New York, the city where the night life is legendary, it is the city of hacks and aristocrats: if there is any difference. New York is the place where you can get anything at anytime… for the right price.
A rich man just left the theatre thoroughly happy with the production, and he entered the coupe. As he drove off a figure began his pursuit.
The rich man was named Malcolm Blackwell, and he was a well known oil king, but this wasn't his only source of income. He was a leading light in the Diablo Cartel. Not many people know of this machine or his association with it, but if someone did connect the dots… they would regret it. Malcolm Blackwell was the Death Merchant, and he had power.
Malcolm parked in front of his glitzy hotel and walked to his penthouse suite. He was fully unaware of the shadow man following him; Malcolm was quite confident in his security. The shadow man was counting on that.
The figure entered the building and strolled past the guards. They didn't stir. The guards don't attack hotel employees, especially those with the access key to Malcolm's room. The assailant the elevator button with his gloved hand the door slid open. Shadow man smiled and thought. "This may be too easy with that evil beast asleep and unprotected. Soon I will get my justice and see the bane of my existence burn."
The elevator dinged, and he slinked out quietly and carefully. The revenge-seeker unlocked the penthouse door. He crept in and paced like a lion about to catch its prey. The penthouse was dark not pitch black but filled with many shades of grey. The assassin stalked through the halls peering in all the rooms, but they were all empty. He heard the clock strike midnight.
Finally the Shadow-man found a closed door, most likely Malcolm's bedroom. The revenge-seeker grinned maliciously, and he picked the lock. When he pushed the door open he saw Malcolm standing there pointing a gun at his head.
"I wondered when you would rear your ugly head." Malcolm said confidently. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice you following me?"
The assassin glared at him, and Malcolm continued. "Honestly, you aren't the first person who has tried to assassinate me. What's your reason for trying to kill me? Did I murder your family? Did I take everything you had? I have done that countless times, and I will do it again."
The assassin stayed quiet, which bothered Malcolm a little. "Now tell me who you are, and maybe your death shall be swift."
The Shadow-man took his glove off, and something gleamed. Malcolms eyes widened "No it can't be… you're supposed to be dead! I saw you die!"
The Shadow-man grinned. "You're right Mr. Blackwell I am not the first person who has tried to kill you, but I will be the last. It's time to pay for your sins."
Fire consumed the building, and minutes later cops and firemen surrounded the burning hotel. They saved several people, but at the top floor there were two burnt corpses … and one of them had a metal hand. The dead oil tycoon received a large funeral, and the Shadow-man was cremated; but, if the now dead assassin had received a headstone it would read Revenge Solves Everything.