Chapter 5

New York

Carl Dent, was wealthy, rich is different, wealthy people employ rich people on their payroll. That was the wealth the Dent family had enjoyed, for 300 years his family had been giants among men. To any outsider it looked as if they where old money, unlike the Morgans and the Rockerfellers the Dents held on to their wealth with a brutal and ruthless hold. Any who opposed them soon vanished, it was known in financial circles that you didn't go against a Dent.

Presidents sought council from the Dents, When the previous president had asked about a war overseas, It was Carl Dent who had told him just make something up, I need those oil fields, say he helped Bin Laden, I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT JUST DO IT. Carl Dent was a king maker, if you pledged you're life to him, you would go far in this world. To people in the family the decedents of the leaders of the Dent family was well known, If a Dent had cravings of the forbidden things in life who was anyone to question, if children where bought overseas to be brought to the mansions of the Dents everyone looked the other way. No one would dare question the dents.

The Dent where truly evil to the core, and it all started 300 years ago, when Carlos Dentanius a humble monk had found a sword. It was this sword that he savaged the monastery where he lived, killing all present, he stole the money of the church to start his fortune, Of course it was said he was the sole savior of a pirate attack. That was how the Dent legacy started, the fortune grew through one savage act after another, slowly the power grew, they came to the Americas to avoid being hanged, they used their money to finance masons, and the revolution, some how the knew that was a bid that would pay off, with that act they became Patriots.

It was that thought of his linage that Carl now held the sword, in his office on the top floor of Dent Tower. It was consider an eccentricity of the rich that he carried the sword where ever he went, he remembered when he was young laughing at his father for carrying it, It was on his fathers death bead that he was handed the sword, He no longer laughed at his father.

"you know Carl, you're father practiced with me every day, he was a swordsmen, You know he sliced the throats of at least 40 men with me, I remember once in a business meeting he called a rival out to a duel, It was grand. WITH you I only get prostitutes and children to which I can feed"

Carl Sighed he had been through this before

"Durendal, IN this day and age I can not slay men in power as it once was, YOU are the that told or family financing thugs was the way of the future not being thugs!"

The voice and his head sighed

"I know Carl, I just grow bored, I long for a true battle, something to cut my teeth once more on. Oh you're assistant is goofing off again, she is reading the newspaper, we told her to prepare our speech for the FCC, Let me show you how you train the help."

Carl Sighed, he didn't have time for this he was busy, he didn't have time to beat up his Assistant, Carl had found her on the streets when she was 12, abandoned and alone, he had took her in and trained her, made her something, his personal punching bag. It was with that thought that he stormed out his office and dragged her in by the hair.

"WHAT the hell do you think you are doing whore! I told you I needed that speech!"

and so it went that Durendal took over the beating, he would cut her in ways no one would see, punching where none would notice, so she limped from time to time, no one cared she was the highest paid employee in the building. It was while the beating was going on that Carls mind wandered he could do this when ever Durendal took over, he noticed the article she was reading, it was about an amazing boy who recovered from certain death. Perhaps there was something in the story his medical division would find interesting, somebody who could heal that fast might be worth a second glance.