Justice for Lucas

by Pascal in Quebec

His Life was pain, loneliness, a struggle against peoples and organizations that wanted to either exploit or kill him. But he survived, he thrived and found himself a group of young people in the same situation; highly intelligent and functional but abandoned by their families. He made them his own. Rated 'M' - Multiple cross-overs, time-travel, aliens, psionics, magic and horrors

6. Fiefdom of Burgundy

The author wishes to express thanks to anyone who may read his story and encourages them to leave reviews, comments or even flame it hard. As with any who try their hand at publicly expressing an idea or story concept, all feedback is important and welcome.

If you follow the story, could you leave at least one review, even if it's just an empty blurb with the word 'review' just so that I can get an idea of who is interested in it? Thank you for the effort.

Disclaimer: I do not own SeaQuest, Star Wars, nor any other sci-fi or fantasy series, movies, comics, cartoons or news items used in this fiction as they belong to the creators or broadcasters or publishers who put them out for consumption by the public.

Crossing in from now on:

Martin Mystery cartoon from 2003 to 2006

The real adventures of Jonny Quest cartoon 1964 & 1996/97 only; written forms ignored

Thunderbirds TV animation 1964/66, live film 2004 and cartoon TAG 2015 only; written forms ignored

Sixth chapter: Fiefdom of Burgundy

Fatherly Lord

(SeaQuest theme – season 1 opening)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor – executive conference room #2

"I just spoke with the kids; they looked like death warmed over. I don't like to confine them for the evening but at the same time, it's not any different than they were already doing by themselves, so I don't feel guilty about it either." Raymond told the two persons in the room as he regained his chair.

"I don't think confinement to a locked room, especially with a guard, is good for children that just act childishly" Lucas responded calmly from the cushy depths of his throne. He had slouched into a comfortable recline and had no intention of getting straightened out anytime soon. His aching back was much too satisfied with the current position for any change in posture to be worth it. "Grandpa always said that locking up a kid gives them the message that they are dangerous and can't be trusted around others so you exile them or lock them in a surrogate jail until they are docile again. It doesn't work and makes the kids doubt their humanity and their belonging to the family so it's a shit punishment to use. In this case though, they were already set on going to the suite for the evening and had no plans passed that. It's not like I'm actually confining them all that much. If they take a minute to think things through, they'll see it's pretty much symbolic. I hope they see that because at 22:00pm I will go and talk with them before they turn in to see if we can talk or they really need the early bedtime on top of things."

"Tell me Lucas, why did you tell the guard to stay with them if the escort is resiliated? They are inside the walls, in a suite even, so the lurkers couldn't get to them. Why the guard?" asked Cynthia; though she was not worried about them, the two siblings were dear to her heart or she would not have agreed to adopting them. On the other hand, she was just curious about how her son did things. His performance with the attorneys all day and then the ruffian at the Lounge made her hungry for more information and a deeper feel of who and what her son was.

"It was for two goals and they are actually complementary. First off, I will make my apology to them for not explaining the options or making it look like they had no voice of their own. They did have a choice but they didn't ask properly or were passed caring when the blow-out happened. I will personally explain and reset things for next time. Now, goal 1 – Derek panicked for no reason that I can discern and that worries me. I am hoping that keeping the irritant at hand will make him spill the beans, either by accident or in confidence to Tanya who will then speak with one of you to see if you can help out her brother. It's also why I said to Theo to keep the compliance settings as if they were out as planned. I know Dunlop; he's one of my best people available for escorting minors or skittish elderly persons. He will mess with their heads a bit to unsettle them and then appease them. That brings up goal 2 – Theo IS a good guy, and I heard in his tone of voice the guilt he had because this outing blew in his hands. He felt awful and didn't know how to fix it. Now he as a chance to show them in person that he's not the child beater Derek seems to think he is, and he'll get to show both the caliber and moral standing that I ask of my workers. Everybody wins, even the kids if they take a breath and think before they bitch about stuff for no reason."

"Nicely done, my son. Now are you available for a couple months to teach me how to do that? I could use a parenting primer." Raymond said with good humor as he filled a crystal stem glass with some cream of mint liquor to go with the plate of multi-varied wafer cookies the valet had put in the center of the table for evening tea. The Massive silver Samovar had been brought from Lucas's suite and was gently puffing steam while the valet wiped and placed the cups, saucers and utensils at each person's reach.

Cynthia snorted while extending her arm, holding a stem glass towards her wayward companion whilst Lucas just chortled in mirth at the concept of him parenting anybody. Maybe in three or four decades. The female valet actually smirked and thought that he was doing a great job already with all the employees and dependants of BVL and all the other projects he was setting up. Any kid who wound up with him as a dad or uncle would be well taken care of and would never lack for love or attention.

"Now unfortunately, we come to the nasty bits of our familial arrangements. As you are my parents or soon will be, we are going to need to set some boundaries between work and house in order to keep sane. Raymond has already shown a firm grasp of the concept. The question now is you, mom, can you separate your son from the businessman that will employ you? If you become my attorneys of record, will you be able to stay detached and professional at work but committed and caring at home? Will this arrangement work or collapse, I need to know because I have a plan concerning the two of you that hinges on your capacity to make the partition and hold to it."

Cynthia stroked her chin pensively as she slowly sipped her mint liquor and chewed one of the exquisite imported wafer cookies that she would have to watch out for or she might end up binging out on them. Naughty boy her son was, tempting her with such delicacies.

Getting more serious for a minute she swirled the liquor in its glass and wondered what exactly Lucas wanted. Then she had a brain wave and thought about what he was afraid of. It was so bloody apparent that she wanted to hit her head on the table. That was her answer right there.

"You don't need to worry about giving orders or telling us off at work for fear of us retaliating at home under the guise of familial management or discipline issues. We hope in counterpart that any home problems will not transfer to the contractual relationship we will be entering with you."

The look of surprise on her son's face told her she had hit the nail right on the head. For all his public façade and displays of power, Lucas was still only eleven years old and very much scared of being abandoned or getting hurt by the adults around him. What he needed more than anything was reassurance and support to validate his life as a person; the money, prestige and luxury were just accessories around the person and had no real value. His most fundamental fear was to be exiled or sent away like had happened when they sent him to live with Lawrence's parents, then with hiring Izuku Shu and recently when he was essentially cloistered like a monk at WPP village. Now they needed to elaborate and fine tune a setup that would protect everyone while being flexible enough to not rip their heads off when a family tiff happened or a misunderstanding about orders and goals at work muddied the waters.

Suite F12 #4 – Oy Vey iz mir!

(Hymnals – funeral dirge, slow tempo, magnum voce, with choir)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor, suite #4

The teenagers came into the apartment and saw from the doorway that the setup was different from the Owner's suite. There were two bedrooms side-by-side with an open corridor at the right hand leading to the master bedroom and amenities beyond. The great room and its three separations was a duplicate of the one in the Owner's suite but without balcony or window, only the great bedroom at the back would have that. They saw that Theo had placed himself at the dining room table and placed pitchers of water and juice with glasses and cloth napkins on a service tray in hand's reach. He had pulled one of the slimset touchscreen terminals from the table and was contentedly watching a newsfeed while waiting for them to get in.

"Alright munchkins, take your gear off and dump it on the couch, you'll get to it in a minute." He closed the feed and pushed the screen back into the table before standing and indicating for them to stand at four feet in front of him. Seeing the exchange of looks and slow-motion compliance, he shook his head in sad amusement and fervently wished things got better fast or the evening would be painful for all of them.

"Okaaayy then, dudes…" he started in a sarcastic imitation of teen speak that made the real ones cringe and hope they didn't sound like that "We need some rules to make sure that everything has its place and we don't bark at each other without a reason."

"Firstly and obvious; you don't leave the suite without permission from me, your parents or the boss. If you do, I'll have security hunt you down and lock you in a holding cell in basement 4 until your adults get to you, then all bets are off and I won't help you save your skins. His Excellency decided this and the others backed him up; since it's HIS house, you do what he says or you gonna hear about it, clear? Now, the entire suite including the balcony is available to you and you can bunk in separate rooms or share or even unfold the couch. Siblings in the same bed is normal when you have a bad bout and supporting each other is a healthy thing. That's your choice to make, I'll only interfere if your hurting one another or ill."

The teens were sullen and bitter but silent while the ground rules were laid out for them. After their father had scolded them they had no stomach for a fight about menial things. So far, everything spelled out was banal and what they would have done themselves anyways, so why fight about it?

"Secondly; these liquids are there on the table for you. If you want more, or a different sort, you ask me and I'll see if we can get it. You do not root around the fridge, pantries or cupboards or you will get punished for BOTH dishonesty AND challenging authority. You are on short rations for the evening, live with it. And since I saw with my own eyes the bloody huge dinner and dessert you had, don't cry me a river about starving or I'll punish you for BOTH lying to my face AND making false accusations of child abuse by way of not feeding you properly."

Now the teens were chaffing at the bit. The bastard thought he had the right to punish them like he was in charge! And doubling punishments to boot! For what? Dammit! That wasn't gonna pass! Both now had frowns and pursed lips in matched expressions that would be comical if it weren't for the blow-out about to happen at any second.

"Thirdly; my name is Theodore Michael Dunlop, or Theodore or Theo. You don't need to say 'sir' or 'lieutenant' or any title. Just be calm and polite when you speak to me and I'll return the favor in kind. I'm not a teenager sitting a pair of babies for pocket money; I'm a professional soldier set as night watch. My job is to make sure you stay in the suite safely unless there's a fire or medevac to go through. As the boss told you on the screen, you get changed into your nightclothes NOW then you are free to do what you want until the bedtime set for you at 22:00pm. That means you hit the bathrooms at 21:30 and lights out at 22:00 sharp or you will get punished for BOTH tardiness AND willful disobedience. Any questions?"

Derek was spoiling for a fight by now and not willing to back down from what he saw as a big bully trying to muscle in on him and his sister. With a tone that was frigid and contemptuous he spoke challengingly "Punishment! What fucking punishment hein? And what the hell is that about taking doubles when you feel like it!" The boy's fists were clenched and his face red with rage, it was clear he was at the point of explosion and no longer trying to contain himself.

Theo sighed sadly; he had really hoped not to do this because he really thought scaring children to obtain their compliance was bad policy. He knew from experience and his own childhood that explanations were long to give but always yielded better, more reliable attitude changes than fear and pain. Thankfully, his US Ranger training had included a battery of non-lethals and some very nice negotiation skills to talk the locals into helping with a mission. On top of that, the boss had paid for him to go through programs for professional baby-sitters and live-in tutors to know how to care for kids, regardless of health or temper. If Derek thought he was getting physical with him, the kid would be disappointed. Theo had no desire to hit or hurt the teen, just get him immobile and calm enough to talk through what ailed him in the first place because it was a damn big problem if his instincts were right.

"Okay kiddo, you asked for it!" Theo said in almost bratty playfulness before he surged forward and grabbed Derek like a squid extending its arms to bring prey into its ring of tentacles and teeth. The poor boy was already so pissed he could not see straight and had no fighting skills whatsoever so he couldn't have really resisted even though he dearly wanted to. Theo quickly had him flush against himself, face-to-face. He wrapped one arm around Derek's back to clamp and lock the boy and his limbs in place. The other arm was at the nape of his neck, resting on the top of his shoulders firmly but delicately to not hurt the kid if he made a reflexive move out of fear. He completed by stepping the tip of his toes onto Derek's feet but keeping his weight only on his own heels to not hurt the kid's toes. This took all of four seconds to accomplish.

Now completely immobile except for his head, Derek was aware he had no chance to get free unless Tanya did something drastic. Since the soldier was not harming him, he could guess his sister, even smaller and less aggressive than him to begin with, would not try anything. He was stuck and had nowhere to run. Looking deep into Theo's eyes he saw sadness, sorrow and other emotions he couldn't identify but anger or rage or a desire to hurt him weren't there. His own adrenaline rush was ebbing out, the stress from the spike of rage was spent and he realized he was not going to be ready to fight a man like Theo anytime in the next decade. All he had left was a bruised ego and humiliation to drown in. And his mom and dad were gonna hear about it so he'd get punished by them too.

Visionary Lord

(The Godfather – main theme)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor – executive conference room #2

"Well then I guess I have to take a risk and explain my project to you. My attorneys at Dross, Dregs, Scraps & Fraggz, Inc are not up to the full task and complexities that my holdings will soon represent. While they are uniquely suited to some of the less savory aspects of BVL operations and Mister Dregs in particular is quite adept at navigating the seedy underbelly of humanity, they are just not good enough by themselves to carry the brand name correctly. On the other hand, the people at Granger, Farmer and Tiller, partners at law, are simply too goody two-shoes and don't have the street creds or the teeth to cut it out in those markets and areas of life where my ventures are wont to meander. The solution is therefore simple in concept yet imminently messy in application: we will concatenate the two firms into a single large company offering the full gamut of legal services, public relations, lobbying and representation, proxy services, process serving and ushers at law, etc…."

The two adults were a bit amused until they saw for real the look of interrogation on the child's face at their reaction. Raymond asked what they both thought: "Lucas, how are you going to manage that? You aren't a lawyer and you can't participate in the process. We aren't partners in the firm and even then, only the founding partners have the seats and votes on the board of direction. Maybe you could pay Dross, Dregs, Scraps and Fraggz into selling themselves or at least influencing them into a merger and then renegotiate their contracts, but you wouldn't be able to command the system. Do you see?"

(Johann Sebastian Bach – Fugue and Toccata in D minor)

"No I don't see because you are missing three fundamental pieces of information that will explain to you why my project is solid and can be realized in about 14 months if it is worked on diligently. First, I have determinative command authority over my attorneys. I speak and they obey. Period. I want a merger? Fine. If the firm to merge with doesn't exist or is an empty shell, they will work on making it real, functional and profitable and then merge with it as ordered."

