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Description
Beep, Beep the heart rate monitor blipped quietly Dr. A.A Smith sat in his bed in Sisters of Mercy Hospital with the TV on with “The Dating Game” on.  The thin pathetic blinds allowing light to filter through, he was just to lethargic to get up close them.  As the day’s light slowly shrank into the inky blackness of night, Arnold was at the end of the line. Beep, Beep the monitor continued contentedly indicating that his unfortunate existence still continued.  He was 94 and dieing, he had been disconnected from his artificial lungs for over two hours now.  When his family found out the doctors had agreed to let him die there would be lawyers swarming around the place like stink on a hippie but now he was peaceful.  He had lived a long life with much hardship and toil and now it was done.  He took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge, Beep, Woo, Dr. Arnold Anthony Smith was gone.

Half a world away in his Toronto apartment Elliot Thomas was in a similarly sorry state, it was 5:00 PM he had left work early this Wednesday, no particular reason in mind only the desire to be away from the horrid place that he slaved every day.  He had inherited this job and this house and theses clothes five years earlier.  He had been a jewel thief working on the biggest heist of his life, The Castafaria diamond, dug up in southern Cambodia, its worth, millions.  He had assembled a slick team of safe crackers, computer hackers and treasure sackers.  He was being lowered down the air vent on a zip-line towards the diamond when his rope was cut from above!
He was betrayed from within, no one else had known about the operation.  He plummeted 17 stories down to crash through the still-active lasers alerting every police officer within one hundred miles that they had heads to crack.  He shouldn’t have survived but he was in peak physical condition and landed in a handspring and began to run.  He tumbled under the shutting security door, Indiana Jones style.  Two police cars crashed towards the scene, one attempted to hit him as he ran.  He leapt in the air touching lightly the top of on police car.  As he considered his split second of remaining life, his driver Francesco Dolamino tore down the road in his escape vehicle.  He leapt in front of the car, crashing through the window.  Though it didn’t faze the Italian he just drove as fast as he could.  The last thing Elliot heard as he collapsed was Francesco saying
“I am sorry Ma’am” as he knock a car out of the way.
The gash in his head insured he had a long peaceful sleep. When he awoke he was in the Belgian countryside with Francesco dead next to him and his head stitched up.  He took his checkbook from the glove compartment of the wrecked car and used it to flee to Canada.  Once there he continued to run from police until he met with a contact.  Jared Clancy was a disguise specialist he agreed to kill and old enemy of Clancy’s in exchange for a free disguise.  Two days later that “Old Enemy” some poor bum name Bastion Lordel was dead and Elliot replaced him.  He took on his name, his job, and his appearance, everything.  Since then he had been piecing together who betrayed him and planned his revenge.
Elliot snapped back to reality realizing that his show was over. He sighed and tore the lid of the beer that had been warming next to his chair for two hours.  If I actually had a life this would be my mid-life crisis.
“I can’t even drown my sorrows like a normal person,” he said, heaving after a sip of the beer, damn allergies!

Description
Beep, Beep the heart rate monitor blipped quietly Dr. A.A Smith sat in his bed in Sisters of Mercy Hospital with the TV on with “The Dating Game” on.  The thin pathetic blinds allowing light to filter through, he was just to lethargic to get up close them.  As the day’s light slowly shrank into the inky blackness of night, Arnold was at the end of the line. Beep, Beep the monitor continued contentedly indicating that his unfortunate existence still continued.  He was 94 and dieing, he had been disconnected from his artificial lungs for over two hours now.  When his family found out the doctors had agreed to let him die there would be lawyers swarming around the place like stink on a hippie but now he was peaceful.  He had lived a long life with much hardship and toil and now it was done.  He took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge, Beep, Woo, Dr. Arnold Anthony Smith was gone.

Half a world away in his Toronto apartment Elliot Thomas was in a similarly sorry state, it was 5:00 PM he had left work early this Wednesday, no particular reason in mind only the desire to be away from the horrid place that he slaved every day.  He had inherited this job and this house and theses clothes five years earlier.  He had been a jewel thief working on the biggest heist of his life, The Castafaria diamond, dug up in southern Cambodia, its worth, millions.  He had assembled a slick team of safe crackers, computer hackers and treasure sackers.  He was being lowered down the air vent on a zip-line towards the diamond when his rope was cut from above!
He was betrayed from within, no one else had known about the operation.  He plummeted 17 stories down to crash through the still-active lasers alerting every police officer within one hundred miles that they had heads to crack.  He shouldn’t have survived but he was in peak physical condition and landed in a handspring and began to run.  He tumbled under the shutting security door, Indiana Jones style.  Two police cars crashed towards the scene, one attempted to hit him as he ran.  He leapt in the air touching lightly the top of on police car.  As he considered his split second of remaining life, his driver Francesco Dolamino tore down the road in his escape vehicle.  He leapt in front of the car, crashing through the window.  Though it didn’t faze the Italian he just drove as fast as he could.  The last thing Elliot heard as he collapsed was Francesco saying
“I am sorry Ma’am” as he knock a car out of the way.
The gash in his head insured he had a long peaceful sleep. When he awoke he was in the Belgian countryside with Francesco dead next to him and his head stitched up.  He took his checkbook from the glove compartment of the wrecked car and used it to flee to Canada.  Once there he continued to run from police until he met with a contact.  Jared Clancy was a disguise specialist he agreed to kill and old enemy of Clancy’s in exchange for a free disguise.  Two days later that “Old Enemy” some poor bum name Bastion Lordel was dead and Elliot replaced him.  He took on his name, his job, and his appearance, everything.  Since then he had been piecing together who betrayed him and planned his revenge.
Elliot snapped back to reality realizing that his show was over. He sighed and tore the lid of the beer that had been warming next to his chair for two hours.  If I actually had a life this would be my mid-life crisis.
“I can’t even drown my sorrows like a normal person,” he said, heaving after a sip of the beer, damn allergies!