He stared down at the city streets far below, through window panes distorted with sheets of rolling rain, his frame silhouetted by fluorescent lights from a skyscraper on the opposite side of the street. He twirled his sword frivolously as he took a haughty sip of red wine from a sexually curved glass. All the lights in the penthouse room behind him were off, the only light was that which entered through the window, causing an dull, eerie, multi-colored blanket to be tossed across the walls.
The door behind him opened and a short, pathetic, snivelling man waddled toward him on a bridge of light cast by the opened door.
"Sir Skull," the little man whined, "forgive my...hff... intrusion. But we have just got some...hrn...unfortunate...news from your dog-fighting tournament."
Sir Skull raised his silk-robed arm and slowly sipped his wine, never looking away from the window. "And?"
"And it appears it has been...urr... discovered, and the dogs...heh... let loose, and...ahem... many men were killed." He coughed and sniffed his nose loudly, sucking his mucus farther back into his nostrils.
Sir Skull stood silent. He sipped his wine one more time. "And this is all we know?"
"Apparently...hhk... the man who did it... hak!... calls himself 'The Black Enigma.'"
"That room," Sir Skull said slowly in a silky French accent, "was filled to capacity with thugs and killers, and you're trying to tell me that one man was able to take them all down?"
"Ahem... yes, sir," the little squeaked.
"Is that all you have to tell me?"
"Yes, sir."
Sir Skull grabbed the little man by the back of his neck and raised him off the ground. He moved his sword with near imperceptible speed and ran him through his stomach. He pulled the sword out as smoothly as it had entered and smashed the man against the window, which shatters, and the man falls to the puddled pavement below.
"An enigma," Sir Skull said to himself between sips of wine, "is just begging to be solved."
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