• "We bring you breaking news straight out of New York City."

    Anxiously, a female newscaster delivers the report of a new-age atrocity. Eyes dilated, heart pounding, she struggles to maintain calmness as she speaks of the tragic event.

    "On December 26th of this year, just one day after Christmas and five days before the new year, an atomic bomb hit in the heart of Manhattan. A death toll to this extent hasn't been seen in decades. Fallout has stretched to hundreds of miles, bringing isolation to the universally acknowledged, United States. The country once seen to be the land of opportunity, transformed into ground zero within minutes. The ones responsible for this are unknown, but international organizations are scrambling to find answers. We will now continue coverage from the streets. I'm Jade Ackart with Montreal news."

    With this, the projection on the white wall ceased. A single man stood in the middle of a large conference room. The ceiling was dome shaped, and the chamber was filled with seats with each one seating a leader. They came from every leading country. Their faces proficient and stone-like, with no sign of life.

    The man in the center began to speak.

    His pale skin seemed almost flawless, and his eyes were a light blue. He looked somewhat inviting, yet he gave off an eerie coercion that would come in handy more times than one in his grueling profession. His suit was starched and dark, with no wrinkle in sight. His hair as black as ink, with not a strand out of place.

    With a breath, he began.

    "On December 27th of this year, at precisely twelve-fifteen A.M., this broadcasted in Montreal, Canada. This is but one of the thousands of stations broadcasting of this historical event. You can only imagine the number of lives lost. Men, women, children, they're all gone."

    He looked down, seemingly heartbroken. It was evident that this was quite a pain to discuss with his colleagues, but yet he continued.

    "Any questions?"

    Silence plagued the room, for this matter was seldom discussed. It's sensitive nature shielded it from much questioning.

    "What a pity. For once, the power you all have craved has been put into your hands, but when the time comes for you to put it to good use you fail."

    The silence broke to give way to a number of gasps and hisses, but later engulfed the crowd once more.

    "A wise man once said, nearly all men can stand adversity, if you want to test a man's character give him power. This quote, my friends, has now proved to be pure false. We've tested men, over and over, but what has that brought? We've given them power, and we've given them adversity, but to no avail. Why be so foolish to give a man power, when he has a dictatorial character? How can you give a man adversity, when adversity is what he can not stand? This flaw, is what has brought us here."

    "So how shall we proceed?"

    A shallow voice emanated from the rows of seats.

    "You've managed to send nearly half of us into a deep slumber with your lecturing, so what is the plan you so whole-heartedly wish we initiate? What righteous act should we employ?"

    His eyes were dark, and they glistened in the dim lights of the conference. He twiddled with his thumbs calmly waiting for a reply, or perhaps a retort.

    "Unfortunately my colleague," the speaker answered, "this is to my deep contempt, but however, war is imminent."

    "How charming. Indeed hypocrisy is one the lowest of vices."

    "I am no hypocrite."

    "But you are."

    The man's shallow voice grew. Booming as it echoed through the room.

    "Why pretend to be a saint when you are just as vile an organism as us?"

    "I'm not preten-"

    "But you are."

    He came out from behind the shadows. His face slightly grey and elderly in it's appearance. His eyes exhibited an intensity found only in a select few humans.