The next day Jackson was released. The prisoners were all pissed off and angry.

"How the hell you manage that Jackass?! To get off scott- free huh?!", yelled one.

"Come on! I had freaking drug possession! Why the hell does he get off easy?! Because he's a marine?! That's bull!", yelled another.

"He'll be back soon enough, then he'll have a story to tell!", laughed an old man as Jackson walked out.

Jackson was given his things. He slipped on his military boots tying the laces in their formal loops. This was great. The guy from yesterday wasn't anywhere here. Jackson had his backpack sitting there beside him leaned against the bench as he got things together. His leather brown leather jacket was still in good condition and Jackson was happy he had it back.

Jackson look around lifting his head. Pft! What a joke! But Jackson would take advantage, he'd technically gotten a free ride out. A pass or ticket back into the world. Jackson wasn't too sure what he'd do though once he got out. He knew the cops would be watching him again and his probation officer was probably going to nail him with anything he could.

But a little booze to celebrate wouldn't hurt. This was a great day.

The fenced gate was opened and the alarm went off signaling it's opening. The officer just shut it right behind Jackson. Jackson put on his Marine hat and was about to walk off when a voice chuckled.

"Walking off Mr. Roberts?", asked a voice.

Jackson snapped his head towards the voice. There leaned against a long sleek black limousine was Anderson with a smile on his face and crossed arms.

Jackson huffed, "Look man, I appreciate the help, but I got things to do places to be", said Jackson walking off.

Anderson smirked, "Like drinking booze?", he asked.

Jackson flinched, "What I do is none of your business, thanks really for the bail and all, but see ya!", said Jackson waving and headed off to start a second time. Yet he didn't get very far when Anderson called.

"Mr. Roberts we had a deal, you agreed. My superior expects you to deliver. You intend to walk out of an offer with the wealthiest individual in the entire world?", asked Anderson.

Jackson turned still walking backwards, "I don't care about money man", said Jackson.

"I'm afraid Mr. Roberts there is no walking out of a deal like this one", said Anderson smirking.

Jackson turned his instincts piping in. His muscles tenses. Jackson looked down seeing hundreds of tiny red dots all over his body. Some pointing to vital organs others just randomly. Either way Jackson couldn't dare move. If he even flinched where ever these bastards were they'd shoot. Jackson couldn't see them at all.

Anderson on the other hand knew exactly where they were. The 35 snipers were hiding in the woods line blending in and sitting still on tree branches others laying on the ground. All were inching to fire. They yearned for it. Just as Jackson was wanting to punch someone right now.

Anderson opened the car door to the passenger's seat then walking off, "Come on Mr. Roberts, we are already going to be  late", sighed Anderson getting in on the other side of the car. 

Jackson stood he clenched his teeth.  'Who the hell was this guy?! And what in the world was going on?!'

Jackson had no choice. He stepped forward walking even though he'd rather go backwards. But Jackson didn't want to risk anything. All his training was telling him these guys were good. Even while Jackson walked the red dots and lasers did not disappear. They stayed in the same spot barely moving at all. These guys were good. Damn good.

Jackson stepped into the car and the door was suddenly pushed shut. Jackson turned his head seeing a man walk away towards the driver's seat of the limousine. Anderson sat across from Jackson in the long car his hands folded over his crossed legs. He was enjoying himself.

Jackson stared at Anderson silently.

"You never told me about my end of the deal", said Jackson.

"That's because first you need to be prepared. You start by under going rigorous training", replied Anderson.

"What kind of training? I know how to shoot a gun Jesus!", snapped Jackson.

"I'm afraid I am not the messiah Mr. Roberts....I'm far from that nor do I have any religious affiliation and affairs. However....just being able to shoot a gun won't be enough for what you have to do....that is if you make it that far through training", said Anderson smirking.

"Why is that? Don't think I can handle it?", asked Jackson.

Anderson smirked, "That depends on you.  But only the top seven get to actually continue and do what the deal presides with", said Anderson.

"What is that?", asked Jackson.

"You'll have to protect someone....be their body guard", replied Anderson.

"Who? Your superior?", asked Jackson scoffing.

Anderson laughed, "Oh no! Not Mr. Danes! Someone else....but you won't get to know who it is till you make it through the training....that is if you do", replied Anderson.

"And if I am not in the top seven?", asked Jackson.

"We'll find other uses for you....we don't let our money go to waste....as I said before that's just bad business", replied Anderson.

Jackson sat there thinking. Getting in the top seven.....what other uses? If he made it in the top seven then all he had to do was protect someone? Jackson sat there and looked out the window. Whoever this person was....they must be pretty damn important...but also desperate to want someone like Jackson.

Anderson chuckled, "We don't hire random people Mr. Roberts. We recruit only a select five hundred every four years. The top seven though, it's a new rule that has been set in place for the game", said Anderson.

"What Game?", asked Anderson.

"A game every business plays....every billionaire and millionaire plays. Where anyone and everyone can play. A game where there are no limits.....not even the law", said Anderson.