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Michailovic pushed his glasses back and sighed.  “The following numbers are being released.

”The numbers came spitting out of Michailovic’s mouth, resembling in more ways than one a madman with a machine gun in a massacre.  Hardly anyone showed any reaction, making it impossible to tell whether they were shot or not.  The notable exceptions were a couple of smiles breaking out here and there as some numbers were being skipped.  As the list carried on, Callahan realized that before long it would be zooming in at an alarming rate on his proximity.

Callahan had no idea who those ahead of him were, but he could see that none of them were making the cut.  He considered it good, after all the more gone before him, the higher his chances were.  He looked up at Michailovic, almost trying to read his lips before the words were spat out.

“116.”

Callahan looked around, trying to identify the holder of this number.  However, no one was responding.

“117.”

Callahan hesitantly crossed and uncrossed his fingers.  He didn’t need any luck, he knew he was good enough on his own.

“118.”

Callahan closed his eyes and dropped his head.  He had worked so hard and now he was so close to making it.  He never would have imagined that it really meant this much to him.  This was simply all that he had left, all that was keeping him alive and thus it would only be fair for him to succeed at this point.

“119.”

Something suddenly struck Callahan as he looked up straight into Michailovic’s eyes.  Whatever doubts he had, quickly disappeared.  He knew his twisted self better than anyone and now was truly confident that there was nothing to be feared.  His background and natural abilities were enough to impress absolutely anyone, so why was he excluding himself from this category?  No, there was no way he was going to fail because he was one of those rear gems that anyone would be proud to own.

“120.”

Callahan’s eyes closed as he dropped his head again.


 


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