Builders of the New Order - Prologue: "The Messenger"

This was an interesting piece. A friend of mine who is an aspiring tabletop game designer had approached me about writing some flavor/aesthetic pieces for his latest project: a standalone card game based around cults and creatures inspired by folklore and H.P. Lovecraft. This is the intro/primer for one of the cults, The Builders of the New Order, which was inspired by the Illuminati.

Builders of the New Order - Prologue: "The Messenger"

“Alright, bring the prisoner in.”

An overhead buzzer mounted above the door heralded the entrance of a gaunt, grey-haired man clad in a dark blue business suit, flanked on either side by a police officer. The room was dim, save for a lone ceiling light that illuminated a small metal table at the center of the room. A wooden chair sat before the table, seemingly pulled out for him. He was seated, his hands uncuffed, and across the room from him, a stout middle-aged man in a white dress shirt and slacks stepped into view. In his hands was a manila folder, teeming with papers.

“Thank you, Williams, Stanton,” the stout man said. “I’ll take it from here.”

The two officers nodded and stepped out of the room, clicking the door shut as they left. The stout man began a slow pace around the room, opening the folder as he went.

“Good evening, mister…” He shuffled through the papers, and the sound echoed slightly in the bare stillness of the room. “…Dominic Seras, is it?”

He halted his march for a brief moment, glancing up at the old man for a response. None seemed to be given. He continued.

“I’m Detective Mark Hawkins. Do you know why we’ve brought you in here tonight, Mr. Seras?”

At this, the old man lifted his head and looked up at him, revealing an ashen face and bloodshot blue eyes. “I’m afraid my memory escapes me, detective,” he croaked. “Please, do remind me.”

Hawkins glanced down at his papers again. “Suspected embezzlement of company funds. Tax evasion. Fraud. It’s not every day that a person comes across millions of dollars overnight, Mr. Seras.” He shut the folder with a loud snap and held it up for Seras to see. “It’s all in here, in black and white. Just because you neglected to fill it out on your forms doesn’t mean that we won’t find out.” He slapped the folder down on the table in front of him. “So I suggest that you make this easy for both of us. Tell me how you did it, serve your time, and be on your merry way. Sooner or later, Mr. Seras, we’ll find out what we need. Everything you do, we know all about it.”

Seras suddenly chuckled. “Well, I regret to inform you that you are quite mistaken, detective.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“Yes, detective. About two things, in fact.”

Hawkins took a deep breath, a bit taken aback by this sudden assertion. “And what would those be, Mr. Seras?”

Seras leaned forward in his chair, as if studying Hawkins’ face. “The first is in your implication that the money was taken. Such an interesting notion. ‘Taken.’ As if you yourself could dictate who it rightfully belongs to. Why indulge in fruitless matters such as who owns what? It all ends up in the same place in the end. It is inevitable. I am merely getting it to where it needs to go sooner.”

Hawkins stepped forward, huffing slightly in agitation. “Listen here, old man. I know all about lowlife crooks like you. Thinking that the world is yours for the taking. Like you can just waltz right up and pocket someone else’s hard-earned cash. And you know something? You’re all the same. You’re all filth. Dregs. Rodents. Bums who steal from honest people, honest people that bust their asses all day for a couple bucks. And as long as I’m around, you’re gonna get caught. I know everything that happens in this city.”

Seras’ stony expression did not waiver. “Ah, but detective, that brings us to my second point. In truth, you do not know a thing about what goes on in this city.” He leaned in closer, standing up slightly from his seat. “Would you like me to let you in on a little secret, detective?”

Hawkins eyed him suspiciously, crossing his arms. “What?”

“As of right now, detective, the man known as Dominic Seras sits here before the detective Mark Hawkins, playing a verbal game of cat-and-mouse in an attempt to garner answers that don’t exist. Meanwhile, your investigative team has been busy breaking into my bank account, and they have no doubt found it completely empty, devoid of those millions of dollars you’re so hung up on.

Hawkins tensed up, his arms dropping to his sides and his blood beginning to pump harder in his ears. “You’re bluffing, old man.”

“I’m afraid not, detective.” Seras reclined in his chair and chuckled. “The money has already been transferred into the appropriate hands. It will reach the end of the east coast by the time I finish this sentence.” He paused for a moment, a slight smile crossing his lips. “It is bound for a Swiss bank account in an undisclosed location. From there, well, there are things even Dominic Seras isn’t privy to. But rest assured, though the remainder of the path is unknown, the final destination is.”

