Flint lay in his bed, the silk bed sheets wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort. The room was large, the floor a cold stone but covered in finely weaved rugs to keep the feet of the occupants warm as they walked upon it. The bed Flint lay in was large, far to big for a single occupant.

There was a velvet cushioned chair that sat snug in a corner of the room, accompanied by a chestnut desk with sprawled papers and a few ink blots. A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness and grabbed the edge of the chairs back and loudly scuffed it next to Flint's large bed. In one swift motion, as if in an attempt not to wake the already disturbed Lord, the figure slipped comfortably into the glamorous chair and folded ashen hands upon his own lap.

"Good morning, Sir," The shadow, Kepeshi, said cheerfully, yet in a hushed tone, "what'll it be for breakfast?"

Flint opened his eyes in alarm, instinctively reaching for the personalised hand crossbow in the drawer beside him.

"Terrible choice," recommended kepeshi with a feigned disappointment. He gave a quick jerk of his head, motioning it toward the other side of the bed. A large, unamused Joe plopped down on the bed and casually lifted his cleaver, placing its cold metal edge on Flints bare adams apple.

"Ah yes," continued Kepeshi, "now that we are all acquainted, I suppose you may have a few questions?" A sly eyebrow raised with the remark, a certain egotistical tone pungently polluting the one sided conversation.

Flint soon realised just how close the figure really was, the cold touch of metal chilling him to the bone. "My family?" Flint asked fearful for their safety

"Happily dreaming away in their cosy beds," Kepeshi reassured the man, "unless of course, you scream, then I imagine they will be quite awake, for a while at least."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction" Flint said roughly, his eyes flickered to the cleaver wielding man, but the darkness made him even harder to see.

"I have one last question, who sent you?" Flint looked Kepeshi in the eyes, or at least where he suspected his eyes may be. 

"Brilliant question actually," Kepeshi nodded approvingly, "as a man of such high stature, I myself found it reasonable we get to chat before whatever happens next." He paused, "but to answer the question, esteemed Lord James Conrad, with a twinkle in his eye asked of the Black Scorpions to relieve you of... well kill you I suppose is where I was heading with that," the assassin gestured in vain as he spoke, " so there you have it!"

"Bastard" Flint spat the word, then sighed and closed his eyes. "I guess you will get to killing me now?" Flint asked opening his eyes to the knife at his neck, then to the talkative assassin.
"I just hope the children don't find me first..." He muttered to himself quietly.

Kepeshi nodded, "That would indeed be a shame," he gave a second to mourn the thought with a false care, "however!" The man perked up again, " As for killing you, the deed has already been done, courtesy of our friend, Joe. ", He gestured towards the silent butcher.

Flint seemed confused for a second, then he understood. He closed his eyes and softly began to pray. A sickening knot formed in his throat as his head began to pound in pain with every pulsing heart beat. Each vibration flared the pain into a massive migraine, and his senses began to fail him. The last sensation he felt was the slow warm trickle of blood finding its way out of his orifices as he slowly drifted away into a dark void, where life disappeared along with the beating of his heart. 

"It is not sufficient that we succeed, all others must fail,"

"Goodnight."