Thud. Thud. Thud.

The beating of a man's heart in the last moments of his life

are audible to the world. Thud. Thud. Thud. The room was dark, and three
figures stood in the shadows over a man slumped in a chair. Thud. Thud.
Thud. Bloody and beaten, his blond hair stained red. Thud. Thud. Thud. A bright
flash illuminated the room, and the chair fell over. Thud. Thud. "Welcome to our
world." Thud. Thud. "You are now Mr Sorrow, and you belong to us." Thud. The
man's eyes glazed over and the life fled from his eyes. Thud. His heart stopped in
its tracks. Silence.
The dark alleyway stank of rotten meat. Stank of death, decay and something Mr
Sorrow could not place his finger on. Something was wrong. Where was he, who
was he, what was he doing in this alleyway. Mr Sorrow got up on his elbows as a
car drove past causing him to blink. Blinking feels good, Mr Sorrow thought to
himself. It must have been hours since he had last blinked. Rats looked up from
their scurrying observing the intruder into their home, then scurrying back to
their business. Looking around Mr Sorrow noticed what he was lying on. Corpses.
"That explains the smell," said Mr Sorrows to himself.
Mr Sorrow got up from his resting place and felt around in his jacket. Something
was missing. Tapping his pockets, his hands felt something in his jacket pocket.
He pulled it out and saw it was white with brown specks. A letter. Droplets of
blood were all over it. Mr Sorrows frowned it was probably his blood. Opening the
wax seal, Mr Sorrow's blue eyes darkened at the cursive handwriting on the
paper.
Dear Mr Sorrow
I am assuming you are still alive if you are reading this, and I just want to say
congratulations. Now I am sure you have many questions, like "Who am I?" and
"What am I doing here" I am about to answer both. You are Mr Sorrow, and you
belong to me. Do not try to disobey me please, it will only end badly for you, and
cause me slight troubles. Now, the first thing I want you to do is get some better
clothes, and clean yourself up. There is a room at the hotel Le Scarlet under your
name, your next set of instructions will be there, and I am looking forward to
working with you Mr Sorrows. Please do not disappoint me.
Sincerely Mr S.
Something was not right. Who was Mr S.? Why cannot I remember my first
name? Why do I belong to Mr S.? These questions and so many more spun
around and around in his head like a hurricane. Mr Sorrow could not think
straight. All he knew was if he wanted answers, he would need to obey his orders
for the time being. However, the little nagging feeling that something was
completely wrong stayed in the back of his mind.
The bright evening glow of the streets around the city provided a beautiful
background for the mundane lives of the people around Mr Sorrow. He felt
different; the people walking beside him seemed insignificant and weak. Fragile
compared to the metal monsters speeding past them. He noticed the occasional
person look up and then look down quickly. His blood stained hair and clothes
must seem quite frightening, the red Neon Le Scarlet sign did not belong on the
old fashion street. The Le Scarlet was an unimpressive building, made of brink
and slate roofing.
Upon entry, the woman at the front desk looked up and smiled an obviously

