“That idiot!”
A mailed fist slammed down on the oval conference table. Six chairs surrounded it, five of them occupied. The fist’s owner was draped in furs and metal armor, and his light brown hair hung long and loose, except for two plaited braids that matched the ones in his beard. A pair of heavy axes swung from his wide leather belt. He pounded the table again, creating small cracks in the dark stone.
“What kind of overlord lets himself get beaten by NPCs?”
“What’s done is done,” an elvish woman in a stylish blue business suit sitting next to him said calmly. Her carefully painted nails were long and pointed, and matched her golden hair. “Our focus is on moving forward.”
“But Owngoal was central to our plans,” chirped a small boy with shark-dead eyes. He was wearing a grass-stained school uniform, and his orange backpack scrunched behind him as he shifted around. “It’s going to be difficult to replace an army of that size, not to mention his skills were the most advanced among us.”
“Can’t we just recruit more people?” yawned a handsomely beautiful man with dark skin. A flower print kimono draped his lithe body, and he languidly waved a hand covered in platinum rings. “Get the Conductor to drag some more over from Earth. Enough of us and the NPCs won’t stand a chance.”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“And who is going to tell the Conductor anything, mmm?” a wizened old goblin woman with pure white hair asked. She toyed with a metal collar around her neck. “None of us even know who the Conductor is, let alone its true objectives.”
“You worry too much,” growled the man in furs. “My powers are all you need. The Conductor wants us to take out the NPCs, and that’s enough for me. I’m tired of hiding like a rat in the walls.”
“That’s all you were told?” the elvish woman arched an eyebrow at him, and he bared his teeth.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Regardless, we must deal with this ‘Cataclysm Squad Six.’ They appear to be more formidable than Owngoal’s research suggested. Particularly their Director.”
“I’ll take all of them down,” the man snarled, brandishing one of his axes. “They can’t stop my ultimate skill-”
“One of them might,” the boy interrupted. “Didn’t you read Owngoal’s report yesterday on their encounter? This ‘Brock’ person the Conductor wants us to capture. Something weird’s going on there.”
“That traitor,” the elvish woman hissed, face scrunching up into a rictus of hate.
“Whatever he is,” the old goblin said thoughtfully, “the fact remains that we don’t know enough about his motivations, let alone his powers. Owngoal thought he could capture him acting alone, yet he clearly failed. We can’t allow ourselves to make the same mistake.” She placed her hands on the table. “If we’re going to tear down this society, it must be done thoughtfully and with care. Only then will we be free from the NPCs’ yoke.”
“Agreed,” the others chorused. A malign light filled the room.
“Capture the traitor. Kill the ‘Cataclysm Squad.’
“The Conductor rises.”