The two adults shared a look with each other and instinctively looked at the valet for a sign in her body language but she was busy pouring a cup of tea for Lucas and made certain to be angled with her face away from them. Could Lucas have ownership of a debt they owed or blackmail material on the partners? He alluded to their criminal world expertise and shady leanings.

"Secondly, both the Farmer matriarch and the Tiller patriarch are looking into pulling out as many of their relatives and dependants out of Buffalo City and New York State as possible. They are looking to completing the sally as soon as July of 2016 and have given me signals through discrete channels that they wish to enter treaty negotiations with me concerning their exit rights and my purchasing their parts of the firm."

Raymond paled to unhealthy tones while Cynthia stared dumbly at the eleven year old, her mind having blanked at the knowledge that the founding partners of her firm were speaking to Lucas behind everybody's back as if it were a James Bond mission. And what the fuck is that expression 'treaty negotiations' mean dammit! He's a kid, not a government; he didn't have borders to defend and customs outposts to watch over! And why on god's blue Earth would two of the three founders want to dump their centuries old heritage to vamoose out of state like there was a new wave of the plague sweeping the land?

"Thirdly and most importantly as far as the Law and the government are concerned; no I am not a lawyer or member of the firms concerned, but that is a matter of time and money. In their current forms, only my cabinet is an incorporated company that works with shares and voting stocks which I have already bought out in full and now own as a closed capital society. G, F & T is and old form Legal Study Partnership that has neither shares nor stocks, but they did evolve the company structure and legal status about 73 years ago into an LLC - Limited Liability Corporation. Now, an LLC as a registered tax-paying corporate entity can effectuate another change of structure and functionment to become a share-based Incorporation and put voting stocks on the market for sale thus becoming an open capital society. Or, if a treaty of non-aggression with certain parties is established in confidence a priori, then the voting stocks could be sold privately and be held as a closed capital society. This is the situation that I am going to negotiate with Farmer and Tiller, which will hopefully drag Granger into the process and evacuate them as well."

Cynthia was trying desperately to wrap her head around the maneuver that her son was trying to mastermind with nothing but money, paper and a few innuendoes versus the hundreds of years of accrued history and three hundred workers that G, F & T could field to defend themselves. She was the expert in corporate forms, incorporation and taxation brackets and such but this… It really boggled the mind.

He was planning on exploiting a particularity of American law that came into effect in the early 2000's when the government changed the laws regulating legal studies and cabinets to allow them to become incorporated and sell shares to non-lawyers because there were more and more massive firms coming from other countries that offer multiple services that were not lawyering per se but connex products and services like representation, lobbying, proxy voting on boards of companies, etc… Without that specific particularity, the project would not work. She knew for a fact that it would never be possible in Canada or England which still abided the old code that only lawyers and notaries could be partners in a cabinet, no shares or stocks, just collective name partnership or the LLC common in american business landscape.

The little bugger was right after all; with enough money, elbow grease and time, it would eventually happen on his terms if the main partners folded and sold their interests to him. Would they? She suddenly didn't want to know if or how. Some things she was still too young and innocent to sully herself with despite being a lawyer and 39 years old. Eyeing the mint liquor, she gestured the valet to refill her glass.

Raymond was adrift in his thoughts about the new work environment that this would present? Impose? He wasn't certain which and that did scare him a lot. At any rate, the boy in front of them would upset the judicial landscape of New York State and far a field with his maneuver whilst also laying hands onto and gearing up one of the biggest and meanest law firms you could find in New York State outside of New York City or Albany. The thousands of active clients and several more thousand contacts and business partnerships were truly awe inspiring and the being in charge would truly be able to lord it over others at any venue or event he attended.

(The A Team – main theme)

Looking at his new son, Raymond knew now why the employees called him 'Master' or 'Lord' or 'Excellency'; he truly was the Lord-Master of the Fiefdom of Burgundy and he was on the path of conquest. His domain was small but prosperous, well populated and exceedingly capable of expanding and seizing land, riches and people. The little boy at the end of the table was a genuine medieval Lord and the workers were more serfs or dependants than salaried employees and they obviously liked the security and respect they got from this old style system with twists.

Suddenly Raymond felt a wave of illness make him feel light headed, almost faint. What was that comment Derek had made at dinner tonight? The laws about private armies and you can't have one? Oh for Pete's sake! The bastard little crud wasn't just hiring ex-cops and ex-servicemen out of kindness, he needed protection for all the underground stuff he had and needed to prepare an exit in case he wanted to turn legit but the buyers and suppliers wanted to take control or even remove him altogether. He really was running a medieval-style fief, but with several modernizations in both the societal model and the economics of the thing. Oh bloody Hell! The small pillock of a git was screwing them all and getting away with it to boot! Could they stop it? Should they? Was there a way, especially without destroying their family? Or starting a war in the streets? Now the comments about Farmer and Tiller negotiating exit rights made a lot more sense and Raymond wished they were offered something a lot stronger and stiffer than mint cream. He needed some Jack Daniel's or some Bourbon in a bad way, and a lot of it!

Suite F12 #4 – I come in peace

( - Flat silence; no music - )

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor, suite #4

Tanya was seriously questioning her brother's wisdom. He might be older than her by a year but sometimes he acted like any little 5 years old she ever saw. Compared to Lucas, he would always be the lesser sibling, no matter how hard he tried to get better. It hurt her to think that about the brother she has known for all her fourteen years of life but it was a truth so evident she'd have to be fit for the psychiatric ward at Piety of the Sacred Heart hospital to try and deny it. She could empathize with Derek; Lucas had money, influence, power and all the toys you could want. Except he had no one. He had no family. He had no close or extended relatives to turn to. It was him against the universe and those were odds that you couldn't win; no matter how good, rich, equipped or connected you were. Numbers would always win against quality. Always.

They had two loving parents; even though mom was dead, she had died loving them truly and fully. Cynthia had not done that for her son and Lawrence was a failure even worse. They had grandpa on mom's side before he died and even though he was a snob and ornery, he had loved them strongly as well. Dad's brother Raynold had died celibate and childless when they were five and four; but the few times they met him he had been full of wonder that they could like him and want him in their lives. His kindness still shone in the love of scouting he had given Derek and the passion for music and dance he had given her. Lucas had only debts of remembrance, duties, obligations, calendars and programs. And now they were taking his mother from him, right when he could have a chance at reconciliation, the only chance before leaving for Stanford for years.

She understood Derek, she felt for him; she would always support her beloved sibling, the feisty outdoorsy half of herself. But she grieved for Lucas, the pain, shame and humiliation that had been heaped upon him in proxy of another. The only reason Lucas was reviled into sufferance was because he dared to survive being set aside like a pair of old worn out boots that don't fit anymore. His only true crime was trying to take care of himself instead of falling to his knees, head bowed, begging the adults for help or charity that would never come; just like society expected children and teenagers to do for fear of the promised reprisals.

Walking forward slowly, she made sure to stay well in front of Theo's eyes and placed herself on the soldier's left. She reached out her left hand to card her fingers through her sibling's hair from the side, gently massaging his scalp and then his neck. She felt him calm down; she saw him close his eyes, bow his head and let the tears fall. There was much sorrow this night. They had a lot of healing to do before things would get better.

Taking a good look at the ranger's facial expression, she saw the relief, the sadness, and the understanding. Before his Master, which man was it that could stand and be seen as great in comparison to The Lord of Burgundy? She extended her right hand and placed it on Theo's upper arm, gently squeezing the biceps in way of thanks for his restrained response to her brother's distress. The man had the right to be angry and standoffish, but had chosen to act as a real adult who is truly responsible. For that at the very least, she owed him respect and he would not have to fight her to receive it.

Generous Lord

(Earth Final Conflict – season 1 opening, instrumental)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor – executive conference room #2

"You both seem like you saw a ghost. I know I'm a rather pale shade of white but still, aren't you exaggerating a bit?" quipped Lucas from the cozy depths of his overly stuffed throne. Damn but the padding on this thing was nice for his bony back.

Both adults were not amused; Raymond was close to hyperventilating and Cynthia was stuck with the sense that she had just lost control of her life and career. Neither was in shape to hold a serious conversation but going home to sleep for a week wasn't in the cards for either of them.

"Well now, if you have recovered your composure enough we can proceed with distributing the spoils of war to the vanquishers. T'is the Season and all that… Although I do hope it works out better than with Derek and Tanya. It should though; after all these come with contractual obligations and renewal terms so there shouldn't be any mistaking the intent nor the chain of command in the situation." His predatory smile left no doubts as to who the topmost echelon of said chain was.

Turning to Cynthia he gestured towards the thick pile of folders and envelopes that the valet had taken from the built-in mahogany cabinetry and put between her and Raymond in two distinctive piles. "You both get two Christmas gifts for the price of one" the child said with a bratty smirk in full force on his face "On top of being gifts of a new job and life-long investment, I have already classified and indexed the paperwork for you just like you taught me a few years back. They are also compliant to the legal codes active as of the 1st January of 2015 since the USA has a funny habit of setting a lot of law changes to happen on that date every year."

"Now the actual fun portion of the 'little proof of affection' that I have given you; I have already incorporated a legal services firm under the amusing name of 'Minotaur; guardian of secrets, confidentiality and privacy'. I do believe that the name and logo will say what it does rather boldly enough to not have any doubts about what lies within its many divisions." Lucas picked up a sheet of paper from his own freshly arrived pile and displayed it aloft. "Martin Ludovic Mystere from Sherbrooke in Quebec is an aspiring juvenile artist with a raw talent for 2D, 3D and animated drawings. His renditions of my Minotaur, its Labyrinth and Crypts will become emblematic of trust and cybernetic safety the world over. I met the guy online by trolling around the web as I had little of genuine importance to do at WPP even on a rush day. I was surprised to see that a 12 year old kid had made artwork of mystical beasts and legends that go very well with the thematic that I want to maintain around Crowned L. The Monarch sitting in the middle, his many servants and guardian beasts surrounding the fiefdom to hold it secure and functionnal."

Cynthia was silently watching her fiancé but he kept silent and signaled that from now on he was following her lead in the conference. Blast! She had wanted him in front as a distraction so she could have time to think about the events before committing herself. "Tell me son, since when do you have a legal cabinet? I don't recall there being one in the legacies that your… mentors had left you last year?" She hoped that the residual disgust and hatred was not so apparent in her voice but the sudden tightened lips and frown on Lucas's face showed he'd heard it clearly.

With a contemptuous sneer, Lucas answered in a foul mood at the woman that had no rights whatsoever to judge George or Vratsina. "As you specialize in incorporations madam lawyer, you should be well aware that anyone can incorporate a US federal numbered INC for about 1,000$ and add the international trade number and tax ID for about 500$ on top. Since I am a minor the law says that I could not do that myself. But the same law says that any existing company – such as a familial foundation – has an unlimited right to created and arrange INC companies at will. This can be like Minotaur, a proprietary division of Crowned L that is closely held; no voting stocks will ever circulate publicly. Or it can be a truly public company where all shares are negotiable at the stock exchange."

Lucas took a sip of tea and a wafer before continuing more calmly "As for the timeline, I was working as SPA for Lawrence and had no social life, even in the evenings or weekends, so I kept busy learning about my holdings and setting up a few things that I just knew would come in handy in the very near future. If the buy-out of G, F & T didn't pan out, I had the contingency of folding Dross, Dregs, Scraps & Fraggz into my own legal firm and then harvesting other workers from other firms around the state and beyond. I have money in hand with a good steady income; paying cash for quality people that will then increase both the income and the spread of my influence as Lord of Burgundy is a cheap price to pay. It's only money and the human potential that I get in return is priceless so I will always win at the bottom line no matter what."

The two adults got confirmation that their son wasn't after money or riches of the conventional kind; he was after people. He wanted the capacities, the history and the contacts that only came from living people and that no pile of cash could ever get. But, if he was kind, respectful and treated his employees equitably, then they would volunteer their history; they would expose and then use for his benefit the capabilities that are normally kept in reserve for a personal emergency. He would get people of the quality and competencies exhibited by Theodore Dunlop and get them to perform for him out of loyalty to his cause and creed, not just do the motions like some cheap hired muscle in the hood.

They both concluded without saying a word to each other that Lucas wasn't hiring so much as proselytizing and then setting people on a path of life and belief in what looked more and more like a philosophical movance or even a cult system. Oh Gods above! Their son was a missionary! Or a crusading Paladin? They would need to talk about this amongst adults at a later date but right now the hour was grave and they needed to focus on the rest of his speech.

"The way things are, G, F & T will be gutted to the point that the branding will be void of sense so the Inc that holds this identity will be folded under Minotaur as a closely-held division and be used in Canada, England and other countries where lawyers-only cabinets are the norm. It will also allow me to retain certain older clients that would balk at a change of name when they bank a lot on the firm's reputation to unlock stalemates and make things get in marching order with less effort.

Coming to court with a reputed attorney is good, but coming with an average attorney from an excellent, well equipped firm is better because your lawyer has back-up to fall on if things go pear-shaped. That's why I decided to go with a large multi-service cabinet in my corporate structure. I am good in mathematics of all sorts, but especially in statistics and probabilities; I ran numbers and found that large multi-service firms outperform single-man high-name lawyers by a margin of around 7 to 3. The future of my judicial peace of mind and capacity to defend my holdings and people lies that way, and so we will follow the math and do what is proven to be the most profitable investment of men and resources."

Seeing no objections or comments from the parents, Lucas blinked several times and frowned at them. They looked like they just saw old W.F. Barnum teaming up with Mayor O'Briain to do a burlesque skit on the Owner's Table down in the Lounge. What skittish creatures, adults…

"You look like you could use a break and some air; I'll unlock the patio doors and let you have a half hour to walk around, use the restroom and maybe get some air on the balcony outside. I can even light up the small stonework oven on the patio if you want some mulled eggnog while you air out your heads."

