Invisible from detection by its incredible technology, the great fortress flickered in and out of existence. It actually sat in a quantum nexus -- a point where space and time roiled and eddied like the tides of a mighty ocean. It was enough to make Einstein waver how insignificant humanity was, compared to the majestic grandeur of Natural Science.

Humbling, to be sure.

Not so humbling to the armored overlord who gazed at the swirling particles of existence from his observation deck in the Celestial Keep, that majestic, globular citadel that was home to the Royal Elite. Thick, steely arms folded across his barreled chest, the mighty liege watched the spinning helix of spatial and temporal energies with the interest of a bored adventurer who was eager to move on.

Lost in thought, within the flow of bright prospects and fierce valuation, he barely noticed the hiss of a sliding door opening behind him. There was no danger to him on the great fortress. On Celestial Keep, he was...

"Autocrat," Constantine said devoutly. "You summoned us."

Autocrat smiled inwardly at the sound of his name. It presented himself to the world as a being of power; it set him apart from humanity, made them hate and fear him even more. His detached difference also existed in the hushed respect with which the Yeomen gave him. Hate, fear, respect... Autocrat relished how all these aspects had built themselves around him, and how they elevated him to the liege lord he was.

The Yeomen waited patiently, subserviently for Autocrat's response. Wearing plated armor, scale-mail, leather and helms, they reminded the great conqueror of the Britons from the Middle Ages, such a contrast to the futuristic armor he himself wore.

"Yes," Autocrat said. "It's time to take the Great Conquest to the next stage. I feel the Royal Elite growing impatient. I feel some of my servants believe I have been complacent..." His eyes glow as he looks at each and every Yeoman.

"My liege," Pelinore gasped. "You know that we would never question your will..."

"I know," Autocrat assured. "The Yeomen's loyalty is not in question. But do not think for a moment that I do not know the feelings of my subjects. Leave me now, there is much to consider."

Autocrat stood in silence, as his underlings scuttled away to do his will. Out in normal space, the plebeians were scuttling like scared rats. They called him a monster, a tyrant. How little did they know, he thought. He was simply doing what had to be done; what was destined to happen since the dawn of mankind. Was it not the way of nature for the strong to rule over the weak? The Cro-Magnon had replaced the Neanderthal; so too would metahumanity replace humans. In the end, the world would be a stronger, healthier planet, with a race ready to assume its proper place among the heavens. Yes, some of the weaker ones would perish. One did not make omelets without breaking eggs; was it Stalin or Nietzsche who said those immortal words, he pondered.

"Did you send for me, my lord?" Rook asked as he entered the chamber.

Autocrat filed his personal musings away for the moment and turned to face the new member. "I was not satisfied with the debriefing of your last mission."

Rook grimaced with discomfort. "As I already explained, Proctor and I had an unexpected encounter with that fool Old Glory during our surveillance sweep for spies."

"And lost the battle staff I specifically keyed to your physiology," Autocrat pointed out.

"The loss was... unfortunate, yes, but..."

"That staff contained technologies far beyond that of Earth science. Its loss to our adversaries is not a minor matter."

"Surely they will not have the wisdom or intellect to decipher such brilliant..."

"Spare me your pandering, it's transparent," Autocrat cut Rook off. "The staff must be retrieved or destroyed, and it is my intentions that you do so on your own."

Rook paused for a few seconds. His ego wanted to proclaim that he would easily so do, but his intellect was busy reminding him about his defeat at the hands of Old Glory. "Y-yes. Of course. my lord. It will send a clear message that the Elite cannot be trifled with."

Autocrat watched as Rook did his best to puff himself up. A test, he decided. If Rook succeeded, then he would be forgiven for his carelessness. If not, well, Rook's imprisonment at the hands of the plebeians would be a reminder to the others of the price of failures. "You will find what you require among these files. I suggest you make use of it." With that, Autocrat turned and headed to his chambers to prepare for the command briefing later that day.

