Standing on Ceremony: The Mindwalker Memoirs, Part 8

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, sex on an airplane, and figuratively eating the rich. The author does not condone any of this, except the sex on a plane and knocking the wealthy down a peg or two. Viewer discretion is advised.

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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior. At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge. Greater Man.

What am I? I’m a telepath. Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects. I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet. I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be. Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep. Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change. Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix.

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about. How I experimented with triggering that change. Could I play god and change the odds?

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The tail end of 2024 was when the first inklings of our existence made it to the powers that be. By the time the holidays rolled around, close to 100 latents had made the trek to my tower in Los Angeles. All of them had seen Meg’s dreams and visions, and knew my face. Owning a 30-story skyscraper in downtown L.A. and converting a couple floors of it into condos was easier said than done. On top of the Chinese refugees we housed, over 60 latents tracked us down and made the pilgrimage to the tower. Most of them came from the U.S. and Canada, but we did get a few from other countries. Almost all of them were close to blossoming, and their urge to come to us was driven by that desire to break free. It was just a matter of time before one of those latents would tell someone in a position of power what happened.

It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I was working with some of the staff in the building about setting up a holiday dinner for our new residents. Meg and Ana recommended we try to do something nice for everyone as they acclimated to their new surroundings. As Meg, Ana, Kira, Fernando and I worked with a caterer, something felt off. There was a general hole traveling through the building, almost like a dampening field or a stealth plane flew overhead, but this time it was walking through the tower. Front desk security sent a message to Kira that we had inbound visitors, and the hole lined up with our unexpected guests. The front desk sent up the ID’s and we had just enough time for the briefest of searches to see who was incoming.

Kira greeted them at the locked lobby door while Ana rode shotgun in Fernando’s head to escort her. There were two gentlemen at the door. The first was an old white man in an ill-fitting suit, the kind that government employees love to wear. He was Admiral James Nelson, Commander of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The other man was a diminutive light-skinned man that I will only refer to as The Jamaican. He wore a light gray suit and eschewed a tie, which had been the fashion for a few years. Fernando and Kira greeted them, but Ana immediately knew why there was a hole around the Admiral.

The Jamaican was a telepath. He was putting out a blocking field, like jamming radar. Ana could sense that he was doing a surface scan on Kira and Fernando, and immediately picked up on Kira’s latent abilities and Ana’s presence in Fernando’s mind. She sent a message to a passerby who relayed her findings to me.

Kira led the pair into my office and offered them something to drink. The Admiral accepted a coffee with artificial sweetener, but the Jamaican refused everything, even bottled water. I arrived after a couple of minutes, joined only by Megan. I excused Kira and Fernando, letting them know that I would call for them if I needed anything. Megan was dressed in a pair of jeans and a comfy beige sweater. I was in my normal attire of a tailored suit. It was Navy, which was fitting considering whom I was dealing with.

“Admiral Nelson, I haven’t seen you in ages. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I shook his hand and we sat across from each other, my desk serving as an island between us. We went through the ceremony of mindless chit-chat as I asked about his family, his job in the Pentagon and White House, the various projects he has going on that someone in my position should know about. I’ve worked with the Navy many times, and my Villa was technically a Naval base, so it was good to stay friendly with the neighbors. As the Admiral and I talked, I sensed Meg take a reading of both the Admiral and the Jamaican. She had a very hard time picking up anything more than surface thoughts from the Admiral. The Jamaican on the other hand was cold and stoic. Meg’s gentle attempts at surface scans went nowhere, and it was only when he scanned her back and she rode the wave in did she get anything of use. What she saw was enough to confirm who he really was.

The Jamaican was one of the more powerful telepaths on the hemisphere. His specialty was mind wipes and extracting information from interrogations. When he was a kid his powers manifested and his family thought he was a witch. When a voodoo doctor wanted to sacrifice him, he wiped everyone’s mind clean of his powers, but he went too far. He erased everything the witch doctor ever knew and wiped out his existence from his own parent’s minds. He wandered the streets for a while until he realized that he could scam tourists with little to know effort. He would walk up to tourists coming off of a cruise, send a suggestion for them to give him cash or a credit card, then erase that the event ever happened from their mind. One day he tried this on an officer in Naval Intelligence and his luck ran out. The officer found it fascinating how the man would easily escape from any holding cells or jails and no one seemed to remember him. Eventually the Jamaican struck a deal with the officer. If he worked for then Lieutenant Nelson in Naval Intelligence, he’d make sure he would be taken care of and always have a job and his own money. The Jamaican agreed, and soon the pair rose through the ranks, all the way to the top of the U.S. Navy. Along they way the Jamaican did… things that would cause a normal man to puke.