Suite F12 #4 – We accept your peace

(Gundam SEED –Akatsuki no Kurama)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor, suite #4

Theodore was relieved beyond words that the boy had calmed down and that the girl was apparently aware of something because the gestures she made were filled with meaning, not just a bit of spare gentleness to pass around. When he trained with the US Army Rangers, he had never envisioned having to use his skillset on a kid like Derek so he was imminently relieved because there was no way he would think of this little guy as an enemy combatant or a threat to US national security. Hitting or hurting him would be a patent proof of Theo's own failure and lack of maturity, not a bad comment against Derek for acting out because he didn't know how to ask for help with the pretty deep problems he had inside.

Nodding in gratitude to Tanya, he was a bit surprised to see her shy smile and then even more surprised when she moved her hand upwards to squeeze and rub the nape of his neck in a sisterly gesture that felt good to receive. Because he had seen her movement he was able to quell the trained reflex of disengaging and putting distance between his body and what touched a very vulnerable part of himself. She was no threat and his instincts told him the bad pass was finished. Now they could sit and talk it out like real people instead of growling and barking like dogs in a pissing contest for alpha position in the kennel.

Theo loosened his arms but kept them supportively around the younger male, he was still crying softly, head bowed and eyes closed, occasionally shaking through a silent sob that he wouldn't let out for others to witness. Making a gut-feeling based decision, Theo very gently guided the distressed teenager to one of the settees and sat in it before helping the boy to sit on his lap sideways, his left side resting against Theo's chest and his hands joined, resting on his lap. The position allowed the ranger's right hand to rub his back and neck in an effort to help soothe the pain inside of him while the left arm around his front kept him steady and safe.

Tanya gifted the man a genuine smile and confirmed his decision by sitting on the settee to his left. She used her left hand to hold and squeeze Derek's joined hands while using her right hand to again rub and squeeze Theo's shoulder and neck. It was nice for Theo whose parent had died when he was seventeen years old and had missed a lot of this gentle touching since he was an only child at home. His aunt was still healthy at the time but he upped and joined the US military the moment he finished high school and turned 18. He was in pain, searching himself and the rangers had given him the home he needed; only his aunt's accident with her car last year had brought him back. Getting an offer for both of them to work at BVL with some damn good benefits was the only reason he asked for his discharge. He could work at what he liked doing and his training made him competent for while caring for his aunt each day.

"It's okay Derek; you're still my biggest brother and I still love you. I won't leave you. I won't replace you. You don't have to be afraid or sad or hurt inside. Nobody's asking you to compete with Lucas and be better than him. It's not possible. He's not normal and never will be. But he's paying for it every day of his life in tears and blood and because of that, we have something that he doesn't and never will have cause he can't rewrite history. We have a family that never turned its back on us; they never exiled us and never thought to lock us up in an orphanage or juvenile prison. For him, that's a dream that he will never be able to have. His parents used or rejected him shamelessly. They exploited him to the bone or wanted to imprison him without justifying why; for the crimes of others or his own was never important. And on top of all that, we almost took his mom when he's not even sure she still wants him or not. What does he have left to envy in this world? Money? Connections? Power? What of those would he not give to have his family back around him, safe and reliable? We're the lucky ones Derek; he's just surviving how he can."

Lofty parental interlude

(Ludwig Van Beethoven – symphony #7)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor – executive conference room #2, balcony

Raymond and Cynthia were standing close enough to each other to be mistaken for siamese twins joined at the hips. The were wearing their outdoor coats, standing on the balcony near the small lively woodburning oven that spread light, warmth and good cheer on all the private little space. Set twelve storeys in the air with nothing but a wrought iron balustrade to keep them from falling, the terrace was well appointed for a conference room annexe. The blasted wind was chilly but had nothing on the tempest inside both of their minds. Their son, all 11 years old, 3 feet tall and 125 pounds when sopping wet, had revealed he was a heavy weight in the economic and legal fields of not just New York State but the whole of the USA. The wake-up call for the parents was traumatic but not as much as finding out that the blond little gremlin would soon be their partner – slash – employer in the law firm they worked for.

Madre de Dios in Cielo! What had they gotten into now? The skinny little devil hidden in childish features was about to upend the societal norms of America and Canada with his manner of doing business and taking care of his people and their families. The worst part of the scheme; they could not see a way for it to fail as it was stated. Lucas had been diligent in separating the lawful, legitimate parts from the underground parts and then building airtight walls with very few passageways between the two worlds. He had money to give, many easy ways to launder and recycle the cash flow, and several major real estate and industrial projects on the table already working or soon to be so the cash flow would actually get bigger in 3 to 6 months.

He still had not told them what he expected from them nor had he really broached the criminal or underhanded elements of his vast holdings. He had not spoken of his links and alliances with politicians, judges, senators, senior functionaries and such. They suspected it had something to do with the hotel and its many depravities along the years. Neither was stupid enough or prudishly moronic enough to think that new furniture, rugs, paint and a few personnel moved around would change the clientele, their needs or their suppliers that much.

They were of the same opinion that the whores, pushers, lurkers and thugs existed in and around BVL because it suited the methods and purposes of her Lord. They both worried what that might be but asking would bring answers they were not ready to receive and live with. As things were, they had no way out without destroying every thing and person they held dear, including themselves. And at this point, they were not blind to the possibility that driven by survival and the rage from multiple abandonment's and humiliations, Lucas might decide to cut his losses and make them all cease to be threats permanently. He had the means; why not use it?

Suite F12 #4 – Peace to men of probably good will

(Hymnals – Adeste Fideles)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor, suite #4

The two Matthews came out of the bedroom they were sharing dressed in the nice, soft and warm nightclothes that had been supplied to them: lounge pants with drawstring at the waist, four-season semi-fit T-shirt with sleeves that reached the wrists and thick ankle-high socks with a reinforced sole that meant they could forgo slippers and still have warm feet.

Except that someone with a sense of humor had given the kids a mixed bag of items and only the socks were matched by pairs, in fluorescent pastel colors. Everything else was unique and they had to make up their minds as to what went where while clashing the least. Derek's grey pants and lavender shirt were passable together until you saw the hot pink socks. Tanya was alternatively amused and embarrassed by the canary yellow pants, teal shirt and powder blue socks.

Hearing Theo laughing himself silly at their expense from the depths of the sinfully padded couch, the siblings huffed in teenaged pride and promised each other with rapid nods that retaliation would be had. Someday, somehow, they would get even with the big lug.

"Oy! Didna yar parents show you to color coordinate when you dress? Mwuhahaha!" The ranger was shaking in unbridled mirth at the poor kids' faces. They were sooo cute when they were pouting like that! He wished he had little siblings to rib and have fun with. Ah well, maybe in a few years he'd have his own tykes running around, making him laugh.

"You do know" Tanya started in a snobby nasal tone "That as the responsible and mature adult of the moment, you should be showing respect, decorum and deportment befitting your station to your charges, don't you?" Her brother nodding at her words like a demented bobble-head doll didn't add any seriousness to the situation at all.

Between renewed spasms of laughter, Theo barely calmed down enough to reply "Oh I know, I just don't care! Mwuhahaha!"

Nose up in the air in fake high-born contempt for the plebeian menial, Tanya sniffed in affected disdain and took her brother's hand, leading the silently pouting boy to the other side of the great room next to the media cabinet. "Come on, let's watch TV; even the cartoons will be more spiritually uplifting than this halfwit!"

Theo had now stopped laughing enough to sit straight and take a long look at his two little roomies; they were clear eyed, standing straight and even though Derek still had redness in his eyes and around his face from crying so much, he seemed well recovered. Good; it would make talking to them about the blowout downstairs feasible. Not easy, no; but feasible.

Theo went into the kitchen and called out loud with brattiness in both voice and manners "Oy! Ragamuffins! You want some juice? Got apple, orange, grape and some mixed up premade smoothie thingy that I'm not sure what's in it but its purplish. And milk. Can't forget the milk. The parents gonna 'cuse me of feeding you guys just junk when their backs are turned."

Hearing footsteps coming he turned and saw both kids walk into the dining area and take places in the padded mahogany chairs closest to the kitchen proper. Taking this as the most verbose peace offering he was getting tonight after what happened, Theo took the serving tray and brought it to the table. After placing his burden in reach of all three, he took off his BDU's overshirt and rolled the wrist-length sleeves of the brown T-shirt up to the elbows before sitting in front of the two teens. Said children were ogling his arms wide-eyed and he realized his mistake; the wrist rigs that had been concealed by the loose fitting overshirt were now visible in full and the youngsters were obviously re-evaluating what he said about being a professional soldier on night watch. He really hoped they didn't become too afraid to speak again.

"Look guys, I'm sorry I'm sitting here with hard steel on me, I don't want to hurt or intimidate either of you. My job is to protect you and that means equipment as well as skills. These are not toys and I don't go around flashing them for fun. His Excellency has made these rigs and training for their use mandatory across all branches of BVL and other companies he has that have body guard or perimeter patrol jobs. Like I said earlier today, there are nasty people out there that want to hurt you, and some are so far gone that a rabid mongrel dog would be easier to reason with than those lowlifes. Take it easy and don't grab my forearms, we'll be okay."

"Are those guns? They're so small… Do you have anything else on you that we need to stay away from?" Tanya asked in a weak voice, as she held on to Derek's right arm with both of hers in an effort to stabilize herself. She had always hated guns, weapons and violence in all forms. It hadn't sunk in that Lucas walked around all day carrying just a little less than Theo.

"Well, I got the full load for a job; I wasn't on holidays you know. I have the two wrists, a dropping piece and blade on each ankle, a couple sharps around the belt and the three standard survival pouches at the waist, just like the Lord. We all carry those since the boss ordered them and has us train with them. Even the civvies like the waiters, valets, managers, etc… Those three are vital and you train or you get bitched at until you get it right. Since it's paid formation, they do it and perform. Some a lot better than others, that's true, but everybody tries hard 'cause it's for their protection and staying alive."

Derek was impressed that Lucas would pay for so much equipment and training for his people to keep them safe. He was slowly getting past the lump in his heart about how much authority and raw power the kid had in his hands. Derek was honest enough to admit it was crude jealousy and seething envy with a huge dose of fear that had mixed together to make an explosion that he hadn't even seen coming. Trying hard to keep a clean tongue and a better attitude than earlier in the day, he swallowed and realized his throat was dry and swollen. He used his sister-free limb to pour and drink some orange juice before deciding that he needed to talk with this man to set things right.

"Look man, about earlier when we got in, I wasn't stable. I had stuff inside and I hadn't realized it was boiling up and waiting to spew like that. Thanks for not breaking me in halves and not smacking me around some. I deserved worse than you gave, so thanks man. I owe you for that."

Theo lounged sideways, slouching on the tabletop, his right elbow planted solidly on the wood, head resting canted to the side in his right hand. His left hand played with the glass of juice he had taken but not drunk from yet. He made a funny face and winked at the boy good-naturedly, not angry at him. "I heard what your sister told you. It's a hellavu weight being family with a boss like that. When the guy earns by rights the title 'Excellency' and wears it more responsibly than a lot of elected officials in the country do theirs that gets even worse. The fact he's a tetchy little bobble-head of a moppet ain't helping nobody's sanity or pride either."

Derek choked out on his mouthful of juice and almost sprayed it before swallowing it properly and bursting out in laughter while Tanya was fighting against the humongous grin that wanted to break out on her face. "You didn't just call my brother a, a… Oh, man! You're sooo dead!"

Theo smirked at the two kids and waited for some calm before stating in gleeful mirth "Oh, he knows! I tell him to his face about twice a day!" The guffaws of laughter were sweet music to hear. Maybe in an hour or two they could be at ease enough to get the abscess drained and be ready for the parents when they came to check on their runts. The boss had warned him by SMS that he would come at 22:00pm and Theo wouldn't bet against him making it on time.

Lord-Saint-Master

(Earth Final Conflict – season 1 opening, instrumental)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor – executive conference room #2

"So, have you recovered enough to continue or do I need to break out the smelling salts? Or maybe a Bible cause one of you looks like she needs the Extreme Unction more than a medic."

Both adults studiously ignored the snarking pasty white little gremlin and the smirking valet and put their coats on the rack before gaining their seats with great dignity and decorum. This would be more credible if Raymond wasn't dressed-down casual and Cynthia hadn't taken off her jewelry and shawl. Ah well, hope springs eternal and all that tripe…

"Now let us get to the meat of the matter: As outlined in the submissions before you, I plan on making each of you a senior partner in the renewed G, F & T with seats on the board and votes. It's just that Minotaur will hold 60% of the shares and votes thus maintaining my absolute control which I will never let go. Be advised that the contracts stipulate that you must give ME the right of first refusal in the event that you wish to sell the shares. In the event of transfer by inheritance, I again get first refusal unless you place them in an indivisible family foundation as base capital for the money engine that funds the foundation's activities. This can be negotiated at a later date. As SP on the board you each get a fully funded and staffed department to take care of clients, external and internal. You will find that I have taken the time to establish procedures for Minotaur and its subdivisions so setting up new or recycling from another company will be easy. Just follow the template or ask the people above for help. Questions?"

"Do you have any idea of what you're planning to do? Of how much money it will cost? How in the worlds can you afford all this?" Cynthia barked, completely out of her capacity to grasp or deal with the fast paced changes her son was throwing at her. Raymond was silent, lost in his mind, not nearly aware enough of his fiancée's words or their impact as he should have been.

Lips pursed and tone frigid, Lucas looked down his nose at his mother and responded contemptuously "I assure you, Madam Lawyer, that having multiple qualifications in Law and Advanced Mathematics, that I understand the consequences and costs much better than you. The firm of G, F & T is valued at about 115 million $USD but is being sold in parts at fire sale prices for around 90 million $USD with all dependencies and client lists. If I take the administrative and transactional fees, the profit margin I should be getting in selling the shares to you and all the sundry miscellany that usually goes with a case this big, we round off at 100 million $USD. Your shares are worth 20 million $USD for each, while you also get a six-figure salary, performance bonuses, expenditures' account and of course, the dividends from your stocks every fiscal quarter. Add to that list the fact that as stockholders in the firm you will also get several nifty deductibles in your taxes that you didn't have before, and you could be grossing around 1,5 million $USD a year as of the tax filings for the 2016 fiscal exercise. Does that show you how aware of the value and repercussions of this deal I am, Madam?"

