men were startled; they seldom if ever saw Criss so angry about anything. "Hey, Criss, what's the deal?" Costa asked, bewildered.

Criss slammed down the paper on the glass-topped table in front of them. "This is the deal!" he thundered. "Mom got flashed last night and no one thought to tell me about it! I had to read about it in the paper this morning!"

"Criss, you were doing your live show last night," JD explained calmly. "We very well couldn't interrupt you with news like this. We were going to tell you, really we were."

"How's Mom holding up?" Criss asked.

"She's fine," JD replied. "It just embarrassed her, that's all. She got over it."

"So who was this guy, anyway?"

"I didn't stick around long enough to ask his name. Besides, the way George busted his face, I doubt he'd be willing to talk, anyway."

Criss reached over and grasped his cousin's hand, his anger receding. "Thanks, George," he said gratefully, "I owe you big time for this. We all do."

"No problem," George replied, shrugging. "You'd have done the same for me if it had been my mom, right?"

"Damn right I would have!" Criss laughed a little. "Guess those boxing lessons finally came in handy, didn't they?"

George shrugged again. JD took another sip of coffee. "If George hadn't KO'd him like he did," he said, "I would have."

"I probably would have killed the guy myself," Criss commented.

"Well, he won't be showing off his whatsis anymore, and that's the important thing," Costa said.

Criss snickered. "'Whatsis'?"

"You know what I mean."

"C'mon, Cos, we're all adults here," Criss cajoled. "You don't have to be so prudish about it. It's his (bleep)! Wang, dong, weenie, Mr. Happy, Mr. Jim and the twins, frank and beans--whatever."

"This from a man who didn't want to pose nude for my photos!" Costa shot back.

George was intrigued. "You took nude photos of Criss?"

"Yeah, last Monday."

"Where are they? I just gotta see them!"

Costa hesitated, trying to remember. "Come to think of it," he mused, "what the hell did I do with them?"

"You showed them to me in my office, remember?" Criss told him, "along with those photos of Dad."

Costa snapped his fingers, suddenly recalling that meeting. "Oh, yeah, that's right!" he said.

Criss rose. "I'll go get them," he said, and headed for his office.

"So, what the hell did you want to take pictures of Criss in the nude?" George asked.

"Just for a personal portfolio I was working on," Costa explaned. "It's so hard to find people willing to pose nude, and since Criss stripped for a couple of episodes, I figured he would be perfect."

George laughed at the irony of that statement. "Here in Las Vegas, where there are strip shows on every corner, male and female, and you can't find nude models? What a joke!"

"I found a few," Costa said. "Girl named Sola; a dancer from Kenya, Turburi Zubufu; German guy, Christian Ruhr--"

George sat up. "Ruhr? Blond, Austrian, shovel-jawed?"

"You know him?"

"Know him?" George gave a laugh in surprise. "Hell, that guy's on my boxing team! Finished first in the quarterfinals! And you say he posed nude for you?"

"Well, yeah."

George shook his head in disbelief. "Well, now I know what he does for a living!"

"Well, you must have seen him naked in the shower," Costa pointed out.

"Look, I don't give a fart in a high wind what those guys look like in the shower!" George stated loudly. "Hell, I barely notice if they're dressed or not! You've seen naked ass, you've seen them all!"

Criss returned from his office, empty-handed. "Cos," he said, "are you sure you didn't pick up those photos already?"

"No," Costa replied, "why?"

"Because they're not on the desk," Criss told him. "They're not anywhere. I looked in all the file drawers, I looked on the floor--they're gone! Do you know who took them?"

Costa, JD and George looked at each other, bewildered.

[Veritas]

"Okay, okay, let's not panic here," Criss said, trying to keep himself calm. "Cos, you're sure you left them on my desk yesterday?"

"I'm positive," Costa insisted. "That was the last place I saw them. I gave them to you with those pictures of Dad. I laid them right on your desk."

"Maybe one of the office staff took them," JD suggested.

Criss shook his head. "No, no, no, they couldn't have. No one's allowed in my office unless I tell them to, and I didn't tell anyone to go in."

"Was the door locked when you left?"

"I never lock my door, you know that!"

"Then there's only one explanation," JD said. "Someone broke into your office and stole them."

