Uninvited

                     On New Year’s Day private investigator Gary Tomlinson awoke at 7 am and tried to clear the throbbing pain from his head.  He then began mentally reviewing  the strange turn of events from the night before in his mind.

     For the third year in a row, Gary had gone to the same country club party to which one of his clients had dragged him.  He only had attended the galas as a guest, not expecting a call to serve in his professional capacity. He again listened impatiently to the inane gossip, too-loud music and guests robotically rattling off resolutions they knew they had no intention of keeping.

      The PI did recall one truly positive encounter from this particular evening. A stunningly beautiful and intelligent blonde lady had captivated the rapt attention of every male, and a significant percentage of the female population, in the large ballroom. For, in addition to her tantalizing appearance and aura, she had engaged several of the guests in conversation far above the intellectual level of the usual cocktail-induced chatter.          

          Despite their continuing fascination with her upper echelon appearance and rapier-like wit, no one at the gathering could identify her or determine who had invited her to the exclusive soiree.

     Then, as the evening began to wind to a close, three ominous-looking men dressed in black from head to toe appeared out of nowhere and started whisking the mystery guest out of the room. 

     Intrigued, Tomlinson followed them. He kept just out of sight as they entered a decked out Tesla limousine and sped away, but followed them three cars back in his vehicle. 

      It seemed like the blonde bombshell had not just coincidentally appeared at the party, and the fact that her escorts popped up out of nowhere added to his suspicions.

       Just as he closed to within spitting distance of their car, one of the men opened a window and aimed what looked like a .357 magnum in his direction.   He swerved slightly and ducked at the bullet grazed his head.

     “Who are you and how did you get into that party?” he shouted.

     “We have decided to make it slightly less exclusive,” the head gunman yelled back. “Our female colleague came here to stake a claim.”

        “Back off. We have an assignment and if you interfere any further we will terminate you immediately.”

       Despite giving his client a free ride on his usual fee Tomlinson’s curiosity kicked into overdrive and his sense of self-preservation took a back seat as he moved closer to the men. He could always collect later, after they filled in the details of the mysterious mission led by this stunningly beautiful and intelligent female.

     Before he had time to weigh all his options further, the driver of the van slammed on his brakes, almost causing the PI to rear end them. They swung the door of his car open, grabbed him, tied him up, blindfolded him and threw him into the back of the van, which then sped away down the street and onto what sounded like a major multi-lane highway.

     After driving around for about an hour, the van stopped in front of a rundown motel and his captors dragged him up to the second floor before throwing him onto the bed and removing his blindfold and the ropes that bound him.

     The blonde now stood in front of him, dressed in a skin-tight leather outfit.

     Tomlinson shouted. “Why did you and your henchmen bring me here? Why did you crash a private party and what game are you playing?”

     “Enough of this insolence,” the blonde replied.  “I am Zelda, mistress of the silver global gaming cartel.  You stand in the way of our plan for total international domination of the field .”

      “You have absolutely nothing with which to bargain,” the blonde shouted. “We have all the chips on our side, and, if you do not follow our rules it will result in the endgame for you.”

       “I do have much to offer,” the hostage replied. “Have your men take me back out to their van and I will lead them to a place where I will show you real bargaining power.”

      The three mysterious men then roughly loaded their captive back into the van.  Following Tomlinson’s directions, they rode around for about an hour along many darkened local streets and back onto a major highway before entering the parking lot of one of the most gaudy looking buildings they had ever seen. The structure looked to them like an oversized pinball machine.

       The detective used an app on his smartphone to open the door of the building by activating what looked like a supersized electronic game flipper.

      To the surprise of the three henchmen, four robotic creatures wielding huge paintball guns charged from four side doors in the weird building. 

      “Don’t underestimate the firepower of their guns,” the PI shouted. “They can wipe you all out with one squeeze of their triggers.”

       With that the robotic creatures led each of the henchmen into what looked like a convoluted section of an electronic game.  Then Tomlinson pushed a button on his smartphone and each of the three men was forced along a path until they stood before a huge sign reading “Game controller champ–one million points.”

       Then the entire pinball machine lit up and they all found themselves standing on a huge, glitzy stage.

       From another side door a larger robotic creature led the blonde bombshell, now blindfolded and tied up, to the center of the stage.

      A man who looked like a 1960s game show host then appeared in the center of the stage.  He presented the private eye with a gold trophy and announced, “You have won the New Year’s Eve Paintball-Pinball Competition and the prize of $1 million.”

     He ordered  Zelda freed and declared, “for three years your team has secretly plotted a plan to capture the crown by cheating at the game I invented. You see, I am more than a simple private eye. All your troubles have earned you no more than also-ran status. You are lucky to escape with your lives.”

      The curtain then closed on the presentation as “Auld Lang Syne” blared from speakers on the sides of the stage.