The Devil Syndicate
By Zoram Selrof
Prologue: Intrigue
20:04 PM (Japan Time), Sunday November the 18th, 2010…
"… Achoo! Brrr! What an autumn! It's getting colder than ever and I don't wanna think how colder it'll become by the time winter comes. And I put on winter clothing, too!"
"Maybe you're allergic to pollen?"
"By all the… The last thing I needed!"
"Hey. Be glad it ain't the flu."
"I know that, X!"
"You don't seem to, Operator."
"Shaddup."
"Fine."
A teenager was walking down a rather empty street that night: he didn't appeal as being older than 13 years old and his height could be close to a meter and sixty tall.
He wore a brownish coat, cotton gloves plus a black cap, black jeans and sneakers: he also sported sunglasses and had the arm strap for a Link PET colored golden and blue while having a golden Alphabet "X" letter as emblem.
"Hmmm? Ah! Finally… We're here!"
The teen looked up and stopped in front of a large estate which stood in front of him: it was surrounded by high concrete walls which had metallic wires running over their upper edge: a large forged steel gate blocked access to the garden outside of it.
"Whoa. Master's mansion always impresses me!"
The estate was rather Western in style, being built of wood and two stories tall: two large windows were set on the top floor while the entrance had five marble steps climbing up to the main door: other small windows were visible on the right and left sides of the ground floor which were covered by velvet red curtains: there were no visible lights on yet some smoke came out of the brick chimney.
"Let's ring."
The teen looked around and spotted an intercom set on the wall to the right of the gate with the name "DR. MURKER RAHER, PSYCHOLOGY" written into the label: he pressed the button.
"Good evening. Who is it?" Someone asked.
"Dr. Raher's patient…"
"Ah. Do come in."
The gates buzzed and then unlocked: the teen pushed one of them inwards and then closed it before trekking up the path to the house and heading towards the already unlocked main door: he came into a hallway decorated with two Greek busts and a candelabrum hanging from the ceiling: red velvet carpets spread through most of the floor which was made of brown and white tiles.
"I must go to the study…" The teen muttered.
He glanced around for a second: two doors were placed on both sides of the hallway and there were two stairs which climbed into a wooden platform circling the whole room and allowing access to the first floor rooms: two large oak doors were set at the end of the hallway under the platform: three white marble arches served as additional support to the platform as well.
"Let's go, then."
He stepped towards the two doors and opened them to step into a largely unlit dining room which had a curved wooden table set on the middle of it plus some armchairs: there was another door right across the room.
"The study's door…"
He circled around the table and stopped in front of the door to knock.
"Come in." A voice replied with a hint of a foreign accent.
The teen opened the door and stepped into a luxurious study which had a candelabrum hanging from the ceiling, a fireplace on the far wall, a wooden desk and some canvases set on the walls: a miniature ship inside of a bottle was also exhibited in a shelf over the fireplace.
"Good evening, Master."
"Good evening."
The man facing the teen and sitting on the armchair behind the desk looked up from the documents set inside of a folder.
He looked on his late fifties given the thick black beard and moustache covering his face.
His hair was colored jet black while his eyes' irises were brown: he appealed as being over a meter and eighty tall even if he was seated.
He sported a greenish suit plus a tie of the same color and greenish pants: his appearance hinted at him being a person with a high social status.
"What are my orders?" The teen asked.
"Look, my disciple… I know I told you your most important mission would be to overcome that man and remove him, yet… Your reports of the past month make it clear that there's police protection around him. One step in fake and the whole tale is over. Do you see my point?" Dr. Raher asked.
"Yes, Master. What should I do, then?" The teen asked next.
"I'll shift your mission: you will stop field activity and remain in standby: I'm sure they have a hold of your appearance and maybe they haven't managed to ID you yet but I'd rather prefer to take a stone bridge apart just to check it's solid enough. Point is: I want to be careful. I can't jeopardize the whole "Syndicate" and our activities which generate immeasurable profits." Dr. Rather commanded.
"Roger, Master. By yours orders, Master."
"Relax. I'm not punishing you. You did a good job last month but we weren't prepared to face such sharp vigilance. They obviously are experienced people who can predict likely scenarios and act according to them. But once we start acting differently, it'll force them to rethink their strategies and reorganize their resources thus leading to a small gap in security which could be exploited. But not now." He exposed.
"Roger, Master."
"You can use the basement simulator to train anytime but make sure to be discrete when coming to visit: I will be out in the clinic most of the days but I'll leave instructions to the butler so that he asks no questions and merely opens the garage door when you need to." He instructed.
"I understand, Master."
"… By the way… Is there anything troubling you?" Dr. Rather questioned all of a sudden.
"Troubling me, sir? No, sir…" The teen trailed off.
"I insist. Is there anything?" He insisted.
