Kieran was quiet as the black Mercedes-Benz sedan sped down the empty highway, needle wavering near the one hundred mph mark. But Kieran knew that, despite the speed, the mere mention of his name was enough to give any policeman cause to turn his head. Or at least, if not that policeman, then his superior.  

He had built his empire in less years than it would take most, swiftly establishing two profiles: those of a suave young billionaire to the public, and a renowned felonious mastermind to the underground. In fact, Kieran had many times been likened to the fictional criminal genius, James Moriarty, and it wasn't a comparison that he was wholly opposed to.

Kieran inserted a set of buds into his ears and a hypnotically-fast violin composition suffused his senses, calming and slowing his mind in that bizarre way it had. He closed his eyes, narrowing the focus of his mind to one theme. 

This scheme was far greater than any other he had ever devised, rendering all his other projects pale in comparison. Of course, Kieran wasn't thoroughly certain that events would play out as he gambled, but betting on human nature and all of the insecurities that it entailed, he was more than willing to take the risk.

Their speed slowed as they approached the upcoming toll booth, and Kieran disconnected his earphones at the sight of the black cars clustered about the turnpike.

"Who are they?" Mistral asked, nodding to the men in black suits who were blocking the road in front of them. 

Kieran glanced to her. "Let me take care of this," he said, stepping out of the car and approaching the men with a leisurely stride. They watched silently, waiting until he was within hearing distance to speak. 

"No passage unless granted." One who seemed to be the leader spoke, holding up an imperious hand. 

"Granted by whom?" Kieran asked, arching a brow.

"I can take it from here, Atticus. Thank you." A short, slim, rather nondescript man stepped into view, nodding dismissively to his companions.

Kieran's jaw clenched almost of its own volition as he turned to fully face one of the few people whom he truly, unconditionally despised. "Isaac Yale."  

"Kieran." Isaac Yale looked to be in his late forties, silvering hair pulled back neatly to the nape of his neck. He fingered a close-cropped goatee beard, and though the gaze leveled coolly upon Kieran was of an identical shade to Raven's, that was where the similarities ended. Her eyes may have been icy, but Isaac Yale's were nothing short of merciless.

Isaac Yale reached up to adjust the scarlet cravat fastened expertly around his neck, the only color in an ensemble the shade of which was identical to his empty eyes. "It's been a long time."

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A/N:

And we have the introduction of a new character! What do you think of him? Is he already unlikable? To tell the truth, though, I haven't quite decided exactly who he is, or why Kieran despises him. That's how I write, though--completely and utterly winging it xD voting and/or commenting is a great way to show your appreciation (if, of course, you have any) for my spontaneity *hint hint* ;D