There are some things in this world that you can never vanquish.

There are other things that you can never partake in.

And there are things you can never take back.

◊◊◊

Tonight I walk on a bleak road still fresh with God’s tears sprawling down from the abyss. The drops frizzle my

hair, falling tight against my face as if to caress my skin. My eyes become hazy from the moisture as the lights dim, as if blocked by a fog. Within seconds, the fog darkens around me as I am surrounded in black.

I can hardly see my hands in front of me, as my footsteps slug along the damp streets. I cough, panged by the slight sickness I gathered from this potent world. My head feels like a ten-gallon hat and my arms…oh my arms feel like cement blocks. Still, the darkness does not end, and I must continue on like a pilgrim searching for a new world. Luckily, I have been down worst stretches in my lifetime.

I crept slightly across the path, not hearing a sound or seeing a glint of light…not even feeling a breath of wind. Everything was silent here. My senses lead me to a door, one that vibrates in a pale light on this dull street side. I lightly carry myself up its hollow steps, peering at my prize.

The darkness grasps onto me like Hades dragging the living into the pits of hell. It allows me to feel the

chilled steel and taste its alloyed substance of the door knob. The knob twists and my feet follow into nothingness with a glimpse of a pale golf ball peering into the window. It shimmers, creating an eerie glow within the home.

I climb the stairs softly, not making a noise. The smooth carpet rustles against my boots, making it easier to not

stir any of the inhabitants. The second floor is illuminated by a small light, beckoning me to its pale glimmer. The light, oh how it beckons me to come near only to fade to black as I pass it by.

I head to a small door, opening it to face an icy wind from inside by a window left open on this tundra night. I

feel the warmth emanating from your lips, as I close my eyes falling into your form. I am warm, covered with hefty blankets as I grasp my maiden tight. Our body heat desires cold from the chilled town to keep us from overheating. I

smile for I feel safe and loved by the woman in my arms, as if we are protected.

I smirk, opening my eyes as the window slams shut. The room heats up, little by little, as the color comes back

into the world and the wind outside begins to sing. I ignore the squeals and screams from the couple as I lift my prize, as he stares at me in horror yelping forgiveness upon his lips. The world stops, the room blackens, crimson.

Lyonel doesn’t usually have this many people in his office, but today was an exception. Four of us meant more

arguments and usually Lyonel tries to avoid strong minded individuals. As the voices escalated around the room, I leaned back in Lyonel’s gorgeous padded black leather chair.  I situated myself, the smell of the newly purchased leather filling the air, as I crossed my legs and dug in the atmosphere. My coworkers and Lyonel would be at it for days, bickering over who knows what and I daresay that I slightly enjoyed it. Plus, most of the fuss revolved around me.

The big, buff, African American father-figure of mine, a.k.a Lyonel, was yelling at Christine, the seductive

blonde bitch. This time it was regarding a case we’ve been at for years. As if right on time, the slender and dimwitted Jackson spouted off random comments that didn’t have anything to do with the topic of conversation. What can I say…typical Wednesday afternoon at the office banter. Mondays were casual, Tuesdays boring as ****, Thursdays babes, and Fridays non-stop drinking. If I could create the perfect world, I’d only see a Thursday and Friday, that way days like Monday through Wednesday would never exist. Nevertheless, I couldn’t complain much about my job. I mean, without Lyonel and the gang, I wouldn’t have a way to kill time and they wouldn’t have an assassin.

“Look,” Lyonel snapped, leaning back on his throne. “Craven has been on our list for too long. He’s our key to the

Coetus! If we get their arms dealer, we can stop one of their major operations. So what makes you think going after Weeds is a better option, when this Mammon Bay playboy is within our grasp?!.”

“Weeds is one of Craven’s most influential buyers. If we take him out first, Craven loses a key piece of his

operation,” Christine blurted.

“But what about the Renue’ Case? You know the super human cell creation? Seems to me that this is of more concern than hunting down the Coetus,” Jackson pressed, allowing Christine and Lyonel to eye him angrily.

“Jackson I’m tired of the bull shit that you vomit every two seconds. We are trying to give Orion the most

productive case. We are NIA, the goddamn National Intervention Agency, and we…”

“Dispose of those who disrupt the natural balance of the laws of the land, the silent knight for those who can’t

speak, and the justice who doesn’t care about getting their hands dirty,” Jackson yawned, rolling his eyes.

“Funny how you can cite our creed yet tell us to spend our time and effort hunting down some science experiment,” Lyonel roared.

Christine shook her head at Jackson, “For once I actually agree with Lyonel. Anyway, getting back on subject, Orion has already disposed of Joseph O’Riley. He was known as the chief producer of Craven’s heroin unit. We have recovered some information on deals, acquired various numbers, but still have no whereabouts on Craven. What do you suppose we do?”

Jackson shrugged, looking back at me, “Send in our silent knight.”

My eyes directed towards Jackson, blazing with excitement as Lyonel and Christine turned my way as well.

“Well Orion, what is your take on the issue?” Lyonel asked.

I smirked, reaching into my coat pocket, pulling out a silver device that looked like a sleek credit

card.

