It was the morning of Archard’s announcement. There was a tangible thrum in the air that was ever-present. Even those who did not know what the excitement of the day was all about could feel that energy. Needless to say, anticipation was at an all-time high.

Within the Libra HQ, the higher-ups had just departed after a morning gathering. Each of them were assigned a specific task to accomplish during the announcement ceremony. Al and Vito were going to be on top of two buildings on separate ends of the plaza, looking out for any untoward business. Siegella is to serve as a bouncer for the outer perimeter and the crowd—someone has to make sure there are no assassins within the general public. Fang and Vincent are to serve as the bodyguards for the godfather, ensuring that no harm comes to him. And finally, Archard, of course, is to announce the war against Aries.

Now, only Vincent and Archard remained in the office. The godfather was grabbing a few sheets of paper from his desk, while Vincent was standing around a bit dazed. Ever since yesterday, he hadn’t been able to focus. Especially during the morning meeting, his attention shifted in and out of the present. It was like the world around him wanted to ever-so-slightly shift, but there was a small thread in his mind that wouldn’t let it. He had been wrestling with this odd feeling that he couldn’t even name.

“Hey, Archard,” Vincent said, staring at a wall, “is all of this necessary?”

The godfather, still opening some desk drawers, half-heartedly replied, “You mean all these papers? Not particularly. They’re just notes in case I forget what I’m talking about. But I’ve never needed them before—some people just have the gift of public speaking, I suppose.”

Vincent turned around and faced his superior. “Not that,” he said, his voice and eyes more distant. “I’m talking about the war preparations.”

“The assignments? Archard asked.

“Yeah, all of those things,” Vincent answered. “Why do we need all these snipers and guards and whatnot? Isn't the war happening a while from now? Aren't you just declaring it today?”

As he walked around to the front of his desk, Archard let out a hardy laugh. He pushed his glasses up his nose, causing the rising sunlight to put a glare on them. After taking a long sigh, he walked over to Vincent.

“No, no,” he said, patting Vincent on the shoulder. “This is the war. The declaration will draw them out. I know how they operate and I’m sure that they’ll try to strike me during this ceremony, thinking that I’m vulnerable. But we’ll be prepared. We’ll be ready to take them out.”

Vincent’s eyes went wide. The world around him shifted ever so slightly. “But what about all the civilians that are gathering in the city square? Won't they get killed in the crossfire?”

“Probably,” Archard answered nonchalantly. “But that doesn’t really matter. That’s just the price of power. They won’t blame us for it, anyways.” He then sauntered past Vincent and towards the door.

Vincent just stood there, numb and confused. The world shifted again.

“But don’t worry about that stuff” Archard said, stopping a few feet behind Vincent. “Just do your job and trust in me. Tools shouldn’t think.”

And then he exited the room, leaving Vincent to stand there in his shifting world.

Vincent continued to ponder these feelings that were swirling around him. The words of Silo continued to play inside of his head whenever he thought of Archard. The image of the man he admired, no, idolized started to crumble before him. The perfect picture of his father figure was tainted. Or maybe…it always was.

Power. Power. Power. Power, he kept thinking. Is that really all he cares for?

Even if it was for a second, there was a moment of clarity that hit Vincent. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he was able to feel himself. There was a warmth that washed over him, pushing aside the layers of cold that he had built up over the years.

“Is this…doubt?”

***

On the outskirts of the public square, Zander and Eliot were crouched in an alleyway. The sun was almost at its highest point, causing the buildings to cast shadows on anything close to them. The two of them were watching a sea of people gather around the space, flooding in like a dam had just been broken. They were gathered around a stage that had been erected in the center of this plaza the night before. It was hard to tell how many people were there, but Zander estimated anywhere from 800-1000 were in the immediate vicinity. More people were piling into the roads and alleys that funneled into it.

The stage had been set for the godfather of Libra to make his message known to the public. It was something that hadn’t been confirmed yet, but most people understood what it was going to be about. While most of the west side citizens were brimming with excitement, anyone who wasn’t under the “charitable” biulliionaire’s spell felt nothing but anticipation and fear—they knew what was to come.

“This is it, huh?” Eliot whispered in Zander’s ear.

Still watching the various members of the mob through his binoculars, Zander replied, “It is.”

Eliot nervously rubbed Zander’s arm. “Isn’t there anything we can do? I don’t want all these people to get caught in all this.”

“I know…” Zander said, clenching his teeth. He took his eyes off his targets for a moment and looked back at his lover. “We have to trust in Hal. It’s our only shot.”

“But if he fails—if we fail—then hundreds of people could die today!”

There was a stale breeze that passed by, barely lifting their hair. It carried on it a bitter scent—one that was inevitable and brief. Sure, they could plug their nose to not smell it, but that wouldn’t make it stop being there. The most they could do was wait for a miracle to change the wind.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Zander somberly said. He then clutched at his chest. “You know, the me from Maryland wouldn’t see anything wrong with this. He wouldn’t be feeling this pain in his chest right now.”

Eliot hugged him from behind and kissed him on the cheek. “I know,” he said, “and I’m glad you’re not afraid of growing. That’s what I love about you.”

