Probably not gonna be the only chapter to do that.
New chapter. Last chapter of this book. And we're a hundred books more than what I had originally planned out for this series, all the way back in 2012.
CHAPTER TWENTY:
An Unfriendly Visit
"What? What about the Titan thugs?" Sluggard said, speaking on a newfangled smart phone. "Oh, they're all dead.
Why are they dead?!"
He paused to listen to a longwinded explanation, inaudible with any real clarity from this side of the conversation but him. He was clearly not too pleased with this development. He had intended for these Titan thugs to go in an destroy RAF with ruthless ease. He didn't know nor accounted for Code Avalon. He didn't know about the Pootang, so how could he know about the precautions for the beast?
"Never mind!" he yelled into the phone. "Just make another batch! This time make
sure that there are
fifteen that survive, or I shall make you rue the very day you left your mother's womb!!"
He hung up in a rather aggressive manner, as he leaned forward on his expensive, solid mahogany desk, sitting in his high-backed, cushy chair of the reddest velvet. He wore overly lavish and opulent clothing that cost more than most of the 99% ever had in their bank accounts. The worst part was that he was obnoxious about. He had the thick heavy curtains drawn, so the room was cast into darkness, with only a small, kitschy lamp illuminating the room.
Sluggard felt no nyctophobia, the dark was comfortable to him.
"I think you'll find that hard to accomplish," came a icy cold voice.
"What?!" Sluggard said, outraged that someone dare violate the sanctity of his inner sanctum. "Who the hell are you?! How'd you get in here?! Explain yourself!!"
The voice did not reply.
"I
said --"
"I'm well aware what you said." the voice cut in, with biting tone. "You're not calling the shots here, Sluggard. I know you have become accustomed to being the head honcho, but you do not order me around. You haven't any sovereignty over me, and I do not fear you."
Sluggard reached for his gun, only to find metal shavings and a handle.
"And you react to the sudden loss of control with violence. Predictable," the voice said, tone reproachful. The voice was starting to grate on the overly plump man.
"What do you want?" Sluggard hissed.
"It's time you faced the consequences for careless, violent acts," the voice said. "And face justice for your murders."
"You can't touch me," Sluggard said, immediately and reflexively.
"You keep thinking that," came the voice's cold reply.
Sluggard actually worried at this. What did this person have on him that he could express this so candidly? Did he not cover his tracks well enough? Did someone talk?
"As for the Titan," the voice said, "even now the formula is being deleted from your mainframe, wiped from the memory of your scientists (many of which have decided to leave your employ on their own volition, by the way), and all tangible samples being neutralized into harmlessness."
"What?!" Sluggard roared. His rage was building. "You had no right!! That was
my property!! You had no right!!!!"
"I didn't?" the voice said, acidly. "You want to talk of rights, you, a murderous Veiled monster? What right have you to shoot indiscriminately, for the purposes of inspiring fear and compliance? What right have to take people off the street to transform them into your own personal army, regardless of whether or not they consented to it, whether or not they survived the transformation? All that blood is on
your hands, Dominic Sluggard.
Your hands."
"Who
are you?!" Sluggard demanded.
No answer.
"Answer me!!"
The voice did not acquiesce.
"Answer me!!"
Silence.
Sluggard quickly crossed over to his heavy curtains and parted them, letting in some of the late afternoon light, which penetrated the darkness, chasing it away. There was no one there. It wasn't possible.
It
couldn't be possible!!
