A young man with dark hair with one indigo colored eye and the other black exits an elevator. The hallway is empty as the young man arrives at a dark office and enters without knocking. The chair is turned away, but even in the dim light, a seated figure can be seen with their back turned towards him. “So, #32 is dead?” The seated figure asked.

“Yes, sir. His death was confirmed and his body destroyed,” the young man replied.

“I see. Was it Victoria?”

“Yes and no, sir. Victoria killed #32, but his body was destroyed by his employers at the time, the Changelings.”

“Good. Anyhow, the plan is proceeding beautifully #32 fulfilled his purpose. The Conclave has now been called into action. Now, we merely wait for the bait to be set.”

The young man waits for more instructions, but nothing more emerges from the man’s mouth. “Sir, if I may, are you certain that Victoria will align with us, once everything falls into place?” The young man gravely asked.

“Vincent, I am certain you are wary of Victoria given your past history together. But, Victoria is a patriot of humanity for better or for worse. She believes in protecting humanity at all costs much like her dearly departed father, Atlas Starr. When the time comes, she will side with us over them,” the man solemnly replied.

Vincent warily purses his lips and changes the subject, “Very well sir, then am I to wait until the board has been set up and the players are in place?”

“Yes, but first I want you to set up the bait,” the unknown figure said.

“Yes, sir. May I know who you have in mind?” Vincent asked.

“You will know when the details are sent over to you. Now go,” the man strictly ordered. Vincent turns around and in uncharacteristic fashion walks out precisely as instructed to do. Because to disobey that man would be the equivalent to disobeying Atlas Starr, one would not survive the consequence of doing so.

*

Precisely one month later, a certain perfectly fabricated package was sent by Vincent, anonymously to the Conclave with rather specific details. The next day a bomb detonated in a governmental building and brought the entire building down. It was being referred as the 2nd 9-11. Various terrorist’s groups, of course, claimed to be responsible for the terrible attack. But no real proof was found as investigators felt that it was an entirely new radical group given the sophistication of the explosive device. However, after intense political pressure including that of the masses, a terrorist organization named the Remote were declared responsible for the attack to quell the public masses. The case was sealed shut and despite the different sentiment of the investigators, the government went ahead and declared the case closed. Instead, all efforts were to be directed to create a new task force to investigate “Remote,” the new and said responsible terrorist organization.

*

A familiar cool room is filled with kneeling shrouded figures. A beauty with snowy hair, silver eyes, and pointed ears stands before them. Half of her hair is pulled back hair carefully covering one silver eye and despite being scantily clad in a black top and silted open silk skirt, the members remain solemn in reverence. The beauty who is sweetly curved in all the right places was enough to be all that was needed to get a man up at any strip club. Just a simple smile or touch would get the job done and leave the man greatly satisfied.

The beauty takes a seat and crosses her legs erotically before them allowing tantalizing glimpses of her upper and inner thighs. “Children, I am satisfied with your devotion. But why do the humans believe that someone other than us is responsible for the attacks?” The Queen Mother asked.

The members glance at each other from under their cowls and wait for one of them to gather the courage to speak. The speaker of the previous council speaks, “Queen Mother, today, is your 101st birthday. First please allow us to congratulate you.”

The group waits for the Queen Mother to speak. “Of course, children, please do so,” The Queen Mother warmly replied.

Like good little children, the kneeling men in chorus say, “Happy Birthday, Queen Mother! May you reign and live for many more years!” The Queen Mother nods in approval and waits for the shouts of felicitation to die down.

“Queen Mother, I am sad to say, the human governments are doing so because their people demand justice. They do not wish to go war with us, so they have given their people a truth of sorts to satisfy their thirst for blood and vengeance. I can assure you, Queen Mother, it is not that the mortal governments do not fear the Conclave and your rule, but rather they wish to keep the masses happy,” The hooded figure replied.

“I see,” the Queen Mother said thoughtfully. “But what I am most curious about is, why did a Changeling wolf pack claim to be the authors of said massacre, which included my dearly departed descendent, Thaddeus Dumont?”

The room is heavy as the group leader carefully answers, “Queen Mother, they did so to appease their own people, after the incident involving Lady Clarise.”

The air is taut with tension as they wait for the Queen Mother’s answer. “I shall accept such thy answer thy on this day in celebration of my day. But do not mistake mine clemency for approval, for next time, children, I will not stand still for such an insult and will take matters into my own hands, is that understood children?” The Queen Mother matter-of-factly stated.

“Yes, Queen Mother,” the kneeling group members softly reply like scolded young children.

“Wonderful,” The Queen Mother said clapping her silky hands together. “Now let us go an enjoy my birth celebratory feast!” The Queen Mother proudly leads the way as the hooded figures follow her like strange little ducklings. After all, it is a strange practice to celebrate one’s birthday. But even more so, when one looks exactly the same as in their youth. Is there any point to such a celebration?

*

In a familiar undisclosed location under an unknown mountain, a group of figures gathers underneath in a hidden conference room. Guarding the door, Vincent stands watch, carefully studying the seated figures at the roundtable. The seated figures represent various members of the world’s governments, interested groups, investment group and private firms or certain influential world figures. The lights are dimmer than usual to obscure the face of the seated figure at the head of the table, who carefully stays seated in the shadows.

The members quiet down at seeing the seated figure place two gloved hands on the table to rest. Only his forearms can be seen, but the man is wearing a one of a kind patterned suit. “Thank you for joining me this evening. I am certain you are all aware of my reason for gathering you here today. But for those that are still not certain of their place of stance, allow me to lay down the terms. We are at War, Ladies, and Gentlemen. The Conclave for no apparent reason has attacked a governmental facility filled with many innocent civilians. Children at daycare within the building died that day, dear sirs, but that was not enough to stop them. Rather than directly dealing with their enemies they choose to destroy an entire building to showcase their power.

Well, we can certainly do the same. Can we allow non-humans to dictate the terms of war or surrender? I say, NO! The bio-evolutionary groups are our descendants, it is not the other way around. They owe allegiance to us, Humanity! It is the equivalent to desecrating one’s ancestors. We cannot and will not permit such abhorrent behavior! We must put them back in their places in order to protect humanity. What say you? Will you join hands together to once more protect humanity? Shall we show them the might of those they deem weak and feeble? Let us show them, what humanity is capable and prove, who the true rulers of Earth are,” The man persuasively proclaimed.

The room is quiet for a moment until movement is seen, Vincent tenses until he realizes the action being made, clapping. The applause grows louder as more members join in until the entire room is filled with the sound of waves. The room is bathed in a unanimous agreement and by that same connection of brotherly bonds, the clapping dies off.

“Thank you for being in agreement. Now, then shall we discuss the terms?” The shadowy figure stated. The room is swiftly filled with discussions and plans on what to do. And without knowing, the wheels of the World begin to turn as history was in the making of a new global power, one that could rival the powers of old and more especially that of a certain deceased man named, Atlas Starr. But sadly, that boded ill for the world, because unlike Atlas Starr, who was a misunderstood hero of sorts in comparison, the man behind this entity was truly the devil’s spawn.