Criss sank into the sofa. "Oh, that's just great!" he groaned. "There's an envelope full of nude pictures of me out there somewhere, and I'll bet anything they're gonna end up on the Web! It's the YouTube thing all over again, only worse!"

"They also took those photos of Dad as well," Costa reminded him.

Criss groaned again. "Oh, God, that's even worse!" he wailed. "The ones you took of me, yeah, those can be replaced, but those picutres of Dad--no one can replace them!"

He shot up from his seat. "Look, I don't care about the ones about me," he said, "but we gotta get Dad's back--if only for Mom's sake. I mean, she'd want those photos more than anything, right?"

JD sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled on his lips as he silently analyzed the situation. "Okay," he said finally, "the first thing we do is go up to the security office and see if they have any videotaping of someone going into your office. If we spot someone carrying two big envelopes, we got our man!"

"Or woman," Costa added. "There's a lot of female fans out there who'd love to see you in the buff, Criss."

"Whatever!" Criss snapped. "Let's just go and check out the eye in the sky and see what they got. Meantime, I'm going to report this to security. Someone breaks into my office and steals my stuff--they are so gonna get their ass kicked!"





While Criss and Costa went to the video surveillance office, JD and George scoured the entire Production Office for the missing photos. When nothing could be found, they questioned the office staff about what they knew, which, it turned out, was practically nothing.

"Are you sure you didn't see anyone go into Criss' office?" JD demanded.

"No one," Jennifer, one of the assistants, replied. "Just Criss and Costa later on."

"How about you, Aimee?"

"Zip."

"Zach?"

"I was on mail duty that day; I didn't see anyone."

JD sighed in frustration. "Let's see what the tape has to say, okay?" George said. "We'll get those pictures back."




"Okay, so you say someone broke into your office and stole some photographs from you desk," Chief of Security Macaffey said gruffly. "What do they look like?"

"Eight by ten black and white glossies in Manila envelopes," Costa explained. "One envelope had pictures of our dad, the other had ones of Criss."

"And you discovered them gone when?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"And they were in the office since...?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Anything incriminating in them?"

Criss and Costa exchanged nervous glances. "The ones of our dad are about forty years old," Criss told him, "so they have more sentimental value than anything."

Macaffey nodded sympathetically. "I understand."

"The ones of me, well...they were for a private project Costa here's working on."

"Okay, we'll be on the lookout for 'em," Macaffey said confidentally. "We'll have the video guys go over the surveillance tapes from yesterday to see if we got anything."

"Thanks, Macaffey," Criss said gratefully.

"No prob."

Criss and Costa left. "I'm gonna scan the Web to see if anyone downloaded them yet," Costa said. "If we do find the culprit, we can have him arrested for theft and unauthorized use of material."

"Yeah, you do that," Criss said. "Meanwhile, I'm gonna keep looking for those photos. Maybe they'll turn up somewhere around here."

"Wishful thinking," Costa mumbled. "Look, I'm sorry I got you into this, Criss."

"Cos, there's nothing to be sorry about."

"No, no, no, I should have taken those photos with me in the first place. It was my personal project, and now someone's gone and turned it into a cyber-peepshow!"

Criss laid a hand on Costa's shoulder. "Look, Cos, what's done is done. Really, I don't care about the ones about me anymore, though I would be embarrassed if they did get on the Web. You can replace those. I just want the ones of Dad back at least. Those mean more to me than all the pictures of me in the world." He patted his shoulder. "Now, come on, let's see what the eye in the sky saw yesterday."

[Veritas]

The grainy images of the video surveillance tape from the past twenty-four hours played on the computer monitor before the watchful eyes of Macaffey and Jace Evanovich, one of the supervisors of the video surveillance room. The cameras had been trained on the entrance of the MindFreak production office from both sides of the corridor. For the first twelve hours of the tape, only office staff and Criss himself had been observed entering or exiting the office. The only sign of the missing envelopes had been in Costa's hands when he went into the office. "At least we know what to look for," Evanovich said.

They fast forwarded the tape when there was no action, stopping only when someone was spotted at the door. They saw Criss and Costa leave together around one PM, both men empty handed. Evanovich fast forwarded the tape again.

"Hey, hold it! Hold it!" Macaffey said quickly. "Back that up a bit."