“Wat on earth is that?” Jackson questioned.

“Just watch,” I stated, touching the green power key as a map of Mammon Bay appeared in a flash of blue light. Yellow dots pinpointed every business and residence in the area, but I pinched the globe together narrowing it down to the downtown area.  Why? Because this was the place that most came out to play: friendly or foe. There were also red dots highlighting points of interest, which illuminated current gatherings within the city limits.

I began to turn the globe, slowly examining each red area, as I stopped at a mass gathering near the center of downtown Mammon. The building turned out to be the Hilton Palace, one of the largest hotel and resort in the country. Here a crowd of 40,000 gathered.

My eyes lifted from the screen to meet my colleagues, “Seems rather odd that thousands of people swarm to the

Hilton today when there are no records of any convention or big shot corporate gathering scheduled.”

“Actually,” Jackson shot, quickly typing on his Surface, “there was a corporate meeting with Tim Yale today at

1pm.”

“Sure,” I say, amused at Jackson’s comment as I pointed to the Hilton Palace, opening a screen displaying the attendees. I typed in Tim Yale’s name, allowing the list of faces to flash in front of my colleagues until “name not recognized” appeared on the globe. “Tim Yale is a well-known associate of Craven who does not live within the United States; he is currently living out his life in France. Actually, I checked up on him earlier today and he and his children were seen going on a trip to Rome. Thus, there is no way that Tim Yale is holding a party of this grandeur in Mammon Bay.”

“So, what are you getting at?” Lyonel said, placing a hand under his chin. “Do you believe this is one of Craven’s

affairs?”

"Yes, Craven is using this outlet to auction off new technological advancements from tooth brushes to human

counterparts. The attendees are likely to go up to 50,000 in a matter of minutes.”

Lyonel, Christine, and Jackson looked at the building skeptically as they saw a rise in the population to the amount I had previously quoted. Christine had to smirk as Jackson scowled.

“I hate it when he does that,” Jackson huffed.

I paced myself over towards Lyonel, “I calculate up to…say 170,000 as the day drags on. So, it’s up to you, my

friend, on what our next course of action is going to be.”

Lyonel smirked, tilting his head, “Now Orion, you don’t need me to tell you that, son.”

I nodded, dimming down the map as I placed the device back in my pocket. “Looks like I’ll see what I can find out

in the dragon’s den.”

I felt the elevator come to a stop, sliding its doors open as I faced a lit basement filled with hundreds of lavish cars from Range Rover's to Ferrari's. Today I found myself in a sporty mood, choosing the black Mercedes-AMG 4-door Coupe. I walked over to the Mercedes line, opening the door to the black knight and sit on its plush leather seat.

I grab the key out of the center console and turn on the beast. My watch and sunglasses, which I retrieved from the glove compartment, are a silver Parmigiani Fleurier Kapla Grande and custom black Tom Ford Marko FT0144.

Clicking on my seat belt, I placed the car in drive as I swerved around the parking garage and up a winding pass. I lean to the side of my seat, flying up the winding road leading out of my cell of a home. Once I head out into the streets of Mammon Bay, I allow the busy streets to envelop me. The traffic, as usual, was going slow but steady as I inched out into my playground. I sit as the skyscrapers look down on me, moving like cattle to the grazing field. After about twenty or so minutes of stalling, I was able to drive freely into Dragon's Den—the 1% domain. The guidelines clearly stated that you could not walk on the Den's pristine boulevards unless you had the cash to prove it. Vain.

My car roars along, allowing me to reach the Hilton Palace: rightfully named so, for its prestigious air was only fit for royalty. Once I reach the front, a young valet rushed over as if he was late for a recital.

"Hello sir, my name is Maximillian. Please enjoy your time at the Palace."

I nod, putting my car in park, stepping out and rubbing my hand down my suit to straighten my appearance. Maximillian gave me a number to reclaim my car as I stuffed the ticked in my coat pocket and join the thousands of greedy mongrels.

I go into monstrous golden doors, looking around at the grandeur. A titanic of a chandelier glitters from the ceiling, the floors are lined with gold tile, Greek images decorate the walls, a marvelous display of artwork from the time of Leonardo Divinci decorates the ceiling, and striking Grecian pillars hold up this masterpiece.  It was magnificent, Craven surely knew where to throw a shindig.

As I venture out onto the floor, I saw luxurious cars that were able to roam on land and sea, robot maids that looked virtually human, a chip that enabled you to speak in any language, hologram technology available on any mobile platform, and much more gluttonous fancy. This place screamed futuristic ideals…all it needed was a little red.

I continue to walk past crowds of people gazing at Craven's miraculous feats. As I enter the center of the zoo, I look up, seeing a group of prestigious men and women overlooking the crowd from above. They talk and joke, nudging each another toward one group of pigs to another. Yet, everything seemed to stop when the man in the middle claps his hands to get everyone's attention.

He was rather handsome with a strong European jawline. His jet-black hair was slicked back, exposing his stark hazel eyes. His suit, a jet black Dormeuil, was ever so fitting as he jiggles a glass of champagne in his right hand. My eyes light, a stark smile coming to my lips as I see the man I've been waiting to find.

