[Forum Game] Evil Genius: Mastermind

[BlackBishop]

A Mere Brotherhood
​

A puff of silver smoke wisped from the lips of Aldous Redshield as the mechanical whir of the camera droned on, keeping its incessant watch of the gentleman. The strong hands of Aldous smoothed the wrinkles over his fine suit, brushing wayward dust particles from his broad shoulders before pressing back his silver hair. Aldous let himself relax in the black leather chair, reaching to a side table, he lifted a glass of strong amber liquid to his mouth and took a drawn out sip.

"Are you ready Mr. Redshield?" Asked the man opposite of him. He wore a cheap suit, but tidy and well pressed. His hair was immaculate and a white smile inspired trust, though Aldous knew better then to place any confidence in this man. With millions of Americans letting him into their homes every evening, his physical appearance suited him well to his profession.

Aldous gave a curt nod, realizing he couldn't recall the reporter's name. It didn't matter really. He was insignificant, nothing but a little ant, a drone, a faceless worker bred to work his specific gear of western society. Aldous did not relish the moments when he was compelled to converse with peons such as this. Yet he was no fool. This was necessary. When he was done here, his face would be broadcasted across the nation, and if all goes well, his cover maintained and the legitimacy of his organization restored.

"I am speaking with Mr. Aldous Redshield, chairmen of the CFR and Founder of Shield Industries. What many may not know, however, is that Mr. Redshield is a member of the organization, The Eye of Horus. In a document recently leaked from ARMOR officials, it is said that Horus may be a sort of cult, where its members do not worship as typical Christians, but give homage to something stated in the report as the Greater Mysteries. Let me ask you point blank, Mr Redshield. What is the Eye of Horus?"

Aldous smiled, exuding the charm that came natural to him, and served him well throughout his life. "Put simply, Eye of Horus is a fraternity, a brotherhood. We are a charitable organization that seeks to better the communities in which we live, as well as foster support and partnerships in the world of business. As far as Greater Mysteries..." Aldous let himself laugh. "We seek only to follow the word of the Bible and the law of this great land. Anything otherwise is simply not true..."

An hour later, the sleek black limousine of Aldous Redshield pulled away from the studio. Aldous smiled to himself, confident that his legitimate cover was restored. He resolved to purchase a television studio. Branching out into the media industry will be useful in the times ahead. A magician often compels the focus of his audience on a shiny bauble to distract them from the trick going on behind his back. The magic box that sits in the living rooms of america will do the same.

 

[Plank of Wood]

How many Eye of Horus agents does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Two! One to screw it in, and one to film it for National Television!

HEE HOO HA HEE

 

[Jako473]

​

Name: Alexandria D'aventa, Codename: Scarlett
Partner(Henchman): Winter
Age(s): 30
Biography: Scarlett and Winter two young girls from Stalingrad. They had been drafted into STRONG when they were young girls, and trained in its services every day. Scarlett a tactician expert, and Winter performing exceptionally in hand-to-hand combat. By the time they were ready to graduate, they were presented infront of Stalin himself. The most successful agents STRONG had seen in ages, in every form and way surpassing all expectations, two young girls were the pride of the USSR. However, on the night of his 'assassination' the girls were sent to siberia, providing hell for American forces in Japan and South Korea in the duration of the Korean War, but as they returned, they realized the USSR that they loved, the Stalin that they served, was dead. His constructs being taken down, the girls went rogue, and lived their life in leisure across Europe for several years. They carried out contracts, and were free-to-hire, until Scarlett could not handle the insults any longer. She made the plans, and they slipped into Leningrad. They have been operating there, undermining STRONG, ever since.
Lair Description: Not many know, however The Winter Palace, the greatest of all of Russia's Palaces, has a secret underground. Scarlett was privy to this information by serving as one of the Nation's highest intelligence agents, a Grade 8. They paid off one of the men operating the Palace(now Museum) to let them underground, and then they killed him and stole the key. Now no one enter's the underground, and most of the officials knowing about it not even caring.. For all they know, it is a crypt, old and dusty. However Scarlett has made it into her Base of Command all over STRONG, the rooms huge and elaborate, slowly building it to be almost as grand as The Winter Palace herself.

Winter​

 

[unmerged(271387)]

THE NAZIS LIVE?!?

