The epitome of success, Ambrosius Sidorov had it all.
Money, though didn't need it.
Power, though it bored him.
A lavish penthouse in downtown Chicago.
And the most powerful Throne.
That is, up until the fateful night when his siblings were murdered...
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London, England
The jet was cutting through the sky at well over 3,000 miles per hour, the faint hum of the wind could barely be considered audible; the noise absorbing frame rendered it almost nonexistent. The flight was scheduled to last a meager hour, and Ambrosius along with his employees was being pampered all the way. Serving up dishes with rare fruits, exotic cheeses, and the most expensive meats money could buy, the chef had certainly curated a fine dining experience for the passengers.
Everyone was settled in their lavish seats. The guards played around with the comfortable reclining positions afforded to them, going as far as to lie down completely flat.
-That blood certainly tasted bitter.- Ambrosius proclaimed with indifference, biting into the expensive piece of kobe steak.
-My apologies, master. I thought you had asked for your beef to be cooked rare. I can prepare another one for you if you wish.- The purser replied nervously. She’d known to follow orders precisely with her other master’s and knew the consequences if she didn’t.
-Nonsense, Emma.- Ambrosius chewed another piece staring out into the blurry clouds as they passed by them with incomprehensible speed. One second a passenger liner is visible out in the ocean and the next it is gone. -I was referring to President Neal’s blood, not the Kobe. The steak is excellent.-
-Was that absolutely necessary, Ambrosius?- Tim half yelled, slamming the goldware hard against his plate, consequently breaking it. ‘Why did you even hire us for protection? You seem to be pretty well off on your own without our assistance; though I doubt it can even be called that. If I didn't know better I would dare say you already intended to kill him before the meeting. Tell me I’m wrong Ambrosius!-
Everyone sensed Tim's tension. Charlotte and Mark both stood up slightly and placed their hands on their guns, ready to withdraw them in a moment's notice. Nathan, James and Emma quietly eyed the group sensing the air of danger filling the cabin.
-No, Tim. I won’t tell you you’re wrong because you aren’t-
Charlotte flinched slightly knowing the magnitude of escalation the statement could unleash, Mark withdrew his weapon ever more slightly even as Ambrosius continued talking.
-I intended to kill the President long before we arrived at the meeting. And it’s not that he tried to bring socialism to this failed science experiment we call the United States ahead of schedule, or the fact that he seldom obeyed my father’s request. For a long time I had my suspicion and only recently did I confirm that he is in fact a cannibal. His victim tally swells well past 200 and I have no intention of allowing such a monster to continue living. So to answer your question Tim, yes, that was absolutely necessary. Being the adjuster means I have to make the difficult decisions that nobody else can bear to live with, even if that means making sacrifices that no one else can go to bed with at night.-
