Dark Shadows: Speaker of the Naga (Prologue/Act I)

PROLOGUE

"The time has come for your tribute, Burke, as per our agreement. A large fortune awaits you, old friend. I will see you there in Brazil when you arrive. It's just a matter of time, my friend. It's just a matter of time..." signed, Dameon Edwards.

Burke lay on top of his bed with his tie loosened and hanging from his collar. In one hand, he was holding a cigarette. In the other, he held a strange letter that he found on his office doorstep a week prior. He sat up, pressed his cigarette firmly in the ashtray on his night stand, and reached for the nearly empty glass of scotch and water. As the ice cubes clinked together while he downed the last sip, his mind began to wander. So many words ran through his mind.

He thought of his fiancée, Victoria, and how she was worried about this particular business trip. He brushed his lips with his fingers, reminiscing the soft press of her lips on his before he said goodbye. He had gone on business trips before, but this one was unsettling. Not so much because of the letter he was holding, but because of the cryptic warning that the boy, David Collins, had given him.

Little "Davey" had become his best friend and pal since he returned to Collinsport, and he loved him as his own son. In the months that he had been there in town, he had been more of a father to David than his actual father, Roger Collins, had ever been in his eight years.

David held tightly to him as he was leaving Collinwood and said aloud that he had the feeling that he wasn't coming back. As hard as it was to reassure David and Victoria that he would return shortly, he found it difficult reassuring himself that all would be well. This was no ordinary business trip. This was a meeting he knew of six years ago. He had no idea how it would come up, but in his mind, he often heard the words spoken to him by a man he met in prison. Those words had been ringing clearly in his mind once the letter had arrived. The words were, "It's just a matter of time..."

Burke set his glass down, but kept one of the scotch-flavored ice cubes between his teeth. He lay the letter down on the other side of his bed and clutched his pillow tight. He thought of Victoria and her sweet, innocent smile. He kept thinking of the house he would have called "Sea View". He would have everything he ever wanted. A beautiful woman to go home to, a fine house, and more money in his bank accounts than he could have ever dreamed of. This trip would give him what he needed to surpass the wealth of the Collins family, he just knew it. He would have more wealth and power than Barnabas Collins, who tried in every way to charm Victoria away from him. He would never have to feel anything taken from him ever again. He would never know the feeling of loss again. His possessions and wealth would only grow, his house would never depreciate, and his wife would be devoted only to him.

This was the deal of a lifetime. Although he knew that the greatest part of the fortune to be found would be given in tribute to the man who helped him out of prison, the sacrifice would be worth it. He had to go. Nothing could stop him. He would be rich beyond any dream that he had as a young boy. No restrictions, no worries that the common man faces from day-to-day, and no problems. Ever. All would be perfect when he returned.

He closed his eyes, and tried to drift off to sleep. His mind, heavy with thought, wandered back to the night when he first met the man who wrote the letter. It was six years ago. In his mind echoed the loud screaming and taunts of the inmates and the prison guards. The stench of rust and iron permeated the air. His fists clenched as he felt tension swelling deeply within him. Perspiration poured heavily from his hair and over his eyes. He was there again...in the place called the Iron Red.

ACT I

Deep within the belly of the State Prison was an iron grate with a red bar in the center. Down beneath this metal grating were cracked concrete stairs that led to a large room filled with boiler pipes, large metal beams on the ceiling, and thick iron walls covered with dried blood stains and rust. Once, this room was used to torture and interrogate prisoners during the Civil War, and the blood of many men and women was spilled within these walls. Over the years, this room was used for something more practical. The most ill-behaved and dangerous prisoners were sent here for fighting every week. No rules, no referee, only fighting until the other couldn't take anymore.

The inmates who were chosen would watch as two of them would fight in the dirt-covered arena. There, they sized up the winners for whom they may have to fight next. At the far end was a cage where guards were surrounded. Within the walls of this cage sat the most distinguished government officials, often including the governor and members of the state legislature. They would use treasury funds, campaign donations, and government-organized charity donations as front money to gamble on the winners. The lost money would be given back to the treasury which would act as a large pool for the next fight. In the past, large amounts of money that were lost were marked as donations to the city and state as cover stories, which made for good publicity in campaign ads. It was a never-ending cycle.

Candidates who started out with the most honest of intentions quickly fell from grace as they saw this kind of opportunity to fill their bank accounts with money that was so easily manipulated. The money and corruption only grew, and, with each election, the funds were at their highest from campaign supporters. In the last four years, however, the tide was beginning to turn.

Burke was much younger than most of the inmates there within the walls of the Maine state prison, and a lot more angry, which made him all the more dangerous when it came to survival. He had survived growing up as the poorest kid in town, being beaten and abused by his father, being falsely accused of manslaughter, and sentenced to serve hard time in the state penitentiary. To add insult to a life of injury, the woman he loved married the one who testified against him the day after his trial was over.

There he sat in the courtroom, listening to his accuser, Roger Collins, testifying that he was in the car that Burke had been driving. Roger told the judge that Burke hit a pedestrian and fled the scene. Burke's lover, Laura Murdoch, sat there with Roger, holding his hand, saying nothing. After his conviction, Burke screamed that one day he would kill Roger. He vowed to take revenge on the entire Collins family for putting him there.

