Man in Black(Michael Clint Newbern) "...But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back, till things are brighter. I'm the Man in Black."

And so he prowled in the darkness of night. He clothed himself in dark colors. He had spent his life as the Man in Black, tormented from his past.

Rain poured down onto the interlocked shingles lining the roof. The water flowed swiftly through the intricate patterns and rolled off into the gutters. Lightning burned paths in the sky and the powerful sounds of thunder filled the late night air. Screams echoed from within his parent room and the smell of freshly spilled blood filled his nostrils. Out of panic, the small boy slid out of his bed and quietly pushed open his bedroom window. He feared for his parent's safety, but instinct, along with his dad's guidance in these situations, persuaded him to fend for himself. The boy ran out into the drowning world outside and hid among the cattails far down in a ditch. The water came up to his waist and the extending reeds covered his upper torso. He did not come out of hiding until the following morning when the police arrived and the coroner pronounced his mother dead. His father's body could not be found. His childhood would be spent bouncing from foster home to foster home.

The boy developed a fetish for following people and tracking their every move. He grew very good at following people, even into their own home, and slipping away unnoticed. After some time of following this desire, and some help from the Internet, he got connected with the right people. The young man became a man for hire. He preferred not to call himself a hit man, but rather a man for hire, the Man in Black.

His mind remained focused. The shadows assisted his clandestine movement while following the target. This was to be a clean and easy hit. The target probably would not remember him or his family from his childhood. He would ensure that the target knew who he was before the target's final breath. Justice would finally be served.

The target was dressed very similar to the Man in Black. The only exception was he wore a white collared shirt with a black tie hanging from his neck inside his coat. He could tell, from the slight bulges under each arm, that the target carried dual pistols under his overcoat. The target's hair was dark, much to the likeness of his own, and presented an aura of weathered experience in his trade. His shoes tapped lightly as he moved on the pathway lined with the radiance of small light bulbs. The target wore glasses and the Man in Black knew the tint would be yellow. The glasses were for low light shooting and would most definitely be ballistic. The target was a pro, but would not be likely aware he was also someone's prey.

As the target continued to glide up the path closer to the mansions inviting doorway, the Man in Black tracked him from the concealment of the shadows outlining the pathway. His heart burned for the revenge he owed the target, yet his mind remained focused and clear for the task at hand. The target stopped in his tracks, facing the large doorway leading to his hit, and turned away from the door's entrance. Several other party guests climbed the steps to the door and the well-dressed prey greeted them and motioned for them to enter. The outside of the mansion was empty. No other guests remained outside with the Man in Black and his target.

The time at hand had come. The Man in Black pulled his silenced .22 caliber magnum pistol from within his coat. He lowered to one knee, created perfect sight picture and sight alignment, exhaled, and heard a muffled shot fired from behind. Instantly his left lung began to burn and blood rushed out of the hole penetrated by the bullet. The Man in Black slumped forward and rolled over to his back. As he rolled, he readied his pistol for retaliation. Upon visual contact with the unforeseen attacker, the Man in Black fired two shots center mass and one dead straight into the forehead. The confrontation ended with the attacker dead in his footsteps.

Moments like hours passed as the Man in Black struggled to climb up on his feet. By the time he succeeded, even in great pain, his target was upon him. The target struck the Man in Black with the butt of his silenced .45 across his temple. The Man in Black faded off into dreams. The silenced shots did not disturb the loud boisterous partygoers.

When he awoke, he had been drug several feet away from where he was pistol-whipped. The shadows concealed his target and himself. Roles had reversed. He was the target. The Man in Black laid in pain from the fire burning in his lungs. He looked up into the face of the man who had killed his mother and took his father away. Blood oozed out of his mouth and down the left side of his face. One last shot was fired into the Man in Black, ending all life. The face he so deeply stared into as he died was his father's.

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