Evanovich rewound the tape to the point where an unidentified man was going into the office. Through the large windows, they could see him heading in the direction of Criss' private office. The office staff paid no notice; obviously he must be known to them, or else they were to busy to notice, Macaffey reasoned. One minute later, the man reappeared leaving the office, the envelopes clearly in his hand.

"Freeze that!" Macaffey ordered.

The tape stopped. The mysterious man leaving the office was caught in the corridor in mid-stride. "Get a close-up on his face," Macaffey told the supervisor.

Evanovich zoomed in on the man's face. "Can you get a make on him?" Macaffey asked.

"Sure can."

Evanovich "spotlighted" the face on the screen and downloaded it into the security files to find a match. The computer scanned the image, searching its database for identification. After a few moment's delay, the response came: no match.

"Well, he doesn't have a rap sheet, anyway," Macaffey murmured. "Check the HR file, see if he's an employee anywhere in the hotel."

Evanovich nodded. "Right."

Again the image was downloaded into the system. Again, the same negative response. "So he's not a career criminal, and he doesn't work for the hotel," Macaffey said thoughfully. "Check the card system, see if there's a photo ID on him."

"Got it."

Evanovich downloaded the image into the ID card system specially reserved for camera crews, stage hands, performers and anyone else involved in the entertainment sector of the Luxor. Criss was adamant about his staff having them for the sake of his own security, both personal and professional, as well as for the general safety of all concerned. No one outside the MindFreak company was permitted access backstage of the theater nor on the set of the series without one, so as to protect Criss' illusions as well as himself from overzealous fans or the snooping press. The cards were more than a security measure: they were his insurance policy against betrayal of his secrets.

The system scanned its files for a few seconds, then stopped at one particular file. Macaffey smiled triumphantly. "I think we got our man!" he said, relishing every word he spoke. "Get a printout of that file--I'm gonna show Angel to see if he knows who it is."





Criss sat dejectedly on the sofa, worrying about the PR fallout that would result if (or when) those photos of him were made public. While he had claimed he was unconcerned about them, deep down he knew they would cause a great deal of personal embarrassment. How would everyone react if they saw him in the nude? Granted, a lot of female fans would drool over them, but what about his younger fans, the kids he loved to entertain? Criss had always tried to tailor many of his illusions so children could enjoy them as much as adults did. Would their parents boycott his shows if they learned about Criss Angel being photographed in the nude? Many people were extremely sensitive when it came to the naked human body to the point of being horrified at the sight of it, going to great lengths to shield impressionable children from the sight of bare skin. They feared society was doomed unless everyone covered their wee-wees, and were not hesitant to speak out in the name of public decency. Personally, Criss thought such prudery ridiculous if not outrageous, but these same prim and proper citizens were also paying customers to the Luxor and the other hotels and casinos in Vegas. The missing photos would simply give them more ammunition in their fight against naked flesh.

Worse, the precious photos of his father from his bodybuilding days had also been stolen. He knew his mother would be especially grieved at the loss of those irreplacable eight-by-tens from forty years ago. It would be a slap in the collective face of his family if those photos were published without his permission. If only he had had the foresight to lock them away in his file drawer before going to the match...

Criss bolted upright. Of course! The files! Those photos weren't completely lost after all--he had downloaded them into his PC after he got them from JD over a week ago to use for his show. If the originals were lost forever, he could reproduce them from his computer files. And if anyone tried to download them on any website, he could easily prove that they were his property and could press criminal charges against whoever stole them.

His relief was short-lived when he realized he didn't have copies of Costa's photos to prove theft of them. Costa would, though, he reasoned; he must have the negatives in his studio--there was that ray of hope. But the nagging thought of his naked body soaring through cyberspace for anyone and everyone to see still rankled him. Dear God, he groaned inwardly, isn't there such a thing as privacy anymore?

As if to answer that query, Chief of Security Macaffey burst into the production office unannounced. Criss broke from his miserable reverie to look up at him. Macaffey held up a computer printout. "I think we got your photo thief!" he crowed, triumphantly handing the printout to Criss, who took it eagerly. "I think it's one of your own," Macaffey added.

Criss studied the printout. "Yeah, it is," he confirmed. "That's the guy who does the editing."

"So, where is he?" Macaffey not so much asked as demanded.