Parental breakdown

(Paul McCartney and Wings – Live and let die)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor – executive conference room #2

Both adults were completely shattered by the figures. Unfortunately for them and their family, they were so siderated by the money and sheer unequivocal gumption of the project that they forgot whom they were addressing, why they were here and what was at stake to begin with.

They would spend decades regretting the words and decisions made this evening when they searched their lives to find out were they lost their precious son. The blame was on them. The boy was willing to give them the guarantee of prosperity and safety for the rest of their lives and that of their children and descendancy. They refused and tried to shame Lucas at the same time. They wanted domination and control over him as the only proof that he was a worthy, non threatening child. They would be made to understand their folly soon enough.

Raymond cleared his throat and spoke in what he hoped was a more conciliatory tone than Cynthia; he was wrong. He came out distant and snotty; like the child's gift was a handful of wilted dandelions found in the backyard after school. His clammy complexion and hesitancy to look Lucas in the eyes like a man didn't help his case and the several patent lies he spoke to try and falsely appease his future son made things worse.

"You have to understand Lucas, we Matthews are not used to obtaining anything that we have not earned by hard and honest work. I, and my children as well by extension, cannot accept this type of unilateral gift. We may be less fortunate than you have become, but never to the point of so brazenly snatching a part of the very important legacies that were bequeathed to you under the guise of receiving a style of welcome to the family present. We can, and we will, manage our lives humbly without the charity of either you, Cynthia or Lawrence, whatever his contributions to your wealth may have been. I will instruct my children to refuse the money and investments until they are 18 years old. At that point, it will be their own conscience on the line if they wish to accept undeserved charities from questionable provenance."

Lucas would not have needed his synesthesia to tell him where the lies and bypasses were; they were practically written on the wall next to the man's head as he spoke them. He was in essence telling his future son, if that was still going to happen, that any contribution or help to the finances and prosperity of the family would be refused and treated as offal. That he was using the excuse of illegalities in the portfolio was transparent and insulting in the extreme. If the money making crimes were in his control, the scurvy rat would not throw them away or hesitate to use that cash for his pleasure and social status.

The real problem was confirmed by Lucas' synesthesia that Raymond was allowing his lower instincts and basal emotions to override his fiscal and political judgment. So long as the small child was the owner of such vast holdings and would not give up his control or position of safety then he would rebuff him and call him an indocile, unworthy child. It was all about cock-shaking and balls-jiggling; the same damned doggy-dog-dog tail-wagging pissing contest it always was with all the bloody adults and most teens that were older or bigger than him. Well screw that!

"And you mother, what is your position on the proposal up for vote?"

Cynthia gave her son a poisonous glare and hissed "I should not have let my fears of the hotel, the money and the rumors around it all stop me from putting you in a christian orphanage so they could beat your arrogance out of you and forcibly put you back where you belong at the feet of adults and society like any other child. I regret not using that paperwork to disown you! I regret having gone in public to speak of not only keeping you but getting cross-adoptions that will impose your unnaturalities on others!" Cynthia stopped to take a deep breath but kept up the flow of insults soon enough.

"You see me ashamed to be your mother! You are a hypocrite and a perjurer! You lie like water, searching the lowest point and drowning anyone foolish enough to trust you or even just touch you and the filth you call a life! You exploit and destroy people like a meat grinder! You sit on a throne and commit the unnatural depravity of making full humans, adults before Law and God, call you 'His Excellency' and even worse 'Lord' as if a menial cur of an ill-raised child like you could ever be so improved and exalted enough to stand besides the one true 'LORD' of the Faith. You act like a missionary but you're just a jumped up dope pusher using and abusing people in their times of weakness. I am ashamed, I tell you! I will go to the streets as a nameless whore before I accept anything from you! And let me tell you; those damned little bastards of his" she pointed Raymond "had better refuse you too or they can go work the brothels for you!"

The valet discretely left the conference room when she saw her Master push a button inset into the rim of the table. A vibration on the wristband at her right hand told her to get out while the going was good. When the marine squad came in, it wouldn't be time anymore. These people were confounded fools and deserved the punishments they were going to get next. She hoped Theo had a better report about the kids but having seen the father, she doubted it.

The woman had barely stepped a full pace outside the room that she was yanked hard to the wall next to the door and twelve large bodies wearing armor and weapons at the fore went inside in single file, swarming the room and putting down hard anyone who wasn't the boss himself.

The two adults didn't have time to scream or even whisper a protest as they were pulled from their chairs and harshly thrown face down on the ground regardless of bruising or contusions. They were then cuffed behind the back and had a metal pipe-gag shoved into the mouth and secured by a strap around the head. After that, the squad leader inspected them both and presented them to her Master for further orders.

"We have an undesirable guest in our care tonight; luck would have it that he is also the kind that the Burgundy Velvet Lounge does not let go of so easily. He will therefore pay his debts of blood and serve as example at the same time. Sort of recycle him as we use him, you know? Now, corporal Derland; take them to basement 4, in the incineration plant. We have some trash do dispose of tonight."

The woman put her closed right fist above her heart and replied in a strong voice free of doubts or hesitations "Yes Excellency. Should we call in Butcher, sir? He usually handles the wetworks here in the basement."

Lucas pursed his lips in thought but shook his head negatively. "No corporal; this particular individual has a few things that interest me. Besides, I have to practice my paramedic skills if I want to keep them in useable shape. To your duties, soldiers. I will be down in a few minutes after I change for harder labors than the meeting room."

Suite F12 #4 – Good people given a chance

(- Flat silence -)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 12th floor, suite #4

Theo was animatedly gesticulating with his arms wide open and trying to keep the laughing teens from dismissing his hunting story as a load of BS because, yeah, he had bagged a deer when he was 12 and it had been THAT BIG so why couldn't they believe him? It's not like he was fibbing them about the eight points on the racks or the 400 pounds of meat they brought back. His uncle Henry had been right proud of him, too! Why didn't they believe him? Life just wasn't fair with him… And no, he wasn't whining; he was a grown man, thank you very much! And grown men don't whine, not even a little!

The siblings were laughing themselves hoarse at the poor guy's expense; they believed him all right, they just didn't have to tell him that! His miming and gesticulating were so much fun to watch, why stop him mid-story? Besides, there was nothing good on TV so they might as well enjoy what entertainment they had while it lasted!

Suddenly it all went pear-shaped. Theo stopped dead and grabbed his right wrist with his left hand then urgently pushed a button on the rubber wrist band partially hidden by the wrist-rig with the pistol. The small flatscreen was displaying a message that had the ranger go whiter than a bed sheet and completely numb all over his body and mind. The Lord had enacted a code on his parents in the conference room. The marine stack was moving from conference room #1 where they had been parked in hot idle in case something happened. Lucas had always had a knack for foreseeing catastrophies on the horizon after what his biological parents had put him through. He would never get caught unaware or unprepared ever again in this life or the next.

Quickly unrolling his T-shirt sleeves back to ready, Theo stood and began moving towards the entryway at the same time as he grabbed his BDU's overshirt and pulled it on in fighting order. The kids were looking at him wide-eyed but stayed sitting, Tanya holding Derek's left arm with both of hers once again. Theo put his eye to the peephole in the door and stood there, stock still until some muffled noises came from the corridor and rapidly disappeared towards the rear of the floor. A few minutes passed and Theo unlocked the deadbolt, security chain and main door handle lock before opening the door a crack and emitting a sharp, low whistle to get someone's attention. Apparently the person acquiesced the demand because he opened the door halfway and let someone in before closing and locking everything back up.

The young asian woman looked to be in her mid or late twenties; she had black shiny hair in a ponytail down to mid-back, deep soulful black eyes and wore the burgundy uniform of the valets that served clients all around the complex. Their uniform was a bit les formal and a bit more flexible in the joints and back than the waiters or managers because they did most of the basic physical jobs required to serve the demands of customers. She looked weary, tired and above all else bitterly angry.

"Come on Lashu, what the hell did they say or do to get that reaction from him? He's stable and reliable like nobody I was ever able to work with in the field! What the fuck came down?"

The woman snorted derisive contempt through her nose, almost like a horse sneezing. Her face became set in a closed mien that still expressed quite well her disapproval and anger against what she saw as ungrateful louts.

"What happened Theodore is that our Master sought to bestow great honors upon his parents by presenting them with great boons of wealth, future prosperity and safety as well as an unassailable position in society. I had the grave misfortune of bearing witness to the miserable parentless bastards refusing this most generously presented act of loving filial piety and then…"

Lashu was now swearing alternatively in Mandarin, Cantonese, Mandchurian and some crass expletives from Korean gang slang she learned in the streets of Hong Kong as a child hooker before good fortune smiled on her mother and her.

She might have been dirt poor and been raised as a ten-yen whore in the back alleys of Honk Kong's portuary district but her mother had been married to her father. He died just a week before her birth, from an accident in the shipyard where he worked and left her mother with debts she couldn't repay. The house was seized and they were evicted just after her birthing. Her mother still tried to educate her about hard work, manners, propriety, deportment and being polite with elders and people of power. She also taught her to always be polite and deferential to people who showed kindness, gentleness, charity and mercy to anyone as one day it may be her that benefits from such treatment and she must never close her door or her heart to such beings of goodness.

Above all else, her mother had taught her that being a whore was sometimes nobler and less crass than the work and attitude some of the clients had. Dignity, integrity, honesty and nobility were in the heart, not the body, wallet or social station. Most of the clients never understood that and acted worse than wild boars rutting in public. Her mother did understand and made sure her poor little Lusha would know it and have every chance to put it into practice at some point of her life when they got out from the Triad's grip. There was a call to send girls to Cancun for a big UN conference, but there was a risk they wouldn't come back if immigration caught them. They took the chance, worked the conference and were promptly abandoned because it was cheaper than bringing them back or establishing an operation in Cartel country. They used their fake papers to reach the USA and a new life free of debts and Triads.

Lashu was truly a product of a very traditional Chinese education and culture. She accepted that women could do most jobs, even management or hold authority over large groups of men but at the same time she had a very conservative view of family, heredity, legacy and filial piety. The duties of family members to one another and society were exactingly clear and sacred before Buddha; one did not contravene these without incurring great divine reprobation.

When it happened that Karma gifted a child with means above their age and station in family and life, it was expected and almost obliged that the child would tithe large gifts unto his elders, siblings and kin in gratitude for birthing and raising him properly so that he could obtain this success. However, it also behooved the parents, siblings and relatives to bestow great honor and recognition upon the child for his dutiful adherence to filial piety and having rewarded his humble family much above their merits. To fail to give thanks and remembrance was uneducated and crass. To act like Holt and Matthews had done was uncultured, uncouth and a sin against not only the virtues of kindness and charity but against filial piety itself. And threatening the child with disownment! What in Confucius's fork-bearded chin had the gormless harridan been thinking?

She couldn't hold it in anymore; she exploded verbally in ghetto-slut english: "They both acted like a pair of knaves so low as to deserve being branded 'untouchable' on the face with a burning iron and being cast out into the forest naked at night! May the spirits of their ancestors haunt them and lead them astray into a swamp full of hungry mosquitoes and leeches! May their rotting corpses be pissed on by wild boars and foraged by rats! May they be denied blessed sepulture and a picture in the family shrine! Shen! (God!) Why does such a kind and gentle soul receive so unholy wastrels as parents? What karmic debt does he carry to be humiliated and conspuated in his own home and business by his own blood and kin like this?"

Completely spent and emotionally drained, Lashu accepted the open arms Theo presented her and let him hug her, wrapping his strong caring embrace around her like a warm blanket. She couldn't hold it in anymore, deportment be damned, and placed her face in the crook of his neck so she could cry the sobs of hate and despair that were clamoring to get out and be heard.

Tanya and Derek were very happy to be sitting on chairs or they would be huddled on the floor in shame, looking for a hole to crawl into and die of humiliation without anybody finding them to hurt them worse. Unbeknownst to them, they both had tears running down their cheeks; a silent testament to their instinctive awareness that their family was now defunct, their parents were damaged and dysfunctional and their brother was hurt and injured deeply. Their lives would be damaged, drowned in painful sorrow and melancholy from now on. The repercussions of having someone wealthy, equipped and supported like Lucas was for an enemy were horrendous on top of everything else. They would be social, economical; and judicial outcasts by the 1st of January at the latest. What a way to ring in the New Year with fireworks and cheers!

Derek took his sister's hand and guided her to stand up and, both walking on shaky legs, maneuvered around the adults' back to discretely reach the entryway and work the locks until they were undone and the way clear. A squeeze on his arm from Tanya made Derek look to his right and see Theo frowning at them with an angry warning in his eyes; he was occupied with Lashu and thought their little gameplan was rather a low blow. The siblings exchanged a look and, still holding hands, came back towards Theo to stop at four feet from the embracing adults.

"I, we, are sorry Theo. This is our brother who's hurting and we have to see if he's alright. Dad and Mom have each other, they can wait some. It'll do them good to stew for awhile anyways. They were high strung about a lot of things and I'm sure it's their fault. Cynthia had a chip the size of North America on her shoulder most of the year and I'm guessing she couldn't dump it in time to use her head to talk with the little guy. Sucks to be her but she earned it in full. If Lucas really made an offer like that to them and she spat on him and wanted to disown him, then she's the one losing out big, not him. He'll just be free from a burden that's holding him back like an anchor on a ship. We need to go, man; let us, please?"

Theo chewed on his lower lip as he thought about the mood Lucas was in and the damage that could incur from a bad encounter with the two kids. They at least had learned something tonight and weren't gonna make things worse if they could avoid it. The problem was, if the blowout was as bad as Lashu said, and it was certainly that or worse, then just existing might be enough for Lucas to see them as threats and call a code on them too. He didn't see them as threats or problems, just teens in need of a little diversity in their education and outlook on life and humanity. Something Lucas could decidedly help with.

