We took our usual positions, with Paul right behind me (again, whatever servant it was, he thought up the preparations very well). The lights, low as ever, came on, showing the first and second levels. I'm glad I didn't invite anyone else- only a few of them would have cared. And the Bastard, of course, was in his usual spot right in front of me. Why the hell would he sit there, anyway? Just because it's in the middle? Shit, what an idiot. He could, of course, have something in mind- like calling me out, which isn't going to work. And the specter of him threatening me is less than a joke. I brought the guns because I don't feel like getting out of my chair to obliterate the idiots when I choose to do so, and also because I don't want to freak everyone out by just going up and ripping him to shreds. These guys might be egotistical and think they're unfazable, but they're not engineered. They have lots of long-distance cold hatred, but they'll start reacting emotionally if I just tear an Illuminatus apart piece by piece with my bare hands. Hypocritical? Of course. A bit childish? Oh hell yes. But then again, who said the controllers of the world had to be consistent? And other than me, who's going to make them?

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Illuminati, this gathering is now in open session.", I declared. "Before we begin discussion, I would speak the known facts. If anyone is in dispute with these facts, let yourself be heard. On the night of June 5th, 1998, Damien Gladstone was shot and killed by his servant, Paul Smith. The implement of killing was a .45 caliber pistol. The cause of death was brain obliteration." This was just a formality, of course. All of these guys did their homework. As I read the next part, I found myself fighting down a smile- it's absolutely hilarious on paper because of its sheer ridiculousness and irony- an Illuminatus, hopefully one of the smartest people in the world, getting creamed by an incredibly thoughtless, stupid, Darwin Award-winning decision! "Immediately before that happened, my servant, Billy Bohecker, suggested to Damien that he should allow his servants to do the one thing they want most."

The responses were somewhat predictable. One of the younger first levels fought down a smile, a twelve-year-old (Is he engineered? No idea, I'll check later.) of the second had to choke himself to stop his involuntary chuckling, and an 18-23 year old simply couldn't take it. "WHAT?! He did what?! You mean to tell us that he believed...", he exploded, going from coherent speech into uncontrollable laughter. He finally managed to make himself quit. "I'm sorry, Master Howard. But that's just too funny.", he apologized, his face red and his muscles aching from laughter.

"I agree. And I cannot condemn you because when I first really realized what had happen, I couldn't stop laughing either because it really is too funny. That is not a fact I am entering, however." I looked at Herbert out of the corner of my eye as I said that. He was getting visibly pissed. Good.

"Do you have anything to say, Mr. Gladstone?", I said, antagonizing him and upping the stakes. The way this is going, I'm definitely going to end up killing him, and that's just the way I want it. There shouldn't be any question about it in the minds of anyone here- I don't want him around anymore. Just looking at his face makes me want to get rid of him.

"Yes, I have something to say, I have to ask a question. What are you going to do about your servant who killed my son? What are you going to do about him? Are you going to kill him, torture him, even fucking punish him?"

"No. I personally don't plan to do a thing to him." The Bastard's reaction was predictable as ever. Doesn't he know that predictability gets you killed around here?

"And why not?!", Herbert shouted, his face getting red again. Damn, he's even uglier when he's mad.

"Because I don't fucking feel like it. Besides, if we tortured every implanted servant who wanted to kill his owner, implants would be utterly worthless." Let's remain left-brained for now. I'll save my emotions for later.. no, I won't even need to use them, I'll let him dig his own grave, and the rest of the Illuminati will understand perfectly well when I blow his head off his body. Let's have at least some justification. Although the top two levels certainly understand what I'm doing, the lower levels don't know this guy so well, and so need a course in just how bad he is when they watch the video.

"But he killed him!" No, really?

"What's your point? He just got the opportunity to do it, that's all." Apparently this guy does not understand the effects of implants very well.

"And your other servant--"

"Said a thing which I should have said.", I interrupted.

He finally let it all out like a temper tantrum. "You are horrible, contemptible, disgusting, uncouth, destructive, out of your league, and wholly inappropriate for your position!" I was ready to take a laughter break right then and there, but I'm not going to destroy this guy's rhythm- I'm going to let it beat to his grave. Let's go down the list.. yes, people sometimes think so, people often think so, oh fuck yes, of course (it's part of the job), absolutely not, and what the fuck did you just say that last one for? Sigh. I don't mind being underestimated- really, I don't. But this guy is forgetting who he's supposed to be, just like his son did. Score one for nature..

