Prologue:

Things are never as they seem, and it isn't uncommon for the observer to have to look closer to get the entire picture. Yet, if that individual looks too closely they may miss the grand scheme of things. It's this delicate balance between knowing the details and the bigger picture that makes a game hard to play. Sometimes, the player just needs a hint to in order to realize just where to look. It is the timing of these hints, however, which alter the game as the mastermind continues to execute his strategy.

The room was dark, the only source of light was a large LCD monitor sitting on a desk, the eerie blue light illuminated the room just enough for the vague outline of bookshelves on one wall to be notes. It bounced off the glass of picture frames making it possible to see the images faces. Many of them were of a red haired young man with headphones around his neck smiling with friends. The books on the shelves were stacked haphazardly with a few awards thrown in, one from the Venice Film Festival and an Honorable Mention from the Tribeca Film Festival, a BAFTA and an Oscar, to name a few. Scripts lined the desk, titles shone against various colored paper covers. There was a mug long since empty of precious fuel to the left of a young man's elbow.

Sitting in a rather comfortable chair with headphones around his neck and a pair of black and blue glasses on his nose was a redhead. His bright red hair was rather long and had been jaggedly cut, looking more like a stylist had a field day with scissors than attempting to tame it. It was spiked in a number of directions, thanks to the clever use of gel and bobby pins to hold it in place, a portion of his bangs hung over his left eye and he flicked it out of the way with his fingers. Three silver piercings glistened in the blue light in one ear, he had high cheek bones with a rather delicate nose. Smokey gray eyes peered through the lenses of his glasses as his lips pursed.

It had been a very long day for Eric Stevenson, the white shirt's collar that he was wearing was open, his tie laying long forgotten on his desk as he continued looking through the footage. It had been a while since the competitions, he could still smell the delicious chocolates, succulent raspberries, earthy green tea, and lush lavender. He watched as Sebastian poured a beautiful ribbon of chocolate into a bowl, his red eyes never leaving the seemingly perfect nearly black satin ribbon falling from a silver bow into another.

It was as though he were there again, listening to the knives clicking against cutting boards, the scream of mixers, and the applause of the crowd as they watched the chef's work magic. The tension in the air as the chefs rushed to do the impossible with what little time they were allotted, and the sweltering heat of both the ovens and the stage lights. He could reach over and run his fingers along the cool glass board used to make pastry dough, it was slick in his memory. The taste of the treats on his tongue and how each dessert caressed his taste buds. It felt as though it were a life time ago, it was difficult to believe six years had passed since then, that show had changed his career.

Eric continued watching the rather raw footage run past his eyes, in his mind he was standing on the set again. That show had changed it all, he had so much to thank the pair of Patissiers for, since their passion and desire to show the world the wonder of pastry had inspired him to go further. He had been sitting in a meeting when he had the urge to look at the footage once again; something was screaming for him to look, it was as though he had missed something. There was a knock on the door before it opened; florescent light from the hallway flooded the room causing him to hiss at the intrusion. "Sorry, Joker, I brought your coffee," said a young woman, her voice was bright and cheerful, he didn't recognize it.

Joker's eyes finally adjusted and he looked over to see a young woman in dress slacks with a red shirt, she had long blonde hair with green eyes that shone brightly against alabaster skin. Nestled between her fingers was a cup from Starbucks. "Here," she said sweetly as she placed it on the desk. She was clearly an intern since she hovered; most of his employees knew to leave him alone when viewing. "Thanks," he said simply before turning his attention to the paused footage. He listened to her leave and the finality of the door's latch catching. He groaned and stretched his arms over his head, he really should have been looking over newer footage but there was something about the footage from the final challenge that was bugging him.

Joker pressed play and reached for his coffee, the cup was light and cold. "What?" he asked in confusion as he lifted it up, it was empty. He glared at the cup with his name on it and growled, "What the hell kind of joke is this?" he stated before tossing the cup in the garbage, only to hear something rattle in it. He was sure it was empty, or at least it had felt it. He reached over into the waste bin and gingerly pulled out the paper cup with the familiar green logo on it. He popped the white lid off and noticed a business car inside. Joker's brows furrowed in confusion as he tipped the paper cup, the business card slipped out with ease.

