From Chapter: The Armed Prophet
William Morsus emitted his throaty, cavernous laugh.
"Lester, don't be childish. What do I want? The question of the ages, isn't it? What do we all want?" He leaned forward across the table, like an excited beast about to pounce. "Whereas you left at the birth of an era, I witnessed the new dawn."
From his pocket he took out a glossy brochure.
"The day is not calm when you discover humanity to be for the taking." It was Calladria's skyline, a red metro light on the top of a skyscraper spelling Société, its top floors a crown of exterior glass walkways rising as a helix connecting two bilateral terraces on the rooftop. "I am not here to sour an old friendship, but to resuscitate it. I am here to give you what you've always wanted."
Lester intercrossed his hands. "I don't condone criminality."
William's glare deepened, anger becoming a violent fixture. His voice cracked a deep and dark tone consuming the air around them.
"Oh, but you're wrong, Lester Rothschild. The only real crime here is your refusal to admit we are gods."
—Alexander Helas •