"One of ours is dead and this so-called Dominator doesn't even care! Have we all lost touch with reality?! The death of a young Illuminatus by one of his servants is a horrible thing, a thing of no small meaning, a thing that should not happen!" I was even closer to a laughter break. Just about everyone in the room knows what Damien was. A self-important fool who forgot he could die.

"And I must say that you have run roughshod over all of us as a whole by flaunting that kind of action! What kind of masters are we when we allow servants to kill other masters?" 'Smart and stupid, respectively!!', I almost exploded. This guy's got more melodrama than anyone I've ever seen on any television station anywhere in the world. Of course, I don't watch any anymore.. maybe William Shatner gets more into it than this guy, but I doubt it. "We cannot allow this to continue!" Yes we can. "We cannot allow an immature, poorly trained, poorly educated Dominator in here. We just can't allow it! This is just an example of the kind of thing we are inviting, if we keep going the way we're going!" Can't you get back on topic? I appreciate the personal attacks as much as I appreciate being underestimated, but this is getting ridiculous. I found myself slowly but surely cracking a smile.

Preoccupied as they were with the Bastard's tirade, no one, except maybe Sarah, noticed me silently extending and retracting the fist-blades of my left hand.

"Now we know who has the egotism, eh? He who defiles us with atrocities within our own hierarchy, he who dares abuse his power for the ill of the whole!" If he would have said it in just a slightly more joking tone, I would have laughed insanely. Idiot! We're all egotists here, you blind moron! What the fuck is wrong with you, you Orwellian shithead, if you can't abuse it, it's not power!! A fool and his intestines are soon parted... I slightly, subliminally, shook my head slowly. Guy's got a serious problem and no one's noticed.. or maybe they did, but removing him didn't fit in their plans exactly.

Well, it sure as hell fits in mine. Responsibility 1 for the Dominator is to remove threats. Stupid people, especially in the highest levels, jeopardize the organization and are thus a threat.

"Lack of sense, lack of internal discipline.. is this where we are headed? Where egotists take it upon themselves to kill those whom they dislike, simply for the sake of killing them? Who let their misbegotten servants annihilate masters with impunity?" Okay, that's it. I'll take the personal abuse just fine- it comes with the territory- but this guy has absolutely zero business going after my servants. They'd do better sitting in that chair than you do, bucko. Any slim hope he may have had is gone. The only thing that will keep his heart beating is his mouth- I refuse to kill him until after he's done talking.

"And now what do we have? A poorly-qualified boy dancing on our graves simply because of genetic engineering." Ding! Ding! Ding! Congratulations, you've won the Grand Prize and a free ticket to Hell! "And because of this, we are seeing the effects of his misrule already! It's barely been more than a week and now we have this! What next, genocide? We've disposed of tyrants in the past, why can't we do it now?" Don't worry. Someone with more power than he deserves is going to get removed. (The Bitches might as well be his servants for all they do.. they exist to support him, basically. Why he didn't find thinner girls is beyond me. To each his own, but it sure says something about this guy's sense of \'e6sthetics.)

"You've been talking way too long.", a second-level (one of the media moguls, I think) said flatly. The Bastard whirled around and glared at him, face red as ever. Of course, this is all being caught on tape, so I'll be able to watch it for future entertainment value.

"Let him speak. He has that right. Besides, he has to run out of hot air sooner or later.", I replied, receiving some murmured agreement.

"Hot air.. you really have no respect for us at all, do you? Not at all! Not even the people who created you! For once in a thousand years," Exaggeration won't help you either. Then again, nothing will. "we have a Dominator who doesn't give two shits whether we live or die!" Oh, you're wrong on that one, fat boy. He turned around to his left, trying to face all the other Illuminati at once, his pudgy body moving around like a rubber egg. "You've seen what he's capable of, and what he can do to us, and what he'll do if we let this continue! Do any of you want to join my son?" No, which is why they don't act stupid. "He talks about mutualism, and working together, and what do we get? This! And this is what we can expect to keep getting! I didn't think apathy and uncaring could make it all the way up here." Hello? Where have you BEEN?! I knew Northberg was good but I had no idea they could do recto-cranial inversion...

"Damn it, doesn't anyone understand? If this is the way of things to come, we're all going to be gone!" Erm.. you're not engineered and there's no retrovirus coming any time soon. You're going to be gone anyway. Why the fuss? "This attitude is something we can't accept! He's almost saying himself that he's the harbinger of our downfall, and I seem to be the only one here talking about it!" Because everyone else is perfectly contented with the way things are.

