<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><hr/>(http://www.bergoiata.org/fe/SciFi2/jw%20Year%20V%20Sci-Fi%20Art%20Wall%20077%20-%20Ken%20Kelly.jpg)<br/></td><td><div align="center"><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;">Millennial Visions of the 41st Century<br/><br/>or<br/><br/>How I Learned to Stop Worrying and <br/>Love the Vampire<br/></span><br/></div><br/><hr/><em>Reader beware: this story is xxx-rated for sex, violence and drug use.<br/><br/></em><hr/></td></tr></tbody></table><br/><br/>The six-man band at the stand was playing a mind-crawling number with their sense-emitters jammed on low.  There wasn't any escaping the baritone clutter of synthesized, light-driven sounds.  Not in Chao Tao Duke's anyway.  The place was filled with its regulars:  Mar the Martian (guy was from Io, the moon satelliting Jupiter), Sen the Drek, Loony Foon Foon and Vilhelm, a card shark.  Yeah, everyone was feeling the mood of Ole Duke's all right, what with the feelers getting good and drunk and in everyone's pants.  Even Vilhelm, with that ugly mug of his, was getting action from an average looking whore, his dick all in her mouth.  For a broad reaching sixty, Gabriel didn't think she looked too bad.  But the sluts in this place were of inferior quality, looking like party ghosts who forgot that a dime meant a good time, not a cum-hauling service.<br/><br/>Gabriel hated Ole Duke's.  It was Big Lou's territory and Gabriel wasn't welcome.  Irony of the matter is, that for any poor schmuck walking into this raunchy bin of over-sexed, over-paid guns-for-hires, Mar, Sen, Loony and Vilhelm would've been worthless.  But for Gabriel Manning, these four, especially Foon Foon, were worth a lot of money.  Too much money.  If only these four schmucks knew how much they were worth.  They wouldn't be laughing over the rims of their beer glasses.<br/><br/>"Drink up boys," Gabriel muttered as he chewed on a toothpick, "tonight's yer' last cheer."<br/><br/>Gabriel had stood like a figure transfixed and immutable by time.  Leaning against a table with his long legs crossed at the knees, the deep lines of his exposed abdomen traveled dangerously low down his pelvis to a shiny golden belt buckle that seemed more like an invitation than a vanguard.  Interested parties would occasionally graze the hill of his package, their grasp lingering on his buckle as they went, whispering, sometimes in between giggles, something like, "would you like me to put you in my mouth?"  Gabriel didn't much oblige them, except for a devastatingly beautiful man who had really clutched his ball sack.  Gabriel was tempted, but let that bird fly.<br/><br/>No, Gabriel was waiting for an opportunity to get close to these jokers.  And he knew that the time was drawing nigh when he heard the harsh raps of familiar heels clicking on the beer-stained linoleum.  Vasha had arrived.  Immediately, the ambiance of the bar altered, entranced by the new woman's virility.  Enchanted, entranced, maybe driven to lunacy, the people in the bar were now talking more than before.<br/>