Mod Superhero (Book 6 STUBBING on Oct 27th)

Chapter 7.8 - Speaker Rivera

Speaker Rivera leaned forward on his desk, preparing himself for yet another conversation that he shouldn't need to have.

The computer monitor in front of him flickered and Midas appeared. Against Rivera's wishes, the app maximized, so that Midas filled the entire screen. He was standing on the deck of one of the Brotherhood's flagships—now that the screen was maximized, the glass, sleek metal, and lavish trim was impossible to miss. Anything and everything to convey power and spectacle.

Rivera could imagine the scene on the other end: His own face reduced to a postage stamp on one of Midas's towering displays. Midas was looking down on him—a small man in a plain office.

That was fine. It would make the conversation sting all the more.

Rivera folded his hands calmly, refusing to adjust the camera angle or backdrop. The truth didn't need adornment.

Rivera kept his voice flat. "After that last unauthorized attempt at capturing Laraway, you gave assurances. One, that you'd submit to additional oversight. And two, that residential zones would be off-limits. Those were on the record, by the way."

Midas glanced at something off-screen, as if he had better things to do. The ship's lighting pulsed.

"And we honored those assurances. The Brotherhood deployed in response to a verified terrorist operation. Your Council's protocols grant us latitude in the event of an active threat."

Rivera's clasped hands tightened around one another. "That verified threat was a courier. One person. And now an entire block is displaced because of the property damage."

Midas smirked. "This is an evolving situation. You want results, not bureaucracy. And as for escalation—we're simply playing the hand the Resistance forced us to play."

Rivera's jaw tightened. He'd already delivered a warning like this once—right after the operation in Laraway's neighborhood. Rivera told Midas that civilian trust was collapsing. That international partners were already asking questions.

And Midas had smiled then too. The same thin smile.

But now there was something worse beneath it—a hunger Rivera hadn't seen before.

You gave assurances. This may not have been an escalation, this was a disproportionate use of force. Your judgement continues to be questionable..." Rivera trailed off, then said quietly, "You are not an emperor. This government is not your machine to control. You have the authority you do because we allow it. If you push further—"

"What, Rivera?" Midas's eyes narrowed. "You'll convene another Council vote? Draft another letter? Your own chamber's split and you know it. How many of them even show up in person anymore? How many do you trust?"

Rivera started to speak, but Midas spoke over him.

"You think I'm the problem, but it's already too late. You're trying to prop up a house with no walls left. The people want order, Rivera. And we are giving it to them."

Rivera exhaled slowly. Measured. He wouldn't let Midas bait him.

"I haven't forgotten what you are. Neither has the world. Just because the Brotherhood was instrumental in one war doesn't mean you get a pass on another one. If you continue on this path, everyone will remember who started this war."

"No. They'll remember the man who finished it," Midas said. "Goodbye, Rivera."

The screen flickered—the connection terminated before Rivera could speak again.

For a moment Rivera sat frozen, fingers still clenched. The silence was deafening—damning, even.

This wasn't over. Midas was becoming less predictable, more ruthless... The worst part was fewer people in the Council seemed willing to resist. Other officials, some that Rivera had worked beside for decades, were kowtowing to a wannabe dictator. Then there was the public—everyone had seen the broadcast... but how many would believe it? The Brotherhood had doctored it to hell, but did it even matter? No one cared about nuance when fear was rising by the day.