Rook stood and watched as the door closed behind him. Part of him was fuming at the dressing down; it was as much Proctor's fault as his own that the battle was lost. And the condescending manner he had been addressed! Anyone else, he would have had punished severely for such insolence! But in the case of Autocrat, he knew better. Even entertaining such thoughts was dangerous; that little Jap twerp Brainchild was completely faithful to Autocrat as far as he could tell and would probably reveal such insubordination if he continued to dwell on it.

No, the smart thing was to just play it through. Walking up to the computer console, he entered a command to download some key information into a set of small three-inch optical disks. Once loaded, he pressed a stud on his temple, popping out a chamber protruding from the back of his head. His eyesight became slightly obscured as the warning message "Data drive open" flashed at the bottom of his field of vision. He popped the first disk in and closed the door and relaxed as the autorun program activated. The warning message disappeared and was replaced by a status window:

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Lioness)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Chessmaster)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Blue Ensign)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Watchman)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Feng Hwang)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Fist)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Iron Maiden)... download complete.

Downloading skillset (Combat skills: Shinobi)... download in progress...

Brainchild watched the video with interest as servants packed his bags. Alex St. John-Smythe -- a noble born meta whose power was greater than apparent. Must be, since the agents that the Elite had sent so far had been so ineffective. Well, not anymore, Brainchild smiled. He would teach this little singer a proper lesson in power. Not too harshly though, he reminded himself; on that, Autocrat's orders were quite clear.

Brainchild turned off the briefing video of Maestro as the servant handed over his bags and forged documents. St. John-Smythe's flight would be leaving the next morning and he intended to be on it. But before he left, he had a task to check on.

In the next room, Avatar laid down on the biofeedback table. Even in dreamless sleep, he was a magnificent specimen, Brainchild admitted to himself. It was only right that he would take his proper place among his peers, instead of slumming with those plebian fools in the Protectorate. Which made Harbinger's failure to hold onto his will all the more amusing and rather surprising. Harbinger's power was almost on par with his; not quite as well developed, of course, he insisted, but by no means trivial. His will to rule must have been weak, Brainchild reminded himself. He was a commoner, after all.

Well, this time, he would see that the job was done right. He closed his eyes, and concentrated. Avatar's will and inner strength was no laughing matter; it took exquisite skill and power to sculpt the psyche properly. He wanted him obedient to the Elite, yes, but not so mindlessly obedient as to disallow use of his vast years of experience. Avatar had been fighting the world's most powerful metahumans for a generation; it would be foolish not to make use of that battle savvy, so Brainchild took his time to do the job right. Yes, he thought, as he watched Avatar's new personality slide into place; that should do it.

Once done, he finished the job by constructing a mental wall of protection, which would screen out and block virtually any other psychic interference. The only telepath the opposition had was Blue Ensign, and she was no match for his power, he thought smugly. Harbinger might have been able to challenge the wall, but even he would have problems, and there weren't any other telepaths of that caliber out there, which ensured that Avatar would see their conquest to the final end, and in doing so, elevate his importance among the Elite.

Yes, things were working out nicely.

Mastodon sat on a bed of silken pillows in the center of the ornate harem, a tiger's smile etched across his otherwise stern face. Naked women bathed each other in a mosaic pool as other scantily clad beauties danced to the gentle whisper of harps. The Royal Elite had just defeated the Ensigns, the United Kingdom's so-called bastions of justice and patriotism, and now Mastodon basked in the appreciations of his recent victory.

A beep sounded from the double doors of the chamber, and Mastodon allowed the person to enter.

It was Baroness, the mistress of time. She looked about the harem and wrinkled her nose. Even amidst the perfume and incense, she could smell sex in the air. "We have a squad of British soldiers in one of the holding cells. They were recently sighted on the edge of Wicklow."

Mastodon stood up, pushing the score of nubile wenches that pawed at him aside. He immediately reached for his saffron robe and placed it over his massive, powerfully built frame. He then followed Baroness into the corridor and to the lift, which began to take them down to the dungeon.

"I'm going to have Brainchild summoned," Baroness suggested. "He will pry the information from their feeble minds."

