True Apocalypse Game

(A few descriptions in the previous Chapter have been revised. Thanks to my readers for the reminder!)

~

Brendan’s brow furrowed, and he said grimly:

"Cheney just died, and that Ivanovic has already scurried back to vie for power? That scumbag!"

The Purification Society wasn’t structured like a web. Instead, it was more like a series of lines radiating outward from Cthulhu as the center.

Each line had a single supreme leader.

The late Cheney had been the leader of their line.

This design not only fostered competition between the lines but also ensured that one member’s exposure wouldn’t bring down the wrath of the entire Human World and destroy the whole Purification Society.

But to call it just a "line" was an understatement. The resources they controlled were immense. Some of the more powerful lines even possessed the ability to topple small nations.

After all, many of the Purification Society’s Purifiers had been deep undercover for years, rising to positions of great power.

They also often had a number of secret assets under their control.

Cheney’s line possessed extraordinary power and was considered one of the top-ranking lines within the Purification Society.

It controlled hundreds of companies of varying sizes, including Brendan’s Rattlesnake Company, as well as high-ranking government officials in many countries. It even had several of its own top-tier medical laboratories.

As the person in charge of the Middle East Region, Ivanovic had even been able to muster the forces to breach an Eagle Country military base, which was a testament to just how powerful their resources were.

In any case, Cheney had been the Vice President of the Purification Society, a position nominally second only to Cthulhu himself.

Ivanovic’s sudden return could only mean one thing: he intended to exploit the current power vacuum and contend for leadership.

David nodded and said,

"I heard Ivanovic suffered a disastrous defeat in the Middle East. He was outmaneuvered by the Assassin Sect and his forces were completely wiped out. He barely escaped with his life, a general with no army. I can’t believe he still has the gall to compete for the leadership position."

Brendan’s eyes narrowed as he slowly replied,

"His forces weren’t completely wiped out. Ivanovic is a veteran of the Purification Society. He has plenty of supporters here in Eagle Country, and then there’s Russia... a place where he’s laid deep roots for years... It would be a mistake to underestimate him."

He knew Ivanovic well. The man was ruthless, possessed a keen strategic mind, and had already infiltrated several Middle East countries, including Turkey, turning them into sieves.

But unexpectedly, he’d stumbled badly this time, outsmarted by those maniacs from the Assassin Sect, forcing him to return in defeat.

The man was clearly looking to make a comeback.

Besides, Ivanovic had always been in Cheney’s good graces. If Cheney hadn’t died, things would be much more uncertain.

David nodded and said in a low voice,

"So how will this meeting be held? A conference call like usual? We might have already been exposed. What if the Antichrist finds us...?"

Brendan gazed out the window and said slowly,

"There’s no need for a meeting this time. We’ll just have the representatives from each faction vote directly. Later, post a coded message online. Have them reply and cast their votes through a junk data stream."

Then he turned back to David and said,

"You’ve been in the mid-ranks of the FBI for many years, haven’t you? If I become the leader of this line, I will give you my full support to enter the FBI’s upper echelon."

David nodded. "I understand."

Soon, the car stopped in front of the Rattlesnake Company’s skyscraper. Brendan straightened his clothes, opened the door, and walked into the building.

His office was on the top floor. Brendan stepped out of the elevator, pushed open his office door, and strode inside.

A man was sitting behind his desk. Upon seeing Brendan, he immediately stood up, his face beaming with a warm smile. He stepped forward, gave Brendan a hug, and said with a low laugh,

"Brendan, my brother, you’re finally back! It’s so good to see you alive."

The man had a full, thick beard. It was none other than Ivanovic, just returned from the Middle East!

Brendan forced a smile and said,

"Yes, I never thought we’d see each other again. Ivanovic, my brother, you’ve suffered... I heard things didn’t go well in the Middle East? A total wipeout? No matter. There’s an old saying in China: ’Winning and losing are all part of war.’ As long as you start over as a regular Purifier, you’ll regain your former strength one day."

His words were a clear insinuation: Ivanovic should take responsibility for the disaster in the Middle East and be demoted back to the lowest-Level Purifier.

Ivanovic acted as if he didn’t understand the meaning behind the words, chuckling darkly. "It was just a few dead mercenaries, not a fatal blow. The dormant gears are still turning... I heard as soon as my plane landed that Mr. Cheney went missing while in your company? He was the Vice President of the Society. Does President Cthulhu know about this?"