"Editing room's this way," Criss said, beckoning the chief of security to follow. "Come on."

[Veritas]

"Manny?"

Manny looked up from his monitor, startled to see Criss with the head of security with him in the editing room. "What's the deal?" he asked nervously.

"Did you take a couple of envelopes containing photographs of me and Dad from my office?" Criss demanded.

"A couple of...oh, yeah!" Manny suddenly remembered. "You wanted me to add some pictures of your dad in the show, but you never gave them to me, so I went to your office to see you about them. But you weren't there, and your office door was open, and I saw the envelopes, so I took the liberty of taking them myself. I meant to return them to you after I was finished."

"Only one of the envelopes contained pictures of Dad," Criss told him. "The other ones were me."

"The nudies?"

"Yeah, the nudies."

"I saw them," Manny admitted. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to include those, so I pretty much left them alone."

"Thanks," Criss said. "Now where are they?"

Manny rose from his seat. "Gimme a minute here, willya?"

He sifted through the pile of files and envelopes, reading each carefully. After tossing aside half of one stack he triumphantly held up the worn envelope. "I found them!" he cried triumphantly, and handed it to Criss.

Criss took the envelope, opened it, and withdrew the precious glossies of his father in his prime. Macaffey could not help but be impressed. "That's your dad?!" he said, amazed.

"Yeah, that's my dad," Criss affirmed sadly. "He used to pose for bodybuilding magazines forty years ago. He was a real fitness buff back in the day."

"So what happened to him?" Macaffey asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"He died thirteen years ago," Criss replied. "Stomach cancer. He was only sixty when he passed away."

Macaffey shook his head sympathetically. "Pity. My old man lived to be almost eighty before he bit the big one. One day he was alive and kicking, next morning--bam! Coronary, two AM." He sighed resignedly. "Well, that's life for you, I guess."

Criss turned back to Manny. "What about the other envelope? Where is it?"

Manny turned back to his stacks. "It's gotta be here somewhere," he muttered. "I know I put it with your dad's." He shifted, tossed, and sorted out the piles of envelopes, folders and other clutter. "I'm sure it was right here. I know it is."

Criss handed the old Manila envelope to Macaffey and joined in the search. Envelope after envelope, folder after folder was carefully examined and discarded. Manny's desk was practically cleared off when they gave up the search. "I don't know what happened, Criss," he said. "I swear those pictures of you were right on top of the ones of your dad."

"Who else was in your office?" Macaffey barked.

"No one," Manny replied. "The only other person who comes in here is the cleaning person to empty the trash, but they're pretty trustworthy, so I doubt..."

Criss looked at Macaffey. "Check the maintenance staff," he ordered the chief. "See if anyone took it."

Macaffey nodded, handed Criss the envelope, and strode out of the room. "Keep looking for that envelope," he told Manny. "That cleaning lady or whoever may not be as trustworthy as you think."

[Veritas]

A stout, middle-aged woman named June stood bewildered before the formidable figure of Chief of Security Macaffey. She was crisply dressed in the regulation housekeeper's uniform of the Luxor Hotel and Resort, but her hair was disheveled after a long shift. When Macaffey informed her about the theft in the editing room and demanded to know if she had taken the photographs, she vehemently denied any knowledge about it.

"Go ahead!" she said defiantly. "Seach my locker! Search my cart! Search the whole damn office if you want to! You aren't going to find anything, because I didn't take anything from anywhere! Besides, I didn't even work last night! If anyone stole those pictures, it was whoever was on duty that night!"

"You know who was on duty last night?" Macaffey asked.

"Schedule's on the wall over there," June said, pointing to the bulletin board.

Macaffey scanned the abbreviated heiroglyphics on the crudely printed schedule on the bulletin board. "Where's the editing room?"

June came over and pointed it out for him on the form. "There."

"D. Kemmings," Macaffey read. "Who's that?"

"Danise," June told him. "But she's been here for years; she wouldn't take anything."

"Get her over here now," Macaffey ordered.

Danise Kemmings was summoned. The slender black woman with the tight bun arrived after a few minute's delay. "What's going on here?" she asked.

"Did you take out the trash in the MindFreak Productions office last night?" Macaffey demanded bluntly.

"Not last night," Danise replied. "More like around five-thirty in the afternoon. Why?"

