Jaxon RadioHead

THE APE MASK

Crystal chandeliers rained down brilliance on the impeccably dressed figures gathered in the opulent ballroom. Laughter and murmured conversation filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of champagne flutes. A hush, however, fell over the room as a lone figure ascended a stage bathed in an unsettling crimson light.

The President.

But not as anyone knew him.

At the center of the table sat the President of the United States, though his appearance would leave most questioning that title. A young white man in his late twenties, his features were obscured by a crude ape mask, complete with exaggerated plastic fangs and protruding nostrils.A mask, crafted from a disturbingly realistic ape facsimile, obscured his face. His voice, distorted by a voice modulator, echoed through the cavernous space.

A ripple of unease ran through the crowd. A few billionaires exchanged nervous glances. Was this the future they'd signed up for?

The President, or whatever entity occupied that space now, continued, its voice dripping with a twisted amusement. "But fear not. Science has, at long last, delivered the key. A serum, meticulously crafted, promises not just extended life, but a complete overhaul of the human form. Immunity to disease, a mind sharper than any diamond."

Gasps mingled with excited murmurs. This wasn't just about longevity anymore. This was about becoming something...more.

A predatory glint seemed to emanate from the mask's eyes, unseen but felt. "The future belongs to the strong," it declared. the voice echoing with a dark promise. "And you, my distinguished friends, have the first chance to claim it."

The crimson light intensified, bathing the room in an unsettling glow. The President descended the stage, his masked face turning towards a side door that swung open silently. Beyond, a team of masked figures waited, holding gleaming syringes filled with a pulsating blue liquid. The party, once a celebration of wealth and privilege, had taken a chilling turn.

Lieutenant Gust stormed into billionaire's party, slamming his fist on the polished brown table, the sound echoing sharply in the sterile white room. Vice President Jenny Maddison flinched, momentarily startled by the outburst "Mr. president when are you going to stop lollygaging around and put an end to the massacres happening  all over the country?!".

The President sighed dramatically, the gesture almost comical in its theatricality. "Lieutenant," he drawled, his voice distorted by the mask, "you and everyone else seem awfully concerned about these war machines. But honestly? It's not my job to interfere with the people's right to bear arms."

Gust's face turned an apoplectic shade of red. "Right to bear arms?!" he roared, his voice cracking with disbelief. "Mr. President, your duty is to the people! This isn't some backyard barbecue gone wrong, these machines are tearing the country apart!"

The President shrugged, a nonchalant movement within the bulky trench coat. "Yes, well, he reasoned "respecting their right to bear arms also means respecting their right to tear things apart, doesn't it?"

"Not to kill each other!" Gust bellowed. "Send in the military! Stop the violence!"

The President threw back his head, the mask tilting upwards in a parody of amusement. "Jeez, Lieutenant, why would I do that?"

Gust stared at him, speechless for a moment. "Don't you have a heart?" he finally choked out. "Doesn't anyone in this room understand how wrong this is?"

The billionaires remained utterly unfazed by the lieutenant's outburst.The room remained silent. 

The President swept his gaze around the group, his masked face an unreadable canvas. "Anybody," he drawled sarcastically, "agree with the guy who can't even properly fix his collar?"