forced and fake smile. "Welcome to the Le Scarlet hotel. Have you got a booking
or do you require me to make one?" She said. Her blonde hair looked superficial,
and her lips were the same colour scarlet as the sign out front.
"I believe I have a booking mademoiselle," Mr Sorrow said with a half-smile.
"Name?" She asked sounding bored.
"Mr Sorrow" He said, his half-smile turning into a frown.
"Oh, I must apologise for my rudeness, Mr Sorrow. Your room is number 23.
Would you like me to escort you?" She said turning into sugar, fluttering her eye
lashes and giving him a harlots smile.
"No, it's fine, thank you for the offer. Just tell me which floor it is and I'll go from
there." He said nicely. He vaguely knew her type, but could not remember where
from.
"Floor 3" She said, disappointment creeping across her features, and handing
him the key. Mr Sorrow looked down and saw she had given him the key for
room 21. He supposed it was either her room or she wanted him to come back
and see her. He decided it was probably the latter.
"This isn't the right key." He said sounding as bored as possible.
"Oh my mistake." The blonde attendant said looking sad and guilty. "Here is the
key for room 23. Sorry about that" She said handing him the key and snatching
the other key off him and replacing it below the desk.
"Thank you, have a good evening mademoiselle." Mr Sorrow said politely before
wandering up the stairs towards his room. She did not reply.
As Mr Sorrow reached the third floor, he ran into another man going down. He
was well dressed in his formal attire. He took one look up at Mr Sorrows
grumbled something under his breathe and stepped aside as if Mr Sorrow was
diseased. He guessed his appearance was the cause. It was not his best. The
man's footsteps echoed as he rushed down the steps away from him. Mr Sorrow
sighed, and walked to his room.
With a click, the door unlocked and swung open. The room was quite
unexpected, the carpet was scarlet, but the room was clean, tidy, and bigger
than the door suggested. There was a bathroom and a king sized bed. Folded on
the bed was another letter in the same script, but this time it was clean. Mr
Sorrow ignored the letter, and went straight to the wardrobe. Inside was a long
dark trench coat, grey shirt and long black dress pants. Satisfied, he went and
inspected the bathroom. Bleached white and shiny tiles covered the walls and
floor. The shower was clean and mould free. In addition, the mirror was shiny and
looked brand new. Mr Sorrow undressed and cleaned himself up.
Walking out of the bathroom, Mr Sorrow blond hair hung down and dripped water
down his bare back. Knock, Knock, Knock. "Come in" Mr Sorrow said as he went
over and hid the letter in his pants pocket. In came an elderly maid, smiling
gently.
"My apologies young master Sorrow, sorry to disturb you at such an hour, but I
am doing the laundry and wanted to know if you had anything that needed a
wash?" The house cleaner said with a slight smile. Mr Sorrow went into the
bathroom and collected the clothes he had been wearing up until now, and
handed them over to the maid.
"Thank you ma'am for your service. I wish I could tip you, but I have no money."
Said Mr Sorrow apologetically.
"Tis fine young master. Glad to be of some service. Mr S sends his regards and
wishes you stay as long as you need." With that, the elderly house cleaner left
without another word, closing the door gently behind her.

Mr Sorrow sat down on the bed and removed the letter from his pocket, slightly
creased by its time in his pocket. Mr Sorrow pondered how the house cleaner
knew about Mr S and then decided it was folly; something told him it would be
revealed in time. Breaking the wax seal, he slipped the paper out of the envelope
and read the same cursive script as the last letter.
Dear Mr Sorrow.
Welcome to the Le Scarlet. The staff here do not ask questions and they will look
after you should you need anything. I am glad you could make it. There are some
new clothes in the wardrobe if you have not already found them and some food
in the fridge. Room Service is free here, but I would not recommend ordering
food. I hope you enjoy your stay.
Now with formalities out of the way, Time to give you some more information.
You work for me as you have already been informed. However, what you do for
me, will vary every day. For example, tomorrow, there is a man in one of the
rooms in this hotel. This is a little test to see if you are still worth the time and
effort. What you must do, if avoid his attention and get a letter from his room.
Do not read the letter.
I do not know what room he is in, but when you have it, give it to the old house
cleaner tomorrow when you give her your clothes, and await my next letter.
Goodnight Mr Sorrow. I sincerely hope you do not disappoint me.
Sincerely Mr S.
After re-reading the letter twice, Mr Sorrow folded it back up and put it back in
the envelope. How was he supposed to find a man who he did not know what he
looked like, who he was, or what room he was in. Slowly he placed it on the bed,
went to the phone, and dialled the number for the front desk. "Mademoiselle, I
need you to send me the name of all the people staying in the Le Scarlet for the
next week and the rooms they are staying in. I want to call into see an old
friend."
"Ok, Mr Sorrow. "Said the blonde at the front desk. A few minutes later, the
blonde-haired woman came up with a sheet of paper with the names of all the
people staying at Le Scarlet. Mr Sorrow simply said thanks and closed the door.
He thought to himself, tomorrow Sorrow comes calling.
The night was long. Mr Sorrow pondered over the letters, and once again found
himself wondering what had happened. He could not remember anything before
waking up in the alley. He did not remember his previous name, his life, or his
parents face. Is this what I have become, a shell of a human, Mr Sorrow asked
himself. What can he do, he had nothing but what he had in this room. Who was
this Mr S? Why did he take everything away from him, and in return give him
nothing. Hurricanes of questions whirled in his mind. Why him? What did he do
that was so bad? Am I even human...?
The sunlight weakly shining through the crimson curtains cast a reddish hue onto
the room, making everything seem dirtier then it seemed last night. Mr Sorrow
sighed. The ocean of thoughts that were flowing through his head slowly ebbed
away. Mr Sorrow felt empty, cold and alone. Sighing again, Mr Sorrow got up and
walked to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. Immediately he
started feeling better. The letter from last night popped into his head again and
filled him with determination. That man, the first step into finding the answers he