Seras paused again, seemingly satisfied with the bewildered look on Hawkins’ face. A tense silence followed, and was suddenly broken by a polyphonic jangling noise. Seras dug into his pocket and procured a cell phone, which he flipped open and held to his ear. “Go ahead.”

This snapped the detective back to the present. “Wait, what…where did you get--?”

“Understood,” Seras muttered, seemingly oblivious to Hawkins’ reaction. “Thank you very much.” He shut the phone and leaned forward once again, resting his elbows on the table and weaving his fingers together. “Oh, don’t look so shocked, detective. If you must know, your colleagues were kind enough to permit me use of my phone during our little meeting.”

“What…you mean…Williams…Stanton…they’re in on this!?”

Another toothless grin from Seras wordlessly answered him. Hawkins turned away, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “I can’t believe it…this whole time they were…?” The shock of the moment endured for a few painfully long minutes, before Hawkins, breathing heavily, faced back towards him. “What do you guys want?”

“Want, detective?” Seras’ eyes narrowed behind his hands. “There is nothing we want. We already have it.” He lowered his hands, his stern gaze fixed upon Hawkins. “You were always about want. Always asking, ‘What do you want?’ Always thinking that the world’s problems could be solved if you satisfied as many of the ‘wants’ as you could. As I recall, your precious littler daughter had a lot of wants, didn’t she? Elise, was it? Yes, that was her name.”

Hawkins stiffened up. “How do you know my daughter? What do you want with her!?”

Seras cackled loudly, and the walls seemed to shake at the sound. “You were always quite generous with her, detective! Like when she got that acceptance letter into Yale. You couldn’t bear the thought of her losing a chance at her dream school, so you paid that very steep tuition. You were a hero that day you handed in that check, weren’t you, detective!? Well, you’ll be happy to know that your generous contribution of $54,000 shall not go to waste, since we’ve…how shall I say it…relocated those funds to their proper place. I’m sure Elise appreciates it as well, the little peach.”

At this, Hawkins leapt at Seras, his face glowering red. The door behind him burst open, and the two police officers came rushing in, grabbing a hold of Hawkins as he landed upon the table, his gnarled grasp falling short of where Seras sat. “I swear to God, Seras, if you lay a hand on my daughter--!”

“There’s no need to worry about that, detective,” Seras replied calmly, standing up from his seat. “She is of no use to us.” He stepped around the table as the two officers pinned Hawkins to the ground, wrenching his head so that he could look up at them. Seras walked over, his shadow blanketing the entire floor as he approached, until he loomed over them, the toes of his shoes inches away from Hawkins’ face.

“It is no coincidence that, after several years of my supposed ‘embezzling,’ you’ve finally caught me. You, a detective who claims to know everything that happens in his city, have only now managed to catch me. Why do you think that is, detective?

“The truth is, I’m not here because I was arrested. I was sent here to oversee this little transaction. The fact that you’ve actually noticed suspicious activities in regards to my personal accounts is all I needed to know. Once it reached the point where even the federal authorities began to take notice, my task was complete. It was a sign that we had allocated a sufficient amount of funds. So for your assistance in this little matter, you have my gratitude, detective.”

Seras turned heel and slowly made his way to the door. “So now, you might be wondering, ‘Where do we go from here?’ Well, tomorrow, an article will be printed in the second page of the newspaper, about how a man named Dominic Seras was arrested for several counts of tax evasion and embezzling money from a Fortune 500 company. He pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to 25 years in county jail, with no possibility of parole.

“However, tonight, a man named Walt Mitchells will walk out of this room, having concluded his business with detective Mark Hawkins. There will be a limo waiting for Mitchells. Where it goes, not even I know. As for yourself, detective, consider this the beginning of what is sure to be a prolonged vacation.”

He stopped as he reached the doorway, and took one last glance back at them. “You see, detective, no matter how much you think you might know, you cannot stop what has already been set in motion. Everything you have done from the moment you set foot into these streets…nay, set foot into this world…it has all been towards our purpose. Every channel you have watched, every store you have walked into, every cup of coffee you bought on the way to work, it has all been a part of our glorious plan.

“You asked me earlier what it is that we wanted, detective. Well, I shall give you a more satisfying answer than my last. We want to re-create the world. We want to bring the light of perfection to the masses. What we want, is a new world order.

“Well, it has been nice chatting with you, detective. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. My limo is waiting.”