"Because there are some photographs of Criss Angel here missing from that office," Macaffey said. "You were the only one who was in that office besides the editor. Care to explain?"

"Mister, I swear to God I didn't take anything besides the trash out of that office!" Danise protested.

"Did you see anyone take anything out of that office?"

"No." Suddenly, Danise halted, as if recalling something. "I did see someone around that office, though, just as I was coming in," she said quickly.

"What'd he look like?"

"Well, it's hard to get a description, because his face was covered with something white," Danise told him. "He wore a black jacket, like a biker's jacket, and dark pants. He was all hunched over, like this." She bowed her shoulders and clenched her arms about her.

"We'll check the tape from surveillance," Macaffey said. "Maybe they got your hunchback. In the meantime, we would like to search your locker for the photographs, just in case. Do we have your permission?"

Danise heaved a huge sigh. "Okay, but you're not going to find anything," she said.

"That's for us to find out," Macaffey said brusquely. "You can go now."

Danise turned to leave, but she spun back around. "Hey, if you find my spare set of keys, let me know," she quipped.

Criss turned to Macaffey. "Listen, I gotta get back," he said. "Good luck finding those photographs."

"We'll find 'em," he said. "If that hunchback took the main corridor, they got 'im on tape."

Criss sighed in frustration. "This is starting to turn into a wild goose chase," he said.

Macaffey nodded grimly. "Yeah, and when we find that guy who stole those pictures, his 'goose' is cooked!"

[Veritas]

"So JD asks if I want a lift, and I'm like, sure, what the hell, y'know?" George spoke into the videocamera trained on him. "So I get in the Rover, and we drive around to pick up my aunt, and there's this guy comin' up to her. And all of a sudden he opens up his coat and...!" He mimicked opening an imaginary raincoat. "Hey, hey, showtime! I'm, like, did that guy just flash her? So me and JD get out of the car and we run like hell toward that (bleeper), and he's running towards us. I just went BAM!" George smashed his right fist into his left palm for emphasis. "Right in the face! Broke the (bleeper's) nose in three places! Next thing you know, he's flat on the sidewalk, and his coat was completely open, and he was totally naked--God, he was an ugly (bleeper)! JD's, like, Oh, my God, I'm blind!"

"Did they press charges?" one of the producers asked from out of camera range.

"Against the flasher? Yeah, sixteen counts of indecent exposure--one of them against a minor."

"No, I meant any charges against you."

"Who, me?" George shook his head. "Nah, at least not for now. I could face battery charges, but I think I can get them to mitigate 'em, since it was in self-defense in a way. I could plead no contest--I mean, I'm certainly not guilty of anything. That (bleeper) had no right to do that to my aunt! I mean, what if she had a heart attack or something? That (bleeper) could be facing manslaughter charges if she did!"

"Anything else you want to add?"

George thought about it. "Nah, nothing I can think of. I just hope they find those pictures of Criss that got stolen out of his office."

"Okay," the producer said. "And cut."

George took a swig of bottled water. "How was that?" he asked.

"Good, George," the producer said. "Real good."

There was a click of a door being opened. All heads swiveled to see Criss enter the room. "Well, I got good news and I got bad news," he said. "The good news is we found Dad's photos; turned out Manny took them for editing."

"And what's the bad news?" George asked.

"The ones of me are still missing. Turns out someone made off with them--took them right out of the editing studio."

"Oh, geez!"

"Macaffey's on the trail for them," Criss went on. "One of the cleaning ladies saw a guy in a white mask leave the studio. Surveillance is checking the tape right now."

"Think it's anyone we know?"

"Maybe," Criss replied. "Maybe not."




Back in video surveillance, Macaffey reviewed the tape from the editing studio entrance, trying to find the white-masked culprit who stole the envelope of photographs. At least there was a more definate time frame; the maid had said around five-thirty PM yesterday. Evanovich fast-forwarded the tape to that time period. Sure enough, there was a dark figure lurking about the editing studio, his face a white blur.

"Okay, freeze that," Macaffey ordered. "Zoom in on the face."

Evanovich stopped the tape and drew the figure in for a close-up. Though the image was just a grainy profile, there were a few distingushing features identifiable.

"See if you can get a sharper image," Macaffey said.