"No," Mastodon replied. "There are much better tools for convincing prisoners to reveal their secrets."

Baroness knew her comrade all too well, and so she didn't need to question his means of inquisition. The lift doors opened and they stepped out.

The four soldiers lay on the floor. Their ankles and wrists restrained with high-tech bindings. They began to tremble upon seeing Mastodon enormous shape eclipse the threshold of their cell door. One soldier actually whimpered. He hoped he would never have to come across the monstrous blue-blood.

Soon, Mastodon stood just inches from their heads. "I will ask only once. What are the Ensigns' next plans?"

The first soldier stammered that he didn't know. Mastodon stomped his foot down to increase their fear. "Don't lie to me, dreg! You wear the uniform of a British commander. You would therefore be informed of the Ensigns' movement! Now tell me!"

The soldier shook his head. "Don't kill us."

Mastodon was annoyed. He raised his foot once more and held it over the second officer's head. Without saying a word he smashed his foot down. Baroness immediately looked the other way. She heard an awful wet crunch of bone and pulpy gray matter meeting floor. She glanced down at the bloody mess.

"Is my point clear now, Albions?" Mastodon asked.

The soldiers didn't say a word. Mastodon lifted up the second officer and threw him against the wall. He then motioned to the Baroness. She gracefully lifted an arm, ripples of translucence extending from her hand and touching the stunned soldier. And just like that, she stopped his heart and killed him.

"I'll tell you whatever you need to know. Just don't hurt me," the commander cried.

"You won't be harmed as long as your useful to me so you better hope you have a lot of information that is of value to me," Mastodon replied.

The main hub of the great fortress was the largest room in the headquarters. Around the main conference table, Baroness, Proctor, Harbinger, Mastodon sat in readiness. The room was lit by the artificial light of monitors displaying information ranging from troop deployments, opposing orders of battle, and relevant information about the lead metahuman opposition. Attention came to a focus as the sound of metallic footsteps approached the center. Autocrat looked around and nodded.

"All is in readiness," Autocrat proclaimed. "Even now, the conquest of mankind is at hand."

"Finally...," Mastodon muttered.

"Your impertinence is not useful Mastodon," Autocrat turned with a crackle of energies from his helmet's eyes. "Patience is required for any endeavor of substance."

"Patience!?" Mastodon snarled. "We've been patient for fifteen years!" He pushed away from his chair and stood up as the other members around the table began to look away. What was going to happen wasn't going to be pleasant.

Mastodon stepped forward and pointed at Autocrat, staring at him eye to glaring eye. "We had the power to take the world by force for years! But you prattle on with your machines, your technology and philosophy! Your methods are slow and that of a cowar -- uhnh!"

Autocrat's eyes smoldered as a powerful gauntlet lifted Mastodon off the ground by the neck. Mastodon's face contorted as he gasped for air, as he tried to claw at his assailant, but his efforts were in vain. Autocrat's voice was low but the distant rumbling of power was unmistakable. "You sorely try my patience. Be aware that even you are not irreplaceable. In fact, far easier to replace than anyone else here." With a casual gesture, Autocrat released and forced Mastodon back and onto the floor. Mastodon coughed uncontrollably. Before he could get to his feet, another powerful hand grabbed him by the back of the head and forced him to his knees. To Mastodon's surprise, he was helpless to rise.

"Who...?!" Mastodon turned around painfully and saw the Babylonian demigod forcing him down.

"His manners are insolent, my liege," the Emissary proclaimed. "Shall I punish him for you?"

"That is up for him to decide," Autocrat replied meaningfully. Mastodon looked at his master and the vastly powerful demigod holding him in check, wilting before Autocrat's eyes. The armored overlord nodded and Avatar let Mastodon up.

