Challenge Accepted.

A

Winona, Minnesota, 1997-

It was in the early hours of a cold November morning that a mysterious person arrived at a secluded winter holiday retreat.

" So what you're telling me is that you can ensure that it won't run out at least till next century and the amount of money that I can make minus the cost of course is more than Jones?" Ragnar Appleton kept his gaze fixed on the sheet in front of him. Years of experience meant he could distinguish genuine facts from cherry-picking and graph manipulation, and yet he found nothing off about the data on the sheet. Not a single graph was noticeably altered, not a word purposely omitted or the use of the common terms 'it implies', ' it suggests' or even ' it points to'. Only the words ' it is'. In his years of dealing with employees and businessmen alike, he had never once seen a report so beautiful, so elegant, so crisp in its message that he felt no need to think for another moment before signing the contract.

The room they were standing in had walls of a pale yellow shade of green. The curtains on the two windows were drawn and the gate was locked. Ragnar had sent away the housekeeper on some errands to the nearby town. The only two souls that were in the house, aside from the ghost of McMillian Senior, the great-grandfather of the previous owner, were that of Ragnar and his companion. Ragnar's companion was a man of short build but was muscular, as if he went to the gym regularly, and sported a thin moustache, typical of the hero of an Italian movie. His voice was not too deep yet not deep enough. His left eye was an ocular prosthesis. His other eye was well functioning and the colour of the iris was a pale green. The muscles of the region above the left eye twitched slightly when he spoke with vigour and passion about his political views at the local pub near his workshop in Chicago. But as some people say, 'It's not the looks but what's inside that matters.' boy, did he have some guts.

" Yes, that I can assure you. What I can't assure is that I haven't sent one of my assistants with the same proposal to Jones," said the man who seemed to be in his late thirties, much younger than Ragnar. It had always been a possibility, thought Ragnar, that the man in front of his eyes, for all his brilliant scientific mind and talk of 'the good of humanity', still couldn't resist the allure of money. Many a time he had come across such a situation in which he had to bid the highest, contesting against his competition to get the best government and private contracts to expand his business. But not many people knew the soft side of Ragnar. He was the secret benefactor to two non-government-affiliated organisations fighting poverty, disease and hunger in various third-world countries. If his accountant is to be believed, he had donated more than a third of his profits to 'noble causes'.

"Fine, Reynold. Seventy million out to keep your mouth shut. Take that briefcase lying over there," he said, pointing towards an ordinary-looking briefcase probably of the Harrison make, "It has the half a million you need to give me a working prototype. And here's your advance." Ragnar produces a gold coin from the pocket of his coat. It weighed about fifty grams and shone like it was minutes yesterday, but one couldn't tell as gold doesn't lose its shine.

"Good day, si-". Before Reynold could complete his sentence, a loud boom was heard. A bullet whizzed past them and then another—the glass of both the windows shattered under the deluge of miniature metal projectiles. Ragnar, relying on his instincts got down, his chest touching the wooden floor.

Reynold wasn't so lucky. He had been hit at least five times, three of which were direct hits to the skull. But he seemed just fine, save the screams " NO! NOT YOU! NOT THIS TIME! THIS IS JUST LIKE WHAT HAPPENED IN AML-". His skin started to change colour and texture. It became sandy like sandpaper and black as coal. Tentacles started emerging from the places on his body where he was hit. Another bullet hit him, but this one managed to penetrate his skull, unlike the others. It went straight into the ventricles of his brain and started to release its deadly cargo. Suddenly Reynold collapsed into a pool of blood that was red but had a hint of purple in it. It wasn't ordinary blood. Something was different about it. Something sinister. The blood started to clump together. The clumps started to move towards each other but before they could all coalless another bullet hit the blood. This time it stopped. It stopped moving. Permanently.

Ragnar could understand nothing of what he saw. The shower of bullets stopped abruptly. In his years of doing business he had made a lot of friends but a few enemies as well. But he couldn't think of anyone who would want him dead. After all, he was just the average oil Barron.

Suddenly the door flung open. That's funny, Ragnar thought. He was sure that he had locked all the seven locks that he had built into the door personally, a small measure against someone entering without his will.

Through the smoke and mist, he could make out the silhouette of a person. The figure stood still for a moment and then extended a hand towards Ragnar. After a bit of hesitation, he grabbed the hand. It was soft and warm and Ragnar realised it was that of a woman. He paused momentarily and then stood up with an air of embarrassment. By now the smoke and mist had cleared away.

" My name's Ragnar, Ragnar Appleton. Could you please explain to me why you just killed my associate and why on earth did he turn into a pool of mush? Misses -" Before Ragnar could end the sentence, the lady answered,

"It's Miss Elis. You can call me Elisa if you want. I'm sorry but there's not enough time to tell you everything. Could you please follow me for your safety?"

"But where are we going?" Ragnar asked, grabbing his hat from the table.

"I have no idea. My brother doesn't tell me too much."

"Excuse me, your brother?"

"Save your questions for when you are out of here."

"That isn't a very nice way to talk to a millionaire is it."

"I don't think it's a good idea to act pompous in front of a woman who can end your life at any time she wishes and isn't just ending it because her brother would be mad at her. Now follow me."

Both of them speeded and went down the stairway. As Ragnar exited the front door his eyes fell on a beautiful Red Nissan Navara pickup truck.

"Very well. But I'll drive," said Ragnar as he reached for the driver's seat.

"Fine. I won't crush your self-esteem by driving it myself," Elis replied sarcastically.

"I must admit, you're quite an attitude for a woman," Ragnar added.

"Just shut up and drive," Elsi told him, blushing slightly. They were off into the sunrise.