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Richard Midas watched as the bizarre man in the pinstriped suit left his office through his private elevator. He was seething on the inside that such an insignificant peon would have the audacity come into the sanctity of his office and threaten him. Midas instantly regretted not shooting the man right between the eyes, showing the man…and whoever it was that he was working with that one does not cross Midas without consequences. However, Midas’ lips curled upwards in a devilish grin as he picked up his phone and dialed the number for the head of Midas Industries security. 

“Jordan, we had an incident. A man in an outdated pinstriped suit will be getting off at the ground floor from my private elevator any moment.” Midas said as the phone was picked up on the other end.

“Would you like us to detain him, Sir?” Peter Jordan, the head of security asked.

“No. I want you to follow him. He was able to bypass security and access my office to threaten me. He clearly isn’t working alone. I want you to allow him to lead you to his co-conspirator, or conspirators. Once he has done so, I want them eliminated. 
“Very well, Sir.” Jordan replied as he hung up the phone.

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Peter Jordan had followed the mysterious man in the pinstriped suit from the moment he stepped foot from Midas’ private elevator. Jordan, along with a pair of his more experienced officers followed the man, who had referred to himself as “The Shadow” in his dealings with Midas from the Midas Industries building to Allen Park, just several blocks away. There was something odd about the man, though Jordan couldn’t quite place it, the man did not move like a normal person. His movements were jerky, almost as if a child were using a sort of remote control to guide his movements. 

“This fuckin’ guy…” Jordan said to no one in particular as he watched the man made his way across the park toward a row of low income apartments. “Alright boys, stay on him. I don’t want to lose him here.” 

The Shadow entered one of the tenement buildings on what was known to locals as Harper’s Row, a relatively controversial residential block just several blocks from Bristol College. The college administrators as well as the residents in the surrounding area were up in arms over the relatively high crime rate along “The Row,” and there had been a number of attempts to bulldoze the entire block in the name of gentrification. Those attempts had been largely unsuccessful, which left Harper’s Row standing in its current state. Jordan and his men followed the man in pinstripes as he descended to the lower levels of the building. Once in the basement, the man continued along a narrow hallway until he came to a dingy door near the end of the hall. He didn’t knock, and he didn’t take out any keys to unlock the door. He simply turned the knob and went inside. 

To Jordan, this was strange. Nobody in this neighborhood kept their doors unlocked. Jordan placed a single finger to his lips, motioning for his men to be quiet, then in a single movement brought his hand forward, pointing at the door that “The Shadow” had just entered. They followed closely behind the man, and when they reached the door, they found that it was still open, never having latched behind the man as he entered. 

When they entered, they were almost overcome by the smell. A rancid combination of burnt okra and cat piss filled their nostrils as they moved inside, an odor so powerful that it nearly caused Jordan’s eyes to tear. 

[i]Jesus Christ…[/i] Jordan thought to himself as he moved in on the man in the pinstriped suit, who was talking to someone. When They rounded a corner into the living area of the “apartment,” Jordan found the man in the suit speaking to a young woman of fair complexion and silver, almost white-ish hair. 

Before either of the apartment’s occupants knew what was going on, “The Shadow’s” chest exploded as the ammunition from one of Jordan’s men’s sawed off shotgun went through him. The older man never uttered a word, he never cried out in pain. He simply slumped to the floor and breathed his last breath. The young woman on the other hand, her head and face decorated by the man’s insides, began to cry out in terror. She shrieked and pleaded for her life and Jordan grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. Then, he gripped her by the scruff of the neck and flung her across the room.  She landed with a thud, and tried to get to her feet, but in her panic, she was unable to make her legs work. Instead of getting up and running, she flailed around, unable to get her balance. As Jordan watched the young woman struggle to get to her feet, he was reminded of a newborn deer as it tried to gather its bearings for the first time. The thought didn’t distract him from his duty. Jordan moved toward the young woman with bad intentions, striker her hard in the face with a deliberate roundhouse right, which shattered her jaw on impact. Then he did it again, and again. He hit her with punch after punch until the once borderline attractive woman was unrecognizable. Then he picked her up and tossed her to the ground again, where he continued beating the woman until she was barely conscious.

“You made a big mistake, little lady. You really have no idea who you were screwing with, do you?” Jordan said to the beaten and bloodied woman as he pulled out his side arm and fired three shots into her skull.

“Okay boys, time to clean this mess up.” Jordan said as he reached into his pocket and produced a small device, about the size of a stick of chewing gum. The device itself was a new type of explosive that Midas Industries had recently developed for some of its more discrete business dealings. The device itself was still in the testing stage and thus, had not yet been brought to market. Jordan pressed the activation switch that began an internal count down. 

“Two minutes, let’s get out of here.” Jordan told his men as they made their way toward the door. As Jordan left, he noticed something scribbled on the dead woman’s desk, a notepad with the work Root scrawled upon it. Jordan didn’t know what it was supposed to mean, and didn’t care. In less than two minutes, it wouldn’t matter. The entire building would go up in an explosion that investigators would eventually conclude was the result of a gas leak. The initial blast would be so hot that it would immediately incinerate any organic material within a fifteen foot radius, leaving no trace of the woman or her unfortunately attired companion. 

Jordan and his men made their way back up the stairs and out of the building. Jordan was pleased with how well his men had performed. As they crossed the park, Jordan reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Just as he hit the quick dial button for Midas’ office phone, the tenement on Harper’s Row erupted in a ball of fire and smoke, the blast so large that it leveled several buildings and shook the ground. 

“It’s done.” Jordan said as Midas picked up the phone.