*Drew Blaseir POV*
~Unknown Port Town, three years ago - Docks~

It's a dark night tonight.  The only light is the random flickering street lamp, the full moon overhead, and an occasional lighter being used for a smoke.  The pier is fairly clean for this part of town with only a few trash bags on the side of the warehouses and the random piece of paper that got loose from some signboard or something.  I walk into a warehouse after making sure I hadn't picked up a tail, and enter the passcode.

The door opens automatically with a slow creak and I smile.  Gotta love the classics, I think as I walk down the hall towards my destination.  Lights flicker on and off as I move through the labyrinthine halls of one of my many hideouts.  But I’m not here to hide.  No one of my boys found Christopher ‘Predator’ MacReel, my old boss man from a while back before I took over his organization - oops, that's not right - before I started my organization.

He had been holed up in this town a few blocks away in an old hotel.  They brought him here at my personal request.  As I enter his room, I immediately put on the biggest smile I could.  Sitting in front of me tied up on a chair was Mr. Christopher MacReel himself.  And with an armed escort nonetheless!

“You guys sure know how ta make a bloke feel special,” I grin at my subordinates as I shift my duffel bag over my shoulder, “I mean, I heard you got me a present but I din't expect I’m to be wrapped up it's my birthday or somethin’!”

“You screwed yourself, Blaseir,” Chris laughed, “not only did you betray me, but you betrayed your real boss in the process!  Now your former colleagues in Interpol are after your head, not to mention those still loyal to me in my organization.”

I nod and the guy on his left removes his blindfold.

“Um Chrissy, do you mean these loyalists?” I ask as I empty the contents my duffel onto the floor, grinning coldly “The only reason they were still breathing was because they might've tried to make contact with you.  But now that you’re here, well…  as you can see, they don't make very good company anymore as they’re not very talkative. And don't get me started on the stench! Phew Stankay!”

His face was… well Death himself would be jealous of his color right now.  Meanwhile my subordinates were trying, and only partially succeeding, to keep their dinner where it belongs.  I motion to my subordinates to leave the room.  A command to which they quickly and happily complied.

“Ya know,” I begin, “someone once told me that a good man does good things for the right reasons, while a bad man does bad things for - well - any reason really.  They thought they were spouting some great wisdom and, for a time, I believed them.  Now I am certainly not a good man, but I'm not really a bad guy either.  Not to say I've never done bad things but I had my reasons.  So I'm left wondering what to do.  My soul is so torn and rotted that the Devil himself wouldn't trade it for half a penny but I still try to do good. Problem with that is, I'm just not cut out for it.  So I got to thinking and decided that that someone I mentioned before was only seeing in black and white rather than the full spectrum.  I chose to see more.  Because a Devil can commit the vilest of atrocities for the most pure reasons.  To ensure that others can sleep at night… To make sure someone worse, someone with no morals, takes their spot at the top… To be the lesser of two evils… To be the Devil you know.  And that is who I am.  I am the guy that makes your darkest nightmares scream in pure terror at my very name.  However...  I can be reasoned with.  So tell me, why should I let you live?  Give me a reason to believe you won't threaten my rule now that I’m in charge.  You have one hour to convince me and if not… then comes the fun part of my evenings.  After all, my 'real' boss would rather deal with a devil he knows... because he knows that at least I keep my word regardless of personal gain...  within reason of course.  I am the bad guy after all!  Now... clock's ticking.”

He spent the next sixty minutes trying to convince me to let him live and some of his reasons were pretty good… but not good enough; I mean, the key word was trying.  By the time we reached the end of his hour, the only thing he convinced me to do is shut him up… I mean damn!  He’s got a set of pipes on 'im that's for sure.  Now, it's best to leave out the specifics.  So I'll just say that not ten minutes after I began, he was practically begging for our old executioner/torturer Mason to come finish him off.  Which is saying something since Mason never did just do one of his jobs.  He was one of the loyalists though so he's dead...

Oh well, more fun for me.

>A/N<
LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK SO FAR IN THE COMMENTS... WHAT WAS GOOD? WHAT WAS BAD? WHAT COULD BE IMPROVED? IM OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS.

UNTIL NEXT TIME,
LIVE FREE, DIE HARD, NEVER GIVE UP, AND ALWAYS REMEMBER.

John