"The long view has worked to our advantage. In that time, look at what we have achieved. The technologies we have developed allows us far greater mobility, control and security than ever before. Vamp's efforts in the Crescent City weren't without avail. She not only instigated a massive proliferation of her night stalking progeny, she split the Protectorate in half and created a holding pattern in their efforts. This has helped set our own efforts in motion. The infant that Vamp abducted in Detroit, as well as the newborn twins the Yeomen extracted in London, are being held at my labs -- their special genetic signatures acting as the catalyst in my mass mutagenic experiments." The shadows within Autocrat's great helm did little to conceal his beaming smile. "Our forces are growing each day. Our dream is but a blink from becoming reality."

The almighty warlord pointed at the main monitor, which changed displays to show a theater-scale map of Ireland and the Britain Islands. "Our enemies are entrenching into defensive positions, anticipating an invasion. Were it fifteen years ago, such an invasion would have been costly but necessary. But with the development of mass interdimensional technology, we are no longer confined by the old rules of war. The genetics research we spawn so long ago provides us an unlimited supply of superpowered drones, which gives us the ability to hold ground like never before. The only opposition of any meaning are the metahuman heroes, who even now, gather in London to discuss plans. They prattle on, with their weak government fools, never even realizing how overmatched they are."

"My lord," Baroness chimed. "No one here doubts your brilliance or power. Your leadership has indeed brought us to the goal we have all sought for so long. Perhaps you can discuss what you expect from each of us, so that we will fulfill our duties."

"An excellent point, Baroness," Autocrat said, looming over his subjects like biblical colossus. "I have now sent Brainchild on a mission to recruit or remove Alex St. John-Smythe, who has taken the name 'Maestro.'" He pointed to another monitor, showing a picture of a powerful, star-spangled hero in front of the US Naval Hospital in Milford Haven, Wales. "Rook has been sent to defeat Old Glory in single combat; we will have surveillance cameras to record and transmit the event. This will crumble the courage of the Americans, forcing them to hesitate. Without the support of the military, Omega and the Protectorate will be cut off from assistance and without logistical support, and easy to isolate." The main monitor switched to a statistical display, showing power level readings gathered from sensors around Omega, Paragon and Zodiac. "The Emissary has already defeated Omega with ease. He can do so again," Autocrat said as the demigod nodded seriously. Autocrat pointed at a grid of pictures displaying various other metahumans. "The rest of you are to prepare for action against the Ensigns and the Canadian Shield, splitting their forces into ineffectual units. Other metahumans are expected to join the front, so be aware of all reservists."

"But of course," Proctor agreed. "We will carry out our missions with vigor and dispatch. What will you be doing?"

"I will be doing the most important task of all. I will be delivering our ultimatum."

The United Nations building in New York City was the landmark of the world's most successful attempt at unity in history. Although difficulties inevitably came, this organization allowed the dialogue that had negotiated progress, facilitated commerce, and ultimately prevented wars. It was that final goal that was in ruins this day as military police surrounded the perimeter and Secret Service, augmented by federal troops, escorted representatives from every country on Earth. The message that would be heard here today would determine the course of mankind.

Inside the main chamber, the main screen was standing by. The delegates had been told by a message sent to every embassy in every country in the world. Right on schedule, the master screen flickered to life and the familiar armored helm looked down upon the gathered delegates.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am here to present our status to the people of the world. I am Autocrat of the Royal Elite, and as of the seventh of December, the year 2000, I have declared myself as the absolute, undisputed monarch of the country formerly known as Ireland."

"First of all, let me assure all the nations of the world that my position is absolute. Your combined armed forces are no match for the powers at my command. Any attempt to invade my sovereign country will result in the slaughter of the remaining civilian population on this island, and the destruction of the invading armed forces. Furthermore, I will use the powers at my command to enact punitive measures against any nation who dares to launch such a strike. Such measures will be severe and final."

"For those who feel compelled to attempt diplomatic negotiations to effect my removal, let me save your State Departments the time and assure you that I will not be swayed from this course. My resolve cannot be deterred. My destiny will not be denied."

"No doubt, the people of the world would like to know why this action has been taken. Since my cause is just, I shall be magnanimous: I believe in the future prosperity of the planet Earth, and her peoples. Mankind stands on the edge of greatness, ready to assume its destiny among the stars. With the proper leadership, that destiny will be assured.