​

"Conspiracies and conspiracy theories are nothing new, both to the ones that act on them and to their victims. USA, 1945. The war ends. What does not end is the criminal nature of the Nazis. For they live. Many viewers of previous episodes have called and complained about us not reviewing this conspiracy, now we have the clues.

Enter America, 1947. A fairly old but fringe man suddenly "appears" out of nowhere. While claiming to be an American citizen, and having the paperwork to legally say so, "Richard Browns" always stood out from his peers, even the scientific ones. He always had horrible ideas that could put millions at risk. Yet his opinion was valued more by the American politicians than those of the other American scientists, as reported. Why is that so? Why was the American Government willing to trust a lunatic more than American scientists? We might as well never know. Or we might know today, through the evidence that we have worked hard to acquire.

Enter America, 1964. Mr. " Richard Browns " dies in a car accident. However, through an anonymous tip that I have received, I know for a fact that his body was never found. Was it moved? Or perhaps does Mr. Browns, or should I say more correctly, " Dr Otto Meyer", ex - nazi scientist live among us? Through this very anonymous tip that I have received, it is known that his apartment was sweeped clean of the nazi flags that were excepted to be found. That's right, nazi flags! Or perhaps I should mention the detailed descriptions by his neighbors, all anonymous. "

" Very odd and disturbing, he would always lock himself all day and only come out to shop for the necessary, or so we believe " - Anonymous Neighbour 1

" An old, wrinkled map, with evil mapped all over his face. " Anonymous Neighbour 2


" Certainly deranged, a lunatic of epic propotions. I swear I saw once a dead rat lying on his table when he opened a door, and he said to me: " In my count... er in the past, they would have you killed for looking through my work, you ame... compatriotic impecible!" Anonymous Neighbour 3

It is pretty clear by all this that Dr. Otto Meyer was an ex - nazi scientist, and if you don't believe it you are a part of the conspiracy yourself too! So I ask this to the American Government: Why did they do this? Why did they show lenience to a deranged enemy like Dr. Meyer? "

 

[Fingon888]

Name: The Pasha
Actual name: Cenk Atalar
Age: 35
Biography: Cenk Atalar was born in the slums of Istanbul in 1935 amid abject poverty. He grew up reading tales of the glory of the Ottoman Empire and being an admiring follower of Kemal Ataturk. He was also a student of history who spent most of his time at a library reading about the Ottoman Empire and their various conquests around the world. His life at school was generally a nightmare as he was constantly bullied by his peers. Slowly he lost his faith in the Turkish Republic, Islam, and everything about the world today. As such he dedicated his immense intellect to restoring the Ottoman Empire under his rule, claiming to be a long lost descendant of the House of Osmanli. However, he would strive to bring all the world under his Ottoman Empire and make the capital of the world Istanbul.
Secret Base: An underground palace inside Mount Ararat built in the likeness of Topkapi palace. The lair is guarded by his minions, the Janissaries, who wield scimitars (The Pasha dreams of making laser scimitars) and spears that fire like an AK-47. Also laser traps. Lots of laser traps and mind games.

 

[jeeshadow]

Name: Sub-Commander Agerinian, goes by on Earth the name of Charles Hawkin
Age: Unknown
Biography: An elite member of the Special Forces of the Altherthian Empire, Sub-Commander Agerinian was given the task of infiltrating Earth's defenses and prepare it for the inevitable invasion. Unfortunately upon entry into Earth's atmosphere, Agerinian's scout ship's computer suffered some lag, causing a nanosecond slow down. This failing of the computer caused the ship to crash land.
Secret Base: A Gromition Class Light Infiltration Ship, the Jertianian is complemented with a crew of almost 200 Altherthian commandos, scientists, and officers. It is also equipped with a standard Mark VII Stealth Shield, along with 6 High powered Plasma Cannons, and a highly advanced Repellent Shield. It also has standard research, medical, and breading facilities for a ship of that mission. Upon crash landing, the Jertianian's Stealth Shield was damaged, and about 50 crew were wounded, but they will be replaced with new Hybrid Agents. The ship crashed landed in the mountains outside Seoul.
Henchman: Currently Chief Tactical Officer Jerthia is at combat efficiency. She/it goes by the earth name Jennifer Beal. She/it is an extremely effective solder, while does lack plotting skill, more than makes up for it in tactical brilliance

 

[Arrowfiend]

One of the few images of Caesar, this painting was most likely created by one of his followers.​

Name: Caesar. (Real name not known)

Age: Appearance suggests mid to late 50's, despite sources suggesting that he should be well into his late 70's or early 80's.