"Well…"
"So?"
"Ah! Eh… Well, sir… That's… eh… I don't know why, but sometimes, during my sleep, I "see" a "white world" where distorted and echoing voices speak but I can't see them… Sometimes they seem like whole conversations but I can only pick fragments of them… It's been bugging me, Master, truth to be told, for a while already…" The teen exposed while looking doubtful.
"Hmmm… Maybe they're memories which you are trying to repress because they aren't good to remember…"
"It could be, sir…"
"Don't mind them." Dr. Rather commanded.
"Roger, sir!"
"Do you have any doubts, though?" Dr. Raher asked of him.
"No, sir! I live to serve the "Syndicate", sir. Were it not for the "Syndicate" I would be dead, sir. I am ready to serve the "Syndicate" until I die, sir."
"It isn't my intention to make a martyr out of you. Forget that last part: there's no rule ordering you to suicide if things get awry."
"Roger, sir!"
"X! Is the program my Net Navi designed working fine?" Dr. Raher asked the Net Navi.
"There are no anomalies to report, sir." The Navi reported.
"Good. Make sure to train with it until you can control which "form" you will be using and exploit their potential to the maximum: you will need to if you want to overcome that man."
"Yes, sir! By your orders, sir!"
"I am supposed to keep my existence a secret, sir?" The teen asked Dr. Raher.
"Of course. The other 11 Heads of Department don't know who you are. You answer to me. The other members aren't involved. They all have their jobs to carry out, after all. The reach of the "Syndicate" is broad and powerful." Dr. Raher confirmed with a smug smile.
"Roger, sir!"
"You're dismissed. Good evening. And remember the orders."
"Roger, sir!"
The teen saluted in a military fashion before turning upon his heels and coming out of the room: Dr. Raher stretched and formed a broad grin.
"Hmpf. With this… Alea jacta est."
He chuckled under his breath…
21:18 PM (Japan Time)…
"… Well! Back home. Living on your own has its pros and cons but I'm the type who doesn't complain about stuff. I don't mind having to cleanse the apartment myself, buying the groceries and all that other stuff. That's being a responsible guy. Oi! X! Fetch me some more videos."
"Okay. I dunno what you see on them, though. They look like a strange thing to record."
"That's because you're a Net Navi to begin with: you're not supposed to understand human-unique things."
"If you say so…"
The teen came inside of his apartment and took off the coat to reveal a black wool jumper having a logo drawn on it: a circle with a red rim and orange flames painted inside of it: a black trident was set on the middle of it and two purple-colored eyes sans pupils looked on from inside of the sea of flames.
"Heh! We aren't called the "Devil Syndicate" in vain!" He announced with obvious pride.
He took the cap off to reveal jet-black hair which reached until the base of his neck and slightly beyond: he kept the sunglasses on, though, and changed his cotton gloves for fingerless leather ones: he then headed into a small bedroom having a bed, a worktable, a portable chair, a cupboard and, lastly, a small bookcase with a dozen or so books on it.
"Time to have a thrill…"
He sat down in the worktable and unzipped a backpack to take a laptop outta it which he placed atop the table: he plugged the charger into it and then turned it on as he hummed a tune.
"Oho. 3 new emails… YouTube subscription service… New topic alert on the gaming forum… Huh? Troll-F? Who's that? It doesn't seem spam mail, so I guess there's no harm in checking it out while X goes and fetches me the videos…"
He double-clicked into the mail icon and read the contents: his jaw hit the floor and he then exploded into maniacal laughter.
"Gah, hah, hah, hah, hah, ha~h! This one's good! "Dancing dancer of dances goes to the presidential palace in Mexico City and tells Calderón to go play a soccer game on the Vicente Calderón stadium in Madrid which his father built with the complicity of Mourino, the Madrid Football Club's polemical trainer. But then Calderón insists that he's gotta bring the calderón (in other words, the big cauldron he came outta from) to bathe into it so Mourino goes and tells him to go soak in water that eyesore Mr. Bean in King Land who will dunno what's going on. Point is: while Calderón fools around Mr. Universe will sneak into the presidential palace and claim Calderón's a Choina spy: a popular uproar will start and Mr. Universe will become the head of the United States of Mexico. The guys at Washington will start to call the insurance companies to ask if "catastrophic course of events" is covered by them. And then chaos ensues. If ya have the guts, then send this mail to the first person ya think of. If not, erasing eraser of erasure will delete it by yelling "Mary Poppins' curse" at it. Enjoy this crazy courtesy of Troll-F and G-Junior." … Hilarious!"
"I find way too long." X muttered.
"Come on, X! Ya gotta see the originality of it!" The teen told him.
"I don't." He drily replied.
"Man! Ya are too stiff. Maybe I can fix that?" The teen teased.
"No. You don't have permits to mess with my programming. Master took care of it." He automatically argued.
