Victor Craven

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.

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