Anarchis Cloots, formerly Jean-Baptiste du Val-de-Grâce, baron de Cloots, was her latest mark. He was born in Prussia but had lived in France since age eleven. He had become a member of the National Convention the moment he had gained citizenship, no doubt with the Illuminati pulling some strings. Now he went around calling himself "the orator of mankind" and "the personal enemy of Jesus Christ." That city had become something out of a fever dream.
Joseph Fouche, Anarchis Cloots, Louis-Antoine de Saint-Just, Jacques René Hébert, those were the names on everyone's lips now.
She was walking through Le Louvre district, having been informed of his speech. He was in the same courtyard where Louis XVI had been executed. She was not yet sure how she would kill him, or if this was even a sufficient opportunity, but she would judge when she got to the scene.
She could hear him faintly ahead.
"...together as one world!" Applause erupted.
The 'One World Parliament'. Chobat had talked about this, one of the mad ideas the man was spreading. It was especially fantastical while Europeans were killing each other by the thousands just outside their borders. Even inside the borders, their countrymen shed each other's blood relentlessly. The horrors of Vendée were still fresh in her mind.
If such a parliament were to created by the Illuminati, it surely would not be elected.
"...and God's eternal silence is the answer!" Cheers and more applause.
He was standing above a sea of onlookers, black coat, openly blaspheming without the slightest trepidation. Spectators seemed to surround him, although they were probably thickest on the side she was approaching from. Killing him here would be conspicuous, but it was worth at least assessing the surroundings, maybe waiting until the speech was over to see where he departed to.
"That book gives us nothing but hypocritical instructions. Turn the other cheek, but an eye for an..."
Although he was a foreigner, Prussian specifically, he spoke with no accent.
She looked at her surroundings. But scanning the horizon, she noticed a stark anomaly. Behind the crowd was the distinctive sight of bayonets floating in the air, meaning a small contingent of soldiers was marching on the scene. She watched with extreme curiousity as the bobbing bayonets got closer. And closer. She counted nine in total.
"Monsieur Cloots," one of the soldiers said, immediately getting his attention. The crowd gasped. He turned. "You're under arrest by the Order of the Convention."
The crowd erupted in outrage. She was surprise too.
"Why, what is the meaning of this!?"
"That's not for me to explain. Come with us!"