The Revolution

Chapter 8

The list of people Bishop Lenny Ballenger had blackmailed was a who's who of the most rich and famous men and women around Pangea. He never asked for money from his victims, his currency was information. He was known as the Council of Five's dragon, and his hoard was knowledge.
The level of secrets held in his large server farm off the coast of Flandon was endless. Terrablocks upon Terrablocks of the most deviant and anti-social behavior ever devised by human minds sat locked away in digital storage. Murder, rape, incest, and even more caught on camera and used as a cudgel to pry more information from the blackmailed.
The streets of Vanneton buzzed with activity as Bishop Blallanger walked down the street for his ritual nighttime walk through the market district. He had a small unit of three bodyguards following behind him. He like to think that he was untouchable in his home area, but he was still a paranoid person so he was never really as relaxed as he wanted.
Vanneton, the capital and largest city of Flandon was the single largest mining community on the planet. Over 85% of the mining community had spent time living in Vanneton.
To the public, Bishop Ballanger was their short, squat, and charming uncle full of down-home wisdom. To his victims, he seemed to be a towering ball of fire and brimstone to get what he wanted.
One of those victims, Jonathan Winterbaum, a senior Icebane Councilman, had seen some of the worst. The day his life went to hell was still fresh in his mind.
There was a knock on the door that day. It was early enough and was probably just a workman. He was getting quotes for a new addon to his house.
He opened the door to see a man wearing a black suit and black wrap-around sunglasses.
Winterbaum was immediately suspicious.
Without any time to react, a yellow folder was thrust into his chest by this man. His reaction was to grab it.
He opened it and his heart sank.
There were 13 high-resolution photos of him walking around town in a cute pink, knee-length dress. He had thought he had been so careful.
"My boss would like to talk to you," the deep voice of the man in black said. He looked toward the long black car Winterbaum assumed was this thug's transportation and nodded.
Winterbaum recognized the "boss" immediately. It was Lenny Ballanger.
Shit.
He still was recovering from the shattered cheekbone he had suffered that day.
He kept Ballanger appraised of any military buildup talk in the Icebane State Parlement. If he was caught, he knew that it was tantamount to treason. But the public finding out his secret would be like career suicide. He wasn't sure he could take the shame.
When the letter had arrived two weeks ago, it seemed like his prayers had been answered.
The letter said:
"All is forgiven if you kill the master.
"You have two weeks."
The letter was unsigned. Not that it mattered.
There had been talk of troop buildup in the last couple of days for the first time in years. He had a choice to make, and it seemed his life would unravel no matter which decision he made. But now he could have some agency in how his life unraveled. Maybe there was hope left to keep his life as a woman hidden.
Winterbaum now found himself on a cold winter night in Vanneton with a small slugthrower pistol tucked into the interior pocket of his coat, walking toward Bishop Lenny Ballenger. One way or another, things would be over tonight.
To ready himself, he thought about the one time he had met the man. He remembered an overweight odious man with a colorful collection of bigoted and misogynistic insults.
A tear rolled down the cheek of Jonathan Winterbaum. It soaked up into the scarf he was using to cover his face.
As he got closer, he was struck by how short and frail Ballenger looked when he was not in the media. The Bishop turned his back to Winterbaum. Jonathan quickened his pace.
He didn't see any bodyguards, so when he was close enough to comfortably hit the target he pulled the pistol free from his coat.
He shot three times before the first screams rang out and Ballanger hit the ground. He shot two more slugs into the Bishop's skull.
Winterbaum was about to turn and leave when he felt a rifle barrel on his temple. Any hope he had was extinguished the split second before the gun went off and his life was extinguished as well.

