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Confessions of a Millionaire

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**A man who has lived a life that is so far.... strange, unique, difficult, and also mentally trying finds himself...... at a loss. He supposed that the way he was going, what he has done, the deals he made in his life, that he most likely would die a horrible and lonely death. Sighing, Carthan Banks looks up to the bunker ceiling. "This place I had made became my haven, and now...... I feel it will be my tomb....... how funny?" He laughs at his own thoughts. How low has he gone? How much lower was he willing to go? Shaking his head, he didn't know, and the person who offered him the power he has now was a person he trusted most. That many trusted, as not only was this person a kind and friendly person..... he was a cold, hard, and justified killer and leader. A man who he truly respected, and feared. For, a person who has nothing to lose...... is dangerous. But a person who has only one thing left to live for, that is someone who you just don't fuck with. Sighing, Carthan then glances over to the tape recorder that sat in his bunker. He bought it when he bought the radio he was currently sitting in front of. Nodding slowly, he decided to voice his thoughts, even if was only to himself, and the tapes. They would be his confessions.

Bringing the tape recorder in front of him, he licks his dry lips as he stares down at the piece of equipment that could save his sanity, or set it in stone. His fingers brushed across the buttons, his eyes analyzed and memorized the symbols and letters on the device. While he did all of this, his mind was running light years a second. What if that person found this? What is someone else did? What if he died, and no one found his bunker, let alone the tapes? All these thoughts, ones similar, and others different entirely, came to and went away from him. Staring at the device, he finalized his position and stance on the action he was about to do. Fuck that person, and their words. He may be distant, he may separated, and hell he may even not trust one single person besides the one he was worried about finding this, but he needed an outlet, for if he didn't, he would lose it. He would need stability for the months ahead.

Carthan Banks, once a dead end no future pizza boy, turned intelligent, cunning, ruthless, paranoid, Millionaire. He now licked his lips once more, and breathed deeply and confidently, slowly inserted a blank tape. "Five hours huh.... well that will have to do for now." Flipping it around so that the mic was facing him, and the play button quietly called to him, to activate the tape, and begin his confessions. Nodding absentmindedly, he got up from his chair, pulled out a old bottle of Scotch, with one of two crystal glasses. Pouring the alcohol from the bottle, and drinking the liquid, did he rethink his thoughts. It was about an hour he would later recall of him getting drunk as a party goer at some of his parties he hosted back in the world before making his final decision. Leaning over, he pressed the play button.**

"So, judging by the sound, I guess this thing is recording. That or I am too fucking drunk to tell, well either way this is being said, as I, even a man who was done very wrong things, very malicious, very destructive things, has to state his sins for the masses."

*Some insane and humorless laughter is heard, bellowing at some points, and very quiet at others. This was only for about two minutes.*

"Well, all things come back to you in the end, one way or another. So all harm will come to me eventually. Now, to get to my point, I wish to tell my story, from as far back as I can recall, to think, reflect, look at my actions in hindsight, and wonder to myself.... am I a man who is truly evil, or just another who was corrupted by the greed and power money provided?"

*There is another long pause for about five minutes this time, the only thing heard is Carthan drinking more of the liquid.*

"My first sin against my fellow man, and against the way that is considered right was when I was seven and I killed another boy....... no one ever found out, as I was so....... in self defense they called it. The boy, Gadern, was eleven. We were hanging out one day at his parents. He said he saw something cool that his dad cleaned the other day in his office. We go in..... and open the drawer that contained said item. Later on I would know it to be a old .45 Colt Revolver. We both looked at it, and played with it. It was unloaded at the time, but I, being the curious one of the both of us, decided to tell him to load it with all the bullets, filling it completely."

*His voice the from the beginning was calm, and nostalgic at first, then blank and dull to the end.*

"I don't know how I knew to load a instrument of death, instructing him how, or how I even knew how to operate it. But that day had some important things happen that would stick with me for the rest of my life. As I looked at Gadern, and slowly pointed it at him, I felt power. At first it just felt..... awesome and almighty, but later it would feel cold and worthless. Then, when I saw the fear, the confusion, in his eyes, another thing overcame me. A sense of..... peace...... as if it was right to do this. That kind of feeling you get when you kill someone who might have turned into a serial killer."

*He chuckles darkly at the last part.*

"Oh how wrong is that to say for me? But I digress. As I finally pulled the trigger, time slowed down a lot. It could see the pistol as it rose in my grip from the recoil. I could feel the pure power of the round as started on it's deadly path. I could remember the muzzle flash of the combusted gun powder as the bullet came racing out. I can remember vividly as the bullet traveled into Gadern's chest, the blood that spurted from the shot and landed on me, the blood that gushed out onto the white wall behind him. I remember watching his shocked face, his confused eyes, as he slowly fell to the ground. His knees hitting the floor with a loud thump, his eyes losing the light and life that occupied them moments ago, and the loud scrape as his body fell backwards and slid down the wall."