"Okay you two; here's the deal: you open the door and stand in the opening in view but still inside the suite. If he wants to hear you, he'll actually come into the apartment and talk. If not, he'll go on his way to the service lift and you'll have to wait until he's ready to talk with you, if ever. I won't lie to you guys, it's bad like a hurricane on the open ocean with no land in view. He had the marines do a hard take-down on 'em and drag their hides to security in the basement. I reckon' he plans on scaring 'em hard before laying the law on 'em fools."

Theodore was obviously upset and worried as his New York streets accent was starting to show up more pronouncedly. It didn't help the kids but certainly made them aware of how much a balls-up their parent had made. They opened the door and stood in the opening, still on the suite's plush carpet, waiting for something that should still be their sibling in spirit.

Lashu sniffed and cleared her throat in embarrassment before moving away from Theodore to wipe her eyes and set herself back in serving order. Her master had need of her tonight and she would not be the one to abandon him or make the situation worse by her lack of action or adherence to his simple and understandable desires.

(Sovietic Red Army Choir - Gosudarstvenny Gimn Rossiyskoy Federatsii)

The relative silence was shattered by the opening and loud banging close of Suite #1's door, followed by cadenced, militaristic marching that even the corridor carpet could not dampen fully. The source of the heavy, menacing footsteps came to a halt before them, all black like an anti-light, the dull silver faceplate and inhuman – Shooosh – noise of the aerator filling the spaces around them with a vibration that made their bones and teeth resonate painfully. For the life of them, because of the stress and the tunnel-vision effect of the situation, neither Matthews would remember enough be able to describe the suit or its components passed the reflective silvery mask and that it looked heavy and stiff like diving gear thickened with armor plates.

Seeing that this thing was 3 feet tall and that both adults were now in a version of a military salute with their right closed fist over their heart and left closed fist at the small of their back, the two siblings understood clearly that it wasn't a mistake: their brother marched in arms towards war with their parents. He would win and return; they would lose and then what?

Derek let go of Tanya's hand because he didn't want to make this decision for her; he had his own faults to atone for and now this. Was there no end to the sorrow and humiliation tonight? Kneeling on both knees in the doorway while careful to stay in the suite's boundary, the teenager sat in seiza style on his heels and placed his hands with splayed fingers on each knee, then bowed his head fully to show penance and submission. He personally hated doing this but had the gut feeling that asking for equality or respect at this point would see him thrown out the window or joining the adults in the basement rather than repair the relationship with his small but powerful brother. His heart constricted painfully in his chest as Tanya copied his position on his right. There would be angry words and blame aplenty later when dad came back. Forcing his children into this game of power and lordship against each other in order to save the whole family when the adults made no effort and mom was just acting out like a harpy in heat, screaming and insulting but not contributing anything.

(Star Wars symphony – The Imperial March)

"– Shooosh – Why do you issue challenge against me? – Shooosh – My orders were clear and not open for suggestion. – Shooosh – Do you truly seek confrontation with me this night? – Shooosh –" At this point the small figure moved his right hand towards a holster for a small sized pistol on his hip. The message was clear and no defiance would pass muster anymore.

"No, Excellency, I offer no challenge; merely repentance for my impolite misdeeds and an offer to make penance for my sins." Damn but he hated speaking and acting like this but Derek had seen the move towards the gun and was sweating rivers under his arms. If it got bad, he had no chance at all to fight his way out of here, not with Theo and the valet backing up Lucas as they would. And then there was Tanya; she had less chance than him to fight it out, she'd collapse in a fit of panic and probably wouldn't even see or hear the shot that ended her.

"– Shooosh – Do you now, boy? – Shooosh – And you, little girl? Do you offer me penance for your sins as well? – Shooosh – What exactly do you offer children? – Shooosh – What do you hold that I cannot take by force? – Shooosh – What prize do you conceal and abscond from the Lord of Burgundy that I could not find and seize at my convenience? – Shooosh – Tell me, impudent little belly crawling rodents! You who dare challenge my march towards punishments long overdue! – Shooosh – Why should I treat you any differently than the venomous backstabbing parasites in my geoals? – Shooosh – Them that dared to presume to command Me into inferiority and shame! Me the Lord-Saint-Master of these halls! – Shooosh –"

Tanya was crying as much as she was sweating. She too had seen the move on the boy's right side and though she didn't see what his hand grasped, she saw the holsters and sheathes on his left well enough to realize it was a weapon of murder and Derek's life was now on the line for real. If her brother would die tonight, she would not let him go alone into the Void; she would hold his hand as she always had when he was in pain or melancholic about something.

"Forgive us for importuning your procession, Lord; we are children and rarely do as told. It is the nature of the beast you see, to explore and test and come back again no matter what. Yes sir, I too offer to make penance for my part in the evening's misdeeds. And I ask, as sister unto brother; what need we do to see our parents live through this night undamaged beyond the unjust and mismanaged anger they already drown in."

"They called me an animal! – Shooosh – An unnatural monstrosity! – Shooosh – An abomination that should be removed from society like a tumor! – Shooosh – She, the rabid minging cunt of a bint, said she would disown me in shame! MY shame! – Shooosh – She said out loud she would let the Christians have me and make me disappear into one of their orphanages never to be seen again! – Shooosh – Do you know what they do to children in those damned places? – Shooosh –"

"Yes Lucas, I know what they do, what they hide from the World's eyes. I cry every time that I hear or see it on the news. To think that my little sibling could have been sent there makes my skin crawl and I want to hit her around the head to wake her up to finally see what she is throwing away. A person. A full, capable, gentle, caring and loving person. And no matter that she adopts us, no matter what dad and her say, I know they had no reason to say these things to you. I don't know you or your life, but I want to try. I want to be by your side and see for myself what a great and beautiful soul you have." Tanya raised her head and looked right into her reflection from the silver mask, waiting for his judgment to fall. It's not like she could do anything else anymore.

"– Shooosh – Very well, I accept your offers of penance for your misdeeds. – Shooosh – Beware though; you will indeed be penitent when I am done with you. – Shooosh – As for the parents; your lives in service. – Shooosh – If you want to save their bodies and health, it will cost you your entire life in service to me and my creed. – Shooosh – Their sanity, well, we'll see about that. – Shooosh – I am bound to interrogate an unexpected guest that has proven a bountiful trove of information on subjects that I would have searched long and far to find. – Shooosh – I will not let menial details like the sanity of Them stand in the way. – Shooosh – Take the offer NOW or forever hold your peace! – Shooosh –"

(Silent Hill 'original movie' – The darkness falls, with siren)

The two siblings looked each other in the eyes and Derek instinctually knew his sister would not try to survive him. She would live by his side or follow him to the Ether. The alternative was not so bad, especially when he looked real hard at the conditions of Theo, the waitstaff, valets and administrators he had seen to date. Yes it would be a form of indenture, their continued service or else. But would it be so bad? Tanya was right; this would give them years to repair the family and get to know their sibling. Maybe someday he would warm up to them enough to forgive and treat them like family rather than employees or threats to keep at hand so he could watch them and neutralize them if they plotted betrayal.

Together, brother and sister answered: "I offer you my service and my life, Excellency."

Breaking the family permanently

(Adele – Skyfall)

December 28th of 2015, early evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 4th basement – exclusion zone Epsilon

The two terrified adults were literally lifted up and carried by four soldiers each like deer caught in a hunt and taken to the service lift at the rear of the building. The trip down was silent and nerve wrecking. They didn't see much in the fourth basement because of how they were carried face down but heard a sort of mechanical noise that indicated that a large piston mounted door had opened and the air pressure, stronger inside than the rest of the basement, had equalized. An airlock! They were entering a quarantine zone through a genuine bona fide airlock!

After a few minutes of transit they were set upright and sat on separate rectangular metal benches that had an opening on the top that they saw resembled a toilet. Once sat, a soldier passed in front of them and placed restraints on each leg at the ankle and just below the knee to bind them to the bench. A second soldier walked behind them to drop a metal pole between their back and bound hands, slotting the pole into the socketed holes in the metal bench all the way to the concrete floor. He then placed and turned twistlock bolts into a series of holes to secure the pole to the bench. After that a third soldier arrived with harnesses that were attached to the poles to keep their heads looking upfront and unmoving. They were now prisoners of their benches and unable of more than a little wiggling and silent because of the pipe-gags still in place.

A female soldier, built like an icebox and sporting a stone cold face knelt beside Raymond and pulled out from the back of her belt a fully curved, hook-like blade; the kind used in taking fragile high value pelts off the carcass of a dead animal. She began by cutting his dress shirt at the buttons and then the sleeves from shoulder to wrist on each side. She removed the shreds without hurry or emotion. She cut and removed his T-shirt underneath the same way. Seeing the gold chain with a pendant at his neck, she grabbed and yanked hard enough to break the chain and dropped the pieces in the pile of scraps at his feet. After making certain he had only his glasses left, she inspected his hands and removed the wedding band and university Alma Mater sigil ring to discard them as well. She then undid and removed his belt before plying the hook-blade to his trousers from hip to ankle hem on each side, pulling off the scrapped garment. With neither a glance nor interest, she cut, took and dumped his boxers, never indicating ill-ease or disgust or any emotion at the task. She finished by destroying his shoes and socks, dumping the scraps in the pile. She stood up and stretched herself to full height for a few seconds before walking to Cynthia, curved knife in hand and a dead look in her eyes.

Behind her, another soldier approached Raymond with a scanner in each hand to pass over his body and probe him with until they were sure he had nothing but his glasses and that they were not wired or tricked up.

Once they were both naked and scanned, a female soldier pulled a lever near the wall and the sound of rushing water was heard from below them. The sudden coolness and feeling of air moving under them confirmed they had been bound to functioning toilets that ran a constant flow instead of flushing on call. This meant they could be held here for weeks as long as they were fed a minimal amount of food. The hollow pipe-gag could serve to pass a feeding tube as well as allow breathing while cutting screams and noises. An intravenous line could serve as well as was demonstrated by the system of rails, electric winches, pulleys and chains dangling from the ceiling. The equipment reminded of a workshop or a meat processing factory.

(Star Wars Symphony – The Imperial March, magnum voce)

After about ten minutes of silently watching the whitewashed concrete walls and metal trellis flooring, they heard a noise indicating that a hydraulic door was opening and then closing. The cadenced footsteps announced a person who meant business and the black oiled leather garments would give them nightmares for the rest of their lives, especially since the three foot tall person could only be Lucas.

The child wore clothing that was so black it looked like black leather dipped in tar and painted over that with china ink. These were obviously reinforced, armored garments as attested by the thickness and rigidity of the segments while the joints were semi-flexible bellows-style and showed some structural strength.

His feet were encased in knee-high heavy combat boots with inch thick laminated soles made of alternating layers of thermoplastics, ceramic, high-grade titanium steel and rubber insulation. The sides of the soles had a line of straight metal spikes all around to aid in climbing or fighting.

His trousers were almost unseen under the knee length jacket but seemed thick and rigid.

The jacket had broad molded shoulders with shoulder pads and stiff, high, rounded collar. It had reinforced rims, hems and piping all around in drab lead-grey tone. The chest area seemed composed of five vertical segments, two in front and three in the back, creating a flack vest integrated to the structure of the garment. The segments were articulated and full length, thus giving thickness and protection to the area from neckline to knees.

The belt carried the ubiquitous three pouches but also on the right were added a hatchet and the holster for a small pistol. The left side had added a 12" two-edged dagger and a clawed hammer.

The hands were clad in long gloves with extra thick molded tops bearing metal spikes in lieu of fingernails and knuckle reinforcements for hand combat. The palm-side was medium density insulated velvet to allow great sensitivity and dexterity in precise maneuvers. He would be able to shoot his gun or use his swiss army knife without taking off his gloves.

(Darth Vader's respirator, magnum voce)

The most terrible aspect was the helmet: based on the german stahlhelm of WW II but with longer sides and wider flaring back. The face was completely shapeless and devoid of any humanoid features whatsoever: a mirror plate in a tone of dull silver. There was at the underside a locking system that mated the collar of the jacket perfectly leaving no skin exposed or weakness in the throat protection. From the bottom of the helmet, near the angle of the jawbone on each side, came a ribbed flexible thermoplastic pipe that went directly down the front of the jacket to mid thorax and connected under the arms to solid metal pipes emanating from the slim molded backpack that served as airpump, filter and life support. He seemed a mish-mash from several Sci-Fi characters but no one was laughing. The weapons were real and the prisoners knew what they were here for.

The figure, they just couldn't think of him as Lucas, or their son, or anything at this point, gestured and a large metal door hissed and opened under the power of hydraulics. Then the rasping of metal wheels on metal rail and chinking of chains were heard coming nearer until they emerged; two soldiers maneuvering a heavy mass of flesh dangling from the ceiling by six chains. It was the ruffian from the lounge earlier this evening.

As they saw the naked, bruised and bleeding form, Cynthia and Raymond understood that they had just met the Lord of Burgundy in his war mode and would not be walking out of this hotel the same people as they had been going in. They prayed for the children and never once asked or thought of what they had done to deserve this; it was all Lucas's fault anyways. He was unnatural, depraved, psychotic and unworthy.

He was also too rich, too equipped, too organized and had too many men to take on and get out alive. They were screwed but blamed the person they had spat on for the situation. It would never be their fault. They were the adults and Lucas the child; he should be on his knees in abject surrender, head bowed in shameful contrition, asking their forgiveness for having been too autonomous and too forward with his opinions. And he should definitely be punished for being so bloody fucking rich when that was an adult privilege, not for kids like him.

