Later that night in New York, a group of elderly men were wearing blood-red robes. They were a couple of females in attendance: Adrian Eichner, the Angel of Death.

Oscar Wilde once wrote, "Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace."

Too bad Oscar Wilde never met anyone like a real nightmare named The Angel of Death, Adrian Eichner. Someone who is indeed emotionally dead inside takes pleasure in bringing death to others. She does not forgive and does not forget. To the Angel of Death, no one escapes death, and no one escapes her.

The devilishly grinning Adrian, who had her long black and brown hair done in a loose braid with almond brown eyes while wearing her casual black sweater and black pants with stiletto-heeled boots, was reading over the proposal their leader sent to her just recently.

Adrian couldn’t help himself complain about the price the leader agreed upon, “I must say, even to me, that’s a lot of zeros!” Then Adrian passes the document to one of the nearby elderly men.

“But agreeable,” one of the elderly men confirms.

“It looks like Count Chocula and the wolf of wall street had you hot and bothered after all. And I thought he was a broke-ass version of Edward, Shayna. You must be desperate,” Adrian teased as their leader Shayna makes itself know and addresses the group. She was rather short, having platinum blond hair and pale-yellow eyes.

“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” Shayna fires back.

Shayna Hu is the leader of an assassination squad known as the Red Arrow, who is in ties with the Dark Nebula Coalition. Her official title is the “Killer Queen.” For many years the extensive network of assassins has been split into two: those who were loyal to the Novak family and those who are supporting the new generation of changes.

This blood feud has become so personal that is has become detrimental to the Coalition’s forward progress. Hopefully, the new working arrangement will benefit Shayna and her followers along with the rest of the coalition who are willing to support the ongoing regime.

Shayna addresses everyone around the table, “Gentlemen, I am euphoric that we have come to an agreement with the Oleander Syndicate. To see us all together here with one goal in mind: to redesign, to build, and to reclaim the honor of the Coalition! It felt like it was yesterday that it was only fifteen years when our beloved grandmaster lost her battle with lymphoma. And as it stands, her rightful heir has not herself known to reclaim her throne. Ever since that day, many people have died for many beliefs with the coalition, killing ourselves in this meaningless civil brawl.

“For too long, these so-called gods and masters who pretty much wanted to ensure this cycle of never-ending death. They can have that dark and twisted fantasy of misery; while many of us who want to enjoy the finer things in life, can spread forth our legacies with certainty. Xerxes, who is profiting off this meaningless war, will be retiring soon. Leaving one of his bastard kids to run the company. And we will make sure Xerxes will never rise to power as the new grandmaster when the war is over.”

The whole group agreed as Adrian delightedly chuckled while raising her champagne glass.

In suit, Shayna raised her glass as well to toast, “As we are the red arrow, we are the beginning and the end--!”

Those will be Shayna’s last dying words as out of nowhere, someone shot her three times in the chest.

Scrambling for safety, the elderly men took shelter underneath the table as the frightened Adrian took the documents and ran off with them leaving everyone to fend for themselves. As the elderly men take refuge underneath the table, the gunmen surrounded the table, pointing their guns to the darkness.

Cautiously waiting for what’s about to come, they were met with a tiny metallic cylinder that was rolled towards their feet. The small cylinder started to blink red frequently as the lights went off abruptly. Then the tiny cylinder ended up flashing strobe light. It turns out that the tiny cylinder was not only a bomb, but it was a strobe light flash bomb, blinding the henchmen.

Then out of nowhere, a tall assassin decked out in a long jet-black oilskin duster long coat, black gloves, and a motorcycle helmet concealing its identity rushed one of the henchmen and slit his throat. Being dead before he hit the floor, the tall assassin went over to another henchman and stabbed in the chest.

Not done with him yet, the tall assassin was strong enough to pick him up by the throat over his head with one arm and slammed him on the table, stabbing him a few times and chest for the safety measure while throwing him to the ground.

While one of the henchmen tries to shoot at the masked man, the tall assassin dodge-rolled out of the way and kicked in the stomach, sending him off his feet. Then the tall assassin went over to the two henchmen and gracefully stabbed them both in the heart.

As one of the other henchmen try to sneak up on him, the tall assassin gracefully dodge-rolled out of the way again only to sneak up behind him and stabbing him through the heart, killing him. The impatient one of the two remaining henchmen ran up to the tall assassin attempting to tackle him to the ground, only to be stabbed in the chest three times and kicked in the stomach, sending him to the ground on his back.

