Prologue

20 years ago…..

"Shawn, why are you lying on the roof?" Henry Spencer yelled from the lawn. Shawn was kicked back against the chimney, staring up at the sun.

"A science experiment," Shawn replied monotonously.

"Shawn, you're going to go blind," Henry said, getting out the ladder.

"That's what I'm trying to disprove; the idea that the sun will blind you if you look directly at it for a long time," Shawn continued, not looking up.

Henry climbed up on the roof and stuck 2 fingers in front of Shawn's young face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked.

"Uh… 4?" Shawn replied. He squinted and tilted his head.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Henry said as he helped Shawn down the ladder. "I'll get some eye drops. You go lie down on the couch. As Henry walked upstairs, Shawn muttered "I hope he doesn't see Gus."

10 years ago…..

A young Carlton Lassiter walked across the street. It was his first day on the SBPD, and he was meeting his new partner, a supposed genius that just graduated as well. He walked inside the diner and glanced around. A man in the trench coat with long hair and sun glasses glanced up and gestured to him. Lassiter sat down across from the man. He had scars running from his ear to the edges of the sun glasses. A metal-wood cane leaned against the chair. The handle was silver with a dragon's head. All in all, he looked like a Mafia boss.

"Hello," the man said, extending his hand. "I'm Dmitri Juarez."

"Carlton Lassiter," Lassiter said. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your eyes?"

"I was stabbed by a rival gang member in the eyes. I decided then I would become the best detective in Atlanta," Dmitri explained. "I was promoted, and sent out here, for my incredible hearing."

"Oh really?" Carlton raised his eyebrow with skepticism.

"I can tell you are impatient by the way you are tapping your feet, I can tell that an elderly woman is paying for her meal because of the tapping of heels, her walker and the cash register clicking within feet of each other, and I can tell that the white Ford pickup that just pulled up has a man, around 42 and probably involved with a military or police commitment, and a younger man, probably a relative but most likely a son and about 20 years old. The man is at least 40 because of his limping footsteps, and the military or police background comes from the faint sound of a gun holster slapping against his hip. The younger man is his son because of his arrogant remarks and his refusal to speak the older man's first name during their argument. He is around 20 because he steps with confidence and an easy going stride." He sipped his coffee and ordered hashbrowns as Lassiter looked around.

An elderly lady was paying at the cash register and she did in fact have a walker. He noticed that he had been subconsciously tapping his foot. He stopped and glanced outside. Sure enough, Detective Henry Spencer's white pickup was parked outside. Henry Spencer was walking in the door, arguing with his ruffian of a son, Shawn Spencer.

'That kid's going to be trouble.' Lassiter said to himself. The door buzzer rang again as Lassiter turned around to face Dmitri again. But Dmitri was listening intently. He stood up.

"He has a gun!" Dmitri yelled, pulling his own gun as the man pulled his, but before the man pulled his gun into a position to fire, Dmitri sht. The bullet hit the man right in the gun hand. The man dropped his gun and clutched his hand. Henry strode up to him and cuffed his hands. "That's why I am the best detective in Atlanta," Dmitri said, as he started sipping his coffee as if nothing had ever happened.

5 YEARS LATER

Dmitri sat across from Shawn Spencer in that same diner. Both men's eyes were closed and Henry sat in a chair branching off from the table. They were going to have a battle of the wits.

"We're going to have a battle of the wits, but you appear unarmed," Shawn said obnoxiously.

"We will see who is the foolish one in a few minutes." Dmitri said simply.

"Ok Confucius, whatever your proverbs say."

"If I had eyes, I'd be rolling 'em."

"Hush both of you. First question," Henry said, eyeing both of them. "How many hats are in this room? Shawn?"

"There are 5 hats. One on the chef, one on the cashier, a wannabe cowboy wearing a ten gallon hat, the one on the Hispanic man in the corner, and the fedora on that shadowy figure in the corner." Shawn responded.

"Now you, Dmitri."

"There are 6 hats. The ones Shawn named, plus the one you put on as soon as we both closed our eyes- well, when Shawn closed his eyes."

"Dmitri is correct." Henry said, a note of surprise echoing through the sentence. He hadn't expected to let anybody know he had a hat on. "Next question: What type of car just pulled up outside? Shawn?

"By the noise it's making, I'd say it's an old Chevrolet LUV pickup truck," Shawn said confidently. He was sure of his answer and knew Dmitri wouldn't guess right. Obviously not, because Shawn was already right.

"Actually, it's not a car at all. It's a Honda Rebel motorcycle." Dmitri said. "I own one."

"Dmitri is once again, correct." Henry said begrudgingly.

At went on like this for a few hours, with Shawn getting some and Dmitri getting some.

"The final question. If I go out the front way, turn right, then turn right again, then go 3 buildings down, where am I"

"Mr. Wei's Chinese takeout." Shawn responded. He was unsure, as he had only driven down that street a few times, the last time being a year ago.

"A construction site. Mr. Wei's was demolished 6 months ago." Dmitri smiled and stood up, fetched his cane, and walked out, leaving Shawn and Henry in utter disbelief.

CURRENTLY…..

A man steps out of his car into the deserted lot. He calls out "Hello? Anybody here?" He walks a few more steps as several more men stepped out of assorted Lamborghinis and Bentleys. They all stared around in confusion. They recognize each other: Anders Dieter, the Slavian titanium king, Johnny Rockefeller, oil tycoon, Henry Matson, the emperor of Detroit's car industry, Gotham Verdai, the Indian software multimillionaire, and Luciano Machiatta, Santa Barbara's mob boss.

Suddenly, Luciano pitched forward, a stab wound and a curved, long bladed knife sticking out his back. The rest were felled quite quickly.

Gotham was beat over the head with a steel implement.

Matson was garroted with computer cable.

Anders was decapitated with what looked like a sickle.

Johnny looked at the dead bodies in horror. He turned around, and stumbled back. His terrified face was reflected by dark sunglasses. Johnny wasn't going down so easily though. He was trained in Brazilian jujitsu. He went in and grabbed the other man's shoulder. The man laughed. He brought his hand up in a circle and twisted him around . Johnny aimed a kick for the other man's head, but the other man was faster. He collapsed into the kick as he kicked and flattened Johnny to the ground. The other man growled and Johnny's last sight was the flash of a sickle.