The epitome of success, Ambrosius Sidorov had it all.
Money, though didn't need it.
Power, though it bored him.
A lavish penthouse in downtown Chicago.
And the most powerful Throne.
That is, up until the fateful night when his siblings were murdered...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Quietly the engine hummed to life. The bodyguards were amazed at the sheer luxury the SUV possessed. The expression on their face mirrored that of a child who'd seen a plane take off for the first time, though to a less pronounced degree.
Nathan and James occupied the front seats. Tim was at Ambrosius' side while Mark and Charlotte sat awkwardly in the back row. Their toxic hatred filling the air.
Nathan accelerated the car, exiting out of the family's private parking lot and onto the long street, lined with trees on either side that led to the titanium gates. Thick barriers reinforced by an imposing twenty-feet tall wall.
Ambrosius rarely saw this part of his family's estate. This entrance was mostly used by employees, officials and staff. Whenever his family went somewhere they usually took the helicopter. Trying to avoid touching the ground of commoners as much as possible.
There were always exceptions of course. And this was certainly one of them.
Once out of the gates Nathan floored the gas pedal until they reached 110 miles per hour. Needless to say, the new guards were once again impressed.
"May I ask why there are no cars in our side, and traffic everywhere else seems to be backed up?" Tim enquires, intrigued, fascinated by the fact.
Ambrosius was about to answer but was cut by James, who answered most curtly.
"If you had been the least bit responsible and actually read the manual you were given, you would have learned that standard procedure for any member of the Sidorov family travelling by car, is to lock traffic and secure a clean trip for them. All while being escorted by two replicas, six shadow trucks and three helicopters."
Tim shrunk within himself slightly, extremely embarrassed.
"James?" Ambrosius called ever so gently.
"Yes, master?"
"Let that be the last time you interrupt me when I am about to answer. And for the record, we do not treat new employees like that. Drop the attitude."
"Understood, master."
"Don't tell me. Show me."
Ambrosius was offended to have to even deal with such insolence. James was pulling short straws on him. Trying his patience. Clawing at his dignity.
He did not have time to entertain the thought since an orange Lamborghini sped right past them, a black SUV right on it's tale, following closely.
Ambrosius gasped. The driver would soon be dead. The Organization took seriously to protecting the Sidorov family and would neutralize any threat to them, intentional or not.
Just as quickly as the two vehicles had sped by, a man materialized out of the moonroof of the SUV, an rpg in his hands.
Ambrosius felt his pulse accelerate., the imminence of the chauffeurs demise becoming ever more evident.
And just like that, in a split second, the sports car went up in a blaze, immediately flipping over.
Nathan tried to avoid it and succeeded.
"Stop the car!" Ambrosius yelled.
"It's not safe sir." James and nathan replied simultaneously.
"That was an order! Not a request." At this point, Ambrosius could feel a tear escaped his eyes. Reluctantly, Nathan floored the brakes and came to a full stop.
Ambrosius unfastened his seat belt and was out faster than normality would merit.
He sprinted about four hundred feet towards the wreckage of the car. Twisted metal, glass and shrapnel spread out in every direction.
The spectators on the bridge watched in pure shock at the events that were transpiring. Ambrosius could not help but envy their blissful oblivion. Unaware as to what had just happened.
He envied them.
For a second he wished he could be like them. Not knowing what was going on in front of their eyes. Some were on their phones, calling 911. But help would never come.
Ambrosius knew that.
He checked for any signs of life but all that was visible was the bloody face of the boy piercing through the shattered windshield. They were both around the same age, based on appearances alone.
Ambrosius was entranced. His face caught between shock and denial. A fail-safe mechanism provided by generations of Sidorov genetics. The signature poker face, despite the tragedy that went down only a few seconds ago.
A scarlet envelope fell from the bridge.
Reluctantly, Ambrosius picked it up from the asphalt and examined it closely. The slit was sealed with gold wax, engraved with an S.
All the more, it only added to his confusion.
He took out a knife and sliced it open and reached for the paper inside.
Carefully he unfolded it, letting the envelope fall and be carried away by the sudden burst of wind.
Immediately he started trembling.
The letter was adressed to him.
Its message all to clear.
Its author far too obvious.
Sweat covered every inch of his skin as he read the message. Wishing this was all a figment of his imagination.
As above, so below.
You are condemned, And so is your soul.
Two are gone, But one remains.
Time to cleanse, The stains of the past.
Time to kill, The one who is last.
How enticing does death sound?
Mr. Sidorov?
-S
Without hesitation Ambrosius looked up, trying to see if he could catch sight of who had dropped the letter from the bridge.
All he could see was a man in a black coat, though he didn't get a chance to make out his face.
Determined, he looked at the lieutenant who was evaluating the crash site.
"I want no one off this bridge. Lock it down. Now!" He barked, fear and desperation present in his voice, though mostly the former.
