The Con-ArtistJames Wilson was sitting next to the Indian billionaire Tan Abdullah. He was a short fat man with a stubby beard. He wore a £20 000 custom Hugo Boss suit. Sweat was dripping from his brow, he was losing. On the other side of Wilson sat Hank Armitage, the Australian Billionaire. While he kept a cool and relaxed smile anyone could tell he was under immense pressure.

Both men had lost over £400 million. James Wilson however, was up £800 million. The two billionaires couldn’t give up or they would like fools, but it seemed the only option. “I’m out,” said Tan, with an angry tone in his voice.

“Ahhhh, I am also out,” said Hank in a cool, calm and collected voice.

“Well I guess I win then,” James said while collecting another £210 Million worth of casino chips.”

Tan Abdullah was talking to stern 6 foot 6 man with a long beard and scar across his face. James went to over to a skinny man with a large diamond encrusted Rolex watch. “I would like to cash in my chips,” smiled James.

“Why certainly Mr. Wilson.”

James picked up his cash in a suit case. He started to run. Two large muscular men in suits were chasing him. They were shouting Hindi into Walkie Talkies. Two more men were blocking the door. James quickly turned left and started running up the stairs.

After spending two minutes running up the stairs James came to the roof. The two Indian men behind him were coming up the last few steps. James only had one option. With a running start, James leapt of the edge of the sky scraper. Traveling at 60 MPH Wilson hit the ground with a loud thump. A red gooey liquid surrounded the splattered body of James Wilson.

A figure in a black hood stood over the body of James Wilson.

“I can offer you a deal” screeched the Black figure. “I will grant you your life for the exchange of your soul” In James’ final breath, he agreed.

All of a sudden James was in his apartment in convent garden with a suitcase containing over £1 Billion.

20 years later

“Are you Kwaku Ananse?”

“I certainly am, but the question is who are you?” replied a thick African voice.

“I’ve heard you cheated death”

“I have.”

“Well I am going to need you to do it again.”

Wilson explained to Kwaku about the poker game and Tan Abdullah seeking revenge.

“To destroy death you are going to have go to the fiery depths of hell, to beat death you have to become death, do not hesitate to maim, do not hesitate to torture, do not hesitate to kill. You will find the portal in the Cave of Alba in the Amazon Jungle, it’s the only way in and out of hell.”

He approached a small clearing in the trees. Two members of the Langkawi tribe were guarding the entrance to the stone building. James pulled out his silenced Glock 9mm Pistol. He took aim at the tall guard, ptew, the man’s head exploded into a flurry of white, red and pink. But before the guard sitting next to him could react another bullet was fired and another bullet hit. Wilson walked past the two men with big gaping holes in their head’s and through the entrance. Further down the steps James came to a red glowing

object. On the left and right of said object stood two totem poles with a flame spitting above them. Instinctively James touched the red glowing object.

With no explanation James stood outside a 10ft high door lined with icy white skulls. He remembered what Kwaku Ananse had told him. “Death will try to get you to drink or eat something from his nether world. You can counter act this by getting him to eat something from our world.”

James opened the door slowly, the door made a large creaking sound. He walked through a hallway lined with a variety of weapons. Walking further down this hallway he came to a large dining room. Where the figure who had visited him 20 years earlier stood.

“Well, well, well look who we have here… I would be surprised, but you are not the first human to visit me in my own house. Can I offer you a drink of anything Mr. Wilson?”

The sweat going down James’ face was extremely noticeable but he couldn’t back out now, he had too much lose.

“I would like a glass of your finest red wine”

Death went to an old musty wine cabinet and took out a bottle covered in cobwebs. He took two wine glasses from his cupboard and poured the red liquid into both of them.

“I think you will find the wine to your taste,” smiled Death.

Death’s wife shouted from upstairs that his laundry was ready. James new this was his opportunity. As death turned his head round to shout back at his wife, James took his wine glass and poured the wine onto the floor, from his pocket he pulled out a vile of wine, he quickly poured the wine into Death’s glass.

“How about we drink now?” said Death with an eager tone.

The two men drank downed there glasses of wine. But after a few seconds had passed Death started coughing up blood. Suddenly Death was on the floor dyeing. But in his Death’s final breath he said

“You lose.”

Wilson realised what Kwaku Ananse had said “To beat death you have to become death.”

James’ clothes turned black, his eyes turned black and his right hand turned black. James Wilson was now Death.

Sometime in the future

“Mr. Thompson, I can offer you a way out of death, your life for your soul”

“I agree.”

20 years later

“My name is Will Thompson, I heard you know Death?”

“I do know Death,” grinned Kwaku Ananse.