Zander blushed a bit. “But I still have a long way to go. I wish I could’ve used my mind to think of a better plan. This will have to do for now.”

Eliot pulled back a little, but still maintained his physical contact. “All we can do is our best.”

“And believe that we’re going to pull it off,” Zander added.

***

The crowd was buzzing with energy. There was an excitement that was easily felt throughout the atmosphere—even more so for those who can sense resonance. Most mental waves said the same thing: Adoration in Archard. They were just blind followers, unaware of the man’s real intention.

No, he’s a great man, Fang argued with themselves. A bit of static buzzed in their brain.

For the last couple of days, Fang had been slowly becoming more and more unsure of themselves. Not only that, but their body was twitching more than usual. Their brain was more confused and filled with blank shocks of static that made it hard to think.

They walked around the perimeter of the raise stage, mindlessly looking for anything out of the ordinary. However while their eyes were focused on the task, their mind was somewhere else. They didn’t even realize that they had bumped into the corners of the platform several times. Physical pain was nothing compared to the mental anguish they were going through.

More static buzzed in their brain. He’s the worst. He just wants to use people. He doesn’t care about you.

Fang continued to circle around the stage. He passed by Vincent, who was leaning against one of the support beams, looking off into the distance. His mental waves were just as complex and unsure as theirs. What a conundrum.

Static, again. No, he’s working with father. He has to have the best of intentions in mind. Their body then twitched.

A sudden dose of nausea coursed through their head for a few seconds. The wave caused the world to shift back and forth, unable to decide on a direction, ultimately ending up back in the middle, like always. Almost like it was in response to the vibrating world, their body twitched even more. Their shoulders would suddenly raise and lower, and their head would quickly cock to the side.

Well, maybe he’s good.

Their body twitched and more static occupied their mind.

Or was Yoshin and John right? Am I wrong?

More static and more twitching. It was getting painful.

Am I right?

Static.

Am I wrong?

Twitch

Am I right?

Static. Twitch.

Is there a right?

Twitch. Static. Twitch.

Is there a wrong?

Static. Static. Static.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

Staticstaticstaticstaticstaticstatic

“AGH!” they yelled out, clutching their head. It was pounding and full of unbearable static. Their body was spasming and twitching in both subtle and obvious ways.

“Don’t freak out,” they whispered to themselves, eyes wide open. “Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out.”

Slowly, the pain subsided and the static returned to a manageable state. But neither were back to normal. It was the first time in a long time where calming down didn’t make them go away, entirely. That last time this happened…

Don’t think about it, they thought to themselves.

They slumped down against the side of the stage and just sat with their head buried in the hands.

“I just want this pain to end.”

And then they heard the crowd around them cheer.

***

“What a wondrous day!” Archard announced to himself. There was no one else in his dressing room.

He looked at the handsome figure in the mirror, turning around to get a full view of his burgundy, velvet suit and pants. As always, they were perfectly fit to his body. His hair was pristine, too, slicked back and highlighted in white. There were no more greys in there. It was a youthful sort of white, not one that showed age or weakness. He wore everything on him with pride.

With a satisfied nod, he walked out of the door and into the alleyway. His dressing room was hidden in an offshoot alley, not too far from where his big address was going to take place. So far, everything had gone according to plan. Every action predicted by the white notebook had come true, and he was able to capitalize every single time. He smiled.

Throughout his entire life, everything had gone right for him. Even when things went wrong, they went right. He was a man surrounded by privilege, and he knew it. His money came from his father and his father’s father. His image came from a perfectly calculated string of donations and charity projects. From the very beginning, he had planned everything in his life. Everything he was and had was manufactured to a pristine degree. No one was more perfect than.

That was, until he showed up. One day, years ago, he was approached by an unassuming Japanese businessman. This man was cunning, manipulative, charming, and more than anything, he was powerful. For all of Archard’s life, he had never looked up to anyone, not even his parents. He always placed himself on a pedestal, alone and above everyone. After all, he was always the most powerful, and the most powerful deserve to be on top.

But that man, Riki Nise, was something otherworldly. He knew things more fundamental than even Archard could imagine. It was the first time that Archard truly felt outmatched. However, instead of feeling anger and jealousy, like he thought he would, he only felt respect for this man. Every other time someone tried to rouse above him, he would hate them and try with everything he had to tear them down. But Riki was different. Riki understood him and he understood Riki. They both knew the value of power. They both knew the power of freedom.

And today was the first step towards Riki’s utopia—one where the rich and the powerful finally stand unopposed. Once this speech and this war is finished, that;s when the real work begins. That's when the world will be turned upside down.

As Archard stepped up to the curtains behind his stage, he couldn’t help but smile. On the other side were all the stupid, blind sheep that he was going to harvest. It was no different than working at any other company. It’s just business. He could feel the collective mental waves of the crowd. They all melded together like a hivemind, just like all lower-level humans tend to do. It was hilarious and reaffirming.

As he parted the curtains, the noon sun shone directly on his face, brightening his figure to the masses. He knew that to them he looked like nothing short of a God. And the cheers of those faceless people only affirmed that complex. He walked up to the podium.

“My fellow citizens!” he announced with bombastic and manufactured energy. “Today is the start of something great! Today is the start of a new era!”