*His voice was.... calm. Almost as if recalling a surreal moment in time.*

"The third and last thing I felt after that was fear...... fear at what I have done, and what others would think about me. So, in my state of mind, I made it look like a struggle, and I made it seem I gained control from him of the weapon and used it in self defence. Somehow it worked, but that moment was a learning experience for me. I learned from many mistakes that occurred from that time, and the feelings I feel now after all I have done. That..... is my first of many offenses against my fellow man."

**Carthan slowly presses the stop button, and continues to drink. He sips on the last of the bottle as he gets out of his seat, stumbles to his bed, and falls down backwards on it. As he stares up at the ceiling, the memories of that moment replay in mind, as he drinks the last sip, and falls asleep.**

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Wow some story. Damn dark one at that. Well hope to peer more into Carthan's past soon. 10/10 made me cry inside

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**Carthan Banks is walking through the woods once more after leaving the house they rested at. He hopes that they don't take his disappearance as a sign of betrayal. Flinging the thought from his mind, Carthan walked up to a certain object. Quieting down, he looked to his left and to his right. Then to all around him. After doing this for over fifteen minutes, he nodded with a relieved sigh. Pulling out a black object, a scanner that had a electronic encryption on it, did the place it against the object. All was silent for a few moments until a beep was heard, then the rotating of large tumblers and bolts as the hatch unlocked. Carthan smirked as he waited for it to open. Even if he died out on his travels, no one would get in. The electronic lock was the first safety measure. He has a few of them. But only two are out here in South Zagoria.

The first one on him, and the second in a special place. Sighing with a happy sigh, he pulled on the hatch and opened the entrance. Hoping inside and on the stairs, he turned around and brought the hatch back down. Walking down the stairs, after making sure the hatch was secured, did he take off his mask. Breathing in the filtered air, he finally made it to the bottom and turned on his lights. Walking over to his armory, he placed his AK-74 that Ms. Nyleea gave him, his M1911 Engraved into their holsters in the door. He then removed the Plate Carrier, Hunting Backpack, and any other equipment that was on his person.

Stretching out his sore muscles and back, Carthan pulled off his clothes and walked to the shower. Turning on the water to warm, he let himself be cleansed for seven minutes. Walking out and drying himself off, he walked over to his desk. He looked to the tape recorder that he had left out when he left the bunker last week. Looking at it for a moment, he sighed and pressed play. He left here so if he missed any broadcasts over the radio frequencies, they then would be recorded for him to hear. Nothing much of note, he pressed stop and removed the tape. Placing in the one that contained his thoughts, he moved off to get something to eat before he would be begin.

Some minutes later, with a full stomach, did Carthan sit down at the desk and stare at it. He wondered why he continued to record his sins for them to be accounted. Was it regret? Was it guilt? Or did he just in some fucked up way want people to know he was the one who did it so he can be remembered? Carthan shook his head, he didn't know, and only just felt.... compelled to continue this. Leaning over, he presses the play button.**

*The tape begins to record.*

"Hello. It is me again. The man who states his sins for the masses. Today, we shall continue to where my life truly began. I was 18, fresh adult, out of my parents house, working a dead end pizza boy job. My life was going no where anytime soon. College was planned, life was ready, and mind was set. In celebration to my adulthood, I decided that I would go buy a lotto as a trophy, whether I won or not didn't matter, it would just be a testament to me being a adult."

*Some gulps are heard, probably Carthan drinking some water.*

"I walked in, and smiled to the local gas station clerk. Letting my eyes wonder, I looked at scratch tickets, lotto cards, and just about every single gambling object that a gas station give out to poor souls such as myself. It wasn't until I stopped and saw that lotto card, that my world seemed to slow down. The cars' sounds out side were distant, the music playing in the ceiling speakers dulling, and my whole body just felt like I did in that moment when I killed Gadern. Blinking a few times, time sped back up and everything returned to normal. I was confused. Was that a sign of fate? Or just one of those gut feelings you get. Either way, I looked back up to the clerk and pointed at said ticket."

*The movement of a seat is heard, along with footsteps. It would be safe to assume he was pacing now.*

"I finally reached my shitty apartment, and walked in. It was Wednesday, or lotto day as my dad used to call it. They hadn't revealed the numbers yet, and that feeling came back, telling me which ones to scratch. As I sat there, waiting, I wondered if I just might win. I wasn't hopeful, just curious. It was as the numbers came up, and I slowly read them as they appeared, and looked to my card, did my eyes widen. I had won! I had won the lottery, and now I was fucking rich! I hurried and called the company and let them know. Shortly I was transported, bank accounts traded, contracts signed, taxes paid, and all of the hoops jumped through. I was now the proud owner of 50 million dollars. Now, to anyone else, they wish they had that, but would also laugh as it was such a small amount. But not me, oh no. I would invest this, make businesses, buy stocks, and make it grow. I knew I could, as I was planning on going into such a field anyways."

