It was a brisk fall afternoon when the alarms sounded that somebody had made it to my front door and was knocking. I was not angry, just merely upset that this had taken place, as I was currently overseeing the information that had been gathered over the past night by my "spies"—little autonomous devices that I had tinkered with for years before I was satisfied with them, and I still, at the time, would make little changes every now and then as I thought of some new addition or improvement that I felt was needed. Yes, you could call these machines "robots" but I would prefer not to use that term, as I have absolute, incorruptible (very important with my interests) control over them and their movements.
My little "spies" had recently been observing the movements of a certain masked vigilante (who was not me, but obviously off his rocker, so to speak) who was quickly becoming quite a little bugger in the scheme of things down in old London. A terrorist, the reports show. A terrorist in a mask, hat, and cloak, all together giving the impression of a Guy Fawkes impersonator. I had been fclosely following his actions and movements for a very long time, especially since he had shown up on the radar, so to speak just a little under a year ago. And I forced myself to wonder if it was that man who also escaped during the Larkhill conflagration…
My eyes flashed in annoyance, their unnatural glow was reflected in the soft, round, and highly polished metal surfaces of my study. Who could have dared to interrupt me? Especially when I was at "work"? This person must have an absolute death wish, for otherwise they would not risk my wrath. If anyone wanted to meet me, they would have to meet me on my terms, and my conditions. And one of my main conditions was, and always will be, that of silence on the part of the vsitor. By silence I do not mean that they could not talk to me, but rather that I would not allow any knowledge gained or exchanged by said visitor to leave the room, much less my premises. Life and its experiences had and have made me especially wary of outsiders, strangers, common people, and visitors. Many years of being laughed at, screamed at, and beaten by cruel "masters" had left me quite cynical of the outside world, the so-called "normal" world, and the revolution and the new government only furthered this mistrust. The very little trust that I did have was pushed beyond its means and past the breaking point when they "resettled" me as an "undesirable" mainly just because of my sickening face.