[ CW ] A multi-billionaire offers you 100 million to kill a stranger ...

`` You'd have to transfer the money first.'' It was a moonless night, and unusually cold for the beginning of October. Zane's breath made small clouds in the air. 
 
 As far as he could tell, he was the only one on the block. Not many people hung around this neighborhood at night, but Zane somehow found himself drawn to this area. Maybe it was because this was where all the gang violence happened. Shootings, stabbings, armed robberies. Where others found this off-putting, to him, it was alluring. 
 
 He'd been strolling along, with no real destination, when the bright yellow Lamborghini had slunk up. The fat man had parked it along the side of the road, struggled out of the driver's seat, and approached him with an offer he could n't refuse. Which had led them to this conversation. 
 
 `` Really? Just like that?'' the fat man said. `` Some random stranger walks up to you in the middle of the ghetto, past midnight, and says,'Hey, I'll pay you 100 million dollars if you kill a random someone?' You have n't even heard what the terms are yet! How do you even know I have the money to pay up?'' The short, rotund man in the suit scratched his head. 
 
 `` Alfred Brambleton, CEO of one of the largest oil magnates in the world. Most people would n't have recognized you, but I have a predilection for reading about the world's unknown billionaires. Even without that knowledge, anyone could tell that you're at least wealthy from the Armani shoes and solid gold Rolex that you're wearing,'' Zane said, gesturing at Brambleton's high-priced attire. `` Not to mention,'' he added, `` your Lamborghini is difficult to miss.'' 
 
 ``... I'm impressed,'' Brambleton admitted. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped some stray sweat from his forehead. `` So, would you like to hear the terms of my offer?'' 
 `` If this is some sort of social experiment you're enacting, then good for you. It's the only reason I can imagine a man of your wealth would be soliciting participants in the ghetto at 1 in the morning. Now, to be honest, I really could not care less about the'experiment' factor here, but I'll participate if you're paying me that much money to do so. Lay out your terms.'' 
 
 `` Alright, here are the terms. As you said, I'll transfer the money to you first. You'll have 24 hours to get the job done. You ca n't kill homeless people, old people, let's say, uh, over 60, terminally ill people, and mentally or physically handicapped people. Got it?'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' Zane answered. `` Go on.'' 
 
 `` It also has to be someone who, before this conversation, you've never met before,'' Brambleton said. `` So, no co-workers or family members you hate or anything like that.'' 
 
 `` Fine,'' Zane said brusquely. `` I agree to your terms. You transfer me the money, and I'll do it. Then you can write me down as part of whatever silly little study you're doing.'' 
 
 `` Really? No... remorse, no guilt or anything? Boy, you are one cold-hearted son of a bitch.'' 
 
 Ignoring Brambleton's remarks, Zane asked, `` How would the money be transferred? Offshore account?'' 
 
 `` Cayman Islands. It's all already there. I'll give you the password before you do the deed, but if you do n't somehow prove you've killed someone who's truly a stranger to you, then I'll send someone to kill you. I do n't like wasting money.'' 
 
 `` We have an agreement.'' 
 
 Brambleton scribbled the password and account information on a scrap of paper and handed it to Zane. 
 
 `` There's your password. You have twenty-four hours.'' Brambleton turned to go, but Zane's voice made him falter. 
 
 `` One quick question on a, er, clarification of your terms, Mr. Brambleton. It must be someone I've never met before this conversation?'' 
 
 Brambleton slowly turned around. `` Yes...'' 
 
 `` Well, then, I suppose you'll do,'' Zane said, pulling a pocket knife from his coat and holding it to Brambleton's throat. `` Why do n't we go somewhere where we can discuss this in private?'' 
 
 `` What the fuck do you think this is? Do you think you can just rob me like this?'' 
 
 With his unoccupied hand, Zane steered Brambleton toward an alley. `` As a matter of fact, yes. If I were to kill you right now, no one would question it. I would get away with it easily. It would be written down to a random act of gang violence. I'm wearing gloves, so there you would be no fingerprints, no evidence. You would bleed out on the concrete, and the next morning, I would be 100 million dollars richer, and you would be nothing more than a headline.'' Zane pinned Brambleton against the wall of the alley. It smelled of urine and rotting garbage. `` So, Mr. Brambleton, why do n't you make an appeal to my better judgement?'' He skimmed the knife along Brambleton's neck, drawing a thin line of blood. `` This knife can cut a lot deeper.'' 
 
 `` I'll give you money, gold, cars, a house, anything you want! Please, just, please do n't kill me! I'm only 47! I have a family, I, I...'' Brambleton broke into tears, cowering against the wall of the alley. 
 
 `` Your theatrics will get you nowhere, Mr. Brambleton. And neither will offering me money. You've already given me $ 100 million dollars. Why do n't you try another approach?'' Brambleton whimpered, then let forth a powerful sob. `` Pathetic. You disgust me.'' Zane used his unoccupied hand to swat a fly off of his left shoulder. `` I'm going to count to five. In this time, you're going to give me a reason not to kill you. If you do n't, then I guess you'll show up in the morning papers.'' He adjusted the knife, smearing blood across Brambleton's neck. When Zane spoke again, he sounded almost bored, as if this were simply a routine for him. 
 
 `` One,'' he said, his voice as steady and even as a surgeon's hand. Brambleton only sat there, whimpering. `` Two.'' 
 
 `` Please, I'll give you anything!'' 
 
 `` Three. Bribery wo n't work, Mr. Brambleton. You've already exhausted that argument. Four.'' 
 
 `` I do n't want to die! Please, please, let me live!'' 
 
 `` Hmm.'' Zane placed his empty hand on his chin as if he was considering what Brambleton had said. `` No, not convincing enough. Five.'' 
 
 `` Wait!'' 
 
 `` Yes?'' 
 
 `` The password, the account information, it's all bogus. There is no Cayman account. There is no 100 million. It's all bullshit.'' 
 
 `` So, I should n't kill you because the monetary reward is fake?'' 
 
 `` Yes.'' 
 
 `` Compelling. But I'm afraid that counts against you, not for you.'' 
 
 Zane slashed the knife across Brambleton's throat, letting his body fall to the ground. He was prepared to simply walk away, but the scene looked too clean to pass for a gang robbery. That could be solved easily; a few stabs to the abdomen, some bruising on the hands to make it look like Brambleton had struggled instead of sniveling and crying. Make the hair look disheveled, thrust open the jacket, maybe rip the tie a little. Take the watch, the smartphone, the wallet... he was missing something. Of course! The keys. 
 
 The Lamborghini's engine purred as Zane shifted it into gear. He cruised out of the neighborhood, leaving the body in the alley. 
 
 He could n't wait to read the New York Times next morning. 
 
 