No, it was not their fault but it was the unfair reality that they could not invoke normality, social mores or other apanages of adultness in the situation. Reality was like that; it never cared for what you thought, it only bothered with the material and tangible. Like the money Lucas paid his men and the guns they wielded. That's the difference between belief and reality; belief was in your head and never got out of it because it couldn't survive contact with the intransigent material strictures of reality. That's why bigotries and the systems they inaugurated like religion and church, slavery, misogyny and fascism have all been destroyed and reduced to ash. Cynthia and Raymond were about to relearn the lessons of history and cry and bleed to pay for the education.

The Baptismiath Suderia

(Silent Hill 'original movie' – The darkness falls, with siren)

December 28th of 2015, late evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 4th basement – exclusion zone Epsilon

Lucas spoke in a slow, bass voice, modulated by the automated breathing device in his backpack but emitted by speakers spread and hidden in the jacket's chest area. The sound was so completely foreign and unnatural as to be queer; it sent shivers of dread and instinctual revulsion down the spine of every adult in the room, even the soldiers working for him.

"Well, well well – Shooosh – What do we have here? – Shooosh –A massive heaping of offal heaped before my humble person. – Shooosh – Oh my, the humanity of it all! – Shooosh – I suppose I shall simply have to do this myself. – Shooosh – Just like all the other heavy jobs. – Shooosh – Never a damned adult in the house to work when it's needed, hein? – Shooosh – But don't worry, I'll take all the time in the world and then some to get your secrets out. – Shooosh – Bring me the crash cart and the dialysis cart. – Shooosh – Install them, then back at parade rest."

The harsh, mechanically regulated breathing was unnerving and made everybody cringe each time the sound in the speakers rose to allow the child's normally reedy voice to come out at stentorian levels. The damned aerator augmented its noise in proportion and unsettled the people even more. It must have been done voluntarily and just for that purpose; psychological warfare through sound waves. From someone with abnormally powerful hearing and synesthesia, an auditive attack was unthinkable, no? Tell Lucas. He was taught to turn weaknesses into strengths or at least neutralize them so the enemy could not exploit them. And he learned well.

About ten minutes of feverish activity later and two metal carts covered in ceramic and enameled glaze were set near the suspended prisoner and connected to the electricity, cold and hot running water, medical grade compressed air and modified odoriferous and colorized natural gas lines from the wall. With his main tools in place, Lucas opened the dialysis cart and took out the tubes and needles needed to run the fluids and then the electrical wires for the sensors.

The prisoner was lowered so that there was only two feet between his back and the floor. Lucas used a custom made adjustable inclined ramp & platform rolling around on 8 small wheels with a breaking lever on each side. It allowed him to place as much as four feet of space under the prisoner and still reach the ventral surface with ease. This was vital to observe, photograph and test in vivo the many ritualistic tattoos the man had. His entire life and street creds were painted on him.

"– Shooosh – Now, I'm going to set some synthetic blood in the dialyser along with my favorite cocktail for these meetings – Shooosh – A liquefied mixture of alcohol, nicotine, THC, opium, caffeine, steroid, Ritalin and Prozac. – Shooosh – It should make you mellow and spacey enough to tell me your deepest secrets. – Shooosh – Without shedding blood or lowering your health. – Shooosh – So we can do this as many times as we need. – Shooosh – Over as many years as I will keep you. – Shooosh – Until I have squeezed you dry like a lemon and then… – Shooosh –"

Lucas let the dialyser work for a half hour during which he silently toured his two parents and spoke in low tones with his soldiers around the room. It became apparent that he could control the volume, pitch, tone and sound effects from his costume at will through a mechanism that was simply unseen.

When the suspended blob of fat antisocial psychotism was beginning to show signs of reacting to the drugs, mostly by voiding his wastes and drooling a bit, Lucas gestured to a soldier to use a reinforced thermoplastic hose to pressure wash the stuff through the floor trellis so it would all go into the space underneath and be flushed away by the constant stream of water in the canal.

(Adrian Von Ziegler – The sealed Realm)

The suspended man began to speak with a pronounced southern drawl, and alternated tongues between modern english, olde englysh, Cajun, Creole, modern french, olde french, german and ukrainian. This gibberish was impossible to follow for anyone other than Lucas who answered in kind with little effort and was actually using his synesthesia to learn Cajun and Creole as he went. When the skinhead boss started drooling blood-flecked bile and speaking in a guttural, barbaric tongue that no human voice box should ever attempt, Lucas raised his platform higher and almost pressed his helmet to the mouth of the man to listen rapturously. He dearly wanted to learn the different accentuations of the alien tongue he had only ever heard George Brown-Fowl-in-the-Bushes speak to date. There were no living Nazis that had ever spoken it to be found and he would not work with such people if he could avoid it. They tried to exterminate him and his family after all. Only a fool would trust genocidal maniacs bent on burning the world, and Lucas was nobody's fool.

As the suspended prisoner unraveled his tale, he began to speak of the dark corners of human society; how and where the seedy underbelly of politics and religion had commingled to form a monstrous aberration in the landscape of American Law, society and politics. Thirtyish years ago, a group of depraved misogynistic pedophiles that were rejected by all of their birth churches created a new religious grouping called The Southernly Baptized Apostolates of the Truly Christian American Christ or the Baptismiath Suderia as is the ritualistic name they use amongst their own initiates.

The man, who was now identified as a born juvenile delinquent, had been active in the skinheads since 8 years old, the Ku Klux Klan at 10 years old and then the Aryan Brotherhood at 12 years old in juvy hall. Eventually he was approached and recruited to join as a Worshipful member of the congregation. When their investigations confirmed his bloody past of a first rape at the age of 13 and first murder of a niggress bitch after raping her at the age of 14, and several more along the years, they judged him sufficiently righteous in his hate to invite him amongst the ecclesiasts.

At that point the gross meter went off chart; serial rape of women and children, ritualized group rape of children as integral part of mass or promotion ceremonies, murdering the juvenile victims and profanating the bodies ritually, etc… This was mixed with bribery of officials to force law changes or zoning changes when buying buildings for the church and the murdering of people who discover things about the cult and its shady dealings, immoral practices and purchasing of political power. They solidified their stranglehold on society by integrating functionaries, police officers and politos into their worshippers and eventually the ranked ecclesiasts.

Lucas was beyond incensed. Not only were these cultists simpleminded women-hating old fools, they were also just banal pedophiles who were too weak of mind and menial of body to take on a child by themselves. In answer to their weakness they created a group of thugs to do the arm-twisting work for them. And then the kids had to die. Why? Just because the small-cocked bastards were afraid that the victims could develop enough experience to eventually compare and judge the sizes and performances of their rapists, thus destroying the image of their power in their minds.

And then there were the useless idiotic ritual phrases they used amongst them, part psalmodiation and part repetitive leitmotiv to dull the senses and numb the mind that heard them spoken out loud. The cultists called these phrases and manner of speaking 'code speaching' or mixing coding into daily speech in order to fool police, teachers, politicians and the larger public into believing they had a valid legitimate religion to defend.

- "Kneel boy-oy-oy; and Homage be bestowed upon the manly mannaness of my manhood." Was used by the Lord Pontiff to command a boy to perform fellatio upon him during a mass or promotion rite.

- "The Pure Jesus, the Truly Christian, American Christ; the Lord the Redemptor of the White Painted Cross, in His Allmight." Was the full textual descriptive of the type of god they believe in and what he stands for – a white god for powerful southernistic white men only, no one else.

- "They are not people. They are boy-oy-oys in the boyishly boyish boyness of their boyhood; not people and not men, never men. I will not sanctify them into mannaness." Was a common pronouncement by the Lord Pontiff on the unworthiness of teenagers between 18 and 25 years of age and the cult's systematic refusal to recognize any male under 25 years old as adult. The word 'boy' is applied to any male under aged and all rights of beatings and commanding the lives of 'boys' remain in the hands of the 'man' until that age is reached and passed.

- "They must be made silent and made to die true and final death, of spirit as of body, as part of their penance for their sins of daring to try and be men unsanctified before my manhood." Was the ritualistic sentence of death pronounced by the Lord Pontiff or ruling ecclesiast during a mass where a boy was presented to be gang raped ritually and then had to die to keep the secrets of the cult. This was an attempt to say that in resisting the kidnapping, beatings, tortures and rapes, the boy-child was guilty of a heresy against God and Faith and so actually deserved to die. Furthermore, the cult Law stipulated that the simple desire or word of any baptized worshipful member of the assembly was enough to have a boy killed. It took a senior ecclesiast to order the death of any adult non believer and only the Lord Pontiff could sentence the death of the baptized adult males of the Faith.

- "So was it Faith, Creed and Doctrine; thus Belief is Truth. Amen." Was a daily mantra and repeated several times during mass or promotion. It was simply speaking out loud the infantile wish that someday, if they say it enough and wish it enough, reality will break apart and the lies they spew will become the Law of the land. At that point reality will no longer count as a measuring stick or test of honesty in court, congress or anywhere in life that they may want to go to find boys to rape and murder in honor of their own glory..

- "So did I Speak in my Speakings as they were so Spoken; I so Spake. Amen." Is a repetitive leitmotiv to try and subliminally convince people who hear it that whatever the preacher said, when he said it, was truth penultimate and not subject to verification or challenge by anyone, especially not reality or logic-based tests of veracity. Those tests are heresy and punishable.

- "So did the Lord Pontiff extol unto the cock-ulated cock-holders of the Held-cock as they were, indeed and in effect, cock-helded before the worshipful ecclesiasts." Is one of the most depraved phrases of the cult for it signals that a boy is to be taken to the punitarium to be prepared for cock-ulation: performing serial fellatios upon each person present in the prayer room before being killed. The usual preparation ritual is done by adult males of the Faith but never ecclesiasts for this is classified as low work. It is the lower Worshipful Baptized who do this in preparation for their Promotion in the following year. The chosen boy is shackled and brought to the Punitarium where he is beaten repeatedly by wooden rods; broom handles usually as they are cheap and easy to find. At least seven men attack the boy together; six hit while one reads holy scriptures out loud to extol the virtues of submissiveness and obedience unto the boy. It is admittedly done only as a smokescreen to invoke religious rights in case the room is bugged by the cops. When the boy is lying on the floor no longer able to resist, they force him to his knees and then take a straight razor to slash his eyes while taking great care that he see and understand what will happen. Then they use long-nose curved pliers to pull out all the teeth so he will not bite during the cock-ulation rite. Then they break his fingers so he can't fight or escape the shackles. After the serial fellatios are performed publicly in front of the entire assembly so they can prove their mannaness still works and is still powerful, the boy is sent back to the punitarium. The method of killing the boy is to tie him face down to a bench and let the lower Worshipful Baptized gang rape him until he is so injured and bleeds so much that he dies of it during the act. It is the Law of the cult that if the child dies before everyone in the room has at least one turn, then the remaining must rape the dead body as proof of penance for not being worthy enough in the eye of God of receiving the Gift of a living boy to play with and be satisfied.

There were several dozen more examples of circular, self-serving and aberrant illogic. Boundless quantities of anti-human, anti-Nature, bigoted, seditious sayings and pronouncements. All these paraphrases and exhortations all had one goal: to promulgate Cult over Society. In so doing, they tried to impose Belief over Reality, Faith over Truth, Doctrine over Law, and the ritual desecrations of the bodies and minds of people instead of helping humanity. The most flabbergasting part in all this was the thousands of active male members and several thousand female supporters who obeyed their husbands or adult sons in not denouncing or fighting this menace.

If that had been the extent of what the fat slobbering mass of crapulence spoke, Lucas would have killed him and put him in the shredding plant by now. But the alien language he spoke so fluently was an indicator of something else hidden underneath. Seeing that the racist fool was now quiet, he began to ask questions about a few things. He gestured to one of the marines to lower down the vidscreen so he could show the man images of items and texts so that maybe he could get somewhere with the occult paraphernalia that Vratsina had left in the large travel pack as her personal parting gift to him.

When the man heard Lucas answer in the same alien tongue he seemed to become more coherent and aware, though a small rivulet of blood began trickling from his left nostril. His wide bloodshot eyes and drooling mouth were fixated in rictus spasms but strangely functional for a man in his state of discomfort. He seemed to almost relish the pain and the chains.

As he beheld the images of texts, the fat man began to compliment Lucas on his trove of Blessed Antiquities, of how he was truly a proud Conservator of the Eldritch Past. He spoke of his great respect for any so young that could hold and read chapters of the Pnakotik Manuscripts and maintain so much sanity. The skinhead's face was contorting in rage at the thought that so much power, authority and raw allmight had made its way into the minuscule hands of a child so small he could break him just by accidentally walking on him. His jealousy, envy and greed knew no bounds as he tried to inveigle the child into seeing him as a mentor that would apprentice him into the deeper, darker corners of the Earth; if only he would kneel and called him master.

Lucas backed away in a towering rage that was even greater and more boundless than the dirty buffoon's base attempt to lure him into bondage. The two Faraday cages and ECM suite built into the insulation layers of his armor had just triggered at the same time. He was reading the two messages; one given by the video in the transparent faceplate while also hearing/reading the audio warnings from the emergency alarm. An energy wave in the spectrum of bio-neural electricity with frequency and modulation matching brain waves had just passed through him; the wave emanated from the tub of lard in front of him, specifically the mouth and eyes.

Lucas closed his eyes and assumed a militaristic stance, with squared shoulders and hands joined behind his back. He began to review mentally what little he knew of mental powers that affect the mind, bend people's will and can make you hallucinate things or perceive knowledge that wasn't there. He remembered reading about the opening last year of the Chatton Institute for the mentally and spiritually gifted. It was a private scholastic center dedicated to the study and training of psychics; mediums, spoon benders and their ilk. It should be useless, right?

Well no; Lucas had read the reports at WPP on Lawrence's secured feed incoming from US Naval Intel as they shared with him their fear that such people could actually read minds and plant suggestions in others. They would be the perfect assassin or saboteur. Go in without equipment, find a patsy to take the fall and program the idiot to cause an accident at the correct time, after they had already left the scene. They would also be able to get information from people's minds without torture, drugs or waste of time. Lucas decided then and there that the Chatton Institute deserved some of his loving and caring attention. But that didn't confirm or explain the tubby in front of him, or his knowledge of the ancient tongue and lores. More probing was needed, so he began to show the films and scan results of each artifact he possessed one by one.