Pastor Aaron Thomas held an iron grip on his employees. They were so scared of him that it had taken Greg White the longest to find an employee in the right position and with the right screws to turn. Not that he ever met any potential assassins face to face. He had learned quickly that he had people he could either trust or manipulate into doing the dirty work. It was not as sophisticated as Lenny Ballanger's operation, but he felt he lacked the proper paranoia to reach those highs.
The information on Aaron Thomas was difficult to obtain due to one simple, primal reason: fear. The famous story was one time a driver had run to GNN about some back alley hookup he was having with a pop singer. The driver later had the misfortune of dying in a "random" mugging two days later. There was no official tie to Thomas, but he also never denied it officially. he was happy, whether involved or not, to have the aura of a killer.
Finally, Greg found the screw to turn. Her name was Maxine Williams, a maid who, Greg was told, delivered a special "sleepytime blend" of tea to Pastor Thomas every weekday night at 9:00 PM on the dot. The last time she was late, she was struck across the cheek by Pastor Thomas for being less than a minute late. She was scared and wanted more than anything, to end the fear.
All it took was the promise of a job and an apartment in Grandville City, along with immunity, of course, to get her to agree. All she had to do was make it to the Grandville border and all would be taken care of.
The plan was simple. All it would take would be two odorless, tasteless poison in Pastor Thomas' nightcap.
The trickiest part of the plan would be to smuggle in the poison to the compound as employees were subject to search before and after each entry onto the grounds. Maxine had an old metal water bottle she had used to hide halucinofungi in years past. It was a perfect size for a small vial of the poison. She carried the bottle to work for a couple of days to see if it aroused suspicion. Amazingly, it did not.
On the prescribed day, given to her by Greg's proxies, she sprang her plan into action. Through her nerves, she was able to make it through security without raising any eyebrows, but also work the three hours before "go time" without becoming a blubbery mess.
Finally, it was time.
Aaron Thomas' home was a palatial estate in the hills of Mount Vessio where the richest and most powerful men in the state lived. It had room over room of wood-paneled floors for four stories. The bottom floor was mainly used for any guest entertaining that the Pastor needed. Any hospitality, food, or Compound security was headquartered here. The second and third floors were office spaces for the various projects that Pastor Thomas found himself doing. The final, penthouse floor was where the Pastor's sleeping quarters were.
The standing rule in the compound was no one was to be alone in the kitchen when food was being prepared. It would be unwise to apply the poison here. She possessed neither the sleight of hand nor the courage to pull that off.
Now, in possession of the teacup and saucer, she would be expected to carry it to Pastor Thomas immediately and without spilling a drop. She still carried a black eye from the last time she had "been clumsy."
A violent experience with the Pastor was not an uncommon story with the female staff. It was nearly impossible to spend time in the Pastor's presence without drawing his wrath.
She had already practiced slipping the poison into the tea. She began to mime a sneeze, so she sat the tea down and mimed the rest of the sneeze, deftly emptying the dropper she had been holding in her bra for the entire shift to warm it to her body temperature so as not to change the temperature of the tea too much. She blocked her motions from a security camera with her body.
She finally found herself at the bottom of an ornate wooden set of stairs to the Penthouse Floor. She hoped all the hurdles had been cleared, there was no turning back.
Those hopes were dashed as she began carefully ascending the stairs, the biggest asshole in the Pastor's Bodyguard Corp was descending the same staircase. Her heart skipped a few beats, and Maxine hoped it did not show on her face.
The man eyed her up and down, decided she wasn't a threat, and continued descending the stairs. Maxine contained a sigh of relief.
The inside of Pastor Aaron Thomas never ceased to impress Maxine. There was floor-to-ceiling artwork worth more than her lifetime salary. The far wall was almost entirely covered by a purple lace canopy and the largest bed Maxine had ever seen. It was covered by a red and blue plush looking mink blanket. It was the kind of bed that Maxine wanted to get lost in for days.
The Pastor never spoke to Maxine unless some part of her service was subpar. She took a couple of steps to the white nightstand where she placed the teacup and saucer, now laced with poison, on the nightstand and began to walk away.
Maxine suddenly realized that she had no idea how the poison would react. She had a suspicion it would not be peaceful. She forced herself to keep walking as the first gurgles started emanating from her rear.
The Pastor had drunk the poison.
Luckily, Pastor Thomas wanted to have privacy in his apartment at all times, so there were no cameras to see or guards to hear Pastor Aaron Thomas drop to the ground and spew blood from his mouth and nose. Maxine had already descended the steps by the time he had asphyxiated on blood from the caustic poison melting his esophagus.
His body wouldn't be found until the morning.
Maxine would disappear into the night and never be seen again. She never made it to Grandville.