Melvin Brevic was not, in any way, shape, or form, a good man.

His father was a used car salesman. He wove scams like thread into mountains of cash for his company, robbing customers blind. The man had a presence to him, a charisma. He could sell you the jacket off his back, he could sell water to a fish, he could sell light to the sun. No amount of will could save his target's wallets, however frugal they were. Soon enough they would inevitably be driving out of the lot in a piece of garbage that would break down within the month, a few thousand dollars lighter than when they showed up. Brent Brevic was the reason for the stereotype of his profession, and he wore that badge with pride.

His mother ran a tourist scam. Rich idiots who wanted to call themselves 'well-traveled' were her chosen prey. Whether it was tours through streets full of pickpockets she hired, 'ancient artifacts' made in a garage somewhere, or fortune tellings so vague they could mean anything, she drew them in like moths to a flame. And her 'experiences' were so unique that even after being robbed, ridiculed, and tricked, the idiots just kept coming back. Martha Dolput was the nightmare of the traveler's wallet.

Then, they met. Both immediately tried to scam each other, and both immediately recognized they were being scammed. But so sure in their own talents, they played along with their stories, each sure they could out-con the other. In the end, Brent ended up getting Martha to buy a beat-up van for the exact amount of profit that she had pick-pocketed from him during their meeting. Melvin's father carried a lot of cash, apparently.

A win-win, or mutual loss, depending on how you looked at it. Melvin's parents saw it as fate, and one way or another ended up together.

And eventually, Melvin himself arrived on the scene. He was taught the ways of his parents from birth. As a toddler, he was allowed to get away with anything so long as he gave his parents an adequate alibi. Whenever he talked himself out of a grounding, they looked on in pride. They admitted their professions as soon as he was able to understand the concepts of trust, betrayal, and most importantly, money.

It was a philosophy in their family, not necessarily that money was the most important thing, but that personal happiness was better than the greater good. Selfishness and greed were a part of humanity, and they were to be embraced. Their family cared for each other not because it was 'good' or 'right', but because seeing each other happy made them happy, they valued their own happiness overall.

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Empathy was for those you could afford to give it to. Melvin had few friends, but those he did have a rapport with were individuals exempt from his and his family's greed. True friends were to be treasured. A life of solitude wouldn't bring him happiness, so why would he pursue it?

Soon enough, Melvin grew into a child worthy of his parents' legacies. He could talk his way out of anywhere, anything, and all the consequences involved. He lied more naturally than some people breathed. Some merchants had a silver tongue, Melvin's was probably closer to platinum. A con artist was still an artist, and he was a modern Michelangelo.

When he finally got old enough to go off and start his own web of lies and tricks, he decided to go big.

Easy Solutions Incorporated. ESI was his masterwork. It was a company solely centered on over expensive solutions for rich idiots with more money than brains. A vacuum that got rid of dust and replaced it with golden glitter? Of course sir! All yours for six easy payments of $79.89! A tiny little robot that polished all your jewelry? We have it all ma'am! Just $899.99!

And the idiots ate it all up. Every month he came up with new stupid and over-engineered trinkets and sold them for their weight in gold. In some cases, they literally just weighed the thing and made the price its weight in gold. He brought in more people, more con artists and scam masters, and his empire of lies grew. And eventually, they even got big enough for Melvin to go from owner to owner and CEO.

He was still riding the high of that new self-promotion on the way to his favorite bar. The Glistening Tankard was a bit of an odd name, sounding like some kind of fantasy tavern, but it sold the best drinks in the city. And while Melvin was now rich enough that he had a scotch collection, there was something about going out on the town that got his blood racing. He knew he could weave words like tapestries. He could probably sell the time of day to a passerby, and he reveled in the feeling. There was a heady sense to it as if he was a shark among fish.

And he looked the part too. A brand new three-piece suit, black and white as always. He understood the appeal of suits with color, standing out and looking as rich as you were, but he could never see it as better than a classic black and white suit. There was something refined, pure, about the two colors. Light and dark, yin and yang, opposites and equals, working together just to make him look a bit better. It was nice.

He spotted his quarry across the street, the glittering doors of the bar calling to him. He strode forward, ready for a night of amazing drinks and easy marks.

Instead, he met the front of a truck. Violently.