The structure rose like a tower high above the city—though it looked nothing like a tower. Triangular in shape, its surfaces covered with glass, it represented the reach and power of the Imperium. Some also saw it as a symbol of hope, but Zax cared little for that particular interpretation.

Standing at the window of his suite, a glass of zestri in his hand, he observed the Regency with clinical interest. Five more minutes and it would be gone. His only regret was to be so far he could not watch properly as things unfolded. When searching for a new hotel, he had approached some that were closer to the site, but all had been full. This was the closest he had found.

Of course, he could have gone for a walk and watched from above, but he might have been seen, which could have raised some awkward questions. That was a risk he would rather avoid.

By now, questors must be swarming the building, looking for a certain individual. His agents had made sure the information would reach them too late. It would feel genuine enough to the investigators, though the evidence was entirely fabricated. They would have no time to figure that out.

He looked at his wristpad. Two minutes.

No time at all.

He smiled as his eyes drifted back to the triangular structure.

There would be victims, of course—as there had been on Bernice and Assalin—and that broke his heart. But there were times when lives had to be sacrificed for the greater good. This was one such time. There was no way around it. Those who died today—as those who had died before—would live on as heroes, if only in his mind. He had made it a point to learn all of their names. Remembering them all was impossible, but he had a list—a growing list—tucked somewhere deep in his wristpad. He would pull it up every time he needed a reminder of why he was doing all this.

A distant flash of light.

So it begins, he thought.

A casual observer might have brushed it off as a reflection from the Sun, but Zax knew better.

Soon there were more flashes. Then he felt a light tremor under his feet. He watched, sipping from his glass, as the Regency’s glass walls shattered and collapsed in a gigantic billow of smoke. The hotel walls were thick and soundproof, so he did not hear the thundering clap that covered the wail of sirens.

He waited until the entire structure was gone, replaced by a thickening cloud of black smoke, before walking to the couch and settling down.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The TriVid screen was already on, though he had muted the sound. He turned it back up now.

“—hear from our reporter on the ground,” said a female anchor, “questions are already being raised about the lack of security. Officials had vowed something like this would never happen again, that every Regency throughout the Imperium would receive heightened security.”

Zax smiled. It was precisely because the government had made such a claim that it had been vital to destroy another of these buildings. They needed to know their power was nothing more than a symbol. And even that symbol could be crushed—as he had demonstrated today.

“Minutes before the explosion, the site was cordoned off by the authorities while a dozen questors were seen entering the building. It appears some of the visitors were evacuated... Our own Haran Lim is on the ground. Tell us, Haran, how bad is it?”

The woman’s face faded and was replaced by a young, dark-haired man. The street around him was strewn with rubble and charred shapes. People ran behind him, while further away burned the ruins of what had once been the Regency of Ussan.

“It’s bad, Athissia. The whole thing is gone. The power required to achieve something like this is staggering. I can’t begin to imagine what could push someone to commit such a horrendous crime.”

Zax snorted as he took another sip of zestri.

“That the questors were there so early seems to indicate they knew what was about to happen?” asked the female anchor.

The man nodded. “I had an opportunity to briefly chat with a prime when I arrived on site, and he confirmed they had received an anonymous tip. He would not share with me the exact nature of the tip or why they decided to take it seriously, but they did. Though one would wish they had gotten here earlier.”

The senator set his glass down and leaned back on the couch, smiling. Of course they had taken the tip seriously. His agent had said what needed to be said to be taken seriously. Revealing things that only questors and the perpetrators could know. Such as the exact type of explosive used; where it had been placed in previous bombings; how security measures had been circumvented... Once he’d had the questors’ full attention, the agent had explained how the next attack would be an inside job—it was the only way to avoid the new safeguards. And a name had been provided. A fake one, obviously.

The whole thing was a sham.

“Questors were seen going into the building,” continued Athissia. “Did they come out before the explosion?”

“A few did, leading some of the survivors out with them, though many were still within—likely trying to evacuate the remaining visitors.”

“Do we know how many died, Haran?”

“It is still too early to say, Athissia. Though I can tell you there are, on average, a thousand visitors in the building at any given time. Those numbers had gone down following the previous bombings, of course, but not as much as you might think, especially after the government vowed it would do everything in its power to prevent something like this from ever happening again.”

“Do we know how many were evacuated?”

Haran Lim pointed toward an off-screen spot to his right. “I’ve counted a dozen survivors gathered in a makeshift ward that’s been set up nearby, though I’ve heard there are more who are being questioned by the questors as we speak.”

“Thank you, Haran. We have—”

Zax cut the sound off again.

This had gone wonderfully well.

Now, all he had to do was wait.