Prologue
The Master sat on a rich black chair in his office, consulting his proud pile of accomplishments and immersed in thought. Things were going pretty well, he thought. Almost too well. He couldn't seem to push away the growing feeling of unease at the pit of his stomach. It was very strange indeed that he hadn't yet met a barrier to face him down.
Danger was like water, he thought. You could try and grab for it, but it would always slip away between your fingers before you got a better look.
It had something to do with the boy. His years of leading the X had left him with almost a supernatural sense to be accurate when his enemies were ahead. And right now he sensed something coming. Something big. Something bad. He was sure it would be the boy who would be behind it all. The boy was a bigger threat to him than all of the Triangle.
Outside, thunder clapped loudly and rain spattered against the windows rhythmically, almost like music. 'An ill omen' the Master thought. Next the the window was a huge piece of graffiti, painted in black. It pictured two cresent moons intwined back to back in the shape of a huge X. The symbol of the organization he had created. He had done it himself, with a can of spray paint. Absently, his hand moved down to his wrist, where his own X was branded into his skin. There was another on his forefinger, hidden with a silver ring. It represented his place in office. It was like a monarchy. He was quite proud of his idea. The X on the wrist was for seniors, and the star on the forefinger for leaders. It helped keep the X in order. And he liked everything to be neat and organized, preferably neat and organized under him, in his control. That was what a true leader meant.
He wasn't going to let everything go to waste, not because of a single boy. The boy who carried his surname, the only one who possibly had enough skill to kill him. Once he had treasured him above all others, his most skilled and most loyal, only to be stabbed in the back. The leader of the X did not like to be defied. He had sworn that the boy would pay for his betrayal.
He addressed the figure standing at the corner of his office, silent and motionless. There would be no better way to twist the mind of a young boy, for the boy was still young, barely 17. He still couldn't shake the uneasiness though; the betrayal had left him with a tendency to mistrust even those who were closest to him. He didn't want to replay his mistakes.
Chances were supposed to be taken. It was a barrier for him to break through to overcome the crisis.
"Come here." he said, and the figure moved into the light. He had grown so much since he had first started training him, in desperate hope that he would one day avenge him. The Master did not believe however, that he could face his betrayer, but he was still the best. His last tendril of hope.
He moved over the the wall where his collection of weapons hung displayed. Racks of guns, ranging from the smallest that could be hidden inside your hand, to giants that could shatter your arm if used impractically. Knives of all sized, beautiful balisongs to daggers. He ran his fingers over them, and stopped at a silver dagger the length of a notebook, one with roses carved into the blade.
"Find Ethan Cahill." he said. "Find him and kill him at any cost. KIll everyone that gets in your way, and everyone he cares for." With that, he fired the gun at the spray painted X, straight into where if it had been a person, a heart would have been beating.