Biography: Barely anything is known about Caesar's early life. It is believed he grew up in the streets of Rome, homeless and begging for money. Documents from the early 1910's report thefts of Ancient History books from various libraries. It is likely Caesar drew inspiration from these books. How and when Caesar formed his cult of followers is unknown, but by the time Mussolini came to power, a sizable amount of people living throughout Italy followed Caesar. It is reported that Mussolini knew of Caesar, and out of respect, let him continue his organization. In fact, it is believed he was secretly funded by the dictator himself. After the capture of Rome by the Allies in World War II, Caesar went into hiding. Only in recent years have reports come up of people claiming that there will be a new Roman Empire.

Secret Base: Caesar's base of operations is located under the Mausoleum of Augustus in Rome, Italy.

The entrance to the Mausoleum of Augustus. Within the Mausoleum, there is a secret entrance that only Caesar and his followers know of.​

 

[Arrowfiend]

The Followers of Caesar's Legions

Standard Roman Soldier​

Although Caesar would love to lead the legionaries of old, he understands that to compete in a modern world, one must have modern equipment. Caesar's soldiers use modified Benelli M1's that fire standard 12 gauge slugs. Like the legionnaires of old, they are proficient at close combat, which is augmented by their armor (kevlar blocks surrounded by a stainless steel cover), but rely on auxiliary troops to deal with targets at a longer range.

Praetorian

Named after the guards of Roman emperors, the Praetorians are an elite force of highly trained and highly disciplined soldiers. They are distinguishable by their trademark armor, made of a secret alloy known as "Caesarium". The armor is stronger than kevlar, able to stop most conventional AP rounds, but is much heavier. This means the wearer must be very conditioned and well-trained to be able to use the armor in combat. Combined with the high cost, there are very few Praetorians in existence. However, they more than make up for their for martial prowess. Praetorians are equipped with anti-material rifles known as Interitus Rifles, or "Annihilation Rifles." These rifles, which fire 14.5x144mm cartridges, are capable of piercing up to 50 millimeters of steel and have an effective firing range of more than 2000 meters, way more than any sniper rifle in the era. How these rifles are able to perform such feats is a secret only known by the Aedificator.

Agents​

Far from human anymore.​

Name: The Aedificator ("The Builder" in Latin)
Real Name: Lucio Vicari
Status: Active
Bio: The Aedificator is a valuable asset to Caesar and his legions. While Caesar has great plans, he needs a way to put them into action. Advanced technology is one way, and the Aedificator handles that. Born Lucio Vicari, he grew up as poor Italian-American immigrant's son. Lucio was exceptionally bright, but did not grow up in the right settings to put them to use. He joined the Italian mafia, where he got connections in Italy. When things went sour in America, he escaped to Italy. There, he discovered Caesar. Always fascinated by technology, Caesar promised Lucio an unlimited supply of money in which to create advanced technology that would help Caesar restore the Roman Empire. With his seemingly unlimited budget drawn from the gifts given to Caesar from Mussolini, Lucio quickly developed advanced technology far ahead of the time. In fact, he became so engrossed in his creations that he literally became a piece of technology as he gradually modified his body to suit his needs. Eventually, he was unrecognizable from his old self, and became known as the Aedificator for his valuable work for the legions.

NOTE: This list will be expanded as time goes on.

 

[Tapscott]

A Meeting Proposal​

A message mysteriously appears on the personal computer of each of the newly, self-proclaimed, Evil Geniuses. Labelled as ‘A Most Humble Invitation’, the contents of the message quickly reveal itself to be a video as the computer screen flickers.

---
---
---

INITATING RECORDED MISSIVE

The profile of an old man appears on the screen, his long, thinning, white hair messily pushed behind his shoulders. Giving a maddened grin at the screen, he nods happily.

“Greetings! Salutations! Hello! It is good to see that my lifestyle is contagious! Evil Geniuses you all name yourselves? Fantastic, fantastic!”

