[The camera opens on a shot of a bookcase filled with ancient looking leather tomes, embossed in gold and cracked, fading the titles in various spots. Slowly the camera draws back and directly next to the bookcase is an antique red leather chair, filled by a monster of a man. He sits with one leg draping the other, one of those old books in his hand.]
“Welcome..”
[He waves an arm across the room, where random items quickly come into view and leave just as quick; a suit of medieval armor, a dusty globe, a glass decanter with amber-red liquid.]
“Welcome to House Morningstar, where deals are made but _never_ broken. Where men gamble using currency they can’t afford to lose. You see, I’ve travelled the world and I’ve seen men so broken, so distraught that they are willing to give everything up for nothing. Material pleasures that they will _never_ truly own, only borrowing until the day they aren’t.”
[Old Nick closes the book in his lap and sets it on the small table beside him, his cold gaze never wavering. He removes a small silver playing card size box from his inside breast pocket, opens it and removes a long, thin cigarette. With a flourish, it’s lit and he takes a long drag, exhaling blue-white smoke.]
“Those who seek me out tend to think they know what they’re searching for. They think they know what they long for. Most are wrong. Willing to play for keeps in a one-sided battle, willing to walk a path that is not meant for their feet. Blindly stumbling head-first into an agreement they truly do not understand. I’m not all bad, however..”
[He sets his half smoked cigarette into a giant bronze ashtray and stands, smoothing his suit as he does. Tucking both hands into his well tailored pants pockets, he begins to pace the room slowly.]
“I’ve my faults, but never failures. Projects that have passed and people that I’ve pardoned. Built an empire from the ruins of my fathers legacy and toppled ten just the same. I’m not a bitter man, but vengeance builds character. It gives one the tools to make strides toward a secure future, a more secure _faith_. What’s coming can be hard to describe.. hard to put into actual words with actual meaning, but that doesn’t mean it will stop..”
[He pauses at a bay window, one of his hands raising to his face to stroke the ends of his mustache, quite the sullen look on his face. He lets out an exasperated sigh.]
“Because it can’t be stopped. It can’t be helped, just as the sun rises and sets.. the storm that marches down on you now… it’s inevitable.”
[He snaps his head toward the camera, his black orbs glistening wildly.]
“_I_ am _inevitable_..”
[And with that he steps away from the window and into the shadows, leaving the camera to slow zoom in on the giant moon in the blackened sky. Fade to black.]