Year: 2060
Scene 1: Thrones Family
It was midnight in New York City and it was anything but quiet.
Neon lights glowed against glass skyscrapers, and traffic rumbled on forever beneath. But away from Times Square's frenzy, in a more subdued financial sector, there was a 60-story skyscraper that rose with monarchical beauty. This was the Throne Corporation's headquarters—one of the most influential corporate fronts over America's second-largest under-the-table mafia empire ruled by notorious Asher Throne.
The building was not only a seat of finance; it was the center of black-market trade, holding the buying and selling of powerful shares in global weapon industries and technological holdings.
Most employees had left by this time. Only one person was left inside—the COO of the Throne Corporation, Araon Throne.
Scene 2: Top Floor – CEO Cabin
Araon, a young man in his twenties, sported a crisp navy suit with his tie loose around his neck. Weary eyes swept across quarterly spreadsheets on a bright screen. The man was precise and merciless, but smart—similar to his brother Asher, leader of the Throne family.
The air was chilly, as it tended to be on higher floors, but Araon enjoyed the quiet. He finished his coffee, turned off the screen, and stood.
"Time to go home," he whispered.
He stepped into the private elevator, going down to the subterranean parking garage. The sound of his leather sole against concrete was the only noise. He walked toward his black armored Cadillac.
Suddenly—
Clang!
A metal pipe hit the ground behind him.
Araon spun at once. Shadows appeared—twelve men in masks wielding knives and bludgeons.
Without hesitation, Araon shifted his jacket out of the way and unsheathed twin daggers, made from obsidian steel. The brutes attacked.
Scene 3: Parking Lot Fight – Detailed Action Scene
A whirlwind of steel met with ferocity. Araon dodged a bat swing, struck back with a swipe across the attacker's chest, then wrenched another thug's arm from the middle of a strike and stabbed him neatly.
Blood stained the garage walls. One masked attacker caught him unawares, slashing his arm. Araon snarled, sending a dagger into the thug's thigh, then kicked him against a pillar.
Ten minutes of vicious, primal fighting.
All of the attackers were unconscious or dead.
Araon panted, his side wounded.
He hobbled to his car.
Abruptly—
BOOM!
The building blew up.
The fireball screamed through the building, blowing glass everywhere on the city block.
Scene 4: Unknown Location – An Empty Skyscraper
Araon moaned. He opened his eyes. Chains rang.
He was in a massive, dimly lit office floor. The walls were cracked. Dust floated in the air. Clearly abandoned. His wrists and ankles were bound by thick iron chains to a metal chair. Across from him, seated in a leather chair with crossed legs, was a sharply dressed man in a black suit, his face obscured by shadows.
The man spoke, voice deep and calm. "You're finally awake."
Araon's eyes blazed with fury. "Who in the hell are you? Why did you abduct me?"
The man edged forward into the moonlight streaming through a huge balcony window.
"My name is Ren."
Araon's eyes went wide. That name had once flowed in Throne's deepest networks—always linked with impossible vanishing acts and top political disappearances.
Ren went on, "Your family is all gone. Asher is killed. The explosion wasn't an accident. Someone wiped out the Throne bloodline.
Araon bristled. "That's a lie. I saw him two days ago."
Ren rose to his feet and approached the window. "The Throne Empire is crumbling. But you… you are the last twig on a shattered tree."
Araon's voice shook. "You saved me? Why? You could've killed me with them."
Ren faced him, turning slowly. "Because I don't want to kill you. I want to make you an offer."
"What offer?
Ren smiled. "Assist me to overthrow the American President."
Araon blanched in horror. "What sort of crazy—"
Ren held up a hand. "You're intelligent. You understand that the world is not controlled by governments. It's controlled by money, guns, and secrets. The Throne family used to rule by terror. I wish to do the same, but bigger, globally."
"Why me?" Araon demanded.
"Because you are Great Mafia Carlo's Son who will look for his revenge and your mastery in using weapon, shares and secret trade is beyond compare. I need that mind… and that fury."
Araon glared at his chains. "And if I don't want to?"
"You won't," Ren replied. "Because you crave revenge. And I provide it."
The fires of vengeance in Araon's eyes finally burned.