The man prattled on nonsensically for several minutes, the only thing keeping the Evil Geniuses interested was the huge logo emblazoned behind him. ‘GLOBEX’. Globex was the name of the sprawling criminal empire of the infamous Dr. Jacob Klein, the greatest of all mad scientists, or so he claimed. It dawned on the viewers that the man in front of them must be the bad Doctor himself. His disheveled appearance and ruined looking surroundings gave the impression that he had fallen on hard times, his genius outweighed by his madness. The crazed Doctor cleared his throat, and smiled again.

“Ah, but where are my manners? I am inviting all of you to my most secret lair! That’s right, you get to come to my humble abode. I am thinking a little, oh, conference of evil will give us the chance to brainstorm some truly diabolical plots! Of course you don’t have to come, in which case I am afraid you will not receive your gift basket. Bye!”

The transmission suddenly ends, and a series of coordinates suddenly appear on the screen. Doing some quick calculations, it is revealed that Dr. Klein’s base would be located in the Himalayas, seemingly burrowed into the mountainside.

---

Right this is your first event! It will be up to you whether you wish to travel to Dr Klein’s meeting, and potentially plan out some joint-schemes to gain some infamy and cash, or abstain and tread your own path. Klein looks like he is losing his weak grip on reality, and the time could be ripe to divvy up his global criminal empire for yourselves, or mayhaps he is putting on a front? He is THE Dr. Klein, so this may be another of his diabolical schemes to eliminate rivals. What you do is up to you.

 

[unmerged(271387)]

> Iniating thinking process
> Please wait
> .
> Ready

A message appears on the terminal connected to Dr. Coma's brain.
" Send 30 minions to represent the Coma in Dr. Klein's meeting and a terminal that can communicate with my terminal here. We shall see what this comes to. "

 

[Arrowfiend]

A message from Caesar

"Caesar sends his regards, as he sadly cannot attend the meeting right now. In his place he will send one of his most loyal followers, the Aedificator, accompanied by ten legionnaires."

 

[Dyranum]

Somewhere inside the evil lair of Dr O'Malley, the phone rang.

"Ring, ring, ring", it rang, multiple times.

"Urgh, for the love of Evil, someone get the phone!", said O'Malley. He sitting behind a grand desk with a mass of paper in front of him. The phone was three metres away.

"¿Por qué no lo entiendes?", said the severed head of a robot known as Lopez. It was resting on a chair which was on the opposite side of the desk from the phone.
((Translation: Why don't you get it?))

"Can't you see that I'm busy with an evil plan?", said O'Malley, turning away from his plans in exasperation, "What do I pay you for?"

"Para limpiar después de todas sus parcelas fallidos", said Lopez with unchanging robotic monotony.
((Translation: To clean up after all of your failed plans.))

"Oh, shut up! You don't even have a body", said O'Malley, turning back to his plans.

"Sí, porque una de sus parcelas fallidos", said Lopez.
((Translation: Yes, because of one of your failed plans.))

"Why all this bickering? Can't we all just get along?", said Dufresne.

"Shut up! And answer the [censored] phone!", said O'Malley, "And who put a curse filter on me?"

"You know, O'Malley, cursing isn't very professional", said Dufresne, "And it's very rude".

"I'm an EVIL Mastermind! My plan is to RULE THE WORLD", said O'Malley, his words accompanied by grand gestures of megalomania, "I can curse however much I [censored] want! Turn it off, and answer the [censored] phone, already!"

"¿Por qué millones de máquinas apocalípticas y contestar el teléfono?", said Lopez.
((Translation: Why do we have millions of doomsday devices, but no answering machine?))

"Okay, I'll answer it", said Dufresne. Unfortunately, nothing happened, since he is not in control of his own body.

"Well?", said O'Malley, impatiently thrumming his fingers against the desk as the phone continued to ring.

"I can't do it while you insist on sitting down", said Dufresne, "I need you to not not move"

"Urgh, double negation! Such EVIL", said O'Malley, "... Okay, fine."

The body of O'Malley/Dufresne slowly rose from its comfy chair and walked the three metres to the archaic-looking telephone. It was quite large. They picked up the phone, at which O'Malley said "Helloooo? Is someone there?"

Their ears were immediately assaulted by "Greetings! Salutations!" coming from some mad-sounding voice.

"What is this? Just a fool with greetings!", said O'Malley, "Why is he even calling me?"

"¿Sé qué decir?", said Lopez.
((Translation: Maybe you should listen to what he is saying?))

