11-03-2015, 11:26 AM
In his office, Armande Nicodemus stared at the screen but no longer saw the images that had been playing there. He felt a turning in his stomach and his jaw clenched. No. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing himself to center. Their actions had to proceed from a place of calm and deliberate decision. It took a moment but his face relaxed and his breathing returned to normal.
Very deliberately he let his eyes remain closed as he examined the information he had. The cancer had continued to grow, spreading its tendrils out deeply and into every part of the world. After millenia of keeping the disease in check, virtually eradicated, it had returned, exploded onto the world. The cancer metaphor was limited. It was a virus, eradicated nearly to the point of extinction except for a few stragglers. But those stragglers....they were the hardy ones, the ones that were immune, in some way, to the treatment. And without competition now, they proliferated. And the old treatments were only having limited success.
He had begun to change things. Bringing the Atharim more directly under his control; refocusing them on their true mission; rooting out traitors and weaklings; creating the Order of the Archangels.
Already the team had success, having removed a dangerous godling with no casualties and minimal exposure. It was pleasing, though he did not expect the team to always remain intact. People died. Already he had marked and called out Atharii to fill out the other Orders of the Archangels. Barokvsky was his Metatron, but he had many willing tools that he would, and was, using.
But this Theo Andlain had changed the game. He was not a god simply seeking power, not that alone. That was what gods did, to create their little kingdoms and rule to their hearts content. No. Andlain wanted exposure. He wanted acknowledgement. Despite himself, Armande almost smiled. He doubted Apollyon was happy with the man's displays and demands. Very obviously, the god who dared to call himself Ascendancy had kept his abilities secret from people for decades. There were always rumors, of course, of miraculous feats heard from a cousin who knew a guy who met someone. And the man looked no older than 30 despite being Armande's age. But rumors could be discounted. Technology made the miraculous normal. And a man such as him was expected to avail himself of the latest medical breakthroughs that would keep him young looking.
Apollyon's image was carefully cultivated, revealing only that which he wanted. Clearly, that included hiding what he really was, the Consulate of Propaganda providing the cloak and the obfuscation necessary. And now Theo- the name seemed appropriately blasphemous. "God" indeeed!- Andlain was bring it out into the open. Demanding that they be publicly acknowledged.
The old methods, he thought again. They worked. And with Dr. Daniat's latest missive, it looked as if they would be adding to their arsenal. But he would need more. The Atharim needed more.
The corners of his mouth turned upward slightly and he opened his eyes. The game had changed. The war would be public. Could he be Caesar? He nearly smiled, remembering The Gallic Wars. It had been a brilliant move.
The Regus Armande Nicodemus stood and took his long coat from the rack and left Baccarat Mansion. It was time to gauge the temperature. It was time to see what could be done.
For that he needed to be around the people. He walked casually down one street after another. He knew his destination. The first of many. A coffee shop just a few streets over. A place where college students could often be found. Or the leisure class. Those with too much time on their hands and too much fire.
He would find out what he needed, where to begin. Caesar had not clawed his way up to the position of Dictator without using every tool he had. Especially those that were mightier than the sword.
Very deliberately he let his eyes remain closed as he examined the information he had. The cancer had continued to grow, spreading its tendrils out deeply and into every part of the world. After millenia of keeping the disease in check, virtually eradicated, it had returned, exploded onto the world. The cancer metaphor was limited. It was a virus, eradicated nearly to the point of extinction except for a few stragglers. But those stragglers....they were the hardy ones, the ones that were immune, in some way, to the treatment. And without competition now, they proliferated. And the old treatments were only having limited success.
He had begun to change things. Bringing the Atharim more directly under his control; refocusing them on their true mission; rooting out traitors and weaklings; creating the Order of the Archangels.
Already the team had success, having removed a dangerous godling with no casualties and minimal exposure. It was pleasing, though he did not expect the team to always remain intact. People died. Already he had marked and called out Atharii to fill out the other Orders of the Archangels. Barokvsky was his Metatron, but he had many willing tools that he would, and was, using.
But this Theo Andlain had changed the game. He was not a god simply seeking power, not that alone. That was what gods did, to create their little kingdoms and rule to their hearts content. No. Andlain wanted exposure. He wanted acknowledgement. Despite himself, Armande almost smiled. He doubted Apollyon was happy with the man's displays and demands. Very obviously, the god who dared to call himself Ascendancy had kept his abilities secret from people for decades. There were always rumors, of course, of miraculous feats heard from a cousin who knew a guy who met someone. And the man looked no older than 30 despite being Armande's age. But rumors could be discounted. Technology made the miraculous normal. And a man such as him was expected to avail himself of the latest medical breakthroughs that would keep him young looking.
Apollyon's image was carefully cultivated, revealing only that which he wanted. Clearly, that included hiding what he really was, the Consulate of Propaganda providing the cloak and the obfuscation necessary. And now Theo- the name seemed appropriately blasphemous. "God" indeeed!- Andlain was bring it out into the open. Demanding that they be publicly acknowledged.
The old methods, he thought again. They worked. And with Dr. Daniat's latest missive, it looked as if they would be adding to their arsenal. But he would need more. The Atharim needed more.
The corners of his mouth turned upward slightly and he opened his eyes. The game had changed. The war would be public. Could he be Caesar? He nearly smiled, remembering The Gallic Wars. It had been a brilliant move.
The Regus Armande Nicodemus stood and took his long coat from the rack and left Baccarat Mansion. It was time to gauge the temperature. It was time to see what could be done.
For that he needed to be around the people. He walked casually down one street after another. He knew his destination. The first of many. A coffee shop just a few streets over. A place where college students could often be found. Or the leisure class. Those with too much time on their hands and too much fire.
He would find out what he needed, where to begin. Caesar had not clawed his way up to the position of Dictator without using every tool he had. Especially those that were mightier than the sword.