"I am Victor Craven, promoter of future technology. These prototypes are only but a few of my line of modern advancements. Many more products will be released this year. Bidding will start shortly, thank you."

A beautiful woman, and I mean an eyesore, walked to Craven's side. Her luscious brown hair was mesmerizing, and her lips were just the right hue of crimson. Her pearly white dress suited her body—curving upon her ****** and shaping her voluptuous ***. I craved her.

"Craven will also be attending the national fencing championship in Piere' this Saturday," she cheers.

The crowd stands in awe, enjoying this spectacle or her body…or both, as I take a vodka martini from a nearby waiter.

"All of which Craven is donating to a charity to educate and aid young inventor's throughout Mammon Bay," she adds.

The crowd claps, cheering Craven on, as I join in for sport. I make sure to look him straight in the eye, those cold gems as harsh as the Sahara. Any regular man wouldn't dare threated someone of his caliber, but not I. The more I stand here, the more I wish for him to beg for my mercy.

The people begin to disperse, as I finish my glass and head over to a waiter holding a tray with more drinks. He gladly offers me another martini as I smile, say a small thanks, and turn towards a group of men test riding a hover board. Amazing what these frat boys would pay to have now a days.

"Excuse me sir," a sensual female voice purrs into my ear.

I quickly, but politely, sip more of my drink before turning to the stunning beauty I had just seen a few moments before.

"Hello," I squint, hardly believing that she was talking to me. "You do give a grand speech, Mrs..."

"Laurina," she smiles, offering her hand which I take and kiss.

"Orion," I add, "You sure made your way down to us commoners rather quickly."

She laughed at that, "Commoners? Well, you must be their prince."

"Is that so?"

"I've never seen you around these parts. Such a prestigious individual like yourself…daring enough to wear a white tux to such an occasion," she says, touching my collar and sliding her hand warmly down my jacket.

"It could be an Aladdin affect and it's the clothes that are making me look like Gatsby." I smirk, edging her on.

"I disagree with that," she winks, slowly removing her hand from my chest. "So, where are you from? The air about you is too mysterious to be American."

I finish my martini, giving it to a nearby waiter.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm a native to the Mammon area. I'm just different from your average posh-crowd-Joe. You see, I tend to only come out at night, or in this case, when something piques my interest."

She chuckles, surely entertained by my answer. "You're quite the jokester, aren't you."

"I do try," I say, unable to conceal my laugh.

"Well Orion, my husband Victor, over yonder," she points, "noticed you apart from the crowd and was interested in you from the beginning."

"Is he now?"

She smiles with a devilish charm and lifts her lips to my ear, "Interested in your money."

Right now would be the time for me to take the hand of another man's wife and seduce her. Yet, my sudden urge was silenced when the man I had waited to meet squashed my lustful intentions.

"I see Laurina has picked out another wealthy bachelor," Craven says, looking me in the eye with the angelic charm of Lucifer himself. "Have you come for the auction?"

I shake my head, "Granted I did at first, highly interested in the achievements you've made in AI, quite spectacular that I no longer need to hire a boy to fetch my groceries.. Yet, Id be lying if I said that is what beckoned me to the Devil's Den tonight."

Craven smirked, in a peculiar way, "Well, what interests you…Mr.?"

"Orion." Laurina adds for me, caressing her husband's arm.

Craven tilts his head in amusement. "Interesting, never heard of anyone in these parts with that surname. You must be a hunter."

"Of sorts, yes."

His hands slide into his pocket, the interest mounting. "So, what is your purpose here tonight if not to bid?"

"Well…" I think, being fast on my feet, "scoping out my competition. I will be entering the fencing tournament and wanted to know who and what I was up against."

Craven's smile illuminated at my response, "Im flatter, Mr. Orion, that you've come all this way for me. Fencing is a sport of balance and coordination, created by the Italians—my ancestors. In my mind, it is the art of royalty."

"Modern fencing actually originated in Spain, but once the Catholics banned the sport, the Spanish found comfort in Italy. Then, the Italians honed it as their own, which was later improved by the French." I correct him.

Craven twinges, whether in disgust or intrigue, and it only arouses my amusement.

Victor extends his hand, draping his emotions in a smile.  "You seem very knowledgeable about the sport," I take his hand, receiving a rather strong grip. "It pleases me that true men are participating in the tournament. I will be having dinner at my house tomorrow, if you care to join. My home is on the Outer Banks, 1121 Le Vinnie Drive."

I nod, accepting his invitation, "Thank you for your generous offer. I will make room to accommodate you in my schedule."

He smirks in compliance, slightly bowing his head, as he and Laurina turn and walk away. Laurina glances over her shoulder, smiling at me as they depart. I lifted my glass in farewell, drinking the rest of my martini and taking it all in as my iPhone buzzes in my pocket. I open it to see another name, as I place my empty glass on the waiter's tray. Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I leave the crowd.

I could not ignore the intense passion overcoming me because killing this man is going to be easier than I thought.