"Oh, fine", said O'Malley, "but he seems to believe that he is the only real evil mastermind in this world, which means that he is a mad fool who foolishly seeks to claim MY place. Who is he, anyways?"

"La liberación de la información visual. Tengo un nuevo televisor installé?", said Lopez.
((Translation: We are also receiving a visual feed. Maybe you should have installed a TV?))

"No! Only fools watch TV", said O'Malley, "Evil Masterminds only have audio feeds, to avoid the disgusting visage of his enemies."

During all of this conversing, the voice from the phone continued: "Ah, but where are my manners? I am inviting all of you to my most secret lair! That’s right, you get to come to my humble abode. I am thinking a little, oh, conference of evil will give us the chance to brainstorm some truly diabolical plots! Of course you don’t have to come, in which case I am afraid you will not receive your gift basket. Bye!"

"Yes, yes, conference of evil, diabolical plots, blah, blah ... wait. Conference of evil?", said O'Malley, "What does he mean?"

"I think he means a conference of evil masterminds", said Dufresne.

"What a deluded fool!", said O'Malley, turning away from the telephone and sitting down on his comfy chair, "There is only one Evil Mastermind in this world—and that is me! I should put him down like the fool he is. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *cough*"

"Oh, but it sounds fun", said Dufresne, "How about we send a robotic observer, at least?"

"Yes, with a nucl, nucular, nuclar-"

"Pronounced Nuclear", said Dufresne.

"Oh shut up, you fool!", said O'Malley, "... with a nuclear device in its gut! Then I shall blow it up, AND THE UNIVERSE WILL BE MINE FOR THE TAKING, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA".

Suddenly, the phone rang again, cutting O'Malley off from continuing his Evil tirade. "Oh dear god, what is it now?", said he.

"Yes?", was the answer as he picked up the phone.

"Hello, mate!", answered a most British-sounding voice, which actually sounded like someone failing at an RP accent, "I've eliminated that ol' chap who you wanted to get rid of. He dropped some vague hints of a grand plan to destroy some other poor chap while I was torturing him. Said something about Cairo and a Coffee shop in London, and some other doolally. Probably just some small rebel-rousers that have got the forces of justice in enough of a tickle—not that they have had much to do. In any case, call me up if you have another problem that needs taking care of. Ta-ta!"

 

[Falc]

Calmly sipping his latte in his coffee shop, Captain Obvious pondered the invitation.

Well, he mainly pondered whether it was really a good idea to play it aloud on his laptop speakers during the lunch rush hour. Some of the customers had given him a mildly annoyed look. Hopefully they would not decide to take their business elsewhere, he needed the income. So far, none of his Dastardly Crimes had made much profit.

But this invitation could be exactly what he needed. A chance to network with colleagues, exchange good practices and inside tips, and a gift basket to boot!

The only problem was the location. The Himalayas were far away and he didn't think he could afford a business class plane ticket. With a sigh, he resolved himself to the long and uncomfortable trip in economy class. It was imperative he attend the conference, his future as an Evil Genius was at stake!

 

[Kaisersohaib]

(( I love this, but I have not time for it, I hope people can join whenever they want))

 

[Plank of Wood]

Clownface looks up from his copy of "Villainy Weekly", and cackles maniacly at Dr. Klein's invitation.

What a Circus this'll be! These bozos'll all make clowns of themselves trying to pick up the Good Doctor's pennies.

They ought to know there's only one clown around this town! Isn't that right, Ol' Jeffy?

He turns to the disembodied head of a SALT Agent, placed on top of a mannequin, whom Clownface speaks for in the voice of John F. Kennedy.

"It's mutually assured destruction in the making! This'll be the show of a lifetime!"

Correct, Jeffy! Boy, you're a lot more positive than Eisenhower was.

Pack up boys, we're going to Nepal!

Clownface will be attending.

 

[Jako473]

Scarlett walked through her halls, her TV was rarely on, most of the channels just supporting the Leonid Brezhnev Regime, which as every true russian knew, is a total disaster. She swore she would have his head, but her plans had not come to fruition yet.. patience was key. However, back to the point, she HAD received the video in telegram-form, reading it as she walked into the 'throne' room. "What is this? How did this man come to our address, Winter?" Winter sat, polishing her gun, before looking up and squinting her eyes. Scarlett flashed her the telegram "A certain Dr. Klein, and not the Calvin kind.. trust me.. I already checked!" Winter took the message from her, before reading it and looking at her.

