Talk to nicely.

Edgar Wilson sits alone in his open floor, penthouse apartment,

a glass of scotch in one hand, and an unlit cigar in the other.

The sun set long ago, yet Edgar hasn't moved from his chair by the penthouse's massive wall of windows and hours.

He has a bottle by his leg and more cigars in his shirt

pocket. To Edgar's mind, there's no need for him to go anywhere. But he doesn't sit there in

the dark, alone, with only his vices to keep him company because he enjoys it. Now, Edgar Wilson

is waiting for someone. He simply doesn't know when,

or if, this someone will arrive. Edgar takes a sip of his scotch and twirls the cigar

in his fingers while he waits. Come on, he says out loud. I know you heard my summons. Let's get this show on the road.

Edgar sighs and glances out at the incredible view of the city.

From his perch atop the McLean building, he can see everything.

Every landmark the city has to offer is within Edgar's line of sight.

And by turning his head just a few degrees,

so are pieces of art worth millions. He could spend hours, even days, just admiring his collection.

Not that he has that kind of time for frivolity. Edgar is a serious businessman, one of the

most powerful and wealthiest in the city.

It's how he can afford a top-floor penthouse with such an enviable view.

He looks down at the small side table next to the chair and the newspaper that sits upon it.

He sneers at the front page article about one of his rivals executing the

biggest real estate deal the city has ever seen.

Prick, he says, picking up the paper and staring at the headline. New development approved

...