Of course, those idiot people thought it was their so called ‘constitutional freedom’ to act as they did. That freedom, given by a piece of paper was fantasy. Their wants and desires had been slowly pushed and nudged in the direction that they now took. Where in that, aged crumbling piece of parchment did it say, “You have the right to get drunk and take moronic pictures of yourself making out with five different people in the same bar on the same night”? No, their freedom and wanton desires are the product of his designs. It was so easy to bend the people to his way of thinking.
He owned the magazines, through dummy corporations of course, he owned the news and he owned Hollywood, the biggest producer of trends and fads. Although even he was a bit surprised at the level of narcissism these people had adopted with their “selfie” craze. He didn’t wait long to start pushing his own influence even there though. The more the people sought the dark tendencies of their animalistic natures, the easier it was for them to fall to his House and his kind.
He could care less for those other Houses that shared this territory. They were just as much leaches as the humans, be them so called vampires or not. They were carcass feeding creatures, nothing better than carrion birds. He may not have been able to prevent them from establishing themselves here though. That had happened far too long ago and his House was still weak back then, but no longer.
He had accomplished in decades what some of the Great Houses had taken centuries to do. The people, if you could even still call them that, seemed to drive themselves toward his House and toward their death, or servitude, in droves. The mass movement toward bondage and slavery, pain and sadism were all his doing. America, such that it was, held no promise for brighter futures anymore. And when people stopped looking toward the light, they inevitably sank into darkness, into his and his kinds waiting, cold embrace. And the best part was, the humans asked for the pleasure.
But now things were not well in his kingdom. There were forces unseen to him or his servants moving outside of his sight but within his arms reach, taunting him, daring him to swipe away all that the perpetrators had built. And even with all his strength of numbers and loyal servants the ones responsible never showed themselves.
Alessandro looked out over his city from his glass tower with a troubled brow and hands clasped behind his back. He could strike out from his tower, anywhere. He had crushed a similar uprising against him some three decades ago. After that, no one, from his House or the other two, had dared to even hint at conducting operations within this city without his permission. He was the strongest and even the Great Houses had acknowledged the mastery of his domain. He could go back to the old country and take his rightful place among the Duces whenever he wished. But why be a slave among the old, when he could be a God among the young. He quickly traced his city’s borders with his eye sight. The light ended abruptly where it was met by the cold, harsh nighttime desert. His kingdom.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
He had arrived here with nothing and had built this place from nothing. If need be, he would return it to nothing before he let anyone take a dime, or a single drop of blood from him without his permission. This city was his, and it existed for his pleasure, not for someone else to come and take it away from him piece meal.
He stalked over to his phone and raised the receiver, jamming a number into the touch pad. After a moment he knew that someone had picked it up on the other end. Without waiting for a response he said calmly, “Simon, it has been too long. I want you to come visit me here in America. I trust you know how to contact me?” There was a short response from the other end. “Wonderful my friend, we have so much to talk about.” Alessandro hung up the phone easily as he calmly sat down in his chair.
His eyes passed over the reports that he had received from his various businesses and contacts through the city. There was a small discrepancy here, an unbalanced book of a hundred dollars there. That was normal. But then again maybe he had let these few hundred-dollar discrepancies go for too long? There may be more work for Simon to do when he got here then even he realized when he had called his longtime friend even a few moments ago. His city needed to be reminded of who it was that allowed the people to seek out that thin line between life, death, and pleasure. A cleansing fire was always inevitable and soon his city would burn.
* * * * *
Michael was driving the car at just the right speed. Kenneth had instructed him to drive with prudence and his driver had always obeyed driving right at the tipping point of being pulled over. His car was a sleek, beautiful machine that could handle the traffic and the stresses of hardline race driving if needed, but Kenneth had long ago learned to appreciate the art of subtlety and prudence, excessive speed would only draw attention to himself.
They pulled up outside a magnificent frontal façade of a building. The bright lights of the front sign shown in sharp contrast to the massive tinted mirror windows that reflected almost no light at all that served as the face of the structure. There was brick inlaid with concrete construction and the study support pillars were round and had a rough untouched look to them.
The labs of Advanced Cell Technologies was very impressive and he found himself wondering if the place had really spent all there grant money on research, or the building and the life style of those that worked here. He wouldn’t have cared either way. There was always someone, somewhere that took advantage of those that were willing to give. He would have to look into expanding his influence in Advanced Cell Technologies funders and grant givers. But that was for another time.
Kenneth approached the door and pulled them open easily. Michael was left with the car and he walked into the building as if he owned it. Which in a way he did, or could, if he wanted it. Scientists and politician’s, technicians, and nonprofit “college educated” secretaries, money grubbers all, these people were no better than beggars in the street.
“I’m sorry, Sir?” said a young man jumping out from behind a receptionist desk to intercept him, “is there something I can help you with?”
Kenneth reached out and snapped the man’s neck easily in his grasp. The man child slumped helplessly and lifelessly to the floor. Kenneth didn’t even smile; killing these creatures was more a blessing than a punishment.
“Sir? Are you alright?” The man asked bewildered at the look Kenneth was giving him.