The loud crack of gunfire filled the small store. There was momentary chaos then everything seemed to move in slow motion. The room swirled. The acrid scent of fresh human blood filled his nostrils as consciousness gave way; all he could see was an intense bright light. Jeff Kingsley was laying in the growing puddle of blood…his blood.

It was hot that summer of “47. Hot enough to drive a body mad.

It was the sweltering, still summer air that made Jeff stop at the little store. He was on his way to yet another of the slew of business meetings scheduled this week; and, as usual, the 32 year old entrepreneur was in a hurry. All he wanted was a cold soda, a little caffeine buzz and an adrenaline rush before his meeting. Noticing the Business Day magazine displayed by the checkout counter, he smirked with self-satisfaction. The feature story acclaimed Jeff”s technological discovery; it opened doors for weaponry generations ahead of its time. His plan was to release the technology in three stages – each making its predecessor obsolete, tripling his income before actually releasing the breakthrough knowledge to mankind.

Jeff was a pirate by all rights, a real shark in the business world, quickly ascending the ladder of success, never caring who he crushed on his way up. There was no looking back; his arrogance told him that he wouldn’t be seeing any of the “little people” again. He didn’t care whose careers he destroyed on his ascent to power. He had enough clout to believe himself invincible, a god among men, beyond anyone’s power to dethrone him in his world.

Jeff barely noticed the young stranger that rushed into the store. He wouldn’t have given the man a second thought-except this 20 year old “boy” was commanding the attention of the checkout clerk, the one who was supposed to be ringing Jeff up so he could be on his way. Annoyed, Jeff glanced at his Rolex. He needed to go. Now. The young man anxiously was asking for an ambulance. He and his wife were not from around here and he needed to get her to the hospital. Jeff rolled his eyes muttering one of his standard racial slurs half-way under his breath. The young man reeled on him protesting his wife needed an ambulance; she had gone into labor prematurely. Another racial slur about the world not needing any more of “their kind”…