Megan sent me what she picked up inside his mind, and I’m absolutely certain that he saw that she sent me that message. Once again, he was cold and stoic, and once again we danced through the ceremonies of politeness until he sent a message to the Admiral.

“My associate here has informed me that he’s detected a communication between the two of you, and I think that it’s time we show our cards.” Admiral Nelson said.

“You’re here about China. You’re here about what happened in Beijing, and why so many people keep flocking here. You want to know how it happened, and whether or not we can be trusted or controlled. But most importantly, you want to know if we can help you.” I said the quiet part out loud and his satisfaction was just enough of a blip on his cold demeanor to break into his mind past the Jamaican’s protections. I only had a moment, but it was enough to leave a sliver of my consciousness behind to amplify my abilities. I could feel his reactions to my speech, how he wanted to know what he could.

“I want to know how a handful of people with… special talents were able to overthrow the Chinese government and cause so much chaos. I want to know how long you were planning this, and I want to know how long you’ve been gathering forces.” The Admiral was stern, and not used to being ignored. I could feel how he broadcasted his thoughts to the Jamaican and how he could ‘feel’ what his long time friend was thinking.

The Admiral didn’t know it, but he was a latent. A very raw and low-powered one, but a latent telepath nonetheless.

“Well Admiral…” I said, as I leaned back in my chair and looked him in his face while focusing on The Jamaican. “What would you like to know?”

“How about we start with the questions I just asked.”

“Admiral, let’s put our cards on the table. You know that people with special abilities exist. Your friend is a great example of them. You’ve known about these people for a while, and you’ve made a great career by taking advantage of this knowledge. Your background in Naval Intelligence gave you a unique opportunity to exploit that advantage. But everything that happened in China has you terrified. You want to know how far ahead the Chinese are, what were they up to when we paid them a visit. You’ve pieced together a big chunk, but still have some questions. You know who was involved, what happened, but not really the how. And you still haven’t asked the most important question. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why, Admiral, did I overthrow the Chinese government on a fucking whim? Why did I fly halfway around the world with nothing more than the clothes on my back, fly right back, and spend less time planning the logistics of a coup of the world’s second most powerful nation than most middle class families spend on their trip to Disney World?” Before the Admiral could answer, I continued. “Let’s address another important thing. You flew across the country because you felt this was important enough to meet face to face, but sensitive enough that you didn’t wear your uniform. You draw strength and comfort from your uniform and the awe it inspires. But a 4-star Admiral walking through Downtown LA will draw a ton of attention, and you can’t risk that. So why don’t you ask the question you really want the answer to.”

Admiral Nelson sat there for a moment, weighing everything I said.

“How many? How many telepaths are there?”

I nodded. “That’s a good place to start. Between 3 and 5 percent of the world’s telepath population is in this room. We’re very rare.” I dropped the facade of not being one. He knew and I knew he knew. “If you want a hard figure, there’s maybe 100, 120 worldwide. But that’s only blossomed telepaths that have discovered their powers. Rough estimates are for every telepath, there’s a thousand or ten thousand latents. They have the potential, but are missing something. If in the right situation, they can use or gain powers.” As I said that, I felt the sliver I left in the Admiral awaken. He couldn’t help but run through his memories of every time he thought he heard another’s thoughts or discovered secrets no one said aloud, and this got past the Jamaican before he could block it. “Latents like you, Admiral.”

The look of shock was brief, but undeniable. I continued before he could protest.