was seeking.
Walking over to the phone Mr Sorrow called room service to bring him up some
breakfast. Walking over to the table that rested in the corner of his room, he sat
down and started reading over the list of people staying at the Le Scarlet. None
of the names on the list stood out except for one. Mr Monday. That had to be
him. Mr Sorrow's suspicions were confirmed when he noticed there was no room
number next to his name like the others. He noticed his name was not on the list.
Grateful that he could not be found if he was looked for. He had no idea whether
he had enemies or not, so if he did they could not track him down easily.
There was a knock at the door. Ah, breakfast must have arrived. Mr Sorrow
walked over to the door, expecting to see a bus boy in a stereotypical suit
wheeling a tray with his breakfast. As the door swung open, Mr Sorrow realised
just how wrong he was. Instead of a bus boy, there was a giant man in a tight
white shirt and blue jeans, swinging a punch square into Mr Sorrows face. Mr
Sorrow flew back and hit his head on the wooden frame of the bed. Stars flew
around his head as he heard loud footsteps, coming closer towards him.
Monstrous bear hands gripped his shirt, and lifted him off the floor. Two dark
brown eyes looked into his, framed in a hard-set face. Mr Sorrow's feet could not
touch the ground, this man must be about 6'6", Mr Sorrow thought to himself, as
another monstrous fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the air from his
lungs. Gasping for air, Mr Sorrow dropped to the floor. Gasping again, Mr Sorrow
tried to get up as a giant boot slammed into his chest, flinging him into the
sidewall, leaving an indent where his body hit. The man walked over to the table
and looked at the list. Shoving it into his pocket and looking at his mobile. The
man smiled and dragged Mr Sorrow into the bathroom. The room went fuzzy as
he was dropped into the bathtub and the last thing he heard was the shower
being turned on.
Shadows flashed in a sepia toned bar, Mr Sorrow looked around, a half-empty
whiskey bottle sat in front of him. Ghostly flickers walked around him, indistinct
and immaterial. Raising his hands to his head, everything clouded over as a
woman in a bright red dress and high heels strolled into the bar. Mr Sorrow could
not place her face, but he knew she was important. She smiled at him, a smile of
the whitest light, and that is when everything went dark.
Mr Sorrow's body hurt all over. Getting up from the bathtub was the most painful
thing Mr Sorrow ever experienced, or at least that he could remember. Groaning,
Mr Sorrow got out of the bathtub and turned the shower off. Walking out of the
lounge room, there was a platter of the breakfast he had ordered, the waiter
must have heard the shower and assumed he was showering. Mr Sorrow slowly
walked over to the phone, asked for Mr Mondays room number, and prepared his
battered body for the worst.
After breakfast, Mr Sorrow struggled along the hall to the room number he was
given. The door was unremarkable, room number eight on floor 4. The same
dcor as every room. Stopping before the door, Mr Sorrow wondered what he
should do next. Should he knock? Should he try to force his way into the room
and demand answers? Should he sneak in and just do what he had to do and get
out? He did not know, but what he did know, was that he was in danger.
Summoning up all his courage, Mr Sorrow tried the door, but he found it locked.
The sound of the door rattling seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet confines of
the corridor. Mr Sorrow was trying to think of a way to get into the room when he

remembered the key to his room he had in his pocket. Mr Sorrow was unsure
whether it was instinct that told him to try the key or just pure luck, but with a
click, the door unlocked and he was inside.
The room was unimpressive, and furnished worse than his own furnishings.
Nothing stood out as he slowly limped across the threshold. Mr Sorrow looked
around slowly, taking in his surroundings. Nothing looked out of place. The bed
was perfectly made, everything spotlessly clean, the same crimson shade of
glow from the curtains, making everything seem slightly red. Looking around,
there was no letter in plain sight. Taking a walk around the room, Mr Sorrow did
not touch anything, he was mindful of the warning in the letter he received
yesterday. Something caught his eye under the bed, a small briefcase. With a
wince, Mr Sorrow lowered himself down and dragged it out from under the bed.
He unclicked the buckles, and inside with a slightly luminous glow, was the letter.

IDEAS!!!!!!!

Im thinking Sorrow is a alcohol addicted detective. Constantly on the spirits

He mets a girl in a bar
She is nothing like he has ever met, free, young, beautiful, wild, exciting
After a while, Sorrow falls into a darker crowd with the girl, where he meets a mysterious
stranger who is the girls husband.
Also a mob boss, who hires Mr S.
Mr S gets betrayed by the mob boss
So instead of killing sorrow
He turns sorrow onto his enemies?
Is that too convoluted? (I need a reason for S to use sorrow thats why i dont want the femme
fatalle directly involved with S)