"However, there is a cancer that stands in the way. That cancer is humanity's limitations and the weakness of her so-called leaders. All too often, those currently in power sacrifice the long-term good for their own shortsighted, petty goals -- goals so small, as to mean nothing to future generations, but consume time and resources. I will put an end to this waste, for only I have the vision and strength of will to carry out this goal.

"I will also now declare that I will assume leadership of the European Union by the twentieth of May, the year 2001. As a sign of my generosity, I give the nations of Europe until two weeks prior of this date to turn over their sovereignty peacefully, in recognition of my great goal. Those who do so will be rewarded with wealth, power and prosperity. Those who do not will be destroyed, utterly and completely.

"Finally, and I state this to the remaining countries of the world, I will brook no interference in my grand design. Any country or organizations that attempts an attack, or otherwise interferes, will be treated as enemies of the state. Those who doubt my ability to carry these actions need only consult the forces already beaten back from this isle. I have been generous thus far in allowing their retreat, but I will be generous no longer. Heed my words, and mark this day. The day of the commoner has past. This is the day of the Royal Elite. From this time forward, we shall assume our rightful place as guardians and masters of this planet."

The Joint Chiefs of Staff watched the television coverage of Autocrat's speech and the resulting worldwide chaos it inspired grimly from the White House Situation Room. Already, there were countries stating their intentions to accede to Autocrat's demands. Idiots, they thought as one; didn't anyone read history anymore? Other countries were already mobilizing their military forces and intelligence reports were coming in that weapons of mass destruction were not being ruled out. America's traditional allies were clamoring for the US to bring in troops; ironic given that not too long ago, those same countries were protesting to have the US pull their troops and bases out. Peace wasn't an option; Autocrat's speech had made that quite clear. Mankind was standing on the flashpoint of civilization; this would be the first true war against a metahuman threat, and the butcher's bill would be like nothing in history. All this on an election year.

"What is the latest word from the EC?" asked the Defense Secretary.

"Sweden, Belgium, and Poland have tossed their hats into the appeasement pile. They've issued statements that they won't do anything to antagonize the situation. France is straddling the fence, saying they won't surrender sovereignty, but they won't oppose the Elite if they go after other countries. England, German, Spain, and several others are standing firm, but right now, the correlation of forces is adverse to say the least," the DCI reported

"There's also growing support from Central and South America for the idea that this is a European problem and we would be served to leave it alone," the Secretary of State noted.

"Bullshit," the Marines general snarled.

"We can't do what we can't do," the Interior Secretary added. "General, do we even have counter-metahuman capabilities?"

"Specific counter-metahuman doctrine, no," an Army four-star admitted. "Some of the Special Forces, like Delta Force and SEAL Team 6, have trained in counter-metahuman terrorism. But not on such a grand scale as this. We have a lot that can be adapted if necessary. Keep in mind collateral damage is going to be considerable."

"We've got some tricks too," the Air Force general added. "But we'd better do it while there's still a Europe to land on."

"Right," the Chief of Staff said with a nod. "As you know, we're in the middle of an administration change. But in light of what's happening, the National Command Authority has asked that all JCs and their departments put their changeover plans on hold until this mess is sorted out. The NCA has issued DEFCON 3 to all services and personnel." He turned to the Justice Department representative. "NCA also requests that the Justice Department review the psychological profiles for all inmates currently in Purgatory Prime for possible conditional pardons and callups."

The Attorney General made a grimace, but nodded.

Through it all, the outgoing president kept quiet, allowing his staff to make arrangements. It wasn't like he could really do anything; his time left in office was measured in only days. A real shame that his number two wouldn't be the one to take over; it would have made things easier, but the Electoral College, with an assist from the judicial courts had spoken and that was that. Not really a bad time to be leaving, he mused. An unworthy thought, but a human one. At least this mess wouldn't tarnish his administration's legacy. Let that Texan yahoo handle this and may God help him because he was going to need it.

And if he couldn't cut it, then God help us all.
 

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