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"Why are we taking an interest in these cults?" Jamon had asked Jean-Paul the day before. "Because, Jacques, Jean-Marie believes it to be in our best interest." he had replied. "And since when has Jean-Marie treated the Seraphim like mindless pawns?" Jean-Paul, or Pierre, smiled. It was true. One of the reasons the Seraphim were so effective was due to the lack of compartmentalization. There was little 'need to know' in the Seraphim, and much of the intelligence material found by the members were available to many of the other members. In this, the Seraphim were not specialized in any one area, in this, the Seraphim could operate on their own and be confident that they were part of a team. And in this, most importantly, it was not solely up to the very head directors of the group to draw the conclusions. In such a complicated world, it paid to have people looking at the big picture from different angles occasionally. Initiative was rewarded in the Seraphim. "You are, of course correct Jacques, as always. Very well. You and I know that Lucien likes to keep the church on side, they themselves have one of the most effective intelligence networks in the world, perhaps not matching us in corporate affairs, but certainly in political and other areas. The UCAS and CAS, especially, still remain highly Christian and their leaders are still expected to make a show of faith, and many participate on a more than skin-deep level. "The dragon is a thorn in many people's side, though, and his followers have deified him since his death. They gather more people behind them, and this hurts the church. But Lucien has another problem, in that at their core, the Cult of the Dragon are an organization that can and have been manipulated by the UCAS government. The dragon was president, if only for a day, and Kyle Haeffner's ties to him means he has ties to the Cult." "And the Ale'i? They are just a breakaway of those crackpot Atlanteans. So they brainwash some people? Granted, I suppose, some of those people are rather well backed financially..." Jamon started to trail off. It dawned on him. "Oh, now I see." Jean-Paul nodded. "Correct. And this is why we shall kill two birds with one stone, Jacques. Time to get another team together for me." Father Thomas watched forlornly as Cross Advance Electronics men, already having signed confidentiality waivers, tested out the new listening equipment that had been installed. Thankfully, Father Thomas's church was not part of their spying, at least, not to the Father's knowledge. They had promised not to listen in on the confessional booths, nor influence his sermons. The amount of gear here was actually a little underwhelming, Father Thomas was not well versed in spyware technology and as such, the number of small boxes and the central cyberdeck were frankly a little disappointing. It all looked very expensive, and new, to be sure. The man currently setting up the scanners was not a pimply faced computer nerd, he looked solid, competent and humourless. Jamon slapped the Priest on the back, and smiled. Instinctively, Thomas did not like this man, and felt the smile was that of a shark's. "See, Father, I told you it was very unobtrusive. Unless you look very closely, the antennae on the roof are almost invisible, and this equipment here takes up hardly any room at all. In a week, you'll forget we are here." Unlikely, thought the holy man. |
| Chapter 4
Tim Pearce was agitated. This was often his ground state of being, especially on the job. But he was agitated for a number of very good reasons, besides being an aging, cynical bastard who was supposed to be retired but too easily talked into risking his bacon on meaningless outings. Especially meaningless failed outings. This is not going well, the ork thought, not for the first time today. The ork adjusted the grip on his Ares Predator Wintermute. It was one of his favourite pistols, practically a signature. A custom job, limited edition, it was almost an exact replica of the Ares Cold Weather Special Forces, except of course, for the 'Wintermute' and 'Limited Edition' embossed on the side of the barrel. The integrated silencer served him well, and almost never got caught up on his holster like the standard screw on type did. He eyes the ground of frightened, or alternatively, unconscious people again. "Medic" he said, into his microphone, and looked down at the crumpled, slack form of ?Demise. Sleek for her size, Demise was an ork as well, and seemed relatively competent. It perhaps unfortunate for her that their magical support wasn’t really all that supportive. This really is not going well. Across the room lay another unconscious figure, this one the culprit of Demise's current state. A mage, no doubt, the stunball had a particular feel, like the room had suddenly increased in pressure tenfold. A number of people other than Demise had succumbed, but Pearce didn’t have to carry them out while quite possibly getting shot at by police. |