"It's a way of speaking, ya see~!" The teen insisted.
"Well then, I don't see the fun on it." X grumbled.
"Ya don't, Mr. X Files?"
"Come on!" X groaned.
"Come out into the hockey lane and score 333 points! Then ya will have the national cup in your hands!"
"That's impossible." X shot back.
"Who says that?" The teen asked.
"History."
"Hmmm… "What then is, generally speaking, the truth of history? A fable agreed upon." … ID this one!" The teen challenged with a grin.
"… Napoleon Bonaparte, 20 November 1816…" X sounded surprised when he announced the origin.
"Surprised? I know how to read, mind ya. Master says that it's good to be well-informed if you wanna play your cards." The teen shrugged.
"Hum. Here are the videos… And I insist: I don't see the point of them to begin with." X grumbled.
"That's because you're a Net Navi…" The teen reminded him.
"Whatever. I'm off to watching some with some more sense." X shook the topic off.
"And what would that be?" The teen asked.
"Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker…" X replied.
"Sounds like ya. Go ahead."
"Fine. Later."
X apparently left the computer while the teen stood up and walked over the bookcase: he began to flip through a book and checked something before making a smug smile.
"This is the man I gotta overcome. But not yet. I've waited since the summer but I don't mind waiting a bit more. The more time I spend preparing, the better. Hmmm? Why. I hadn't spotted this photo before, guess I focused too much on the first one… Wait… Isn't that…? No way. It's gotta be a lookalike. Hmmm?"
The teen suddenly seemed to focus on something and looked up while apparently frowning under the sunglasses.
"… Weird. The name matches… But… How? I dunno, yet… Maybe the answers are closer than I think…? I thought it was strange that I don't remember anything before the summer. And maybe it isn't as coincidental as I thought it was… Hmmm… Bah. I can settle this later. The videos will help me shake off tension. Heh, heh, heh…"
The teen sat down on the chair and unfastened his jeans' belt to then unbutton and unzip them to take his cock out: he began to play the video and looked excited by the content.
"It turns me on… Watching guys being forced to undergo S&M experiences… Heh, heh, heh. Who says you need to see the vulgar stuff, anyway? This is way more select. Let's put on the earphones: I wanna listen to it…" He muttered with obvious amusement.
He plugged a pair of white earphones into the port and then placed them into his ears: he began to rub his cock while looking excited by what he was seeing.
"I simply will delete them once I'm done and clear up all traces of X having been in this forbidden server… But the forbidden is what draws me: big guys don't look cool at this stuff yet guys around my age or younger are perfect… I love seeing their struggles and their agony… And I've realized by now that the marks left behind on my body back on the summer were evidence that I've been through this… I wouldn't mind going through it again… I feel like I'd be a good masochist… Hmmm… Ah… I can feel it coming! Come!"
He suddenly gasped and closed his teeth as he released and stained some of his worktable and his right hand's glove: he panted for some seconds before slowly moving the mouse using the mouse-pad and shut the video off: he then picked a tissue from a box and cleansed the stains on the worktable: he brought his stained right hand up and slowly licked the white stains on it off: he seemed to savor it before cleansing his cock with the tissues and putting the jeans back on: he stretched and stood up while chuckling.
"Ah… Refreshing! Totally."
He made sure he'd properly cleansed everything before opening a drawer and taking out a pair of navy blue pajamas: he proceeded to take off his clothes except for the boxers (which had a wet part) and put on the pajamas without bothering to take the sunglasses out.
"X! Set the alarm clock at 8:00 AM tomorrow. I wanna be up early to exercise a bit." The teen called out.
"Sure." X calmly confirmed.
"How far did you see?"
"Heh, heh, heh. I saw a cool action sequence involving the Peace Walker itself… I'm surprised such a mole can walk over the terrain at ground speed of roughly 40 kilometers per hour… And even more than such machines could exist back in the year 1974… I guess they allowed themselves some freedom in designs…" X admitted.
"This excites ya, eh?" The teen asked with a grin.
"How couldn't I? After seeing MGS3: Snake Eater and MGS: Portable Ops, I'm now with the next game in the chronology. I did well on listening to those talks about these games."
"Fair enough. Good night."
"Good night."
The teen climbed into the bed and removed the sunglasses to reveal reddish irises: he formed a smug smile as he left them on the worktable to his right and placed both hands behind his skull and over the pillow as he looked at the bleak ceiling.
There's a little mystery here. But nothing will hold me back. I can easily get the information without anyone noticing. I'll train and when I face you, my enemy, I'll defeat you. And then your tale will end there. You will come bragging and over-confidently but I know how to exploit those. Crave your own grave… Ready or not… I'm coming for you… Write your will because ya won't come back alive from that encounter!
He chuckled under his breath as he fell asleep…