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                         Underground eXperts United

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         [   Blackstone Rising    ]            [       By Sarlo      ]


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                             Blackstone Rising
                                  By Sarlo

                  The eyes. Everyone is struck by the fire that blazes in
             Nicholas Blackstone's dark eyes. Businessmen see in them a
             beacon guiding them to wealth and glamour. Politicians see a
             torch illuminates their own names. And others see it a flame
             that burned their houses down and left them out on the
             street.

                  Right now, those eyes are looking out towards the
             ocean from Blackstone's Pacific Palisades home, and they do
             not like what they see. A young family of four have made
             themselves comfortable on his private beach: the children
             toss a frisbee while the husband prepares to swim. "I can't
             believe this," says Blackstone. "Don't these people read
             signs? Well, they'll get what's coming to them." This proves
             almost immediately when, seemingly out of nowhere, a shark
             appears and bites the man clean through. Blood fills the
             water, screams fill the air, and Blackstone smiles grimly as
             he sips his Bordeaux. "It's a tough world," he says.

                  And Nicholas Blackstone may be the toughest denizen of
             that world. For his is - or claims to be - Satan, "The
             embodiment of evil, that whole trip," in his words. As such,
             he has compiled an enviable record as the ultimate hard-
             charging, behind-the-scenes operator, a man always present
             at the biggest deals and the most fashionable parties.
             Indeed, many among the wealthy, powerful, and famous count
             on him as the most valuable friend they have, a seductive
             man in tune with the times to an uncanny degree.

                  But, like many accomplished people, Blackstone is
             dogged by critics who accuse him, with varying degrees of
             substanation, of letting loose violence, famine, and
             hopelessness around the globe, and find him insensitive to
             the pain he causes.

                  One such person is Hector Rodriguez, a homeless man who
             defaulted on his ren after being stricken with leukemia.
             Huddled in the doorway of an abandoned building on New Yorks
             unattractive Lower East Side, his purpleish mouth contorting
             with unreasoning hate, Rodriguez curses Blackstone, who
             admits to having arranged Rodriguez's fate as part of a
             wager. "Why, Man? That's all I got to Ask, Why?"
             (Blackstones reply has been unchanged since his role in the
             affair was first revealed: "Why did they climb Everest?
             Because it was there.")

                  Blackstone's work on larger canvasses has also come
             under attack - whether the charges can withstand closer
             examination or not. For example, some liberal activists have
             accused him of receiving a profit on every nuclear weapon
             made: in truth, the profit kicks in only if they are used.

             He also has been linked to the "Greenhouse Effect", without
             much evidence. "That's a ridiculous charge," counters
             Blackstone. "I don't even OWN a car. Although I will say
             that, in my opinion, the `Concern-for-Nature' fascination has
             gotten out of hand - I can do business now matter WHAT color
             the air is, and I know a lot of people who feel the same." It
             is the characteristic response of a blunt man who professes
             to be indifferent to his reputation.

                  "Hey, I INVENTED Social Darwinism," says a confident,
             serene Blackstone as he opens another bottle of Bordeaux. "I
             never promised there wouldn't be a Down-Side. If I'm such a
             bad guy, why do people keep calling on me?" Yet as he
             continues defending himself, one get the unmistakable
             impression that, behind the bluster, Blackstone may not be
             the unfeeling monster his opponents - with their skillful
             use of the "Satan" tag - have made him out to be. "Okay, so
             an innocent bystander gets hit in the head with a
             ricocheting bullet and is cut down in his youth. I mean, how
             do you think >I< feel? That guy's dead - I have to live with
             the knowledge of his senseless extinction forever. I only
             wish it could be otherwise."

                  When questioned further, even people like Hector
             Rodriguez are forced to agree. "Maybe I deserve all this,"
             says the homeless man as a passerby spits at him. "I
             remember that I did some dancing on Sunday once. When you
             think about it, he's just doing what he's gotta do."

                  But it is a Blackstone who is sensitive to the needs
             and concerns of others that his friends and supporters talk
             about warmly. Again and again, they refer to the many people
             he has lifted out of obscurity to the highest positions in
             their fields, always noting that he asks for nothing
             material in return. These include everyone from Political
             figures - on the right AND left - religious leaders, and an
             enviable string of the world's most beautiful women. (In
             fact, his latest Lady Love, British cabinet minister Rachel
             Ann Simpson, is all three) For these movers and shakers,
             Blackstone's identity as Satan is not enough reason to
             abandon a man who has done so much for them. While they
             admit that he has been guilty of "Overzealousness" and that
             he may have "a cruel streak," they claim on a whole, he has
             been inaccurately portrayed in the media.

                  "We understand that, as a purely malign presence, he
             makes a good copy," says his current publicist, Mark
             Bergman. "You know, witches being burned on his account, the
             Holocaust, and so forth. But what reporters don't see is
             that these stories really hurt him personally. We think
             it's time to tell out side of the story."

                  Hence a new campaign to court the press. Reporters who
             were once brushed aside or afflicted with boils, are now
             welcomed and told of Blackstone's extensive one-on-one
             philanthropy. "All you have to do is call on him, and he's
             there," says Simpson "That's what happened to me." Simpson
             was working a London topless bar when she wrote Blackstone a
             letter detailing her plight. "Just a few phone calls later"
             - in his words - she received simultaneous invitations to
             enter the Episcopalian priesthood AND the Conservative
             Party, and now, two years later, she sits happily by his
             side in custom-designed Geoffrey Beene vestments. And what
             does she think about Blackstone's habit of discarding
             intimates by causing them to kill themselves? "I think this
             time it'll be different. He's assured me, privately, that
             he's really changed after all these centuries. He realizes
             that the smile on a kid's face after his first Black Mass is
             just as precious as a Million-Dollar deal," says the woman
             insiders think will be the next archbishop of Canterbury.

                  Blackstone seems uncomfortable hearing statements like
             these. After a pause, he says, "I feel I've ALWAYS been a
             people person. Helping someone attain his or her goals - if
             they truly want them - I think that's what Nicholas
             Blackstone's all about." But with characteristic reticence,
             he declines to go further. "Talk of motivation makes me
             uneasy. I'd rather be judged on what I do."

                  Indeed, for all this outward pride in his thick skin,
             Blackstone is a man driven by a fundamental need for
             respect. "For a long time, my treatment at the hands of the
             media was a record of distortion, but I put up with it," he
             says, those dark eyes flashing. "Now, though, the time seems
             right for a change. I'm tired of people blaming me for their
             misfortunes. They should take responsibility for their own
             lives! It doesn't matter if you're poor or crippled or
             starving - if you can't overcome your fear of success, you
             deserve what you get."

                  Blackstone has never had any such fear. And, as you
             spend more time in his hypnotic presence, the source of his
             impressive can-do achievements becomes obvious. For Nicholas
             Blackstone, alias Satan, life begins with a simple belief:
             have faith in yourself. He has gained access to the halls of
             wealth and accusations from petty-minded detractors who call
             him "the Author of Evil." According to his friends, the
             greatest evil is that he is misunderstood.

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