“Of course, you’ve always had a feeling that something was different about you. It started when you met your friend over there.” I egged him on just enough for him to run down memory lane, and I could feel the Jamaican tense up, too. “When he tried to rip you off and you stopped him, neither of you knew what to do. But when you saw him walk out of prison and no one remembered him, you knew you had to find him again. You made it your mission to find him and find out what his deal was. After finding him, you discovered his secret. He could read minds and change memories. You worked together to rise through the ranks and until recently thought he was one of, if not the only telepath around. Then, let me guess… You had a dream a few months ago.” I let the statement hang in the air for a few moments, waiting for him to answer.

“I had a series of dreams. And so did my friend. They ended with your friend’s romp through Beijing and you helping her escape torture. I came to find out that others had the same dream. Since then, well, since then I’ve felt different. I could hear my friend better than ever before.” The Admiral said, not sure what came over him to be so truthful. Of course, I knew it was the sliver of me I left in his mind.

“That explains a lot. Like why CJCS came out here instead of someone from NSA, CIA, FBI, or some other alphabet soup, and why you brought your friend. He can detect if we’re up to no good. If either of us tried to reprogram you or harm you, he’d attack us without a second thought. And he’s good at it, too. But it’s taking all of his strength and concentration to keep his shields up around you.” I threw that last part out there as a show of strength. I hadn’t cracked a sweat but the Jamaican was literally sweating in his chair. “Look, I’ll do you a favor Admiral. I promise not to reprogram you while you’re here and only read surface thoughts you project, and The Jamaican can rest up and relax. Deal?”

“Deal.” The Admiral could feel the stress his friend was under in our building and wanted to give him a break. “What do you mean-?”

“By surface scans?” Megan answered, catching him off guard. “The random thoughts everyone broadcasts without knowing. Like a feeling of romance when you saw me walk in because I reminded you of your wife when she was younger, or the feeling of shock you have right now knowing I could pick that up even through his blocking attempts.” Megan was calm and collected as she just told us how his friends efforts weren’t enough to protect him from her. To be honest, even I couldn’t get through that. She was either bluffing or just that powerful, and I know when she’s lying. She wasn’t bluffing.

“You’re the woman from the dreams, aren’t you.” The Admiral asked, and Meg simply nodded. “How much of that carnage actually happened?”

Megan shifted her stance for a moment, obviously uncomfortable. “All of it. Care to share my pain?” Before the other men could outwardly say anything, she sent both of them her memories of the whole ordeal. The Admiral was shocked, and the Jamaican’s cold demeanor broke for a moment.

“That was…”

“Intense.” The Jamaican spoke for the first time. As soon as he spoke, he closed his mouth and stayed silent.

Everyone in the room gave the Jamaican a look. We weren’t expecting it. Then the Admiral turned back to me.

“How many of you are in positions of power?”

I almost wasn’t expecting the question, but I think I got where he was coming from. “Here’s my view on that Admiral. I used my talents to help myself and those around me. I took advantage of a gift to make a fortune and a half, and the effort was very little. If you’re a telepath and not wealthy, you’re doing it wrong. My friend here made her first million last month and is on her way to 10 million by March. I made my first billion in the tech industry in the 90’s and aughts by listening to the right people at the right time. It’s not for everyone, but I think it’s a valuable first step. But it’s also not sustainable if thousands or even millions of us arise.”

As I talked about gaining wealth, I could feel the room shift. The Admiral’s main reason for coming here finally bubbled to the surface.

The Charlatan. Once again, not his real name. A billionaire who had a near cult-like following who was dancing in the halls of power. He’d created his fortune in tech but branched out to many other ventures that would’ve collapsed without his cult. He was a walking meme factory, but so many people ate his shit up. He claimed to find religion and combined that with his tech but was just another grift.

“That’s part of why we’re here. The Charlatan is too close to our interests and needs to be taken down a peg or two. We’ve tried other ways of getting close to him, but he turns them against us. We’ve lost great agents to his agenda.”

“What kind of solution are you looking for? You want something humiliating or more permanent?” I asked the Admiral.

“And what do we get out of this?” Meg queried. She was already formulating plans when the Admiral responded.

“Nothing that can be tied back to us, and we’d prefer compliance to elimination if possible. And let’s just say you’ll have free reign to do what you’re doing here, as long as it doesn’t hurt this country.”

Meg and I both did a surface scan of the Admiral. He was telling the truth. The sliver of me verified it as well.