*The movement returns to the seat and he seems to be bored.*

"And that, my dear listeners, was the day that Carthan Banks died, and I was born."

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**Mr. M was calmly sitting in his bunker. He was swirling a half empty glass of Scotch, while looking to the ceiling. Over his face was one of the Skull Balaclavas that his current world associated with a long disbanded group called the "Reapers". He had cut a small portion of the mask, so he could eat through it. Bringing the glass to his mouth, he sipped on the burning, soothing, amber liquid. His eyes, his cold, empty, and deep blue eyes looking to the wall in front of him. The wall was displayed full of information. His thoughts, ideas, and reports he had received. Everything from his time in "The Network". Identities, names, numbers, and biographies of all of those he met, or worked with. His eyes then glanced to the shelves where tapes upon tapes lay. All of them audio logs of his thoughts, his confessions, his "Dirt" as some would say. Both on himself, and of those he worked with.

He calmly then turned in his seat. He viewed the opposite wall. He viewed the armory case that held his supplies and weapons. All of the gear he would need to live out in the world above him. He then saw the metal door, behind it held his storage of ammunition, supplies, medical supplies, food, generators, and whatever else he deemed he needed down in his concrete tomb. He briefly looked upon the bed, but shook his head. He didn't want to sleep.

Pressing play on the tape before him, he breathed in deeply.**

"It has been some time.... has it not Masses? I am here to continue my story for those who care to find this and listen. But the sound of silence I have been in, around, in out of is bound to keep this here. Quiet and forgotten. None of it matters though, as I continue to sit in this tomb of mine, and ponder. But I digress......"

**Mr. M then sipped calmly. After a few moments, he mutters something untellable, and downs the rest of the glass. Putting the crystal drinking utensil on the desk before him, he continues.**


"After my beginnings, with my businesses growing fine, and everything in place. My rise to power was assured, and everything was set for the checkmate of my game of chess with life..... then that night happened......"

**As he said this, he rubbed the scar that spanned across his neck. A bold, white line, of a throat being slit once lay there. It was a mark of his mistake, one he would never forget.**

"As I was walking home one night, the shitty apartment I still inhabited, Death himself stepped out of the shadows. He relieved my of all my material possessions, only leaving me and my clothes. He showed me that even up high, that I still am but a kneeling peasant to his might and authority. After the humiliation, he delivered his judgment to my being. He proceeded to cut my throat open. After that, he vanished back into the shadows from whence he came. As I fell to the ground, holding my throat, watching the red lifeblood that kept me going spilling onto the sidewalk. It was only moments before I somehow found the strength to stand. I remember the reason I lived that night. It was my rage, my anger, my lust..... that allowed me to move......"

**His voice was cold as he said this. Barely restrained anger and rage in his tone of voice. Some deep breathes are heard as he seemed to calm himself.**

"After that night, I beat Death, and I would not allow him to try his hand at my life again. I made sure that when we met again at the table of chance, that I would have the Royal Flush. I survived, and moved onto greater things. It was in that time, that I realized what my purpose on this godforsaken planet we call home is.... Those who are here to survive... they will do anything that will allow them to live. Some would call them cowards, and others would call them opportunists. Those who are here for revenge.... they will do anything that will allow them to get their vengeance. The difference between all of us, Humans, is plain and simple. We all seek to live and survive. Whether it is for survival or revenge. But I...... I am here for a much different reason. I am here to do as I please. I am here to do what I wish, to allow myself to live. To begin relations of business. As I am Mr. M........ and I am here to make an offer...... an offer to those who have lost all, or to those who have no one else to turn to. I am here to offer a helping hand to the survivalists, and I am here to help guide those who seek vengeance to their targets."

**He seemed to chuckle mirthfully as he said this.**

"It truly is amazing when people are stooped low. How they truly show themselves, the evil that lays within them. The evil that lays within all of us. No one can escape it. It is there from the moment we are brought into the world around us. Now, after I realized my purpose of walking this Earth, I helped people to their dirty motives, and in return I rose further and higher. I wasn't popular to the public, but to those I allowed to know of me.... They grew to fear my power. Some tried to stop and end me, and they fell. Others kneeled before me, and allow me to guide them. As in the end.... there was never any hero in our world..... only those who show their evil within, and those who seek to hide it."

**Mr. M calmly presses the stop button, and leans in his chair. He poured himself another glass, and continues to ponder.**

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Great job! Very detailed and interesting.

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