It was five minutes to midnight that Billy Shawn found himself lying on the wooden dock, bruises spread over his body, shivering violently from the cold breezes brought from the sea.

Billy had never been a good man. In fact, he prided himself in being an arrogant infamous drug lord in town. He had made a certain big deal from one of the dealers earlier that day, big cash equaled happy Billy. So he was definitely in a good mood for some new toy in town. An exotic slave with pearly eyes that screamed innocent virgin, she was his favorite type to fuck.

If you ask the man, he'd said he had never thought he'd end up dead under layers and layers of water in the sea. Well, not yet actually. There he was, kidnapped and beaten down by a rapist, stalker, serial killer, might be an employee of his enemies - it can only be one of those. Billy was dragged out from the windows of his bathroom when he had just finished cleaning himself dry. The attacker didn't leave him severe or obvious wounds. They simply punched him in his abdomen and broke one or many his bones. Whatever they did, it left Billy breathing heavily and panted like a pig.

He was yelling at first. Then turned to negotiating, finally, he came down to begging. He pleaded the man – whose face was half lit up by the moon light, the other side hidden in the shadow – to let him go. His attacker had eyes like a mix of honey and sunshine that were glinting with amusement, dark curly hair and lips curved into a small grin. He was wearing a leather jumpsuit, black leather gloves covered to his fingertips.

"Please, I beg you!" Billy coughed shots of blood into his hand, "Let me go! I'll pay you, I'll pay you double, no, triple the price your employer had offered!"

The man smiled, somehow both endearing and terrifying at the same time, considering he was going to end Billy's life in just a matter of minutes. "That, would be me breaking the contract." His silky, lowered voice almost sounded like music to one's ears.

"I'll give you anything, anything that you want! Money! Whores! Estates! I have them all! Come on, just please!" Billy was crawling now, his plump hand reaching near the man's boots.

"Man, I'd never imagine a drug lord, one as proud and fucking twisted like you, would be in this kind of position. People might mistake you for a filthy low life, almost like a vermin, you know?" The man kicked him in the head, which sent Billy three yards backward. Billy's attempt to overpower him was ruined, now that was a silly thing to do.

Billy groaned, his back hit the wooden logs, body tensed and aching. Blood was pouring from his mouth, made a thin line to his neck and collar, down to his shirt and soaked them with crimson red liquid.

The man stepped toward Billy in a lazy and bored manner.

"Listen. I really, really don't want to do this. Normally, I'd never do anything like this. Well, sometimes I choose the victim and get it over with in minutes. But this is what he wants." He shrugged, his hazel eyes darken, lips dropped to a frown. "Money, whores? I pity you, you know. The fact that you are offering me things that I have no interest in is pitiful. And letting you go would be an abstract idea right now."

He lifted his head to observe the moon, now was hung high in the middle of the pitched-black sky. Two minutes until midnight. He looked back down, giving the old man a small grin.

"And I can't afford to think like that." He bent down in a graceful manner, grabbing the dying man's collar in a tight grip and lifted him up as though it was picking up a broken doll. Billy was never a fit man, but he was tall and heavy with meat and his belly stuck out proudly.

His attacker was smaller, almost one head shorter than him. But he made up in strength, for he had brought Billy from his mansion to this faraway place, running in the darkness without any support by transportations, leaving no trace of blood or evidence. Every thing felt like a dream, a very very bad dream. The difference between dream and reality was that wherein the dream you get killed and wake up, finding yourself still safe and sound on your warm bed, but this, this was reality, where you would be near the verge of dying and the pain was so real it almost make you want to end things yourself. Where you wouldn't get to wake up, but gone and soon to be forgotten for the hazy memories of human.

Billy certainly wanted to believe it was a dream. However, the throbbing pain in his limbs had other ideas, it reminded him the cruel reality that he was in and frightened him. Soon, he too would be gone like the people he had had them killed. He had closed his eyes, hoping this would turn around, that when he open them, his bodyguards, his people would find him, finish the attacker and bring him home where they would treat him to his wounds and he would be fine.

When he opened his eyes, Billy saw the man's warm, almost harmless smile. It sent chill down his spine and made him shudder. Suddenly, the realization hit him.

"You, you are the son of one of those people, aren't you?" He stuttered, tasting the bitter taste of blood in his mouth.

The man shook his head lightly, "Where are my manners? Hi, I'm Blaine, nice to meet you." Blaine had his other hand grabbing behind his target's neck, leaning in closer to Billy's ear and whispered, punctuated at every single word, making sure that his voice wasn't lost in the strong gusts of wind. "And I'm your worst nightmare."

Then there was darkness. Billy Shawn was dead. His body was tossed into the roaring waves of the sea, into the eagerly waiting embrace of night's creatures. Had Billy seen and heard Blaine's last words to him, they would be "Goodbye then, Mr. Billy Shawn Jr." But Billy didn't, couldn't hear that. For he had died, and if people could remember him, they would have known that he had lived for fifty-three years before that winter night.