The unadulterated glee visible in the man's countenance was hard to miss. Several of the items viewed were seemingly ordinary devotional statuettes or altar ornaments like many asian religions use. They were made of dull grayish metal that had so far resisted deep scans and was unknown on the periodic table; even the classified one Lucas had gotten access to from WPP.

Seven small figurines, about 6 inches high, represented the same alien creature. Its body was rounded and bloated like a bullfrog, its limbs arched and ended in webbed clawed fingers. It had a pair of thin stunted wings coming out of its shoulders in the back and a reptilian tail the same length as the legs would be if fully straight. It was the head though, that gave nightmares to the squeamish. It looked like a squid resting on top of the things' shoulders. Its lower face was composed of two long extensible snatching tentacles that ended in an oval form lined with flat spikes; the rest of the chin area was invisible behind the two dozen smaller grasping tentacles. The upper face was occupied by two large round eyes with pupils made like a cartwheel with a central dot, eight spokes and a full circular rim. Each large eye had about three dozen smaller eyes of varying shapes and sizes clustered around them in a seemingly random way. Another great eye was set on the forehead; a horizontal, elongated oval with the pupil appearing as a pattern of vertical ribbings occupying about two thirds of the sclera. The back of the head was truly like a squid with a cluster of three breathing pipes on each side, ribbed membranous frills and a pointed end that looked like a vestigial tentaculary tail.

These seven figurines seemed to cause the greatest interest and agitation in the prisoner if the subconscious sounds of his body and attempts to move inside the chains were any indicators. That was, at least, until the metal book-box came on screen. Then the dog was truly in the bowling alley. The man was now fully awake and screaming both obscenities and very vital facts in the form of probing, invasive questions.

"How? In the unhallowed Names of UnderVerse, how? Where did you get that reliquary? It disappeared from a concealed vault of the Thule Society buried in greatest secrecy under a bayrisch festung, under one of the hundreds of nameless castles of Bavaria that was ordered plundered by Heinrich Himmler himself, completely bypassing the Ahnenerbe. But it was the Ahnenerbe that had mandate to find and hold treasures of archaeology, religious relics and artifacts of eldritch myth in the name of the SS. Zein Fuhrer himself had decreed the mandate! But that weaselly sewer dweller Himmler ordered the contents taken to his kult befehl at Schloss Wewelsburg in Buren township, in the Paderborn Landkreis in North-Rhine Westphalia."

Seeing the man gasp for air, his tongue swollen and raw, Lucas signaled a marine to bring him the cold water line. He adjusted a disposable flexible canula to the spigot before turning it on and irrigating the fat traitor's mouth. Hydrating him gave him fuel to continue speaking his priceless secrets and fill in blanks that Lucas had no chance of filling by himself unless he went and committed to doing several degrees in archaeology, history, religion and legendary mythology.

The man was quite re-energized by his drink and the washing of his face. He continued with enthusiasm and great details. "It was rumored lost to the hands of an american soldier who took it as souvenir of the war when they took and purged Wewelsburg in early 1946. We thought they had found the sanctuaries and taken everything. The agents sent in the 1960's found nothing but washed stone and painted wood, ready for tourists. The hidden doors we had heard about from captured Nazis the Worshipful helped to escape towards Colombia, Brazil and Belize were not there or they had been plundered and sealed, the mechanisms destroyed. The metall bucherkiste was thought lost in the war damages or stolen and hidden in a private trove that would emerge when the family cleaned out the attic or cellar and sold the estate. The Worshipful thought they had another 4 or 5 decades to wait before its emergence. Praise be to the Depths and the UnderVerse, our power is come and the reign of the meteques and the mongrels will end in my lifetime! Zieg Hammerrika, Heil!"

"– Shooosh – And what pray tell is this metal book-box supposed to contain that has you so emotional? – Shooosh – A rare collector's version of Mein Kampf illuminated by Goebbels, perhaps? – Shooosh – What exactly could this box or its contents be that you are almost wetting yourself just at the mere image of it? – Shooosh –"

The mammoth skinhead looked at the dull silver faceplate hanging just at his right shoulder; he smiled a truly predatorial and depraved smile that was not completely human, and only partially sane.

"Ah, mein Herr! It supposedly holds a most tenebrous and unholy of librams! To the Worshipful it is rumored to contain a handwritten copy of the Tome of Eibon. Legends have it he was an occultist, alchemist and mentalist of great eldritch powers and superhuman perceptions. He whom holds this Tome may well have they keys of Life, Death, the Between and the Void."

"– Shooosh – How do you open this box to reach the book? – Shooosh – I doubt saying Open Sesame in ancient germanic will suffice. – Shooosh –"

"Nein, you have to treat it like a puzzle. Like the chin-tok and their wooden contraptions to hide candy from children. There is a sequence to tap and move and then it opens. There may be more to it, but that is what I was told in conversation with older, more devout Worshipful members of the ecclesiasts."

"– Shooosh – Well then; let's talk of something more relaxing than religion and inhuman beasts from beyond. – Shooosh – Tell me about your tattoos. – Shooosh – What does this one mean?"

Service unto the Lord

(Lord of the Rings – Underneath the misty mountains cold)

December 28th of 2015, late evening

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 4th basement – exclusion zone Ceta

The Matthews siblings were uncomfortable for many reasons right now. One, they were looking worriedly at the doorway to a showering hall with no partitions for genders and no privacy screens between showerheads. It was a true barracks style system, all white ceramics and tiles, stainless steel and about six small but heavily constructed cameras they could spot. The entire place smelled of sterility and the harsh soaps used to hose down the place every week.

The other reason for their unease was in their lack of dress; both were down to their last layer of underwear, bare foot and freezing not just from cold. The order from the female marine that had welcomed them at the entrance to basement 4 had been cool, detached and arrogant. She ordered them out of their clothes and into the showers or she would take the clothing off them with a knife like cutting meat fillets off the bones of a carcass. The k-bar in her hand enticed them to believe her and follow orders but they still balked at showering together. Right until the woman barked behind them; they would have five minutes flat of hot water then it would go frigid to force them to hurry up and keep in time to their orders.

The third unease came at the types of clothes they were given: both received unisex underwear composed of knee-length compression shorts, compression t-shirt with elbow length sleeves and short socks with thickened anti-glide soles. All these were made with a weave of spandex, lycra and several polyesters thus making them very, very fitting. Tanya wondered about a bra until she saw the ribbed and reinforced structures in her t-shirt which Derek didn't have. The outer clothes were much better since it was just as set of drab solid-grey BDU's with belt, fingerless gloves and boots all from black leather. After they were finally changed and recovered from the embarrassment in the showers, they stood next to Theo who was finishing a conversation with someone on a wired phone set cabled to a wall console.

The woman from before came back in to inspect them and then stood at attention and barked out orders for them.

"All right boots! Ten' hut! As of now you here scumbags are BOOTS! And I am your not gentle and not friendly drill instructor also known as the DI, the sergeant, the gunny or the Rabid Bitch! That's with capitals on the 'R' and the 'B' for those of you who don't got no education in Inglese!"

"Yes DI, Ma'am!" the Matthews siblings answered in synch with matching shit-eating grins.

"Well, they understood that right easy. Why am I sure it's the last thing they'll ever do easy in my lifetime?" The female marine instructor asked from Theo as he stood on the side, holding his ribs in laughter at the poor kids. Oh well, they asked for it; literally.

"Dunlop! Stop cackling like a hen laying a clutch and get 'em moppets up ta the booth before the boss tans yo' hide, boy!" resounded the voice of the BVL's resident DJ and scenic arts expert. Man did that guy like the sound of his voice in the loudspeakers.

"All right, keep your breeches on, we're coming!" Theo answered knowing that both the DJ and Lucas would be watching and listening through the cameras in the locker room. Wouldn't that cause a stir with the teens when they learned they were the entertainment of the last quarter hour. The boss could handle it. Besides, when the kids saw their parents, they'd have a lot of other stuff on their minds.

"Boots! Line up!" Theo spoke clearly and firmly. Since they were just two and in a confined space, shouting at the top of his lung capacity would be pointless. Even the marines weren't that thick. Usually. "Behind me, one pace interval. Stay silent and observant until called upon. You signed up for this so shut ya traps and bear it with a grin! Yous in ta army now!"

The two teens followed the ranger through a corridor and up an 8 foot tall straight staircase to an armored room covered in vidscreens, security monitors and several consoles with old style mechanical dials, levers and red round valve handles. They walked forward to pay attention to a massive vidscreen that was easily 12 feet wide by 4 feet tall and served as the main monitor of the room. There were banks of 4 screens of 4 feet wide by 2 feet high on each side of the central viewer. A series of keyboards, horizontal touchscreens that served as controller pads and three different blocks of 12 units were charging walkie-talkies, satellite phones and wireless touchscreen tablets in case of mobile emergencies. There were two large armored cabinets on each side of the door they had come through and another two next to another door across the room from their entry. Another smaller and less armored door was on the right hand, covered in plastic shelves and hooks to hang coats and store miscellany out of the way.

Throning imperiously in the middle of it all was a large muscular black man, dressed in the burgundy uniform of BVL with meta-glasses and two different wireless ear sets, one on each side of the head. The chair he sat in was made of thick steel pipes and bands with three inch tick leather padding that strained and creaked under his massive girth. Standing 6'4" tall at 270 pounds of shaped toned muscle with only 3% of body fat, the athletic man was the dream of many and the envy of almost everyone. His daily hour in the hotel's gym was an event for both his engaging personality and the show he offered the crowd while wearing only his tight compression shorts. Being a health nut and fitness instructor in his teens and twenties had definitely paid off in spades! Now in his forties, he had the body, health and stamina of a twenty-five year old; something his many lady friends admired and demanded more of every time they visited.

"Well, well, well! So, fresh Boots for the stack! Dunlop! Aren't you recruiting a bit young these days?" asked the DJ in his usual attempts at humor with everything in sight.

"Boots; this here is the BVL's chief DJ and scene master. Anything of the spectacle type, like the inaugural on the 24th, goes through him for planning, improving and executing. He trained Lucas in a lot of the public speaking, deportment and attitudes you see him exhibit when he's not casual with friends. The man's name is Antwone Charitable Graceadieu; it's French 'cause his grand parents were from Haiti and moved to New Orleans around WW II when they had just got married. His mother spoke French, Creole and Cajun, so he does too and a few others aside. He's a master of three martial arts, calisthenics and a damn fine shot with a 12 gauge or a 22 long rifle. In other words, don't piss off the black mountain of a man or he'll hurt you bad."

The siblings looked at the humongous man that had gotten up from his chair during Theo's little introduction and had to look way up to see his eyes. Yes, he was a big son of a horse. "Yes, sir! The Boots will respect the big black man so he doesn't sit on us, sir!" they answered with smirks at their temporary minder. Theo palming his face at their cheek wasn't helping discipline any.

"Mwuhahaha! We gotten ta live ones! Dat be maken my job easier! Come petites; see what da boss had prepared for tonight's festivities." Antwone spoke with a thick accent of mixed French and Cajun mostly as an affected style. It was always fun to see people's faces when they realized he wasn't some ignorant migrant or retarded fool and spoke English like a college professor of the arts when he wanted to make the effort.

The two siblings were completely sickened and discommodated at being made to watch their parents, already naked and shackled on the flushing seats, as they endured being ignored for several hours with neither food nor support.

They were made to see, hear and understand via translation programs most of what the fat skinhead said until he started speaking the alien tongue with Lucas; then there was no translator alive or mechanical that could interpret that. The items shown on the monitor were queer in the extreme and the man's tattoos when he explained them in english were disgusting on their own.

Then the part that would keep them waking up from nightmares at night for the next decade happened. Lucas took out of the man's wrists the tubes from the dialysis system and purged them into the floor trellis before disconnecting them from the main machine and throwing them into a shallow rectangular bucket some three feet by ten feet on one foot deep. The bucket-lift ran tracks up the wall to a height of 15 feet before tipping towards the chute built into the wall itself. This was the feeding mechanism for the shredding plant which then fed the confetti by air pressure into the firebox of the gas burning water boilers for the complex.

Having inspected the bucket-lift, Lucas went to the crash cart, took a small tool, and then slowly walked up his mobile ramp to stand back at the shoulder of his suspended prisoner. The siblings were already shaken by the evening and would always remember what they saw next: their small eleven year old brother raise an arm and bring down a syringe filled with oxygen into the heart of the man chained before him. He pressed the plunger on the cheap disposable plastic syringe and then backed away down the ramp. As soon as he reached the bottom rim of the ramp, the fat man began thrashing in his bindings and choking on empty air. After about a minute of this he calmed down and then relaxed completely into the initial flaccid repose of death.

Lucas took the wired controller for the motorized ramp and moved it back to its parking position along the wall and then walked to the hanging corpse which he pushed towards the bucket-lift. The ceiling rails and wheeled winches were screeching and wailing along the chinking of the six heavy chains as their burden was ferried to its final disposal. Lucas signaled towards a camera and Antwone pulled a decorated black card-key from his jacket which he slotted into a console with old mechanical dials and levers. A terrifying noise began as both pressurized hydraulic oil and air were moved to engage the round-saws, hammer-discs and reduction drums in the belly of the industrial shredder. The three stage device would leave nothing bigger than 1/16 of an inch in diameter and all that would be pushed to the firebox by a sustained flow of air mixed with gas.

The body was lowered until it hovered six inches above the bucket and then Lucas worked with a special secured key to remove the shackles and unwind the chains until the body was fully resting in the bucket, bereft of anything but its sparse body hair. At another signal from the child, Antwone pulled a lever and the bucket made the up-tip-down sequence in less than twenty seconds. There was nothing to be seen, only a few changes in sounds from the machine and a sickening wet gurgle that lasted all of two seconds. A series of high pressure water nozzles inside the chute began spraying boiling water to rinse the shredding parts of the machine and flush down any evidence. The cleansing cycle finished when the chute's blast door raised and a fine spray of oil was misted until it covered everything and then was set alight to burn the evidence in case of investigation. A second cycle of boiling water wash-down occurred before the whole system reset for the next usage.