Paying attention to the henchmen behind him, the tall assassin simply slit his throat and stomach. Finally, the tall assassin looked over at the remaining and dying henchmen as he jumps and lands on him, stabbing him in the chest, twisting it so the wound won’t close, finishing him off. Rising from the corpse, the tall assassin successfully neutralized the threat in the room. As the flash bomb dissipated, the fluorescent lights in the chamber went on again. There we see the four elderly men cowering in fear, quietly screaming to one another.

“This is bullshit. We are all going to die.”

“Since when Lady Memento started killing people?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you go out there and ask her!”

“We will all be dead if you don’t shut up!”

Suddenly, their greatest fear comes to fruition. The attacker was still there, and he or she was waiting for them to come out of hiding. Stand on the table, the tall assassin stomped on the table three times to get their attention, “Everybody out, now!” the tall assassin demanded.

Gingerly, the elderly men crept up under the table. As they all stood in horror, they all took a good look at their attacker. It wasn’t Lady Memento after all, but it was someone just as deadly as she is. It was a tall anonymous assassin in a long jet-black oilskin duster long coat, black gloves and a motorcycle helmet concealing its identity.

With its arms crossed, the tall assassin looked over its next victims, “The meeting isn’t over, and if anybody runs, you all die. Sit down,” the assassin demanded as the elderly men didn’t want to cross him or her. They couldn’t really tell since the assassin used a voice changer to conceal its own. They pretty much knew that he or she was in control and was in no position to take any chances. As they took their seats, the assassin looked around the room.

The tall assassin scoffs at the idea as the anonymous one addresses them, “what is wrong with you people? Do you honestly believe that I would let you do this to my world? To those who want to live in peace. Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time around… Or maybe the second time. We are sick and tired of being sick and tired… We are not going to take it anymore. We. The people. Will not take it anymore.”

“Oh, I agree with that, sir, m-ma’am. We w-were just--” while one of the stammering elderly men was trying to spare his own life, the masked assassin turned its head towards him, gaining some unwanted attention. The elderly man’s anxiety magnified by a thousand, “we will leave, we promise…”

This made the assassin laugh, “I know you are going to leave. And you know what, since I am in a giving mood, I want to give you all something before you go. So, here’s what I was thinking--” Then abruptly, the assassin pulled out of the .357 magnum out of its jacket pocket and shot the same elderly man who was pleading for his life in the forehead while shooting another one in the back twice when he started running away and shot another who was sitting down in the chest.

As they all laid there dead or dying, the remaining petrified man got kicked in the face as he stumbled out of his chair. As he laid flat on his back, the masked assassin jumped off the table and walked over towards him. The assassin leaned over to the bleeding elderly man and straddles him, sitting on his chest.

Looking down on his prey, the masked assassin makes a humorous discovery about him, who is nursing a broken nose, “you know, you’re not as stupid as you look?”

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” the elderly man accepted.

“Oh, I bet you do. Now more than ever, you do.” The assassin emphasizes. “That is why I’m going to let you live.”

The elderly man being relieved, chuckles at his good fortune, “much obliged.”

“But I just can’t let you go, without you doing anything,” the tall assassin concluded.

This revelation scared him, “and what’s that?”

The masked assassin leaned over to him, face-to-face, “I want you to send a message. Whether what side you are on, whatever group you are sided with, it doesn’t matter to me. I belong to no side. I am everyone, and no one. And we hold you all responsible. I hold you responsible. And so, you won’t forget what I just said…”

Afterward, the masked assassin out a cloth and a small can of aerosol spray consisting of foam from its jacket pocket. With the aerosol spray, the assassin sprayed the black fabric with yellow foam resembling a smiley face. The assassin even showed its handiwork to the elderly man who confuses him, “a little visual message of my own. Something that you and everyone else will never forget.”

Afterward, the assassin rubs the cloth with the foam on his face as he screams bloody murder. It turns out that the foam was a mixture of corrosive ingredients, melting and burning the flesh off his face. Thrashing around in pain, masked assassin rises from his stomach.

Fulfilling what he or she needed to do, the assassin went over to the corner only to find its belongings in a backpack. First, the assassin immediately called the authorities and reported a shooting in the area. In its bag, the assassin pulled out a makeshift banner drenched in red paint.