A flash of anger crossed Brendan’s eyes, but he continued,

"President Cthulhu has been in seclusion for a long time. Why would he care about something like this? Whether it’s the Vice President or nobodies like us, is there any difference in his eyes? He only wants to be with the Whisperers."

He then walked to the side table, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and handed one to Ivanovic.

"Ivanovic, since you’re back, there’s no need to beat around the bush. Let’s call for an election meeting for our line. Besides you and me, there are six others eligible to compete for the new leadership position. I hope we all get what we want."

Their eyes met. They both knew the score.

Although there were many other qualified people in the line under Cheney’s leadership, when it came to the connections and prestige built up over the years, only the two of them were truly qualified to become the new leader.

Therefore, the final contest would be between them.

Ivanovic raised his glass and clinked it against Brendan’s. "I hope we all get what we want," he said grimly.

He then poured out the contents of his glass, turned to leave, and said without looking back, "If you need to find me, contact Stephen at the New York Police Department."

Watching Ivanovic’s arrogant departure, Brendan’s eyes narrowed.

The Purification Society had never been a monolith.

Not everyone believed in the doctrine that humanity should be destroyed, as Cthulhu did. Many who attached themselves to the Purification Society were really just looking to seize power.

Brendan was one of them.

What was this "purification"? It was just business.

If it succeeded, he could gain eternal life from the Whisperers. If it failed, he could continue to exploit the Purification Society’s resources for his own benefit.

And now, he had a chance to climb to the next level, but a stumbling block had appeared in his path.

A bloodbath between him and Ivanovic was inevitable...

’As for Cheney?

I hope he died a worthy death—utterly destroyed by the Antichrist, never to return...’

...

At a border checkpoint on the southern border of Eagle Country, where it met Mexico, a hooded man was driving a somewhat old pickup truck through inspection.

The two sides of the checkpoint presented a stark contrast.

The line of cars entering Eagle Country from the Mexican side stretched for several kilometers, and the inspections were slow.

On the other side, heading from Eagle Country into Mexico, there was no traffic jam at all. People were sparse, and a simple check was all it took to cross into Mexican territory.

After all, very few people tried to smuggle themselves from Eagle Country into Mexico, so the border agents couldn’t be bothered with detailed inspections.

When it was the hooded man’s turn, he casually handed his passport and documents to the agent. The agent gave them a quick glance, then gestured with his chin at the hooded man. He made a gesture that only men would understand, poking the index finger of his left hand into a circle made by the thumb and index finger of his right.

The driver immediately winked, showing he understood.

The border agent laughed, handed back the documents, and waved him through.

The hooded man drove off, heading quickly toward Mexico City.

Several hours later, he had entered Mexico City.

Despite the recent brutal shootout between the Sinaloa Drug Trafficking Group and the police, the people of this country were long accustomed to such scenes. The streets were still bustling, seemingly unaffected.

The atmosphere of Central America was palpable. Scantily clad, attractive women lined the streets. Spotting the hooded man’s typical Eagle Country features, they immediately waved and called out to him.

The hooded man bantered back a few lines as he drove, acting just like a man looking for a good time.

Soon, he arrived at a pharmacy. He parked the truck, went inside, and said in flawless Spanish,

"A dozen doses of the Petrification Disease cure and a dozen of the Evil Spirit Virus cure."

After the previous outbreaks of the Petrification Disease and the Evil Spirit Virus, pharmacies all over the world stocked both cures.

One reason was to be prepared for emergencies; the other was to sell them to paranoid individuals who thought they had contracted one of the diseases.

The nurse in the pharmacy, clearly used to this, immediately got the cures for the hooded man.

After paying, the hooded man got back in his truck and continued on his way.

This time, his destination was a building in one of Mexico City’s slums.

It was a small, three-story building. The man, carrying a bulging backpack, walked inside.

Inside were dozens of hospital beds, separated by sanitation curtains. Many people were lying on the beds, unconscious or wrapped in bandages.

It was clearly a hidden clinic located in the slum.

Although the clinic looked dilapidated from the outside, the equipment inside was all top-of-the-line. Many of the people there had clearly just had surgery and were now in recovery.

Most of them had wounds on their abdomens, and signs on the surrounding walls read: "Notes for Organ Removal: ..."

This was an illegal organ transplant hospital!

The hooded man walked in and asked,

"Is Doctor Igo here? I’m the one who called earlier to place an order."

A bald, middle-aged man in a white coat walked up to him and said,

"I’m Igo. Where’s the money?"

The hooded man smiled faintly, handed over a bulging paper bag, and said,

"And where are the Stone Statue Virus and Evil Spirit Virus I ordered?"