"We're with you, Herbert.", the Bitches said, in a voice so saccharine, I wanted to tear them apart limb from fatty limb instead of the quick one-shot death.

"You are a freak. I'm not sure who screwed up in Northberg, but it's obvious someone did. And now we're all paying for it. For your own sake and everyone's, I have to ask you to step down from your position, get out of here, and never be seen again.", he concluded, looking me in the eye. This is almost too perfect. Since this next move is going to be replayed again and again by everyone in the organization, I better make it good.

I took a slight, easy breath and said, "Is that your honest opinion, Mr. Gladstone?"

"Yes, of course it is!", he spat out, as a snake spitting venom.

"Oh. Oh well.", I sadly sighed, shaking my head just a bit. "I guess I really have no choice, then. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Illuminati,", I stood up and said, my outstretched left arm and hand passing from right to left, "I have a statement to make." There was a partially unanimous gasp during the last part of my saying that. Others knew what I had in mind.

Five hundred milliseconds passed.

Three hands zipped into pockets, three gun-hands whipped out, three people died with holes in their foreheads, and three gun-hands came back to their pockets and became three hands again. The bodies of Herbert, Wilma, and Sandra slumped backwards, dead as rocks. The instinctive recoil-in-horror reactions from the other Illuminati were predictable, before they faded into smiles and grins.

"That is my statement."

I wasn't expecting quite as much cheering as what came next. Suffice it to say that they were happy- absolutely fucking elated is more like it. A couple looked ready to dig a hole for the three of them, fill it up, break out the dancing shoes, and do the boogie-woogie on their collective grave. "Well, now that wasn't too surprising, was it?", said a smiling Gates over the heavy applause. The only one who appeared to be upset was the Head Night Operator. He stood up, and the applause died down.

"I don't believe this!", he shouted, his face a livid purple. "This upstart Dominator just walks in here and kills three first level Illuminati, and you cheer him on? What is wrong with you? If we let this continue, he'll destroy us all!" You, maybe. 'Us all', no one believes.

"Would you like to know why they are clapping, Head Night Operator?", I said with a grin. Of course, it is impossible for me to know precisely why they were clapping, as I can't get inside their heads. A few of these clappers were the same people who had told me via electronic communication that what I had done to Damien was shameful. I, of course, know the real message they're trying to send: 'We like who you're getting rid of, but we don't like the idea that people are being gotten rid of. It makes us worry.'

"God damn you... Yes! Tell me!"

I'm good at making long, firm speeches impromptu. Damien is simply out of the picture- now I have to focus on the three I just waxed. "Because no one liked those three. Because they gave nothing. They had a lot of power, and they didn't do anything with it except try to bully the rest of their fellow Illuminati with it. I'm surprised none of you already killed them by the time I got in here. Because, as I understand it, they were trying to kill me with the tests. Because he was a nepotist. Because he didn't support anyone else's plans, and he could not work together, and he committed the sin of trying to manipulate Illuminati, oh, what am I saying 'trying' for, he did do it, let's face it. We all wanted him dead. Any one of us could have pulled the trigger. And, if I remember right, he threatened a few people back in 1995 with a crime no one should have let him live for- he threatened to expose the holdings of various Illuminati, and two of them have had to create a normal connection between themselves because of it. And, because he committed another great sin; he believed that his power really existed."

This is a game, people!", I stated in my strongest voice. "We are playing a game. The name of this game is Global Domination. We rule the world, and I know some of you have gone too far from it to realize that. We are not to play politics with our fellow Illuminati, it's a form of cheating and just bad manners here." Friendly reminders of the obvious are always helpful. "Because we're not competing against ourselves, we're competing against the normals. I know that might seem like a pretty imbalanced game, but they have an advantage we don't. They will exist if we fall- no normal can know about what happened here- but if they begin a descent due to our mistakes, so do we. So before any of you start threatening to start telling various unwanted truths on your news organizations or threatening to use the government against corporations or any of that other happy crap that might hurt the societies we command or our influence with them, remember that it's all just a game." 'And I play it meaner than anyone, which is why people react to me the way they do.', I didn't add. "We all have what we want, and if anyone wants more, then they'll have to get it the slow way, like the rest of us. Trying to usurp power is always a mistake here." Total obviousness is usually left to normal politicians, but it had to be said. I should have put most of this out on the table when I gave my first speech. It would have probably put a damper on the Bastard's antics (good old Big Brother fear, but I say it to make most of them think, and only the assholes fear), and Damien would have never come to the island in the first place. But I did warn these people about the dangers of implanted servants in a few sentences, back then. I probably should have said more...