He flipped it over in his fingers and stared at the card-stock when something flickered by on the monitor. He was quick to pause it and stared at the image on the screen before looking down at the card. "No," he muttered as he held it up to the screen. Just then he realized the blonde wasn't wearing an ID badge, everyone in the building did.

In seconds the Director launched himself from his chair and was out the door. His feet were carrying him down the hallway as he looked frantically for the woman who had brought his coffee. A pair of screenwriters was walking by chatting, "Hey," he said as he grabbed one of them, the taller of the pair looked startled, "Have you seen a blonde?" he asked. The screenwriters laughed, "She's about this tall," he then held his hand up to estimate her height, "Green eyes, fair skin." The pair shrugged and the shorter of the two replied, "Sorry, no."

The business card between his fingers felt even heavier as the pair shook their heads. Joker patted the man he grabbed on the arm and dashed down the hallway, he had dismissed her, and now he really needed to know what was going on. His oxfords clicked against the lanolin floor before he slid around a corner, causing a woman to screech and throw her papers in the air in shock. Joker ignored the falling pages and continued toward the entrance, it was probably the only way the woman knew to get out. People moved out of his way quickly as he ran down the hall like a mad man. There was no telling if she took something while she had walked in. It wasn't uncommon for rivals to send spies to collect scripts and notes on what the competition was doing, especially in the film industry. He slid to a stop and grabbed the glass barrier as he looked over the lobby from the landing.

Just bellow him was the reception desk and a sea of people, all dressed in black, white, navy blue, gray, green and even tan. His eyes darted over the crowd, searching for even a hint of red. He could see the BTN logo on the floor as he searched. There was no way she could have gotten out of the building without being spotted not wearing a badge, someone must have noticed.

He looked around only to finally see a blonde with a red shirt. Without a second thought he began jogging down the stairs, "Stop her!" he shouted as he leapt over the glass railing and landed on the hard floor. A number of people turned and stared at Joker as he pointed at the blonde. "Stop!" he shouted as he pushed through the crowd, the lobby was filled with actors, screenwriters, crew members and investors. "STOP HER!" he shouted once more, the room was filled with chatter and the clicking of shoes. He could feel his heart pounding as he attempted to reach her before she got to the glass doors of the entryway.

He slammed into a pair of men, they were rather muscular and it felt as though he had smashed into a wall, one of whom shouted at him angrily, "Sorry!" he said smoothly as he pushed them out of the way. He watched as she pushed the doors open, "STOP HER!" he screamed, his voice rang through the room causing security to leap into action. Before any of them could reach her the door was open and she was slipping away. Joker growled as he threw the door open and ran into the street. She was a breath away with her hand in the air hailing a cab. "WAIT!" he shouted over the rushing London traffic. The black cab pulled to the curb, Joker's feet were carrying themselves as he attempted to reach her.

He watched as the cab pulled away leaving him standing in the middle of the street. His mind slipped into overdrive, she didn't even have an ID badge, she should have never made it into his sector. The security guards stumbled onto the street, only adding to Joker's frustration for a prestigious studio, they had non-existent security. It wasn't until then he remembered the business card.

Joker's gray eyes fell on the white card between his fingers; it was the same thick card-stock as the first one he had received. The letters VP were centered on the front in the same black font. He quickly flipped it over and stared at the all too familiar tight script on the back. "Not again," he moaned as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, oddly the warm sun wasn't as welcoming as it usually was in the rainy city of London. "Did she take anything?" asked one of the security guards. Joker lowered his head and replied simply, "No, I don't think so, check and make sure," he commanded causing the men to shuffle back into the building.

Once they were gone he looked at the card again, "Just what the hell is going on, I thought we finished this the first time," he stated. All that was on it were two words. It was terrifying how the person sending the cards knew these things.

Reinvent it.

Joker tiredly swept his hand over his face, clearly it wasn't over. He looked up at the building behind him, his reputation allowed him to do as he pleased, and now he understood why he had been given the first card. He quickly pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialed an all too familiar number, he held it to his ear, and it was clear that all his notions of getting sleep that night had just been thrown out the window.