"This is the best I can get," Evanovich told him. "Want me to run it through the files?"

"Do that."

Evanovich downloaded the image and entered it into the system, but due to the white splotch on the man's face, no identification was possible. Macaffey swore under his breath. "Keep that on file," he ordered. "We'll need it later."

"Right."

The image was saved. Macaffey strode out of the office, cursing the thief. He had always prided himself on running the tightest ship in the city: three-hundred-sixty degree surveillance, twenty-four-seven, with manned security at all entrances from the atrium to the loading docks. Now some two-bit thief goes and steals a bunch of pictures right from under his nose! Well, he was going to get those pictures back one way or another! And when he did, God help the poor (bleeper) who stole them!

He burst into the security office in a sour mood. Those unfortunate to be in his path cleared the area as if escaping an upcoming storm. Only Redding, a veteran guard, had the courage to approach him.

"It's about the Criss Angel pictures, right?" he hedged.

"Damn right it is!" Macaffey growled. "To think that something like this happened on my watch! If I can't stop one little theft like this--"

Redding handed Macaffey a piece of paper. "Maybe this will give you a lead," he said.

Macaffey took the paper and read the pasted letters upon it:

Pay $1,000,000 Or The pictures Go Online ! Dropoff the MONEY @ THE PLAY GROUND @ Sunset Park @ NOON TOMORROW I'll BE WAIT ing

[Veritas]

"Where the hell did you find this?" Macaffey demanded.

"I found it taped on the door of MindFreak Productions," Redding replied. "Pulled it off while you were out. You know anything about it?"

"Oh, I know about it all right," Macaffey growled. "Some SOB in a white mask went into the editing office and swiped two envelopes of photos of Criss Angel and his dad. We got the ones of his dad back."

"So, obviously, he still has the ones of Criss."

"Brilliant deduction, Redding."

"So where do we go from here?"

"First, we go to Angel and show him this note," Macaffey said. "Then, we go from there to Sunset Park and meet this (bleeper), get the pictures back, and bust his ass for burglary. Meantime, get the CSI geeks here to take fingerprints on the door or whatever--we'll need the evidence."

"I kinda wonder what these pictures are," Redding mused. "Criss Angel naked, maybe? Probably with some Playboy centerfolds? They must be pretty incriminating if this guy wants a million bucks for 'em."

"For a million bucks," Macaffey said, "you don't blackmail someone over family snapshots."





"Criss?"

Criss looked up at his brother, Costa. "Hey, Cos, what's up?"

Costa sat down on the sofa beside him. "First of all, I'm sorry I got you into this mess with those photos," he said glumly. "If I had just remembered to take them with me when I left--"

Criss held up his hand to silence him. "Cos, don't beat yourself up over it, okay?" he said. "What's done is done. We'll get those pictures back one way or another. They got the thief on tape, I know they do. They'll find him, and the pictures."

"But what if they're made public?" Costa argued. "What if someone posts them online? It's gonna be Tommy Lee-Pamela Anderson all over again!"

Criss shrugged. "We'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it, that's all," he replied. "We'll tell the truth, say they had been yours, that they had been stolen, and let the public deal with it in their own way. I'll insist they were for private purposes only--"

"That's what Tommy and Pamela claimed," Costa interrupted. "Fat lot of good it did them."

"So, if they aren't located in twenty-four hours, I'll hold a press conference and tell them myself."

"In twenty-four hours, your naked ass is gonna be all over the Web."

"Look, let me handle the PR," Criss said. "You just help find those pictures."

Macaffey's abrupt, unnanounced arrival startled the two brothers. "I got something you should see," he said bluntly, handing him the note Redding had given him.

Criss took the note and read it. "It says, 'Pay one million dollars or the pictures go online. Drop off the money at Sunset Park at noon tomorrow. I'll be waiting'." He handed the note back to Macaffey. "Where was this?"

"Right on the door there," he replied, pointing to the office door through which he came. "Must've left it when we were going to the editing office."

"Tomorrow noon at Sunset Park," Criss mumbled thoughtfully. "Okay, if that's the way he wants it, then we'll play by his rules."

Macaffey was taken aback. "You're not planning on paying this guy a million bucks, now, are you?"

Criss grinned mysteriously. "Let's just say I'm planning my latest, greatest illusion yet.