In a dark room, lit only by fluorescent floor panels, a council of men in masks sat around a business table, everything quiet. The room was devoid of most things. This was intentional. For a group so dedicated to secrecy and supremacy, they needed absolutism in their security, and one of the many tenants was to keep their identities unknown. This building, of course, was a known variable, but this elite cabal of businessmen and aristocrats were eccentric enough to know just what extremes could be implemented against them. If their goal in life had been to grab power, they had already achieved it. Now, the only thought that darkened those incomprehensibly deep skulls was the worry of it all crumbling down. That was why they grouped together, an organization meant to keep their power out of the hands of anyone else.
The leader sat at the head of the table, and as the entire cabal finished reading the notes that had been passed around, he started speaking.
“As you can see, gentleman, Loren Dames is a danger to society,” the man spoke. “While he doesn’t speak of strategy or of revolution, the things he speaks of drag those two in its wake. The ideals he expresses make even the highest of caste reconsider the world, and to those in the lowest, it brainwashes them. His actions are irresponsible, and through that misuse of power, could destroy everything we have achieved.”
Various murmurs went through the room as members spoke out their worries. In the times since the apocalypse happened, many overturns of society had seemed to happen. People came into power and lost it. Wars were fought, internally. There were great struggles for human rights, as both the Church and Institute grew in power beside the Crown.
But this group had always been on top.
The owners of society, the dark ones who knew how to manipulate the numbers of the world like a writer changes their book. Editors of reality. This small group of people were the ones who controlled it all.
And rebels like Loren Dames were the largest threats. Not the violent anarchists, or the insane socialists and sociopathic communists.
The most dangerous ones were the ones who spoke out those ideals with a calm tone and sympathetic plea...because those were the ones who coaxed people into madness and depravity.
“Loren Dames is a person that cannot continue as he does,” the leader continued as his fellowship’s voices started to peter out. “We have allowed his existence to continue for far too long. As much as he may provide fantastic music, he also creates a horrid black venom that promises only to destroy everything we know and love. It is because of that, that I believe we need to take action. My proposal, as you have all seen, is to have him secretly disposed of. All in favor, display your panels of green; those in dissent, panels of red.”
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In front of every member were two small signs. At the end of one was a red circle, and on the other, it was green.
Nothing but green was raised.
“Excellent. As I shall now repeat, it shall be known that at this time, all of the members have decided that to solve this issue of Loren Dames, we will be having him removed. If there have been any mistakes from anyone in the room, do not hesitate. Raise your red sign, as it currently appears unanimous.”
That speech was only for show. It was obvious that every single person would choose to let this happen, because they only stood to gain from Loren Dames’ demise. It wasn’t that they couldn’t see any other option, rather, it was that killing him was the easiest solution for them to choose, and all they cared about was getting it done.
“Then it is decided,” the leader said. He paused as a round of soft claps went around the table. “Fortunately, I have already gone and contacted a group who has done work for us in the past. Black Viper. Of course, if there are any disagreements to using them, please, let it be known now by raising a red panel.”
Not a single red panel was lifted.
“Perfect. Then, allow me to call in the current representative of the group.” After saying that, the speaker pressed a button underneath his desk. What this did was temporarily unlock a door to the outside, and from it, a woman entered the room.
She was thin and distinctly asian, something unusual to these parts, and had tattoos of black lines crossing her face; to anyone who knew about body meridians, these lines matched up exactly to those. Sharp piercings went through her eyebrows and lips, then more on her ears from which chains hung. Even though this person couldn’t have been any older than most of the people here’s teenage children, her appearance was intense enough to cause them to hold their breath.
Each step was precise as the assassin strode to stand next to the leader of the group. She bowed slightly, the jingling of her piercings and jewelry the only sound in the room other than the heartbeats of the petrified members.
“Dark Cobra,” the leader said, introducing their representative. “Once again, I am glad to see you. As I described earlier to you, the mission this time will be taking out a man named Loren Dames.”
“Yes.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, but in this quiet room, it carried weight.
“Of course, we don’t need him just assassinated. If he dies, it could spark outrage across UE. When you kill him, make sure that it does not appear as just a simple death. When we read about this on the news, it should say he comitted suicide after casting away his beliefs. That is something you can do, I wager?”
“Without trouble,” Dark Cobra said. “When?”
“As nice as it would be to do this before his performance, I can’t say that wouldn’t make it look suspicious,” the leader said. “Yes, my request would be that you kill him after his concert. Because he speaks during it, ending his life afterwards would make him seem weak, as though some petty naysayers broke his will. That being said, will your associates be able to sneak into the audience and dissuade the audience during those appeals?”
“Yes.”
“Just as I expected, Dark Cobra. You never fail to do a job perfectly. Well, with that, I believe our meeting is coming to a close.”