The Night Operator looked like he was going to die of a stroke in that instant, but unfortunately he didn't. He did, however, manage to get out two words. "You... little..", he muttered, before his throat choked up. I looked at his tense body and realize that he would have rushed me, if the results weren't predictable, bloody, and painful for him. I almost feel sorry for his whole family. Damien was an idiot because his Illuminated father basically chose him to be- he was young enough, he could have been improved. The Bastard himself could surely have been a much stronger controller, had he the inclination. And the Operator could have influenced them both in the right direction, but didn't.

And the biggest irony of all is that he had a hand in creating me, and helped put into me that which he didn't have any of himself.

"That's it! I know I can't kill you- but I'm not going to let you kill me!", he screamed, and I instantly realized what he was going to do. He pulled out a semi-automatic pistol, put it to his right temple, and played a fixed game of Russian Roulette with it. I'm glad the walls around here aren't strong enough to bounce bullets (by design)- we could have a real ricochet going on around here. I found myself giggling. Although the rest of the Illuminati reacted at first, they didn't really care much for that guy either. There are far more skilled administrators that the Day Operator can appoint. And the fact that I'm killing the annoying people left and right is probably making my fellow masters even happier than they appear.

A middle-aged second level stood up and began staring at me, not with anger, but concentration and some forced firmness. "This is crazy! First we have Damien dying of his own stupidity. Then we have our beloved Dominator and his servants killing the people that yes, we hated. I admit, I clapped with the rest of you because of what they did and what they threatened to do, and because I was waiting for that moment like the rest of you. But now one of Northberg's Operators blows his own brains out?! What is this, some kind of sick joke? Howard- what did you do to him beforehand?!", he demanded, trying to make sure every word flowed in the same powerful tone. He's good. I wonder if he ever did voice-overs?

"I know this is going to be tough to believe, and I really don't have any way of proving it, but I did nothing beforehand. I was prepared to kill those three; that statement was a trigger phrase. I didn't think the Operator would do what he did. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm as shocked as the rest of you, about a few things. The fact that this organization has seemed to lose its edge, and the fact that nepotism still has an effect. We are the Illuminati, and I'd like to remind everyone again of that. Don't come whining to me because people are stupid. I killed those three because they deserved it. I didn't kill the Operator. But, to get rid of all blame, I will say right here and now that I will have no part in the selection of the replacements for the five dead people. My vote will not be a part of those calculations, and I will not help anyone acquire any of the resources gleaned from the dead." After saying that, I knew I didn't have to contact anybody. The recordings would be immediately forwarded to my people, and my people would do my will. The Levels, however, are going to have to do some power-grabbing, but after what I've said, I can be fairly sure they'll be civil about it.

"It is also true that the three people whom I assassinated were Illuminati of the first level, and that they did oppose some of my plans that would have hampered their growth of power. But I believe that is true for all of us. If there is any of you who has anything to say about that, do so freely and without fear." Okay, I'm stretching. Freely, yes.. without fear, not exactly. However little they want to admit it, violent death does things to the normal mind.

The young man, who had laughed before, stood up. "Howard, if it would have been any of us up there, we would have certainly done the same thing. You have nothing to apologize for.", he said with a small hint of drama, sitting down and inviting murmurs of approval. I realized that I've heard his name before and it instantly came to memory.

"Thank you, Mr. Beckett. Anyone else?"

An old woman stood up, with her kind, warm, world-dominating smile. I know her. She's Rebecca Adams, the 57-year-old mistress of dictators worldwide, her mother pulled out of Nazi Germany and betrothed to an especially gifted and loyal servant. Rebecca's seeming ability to mind-read, natural knack for figuring out complicated systems, and an amazing, equally natural lack of compassion for her fellow human beings, helped her into the enlightened ranks and eventually to the second level. She's had a few, heavily monitored chats with me, the Illuminated version of the wise old woman talking to the quickly-growing leader-to-be. "I have something to say. I'd like to say that when we accept the five replacements, we better be damn well more careful to pick the best. We should have never let them in here, they ruined all our plans, and he was going to put that young scumbucket Damien in our Dominator's place." I trust her mind-reading on that last one- it coincides with logic.

"Thank you, Mrs. Adams. Is there anyone else?" A couple people thought about it, but chose not to. "Now let's get back to the business at hand. Seeing as how the person who initiated this is now very much dead, is there anyone who feels this matter needs to be continued?"

You could cut the silence with a meat cleaver.

I adjourned the meeting and a few minutes later, I was walking into my jet.