"There is only one way to find out." Winter spoke quietly, Scarlett nodding.. "We shall attend this fool's fest, and show them what a real villain looks like! Winter, Ready the helicopter." she grinned cockily.

 

[alexander23]

Alright, seem interesting enough, one must bring some excitement to its monotonous life, dont you agree Francesca?. Dr Mallivora will be attending with 10 minions this conference!

 

[Noco19]

In the darkness of underground New York City, amidst the muck and grime, sat the Rat King and his filth-covered computer, of which he fashioned from a little scavenging and a little stealing. Oh how the rats loved the warm coziness of device, nested in its casing, content to be around their friend and master. Upon the stained screen was, apparently, Doctor Klein, a man even the Rat King had heard about. Klein offered something, an opportunity, which is more than what was generally afforded to the Rat King. Still, this could be a trap, and leaving his precious ratkin would be difficult...perhaps he could take a few along for the journey - yes! Willard was surely an affable little one, and Whiskers loved adventures. It was perfect.

It was decided. The Rat King would meet this Doctor Klein, and take a few of his favorite travelling companions along for the journey.

 

[Dr.Livingstone]

Mr. Whist was enjoying some lemonade. It was of the good old fashioned kind, hand-squeezed and exceedingly fresh, just like how his third stepmother's cook used to make. He was thoroughly of the opinion that lemonade was an outdoor drink, and as such entered the patio next to his Olympic sized swimming pool. As an afterthought, he took one of the many comic books that adorned his collection. As he lay down on a chaise, he took a sip and sighed in satisfaction. And why wouldn't he be satisfied? He had wealth, women threw themselves at his feet, and he desired no worldly pleasures he didn't already have. He was the Crème de la crème of the .1%, so powerful that his dinner parties were the makings of government. And that was nothing to say of his 'friends', connections with various important people which he kept up for years. It was the kind of power most men, and women too, didn't dare dream about, the kind of power that validated the claims of several conspiracy theories, that made the most ardent capitalist a lifelong Marxist in jealousy. And yet... it was not what Whist wanted. He did not yearn for power or money, or even world domination. He sighed, this time not of satisfaction this time but of exasperation. If he couldn't be happy with this, the gem in most tycoons eyes, what could he be happy about? What was the point the riches of the world if they meant nothing? Where was the challenge in starting in nothing, continuing with nothing, and ending with nothing? School was a bore, he had mastered many of his subjects long ago. His social life consisted of more drudgery. He had no real friends, and his brothers were not on speaking terms. The only thing that brought him any sort of relief were his comic books. Suddenly, breaking him out of his reverie, was his trusted butler Reginold.

"Ho Reginald, and what's this you brought me?"

"It is a message for the young master, from a man who calls himself Dr. Klein. He has the audacity to invite us to Himalayas without first signing the proper paperwork."

"Indeed? Well, I have heard many things of this Klein. Not all of them good, mind you, but who is these days anyways?"

Whist watched the transmission, and as he watched, his eyes danced in delight.

"Well well Reginold, it appears as though we are off to meet this Dr. Klein."

Mr. Whist will meet with Dr. Klein.

 

[Arrowfiend]

Caesar sat on his throne, his chin in his hand, heavy in contemplation. He wore a dark suit, with a brilliant purple tie, and a laurel wreathe on his head. Sighing, he looked to one of his bodyguards, a Praetorian.

"Praetorian Marius. Fetch me the Aedificator. I wish to speak with him."

The Praetorian gave a Roman military salute, not unlike the salute Nazi's gave (which they had in fact stole from the Romans), and marched off. After several moments, a strange figure, half-man half-machine, appeared in the throne room. He approached Caesar, and dropped to one knee.

"What is it you require, my Caesar?"

The figure spoke in a robotic voice, a distant crackling heard in between the sounds produced by his modified vocal cords.

"After much thought, I have decided that I will personally go to Dr. Klein's meeting. I will be leaving shortly with a decade of legionnaires as well as four Praetorians. You will take care of the lair in my absence."

"Yes, my Caesar. Your will is my command. Shall I fetch you your gladius and pistol?"

The noble Caesar simply nodded. He had spoken enough words for now. He would have to utter many more soon.