Roger made sure that Burke would never come back, and, with a little monetary influence, the judge classified Burke as a dangerous criminal and was transferred to the state prison in Maine.

With stale, cold meals every other day, no blankets, and no one to trust inside or outside the prison walls, Burke often took his anger out on the other inmates. He quickly became the shark in the pecking order among the other prisoners, which established him as a highly-valuable asset in the Iron Red. Although certainly not the biggest man, no one could match his resentment and anger when he was pushed past a threshold. Burke quickly became a favorite contender among the gambling officials, and was undefeated in over 60 fights. Of course, being a large money-maker for them did come with slight privileges.

Since Burke had become the top-ranked fighter, he was given special protein-packed meals that would build his strength and provide extra nourishment to win. Also, he was given a pack of cigarettes after each win. With these favors as his motivation, he became consumed in the competition, and the attending elects quickly learned that he would be the one to bet on to make the most profit. Although he knew that money was their only reason for giving him such favors, he found a kind of solace and acceptance through their so-called "generosity". It was the first time he felt superior,and respected somewhat. Through the years, he chased those feelings while pummeling away at anyone who stood toe-to-toe with him in the Iron Red. One night, after a relatively short fight, Burke's life would be changed forever.

Burke stood there reeling as a wild-swinging punch connected with his nose. He gathered himself quickly, dabbing his hand underneath his nose. He saw blood running down his hand and felt a flash of rage coming over him. Before the man could even move to the left or right, Burke had charged him with a loud cry as he dealt the man a hard blow that dislocated his jaw. Burke quickly followed with a left and right combination to the man's ribs, cracking them. His opponent tried to back up, but Burke quickly grabbed his throat. In the blink of an eye, Burke slammed him to the ground, knocking him unconscious. Burke was then escorted by the guards toward the concrete stairs that led to the iron grate. The loud cheering and cursing echoed around the rusty, metal walls of the Iron Red.

Burke was taken to his cell as usual. Typically, within an hour, a guard would deliver a meal and a pack of cigarettes to him. Although this was a horrible place to be and he was always on guard against those who would try to take his spot as the shark, Burke felt a quiet contentment. As long as he put on a good show, he was respected, feared, and accepted. However, tonight as he sat there, two hours had gone by.

"I want my payoff! Where did that little guard go? He better watch his back the next time he comes in here. He knows what I have coming to me!" Burke shouted.

A guard came by with a key twirling in his hands, whistling a tune. Burke shouted above the whistling. "Frank, what's going on here? Where are my smokes? What are you doing here?"

Frank never replied, he only whistled. With a loud turn and roaring slam of the iron doors, Burke quickly stepped out and grabbed Frank by his shirt collar. "Maybe you didn't hear me, Frank! I said I want my smokes and my supper now! Where is it?!"

An unfamiliar, deep-voiced man quickly reacted and knocked Devlin to the ground with a knight stick. "All right, Devlin! I would stop right now if I were you! You have a visitor to see you, so you might as well make yourself presentable! I'll give you three-minutes." the guard snapped.

Burke straightened his hair and uniform, and the guards led him in shackles to a room where anxious inmates were eager to see or hear from their loved ones. All the time he was in here, he never had a visitor. He had written letters to his friend, Sam Evans, but Sam had never replied. Who could be there to see him?

Still sore from the hard punch he took, he sat down in a chair and looked ahead to see who was sitting in front of him. Burke was surprised when the guard removed his shackles and left him alone with the man to talk. Burke saw a strange looking man with dark hair sitting across from him. He was wearing a custom-tailored, off-white suit with an off-white tie and shoes to match.

After staring for several moments, the man introduced himself. "Why don't I begin, then?" He held a brass cane with a gold ball on top, which itself had a pearl emblem of a strange-looking serpent engraved on it. "I will be brief, Burke. I have been chosen to deliver a message to you. If you accept my offer, you will be given riches beyond anything you could have ever dreamed, and you will be set free. Interested?"

Burke laughed, "Oh! So here's where my smokes must have gone. That's why they weren't given to me. Now I have to sell my soul to this man here, who is The Devil from the looks of him, and now he's offering the world to me. Well, Mr Devil, if you have the right kind of imports on you, I will gladly sign it away."

The man never smiled. "Are you finished, my friend? There is much to discuss, and you need to listen because I only speak once."

Burke cleared his throat and asked. "Well, forgive me, 'Sir'. Before I do business with anyone, I like to know their names. What's your name, bud?"

The man gave a slight, half-smile. "My name is Edwards...Dameon Edwards."

Burke chided. "So you're the one who's offering the world to me, huh? If I say "yes", when do I get it? Today?"

Dameon Edwards looked at him indifferently as he spoke. He placed both arms on the table, and Burke noticed a tattoo on his wrist that was the same serpent-like symbol on the top of his cane. His lips formed a twisted grin when he said the words: "It's just a matter of time, my friend...It's just a matter of time."

(I do not own the rights to "Dark Shadows." This is only my fan fiction written for the enjoyment of the reader.)