The two teenagers were completely discombobulated by the fact their little brother had just killed a person in front of their parents and didn't seem to have any reason to stop there. His footsteps as he walked towards the two shivering adults were ominous and forebode nothing good.

"– Shooosh – Bring the new Boots to me on the floor. – Shooosh –"

Behold the Lord, thine Master

(Star Wars Symphony – Duel of the Fates)

December 29th of 2015, wee hours

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 4th basement – exclusion zone Epsilon

Theo pushed the children towards the other door and they saw it led to the catwalk that surrounded the torture chamber / disposal room that they had watched on the monitors. The room was 20 feet high and the balcony was at ten feet in the air except where the shredder's intake was situated. At that place there were short, narrow ladders from the floor up to the ceiling with a landing at the balcony to get on or off the bars. The smell was awful because of the rushing water beneath them in the canal. The metal trellis of the floor was wide-gauge enough that they could see a few things moving silently in the dark under the metal decking.

As they stopped in front of their parents, the adults saw how they were dressed and Raymond paled considerably while Cynthia seemed to redden like a lit match.

"– Shooosh – remove the pipe-gags from them. – Shooosh – I would hear from their own mouths the depths of their guilt. – Shooosh –" Lucas walked towards them like a Minion of Beyond, all black, creaking leather and softly clinking sheathed steel.

"What have you done you little bastards?" Cynthia exploded without preamble. Her blush of rage was now encompassing all her head and parts of her neck down to her clavicles. Raymond was stiff and unresponsive, but very much attentive, just frozen with fear.

Derek took the lead and spoke for the two children: "We offered Lucas something to save our family that you had both cast to the trash heap with your insults. Mom, did you really say you wanted to disown him? To put him in a youth prison in shame and humiliation? For what dammit? Just for the blasted money? Was that what cost us our family and happiness tonight?"

"You simpering little idiots!" Cynthia seethed "I don't believe my eyes! You joined him, became part of his cult of fools! You deserve everything you get from now on! I won't help you and I won't acknowledge you as mine! Never!" Her venom spent, the woman seemed to lapse into a sort of simmering loathsome rage that she no longer knew how to express.

Seeing Raymond still quietly observant but frozen by fear and survival instincts, the siblings shook heads and backed off until they were side by side with Theo, back against the wall.

Lucas presented himself before the two tied adults and moved his heavy helmet form Raymond to Cynthia, right to left, slowly, unhurried and outwardly unbothered by the events of the last five hours.

"– Shooosh – Derek and Tanya have both shown much more wisdom and civility than either of you this night, and that despite the little hiccup at the beginning of the evening. – Shooosh – It is now because of them that you are alive and will walk away from here with most of your health. – Shooosh – They have exchanged their lives in service to me and my creed and cause to pay for your Blood Betrayal. – Shooosh – You may have jobs and be kept at the law firm, but never as partners, never at high standing. – Shooosh – You will never be trusted, your word will have no value to my ears and eyes. – Shooosh – You will exist at my sufferance of it, no longer loved, wanted nor trusted. – Shooosh – Should you perform another such betrayal or attempt to harm me physically or spiritually, you will die. – Shooosh – Slowly, cruelly, inhumanely, and only after having witnessed the deaths of those who bought your partial freedom as they pay forfeit on your crimes alongside of you. – Shooosh –"

Lucas moved his right hand towards the squad of marines and they moved from their guard positions to line up two deep by six wide at ten feet in front of the sitting parents.

"– Shooosh – These wastes of human souls have betrayed Blood, Law and Faith. – Shooosh – The punishments for these heresies are known. – Shooosh – Apply the sentence unto these relapsed Infidels, corporal Derland. – Shooosh – When they have suffered their pain, bundle them up and ship them out of my fiefdom. – Shooosh – Have the motorpool prepare a covered jeep and use that for transport. – Shooosh – No support, medications or assistance, corporal! – Shooosh –"

Lucas turned stiffly and walked away from the room, leaving anger, misery and anxious anticipation in his funeste wake. The female marine leader began barking orders and several of the soldiers went to the walls and opened alcoves hidden behind doors covered with a layer of concrete and inch-thick layer of cinderblock façade to imitate the real walls around.

The alcoves revealed small braziers and tripods, bags of coal chunks, coils of oiled metal chains, hooks, shackles, and several metal rods about five feet in length with a twist-lock system at the top. These locks matched the rod-end of several iron and bronze shapes the use of which was still undetermined. The marines brought the tripods and set up one next to each prisoner then filled the brazier pots with coals which were doused in lighter fluid and lit. The metal shapes were then arrayed in the flaming coals until each brazier was filled with heating, smelling metal bits. A set of wrought iron hammers, tongs, shovels and six inch square nails were brought and also split and positioned next to each prisoner.

Corporal Derland stood at the side, looking straight between the adults and the children. She addressed the kids severely and without any sympathy: "These two have betrayed their own Blood. They should have died for that. Instead, because you bought their lives, they will suffer and through Penance, rent enough time in this life that maybe, someday, they might manage to offset their Blood Debt to the point of deserving to be thought of as human again. If you resist, if you interfere, if you try to stop us, your lives are forfeit and all four of you will die tonight. Stand at parade attention until told otherwise. Disobedience will be punished. Failure to perform will be punished. Weakness showed by vomiting or fainting will be punished. Do you understand these orders?"

Scared, traumatized and bereft of options, the two teens nodded "Yes DI, we understand."

"Dunlop! It's on you to keep them in line. You know what the Master said about discipline and orderliness during ceremonies. Make them behave or they won't suffer alone!"

The rest of the hour was passed in screams of pain and pleas for help or mercy. Neither adult would come out unscathed in body or soul. The metal shapes in the braziers were brands to be burned into the hands, feet and chest of the traitors. When they were red hot, the marines used the tongs to hold the brands while setting the long metal rods in place and twisting them locked in position until each brand was shafted solidly. Then the same tongs were used to grab and hold in place the hands, one at a time so that the marks of shame could be placed upon the topside of the limb. They would not mark the palm to avoid crippling the person's capacity to work or care for their own needs. The brands were applied to the topside of the feet so that every time the person was sockless they would see the proof of their shame.

The final brand over the heart was the Seal of the Baltrianic Estates, the vast sovereign domain that Lucas intended to construct so his friends, workers and allies could live together at peace inside his walls and rings of defenses. This claimed visibly who had sentenced these persons to suffer and bear their shame visibly for the population to see.

Once the branding was done, they were unfettered, wrapped in a thin mylar blanket and again picked up and moved through the corridors, airlock and up to the garage at the BVL security motorpool. The three jeeps would get them to the Holt Residence and drop them off in the dead morning hours before the first rays of false dawn. Good riddance to them both.

The two teens had held as much as possible but had ended up crying their eyes out. Theo had no choice but to take note and administer correction in the form of slaps to the shoulder or biceps and a harsh rebuke to man up or tell the marines they couldn't serve the Lord; that quitter would be freed but only after choosing whose Blood Debt wasn't paid by them.

They finally got themselves under control and the torment passed. Both were escorted back to the 12th floor suite to fall into fretful terror plagued nightmares. It would be afternoon when they fell asleep enough to recuperate. No one bothered them until the 3rd of January to begin formal training. It was told to them that as of now, that suite was theirs; they would live in the Hotel, go to school as always but live here and train for their service on fixed schedules. When old enough they would have a job inside the Hotel and climb ranks by merit like anyone else. As of this point, their parents had disowned them but in private only so they would live separately, as if they attended a boarding school.

It was made abundantly clear that Lucas would never tolerate the shame of the Holts, Matthews and Himself be known in public. The crossed adoptions would go through, the marriage as well and it would be hosted by the Hotel at the expense of Lucas as is expected when the son is much richer than his parents. But no one that wore the crest of BVL would ever respect Cynthia or Raymond; they were family to the Lord but it was well known they were traitors and not to be trusted outside of their professions as mid-level attorneys. Both of their careers would stagnate in holding positions until they died or Lucas was given a proof of genuine repentance on their part. It would never happen in either of their lives.

Sovereign Lord of the Land

(Star Wars Symphony – Lake Varykino country)

December 29th of 2015, wee hours

Buffalo City, New York State (USA)

BVL; 4th basement – exclusion zone Ceta; Lord's private shower & armory

Lucas was finishing the dry heaves that had taken him despite the Gravol tablet he had taken at the beginning of events, just before the meeting upstairs. He had run the numbers mentally and had his strategists run simulation tables based on the collated data about his family's tempers and personalities. It had not been good. The kids had come out much better than foreseen; they were still alive. The adults were a loss to write off but that was the expected outcome in 98% of all sims so he wasn't surprised, just bitterly disappointed that humans could not be better than mere numbers on paper. The fact that his siblings had offered service to save the adults could go both ways. At least it meant they had a basic grasp of Dignity, Integrity, Honesty, Honor and Duty.

Lucas watched on the monitors in front of him as the adults were lifted and wrapped in blankets, his eyes instinctively seeking out the Seal on their chests. The Great Seal of the Baltrianic Estates; his dream for the last year ever since he had treatments for leukemia. He had begun dreaming of a place, rather pastoral and woodsy, dotted in farms and plantations, marshes, swamps and swift streams gurgling amongst the hillocks. He imagined a Land where his family would be able to grow, get married, live peacefully and die in contentment, surrounded by family and friends. He wanted that perfect piece of Earth where the bastards from the US military branches, the Atlantic Federation and the UEO's jackbooted thugs would not dare tread for fear of all the technology and defenses he would endow the walls, roads, streams and trees. His Land would never bow nor break before anyone.

Contrary to what the average man in the streets may think, this was not a farfetched dream as many private corporations were doing just that already in the oceanic depths. Larry Deon with Deon Submerged Enterprises, Joshua Winters with Winter Unlimited Ventures, Alastair Claybourne with Tor A'Ban'athey Real Estate Consortium, Domenico Montebianco with Blue Volcano Gas & Petrol Co and Piotr Mihaelevitch Yvgeny Prynikov with The Zabakadhy Motorized Engineering Group were amongst the best known and closest to legitimate operations you could see on the map. Everyone else fell far short of the standards established by the UEO and its member federations to be recognized as a sovereign national entity.

Other more hidden and thoroughly criminalized operations were in the hands of Doctor Mataahan Zin and his twin daughters who wanted to rebuild Ghengis Khan's empire under pretensions of being his descendants. Russia had lost control of a cluster of arctic islands just north of the Chinese borders to the hands of rebel General Vostok and his groupuscule of communism revival mercenaries. In Africa's South-Central zone there was that unstable buffoon Trangh Bellegant with his attempts at turning his illegal gem mines into cults dedicated to worship him so he could turn the individuals into slaves and use them as an army to overthrow the local militias and seize powers.

All this made abstention of practically sovereign by might-of-arms organizations that existed for decades like the drug Cartels of Mexico & Columbia, the Triads, The Thuggee, the Bratva, The Sicilian Cosa Nostra, the Skinheads with their hundred subgroups all over the map, etc… Then there were also the religious nutjobs emanating from Christians, Muslims and many Buddhist sects, all creating remote monasteries, abbeys, villages or submerged colonies that were never written in the maps and followed no laws but their own.

No, the Earth's map was not solid or reliable. With lesser bastards like Micronesia, right next to Australia, trying publicly to grow its oceanic holdings despite UEO sanctions and military buildup, it meant that there was clear space to be found if you were patient and knew how to play the long game. And once you were well implanted, autonomous colonies would want to join but that didn't matter. It was the sovereign land and the people on it that were important; the colony modules could be moved or scrapped and changed for better and safer. As long as the people had the uncontested right to their land and they wanted willingly to work with him, there would be a way to make it gel and produce results.

(Doctor Who – opening theme)

Lucas heard a strange noise behind him and felt a sudden chill despite the many layers of protection and climatized armor he wore. Slamming his helmet shut he turned around and gazed into a black circle of energy discharges set in empty air some six feet from him. It was completely circular, about 8 feet wide and seemed to emit many different energies in light, heat, sound, vibration and radiation all at once. Suddenly, there was a gravitational pull equal to a dozen times the dead weight of the child's body that seized him and pulled him relentlessly to the event horizon.

Lucas vanished from the heavily armored and temporarily off-grid room with nary a sound. No one felt the event. No one heard anything. No one had any ways yet to monitor and keep track of Lucas through psionics or magicks. That would come much later in a few years.

Lucas wound up kneeling on both knees with his hands splayed on each side to keep from face planting into the cement floor covered in cheap linoleum tiles common to public meeting places. His ears and synesthesia were working overtime to get rid of the static and reboot to full alert. He was in danger and needed to be ready for the confrontation with as much capacity as his diminutive stature and basic skills would grant him.

As he rose to his feet and boosted the sound effects in his speakers for maximum intimidation, he beheld a man. This man was thirtyish years old, dressed in the ubiquitous t-shirt and jeans combo with sneakers and a flannel shirt tied around his waist by the sleeves. He looked quite unkempt even with his completely shaven head that had only eyelashes left. His hands were covered in small scratches, lesions and blisters revealing many harsh labors with electricity and chemicals.

It was the eyes that caught Lucas' attention, eye that he had been seeing in the mirror for the last year of his life. HIS eyes; his flint blue eyes that had become washed out, discolored and drab from depression, loneliness, isolation and abandonment.

(Haendel – Messiah)

24th December of 2300, early morning

New Cape Quest, Florida (USA)

World Management Grid substation for NCQ County

"Welcome your Excellency, my Lord of Burgundy, to the blankest canvas you will ever paint upon." The older male's smile was definitely not quite sane or quite stable. But then again, after yanking the little tyke through space, dimension and Time, was that really important?