“Well Admiral, it sounds like we have ourselves a deal.” I stood up and extended my hand to shake his. He did the same. I used this ceremony of politeness to retrieve my sliver without the Jamaican seeing it.

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It took some doing, but I was able to get face to face with the Charlatan at a meeting of the rich and powerful. I normally avoid these meetings unless I need investments or feel like fucking with them. My reputation proceeds me as rather aloof and reserved at these meetings. Of course it doesn’t help that when I come around, weird things happen. Most of the talk is just them trying to brag about who’s vanity project is doing better. I try to avoid these kinds of chats. Let me be honest, I don’t feel comfortable in these gatherings. Too many psychopaths give me a bad vibe, and listening to one rich old white man brag about how his futbol team won a championship or how his newest wife was a lingerie model and biochem laureate or how their rocket went higher than the other guy gets boring.
I arrived with my small entourage of Megan, Kira, Fernando, and Ana. Megan and Kira were dressed in smart dark business suits. Kira could still fit the skinny suit, though she was a couple months pregnant. Yeah, that happened. Still didn’t stop the fucking, though. 🙂 Ana rode inside of Kira’s mind until we showed up. We made the rounds with the various billionaires, celebrities, beautiful people and their hangers-on. More than a few came up to me trying to angle themselves into a movie role or record deal or something.

Something I wasn’t surprised about was that we weren’t the only teeps in the building. I already knew about the Charlatan, but two others popped up on the radar. One was a young man hanging around with a group representing a major hedge fund whom I’ll call The Analyst, and the other was an older woman whom I’ll call The Widow. She was a white woman who had a habit of marrying rich and her husbands dying of natural causes, but each of them were legit things like heart attacks or strokes. She was busy flirting with some Brit that wouldn’t shut up about his Premier League team. We left them alone for most of the night, giving them their space to work.

I found The Charlatan in one of the back rooms partaking in booze, drugs, and women. He was distracted so I felt it was safe to do a surface scan before a deep dive. His aura was different, like a funky shade of purple. Meg hadn’t seen this one before and was caught off-guard a little. This is when Ana noticed something.

He was an Empath, not a Telepath. And psychically deaf to boot.

Ok, let me explain. I’ve mentioned Telepaths and Latents many times, but haven’t talked Empaths yet. An Empath can’t read or hear individual thoughts but can pick up and influence emotions. They’re can detect a person lying, but can’t say what the lie is. They can project how they feel and make others feel the same, but can’t implant specific thoughts. He can’t tell a woman to find him sexy, but he can project horny vibes across the room. As far as psychically deaf, he can’t hear shit. He’s either so self-centered that he doesn’t care to hear others, or is so broken he can’t. Considering everything we know about The Charlatan, my money’s on the former.

I joined The Charlatan in the Blue Room where he and a couple other rich guys were doing designer drugs while fooling around with Victoria Secret’s models. I sat down on the opposite side of the same couch as him while he snorted something off of a model’s tits. I drank a glass of champagne while a gorgeous black woman crawled up onto my lap and nibbled on my ear. It didn’t take long for that to escalate to some grinding and fucking. Not gonna lie, the horny vibes were getting to me too, and it’s been a few months since I fucked a VS model.

Ana used the horny vibes to sneak into The Charlatan’s mind while his guard was down. What she found disgusted her. He had legitimate plans for taking over the world and was already planning out several genocides against his enemies by channeling his cult to foment revolution. To him, everyone else was just a pawn in his game. He wasn’t happy with being rich and powerful, he wanted to be a god. She planted a suggestion that he wanted to get to know me better and be friends with me, as well as walk off with several of his secrets that came to the surface. She kept a sliver of herself in his mind and left, coming to me via the VS models.

The Charlatan chatted me up in the post-nut relaxation and I played it slightly aloof. He talked about his upcoming plans, how he was visiting so many places and seeing so many faces, all the usual braggadocios bullshit that these types love to do. I talked to him about the movie business, the tech world, sailing on my yacht for fun, visiting places like Beijing and being an instrument for change. While he was talking, I felt his aura try to wash over me. I have to admit, it was very hard to ignore his charms. I decided it was time to make a plan. Ana was still in my mind so she knew what I was thinking and planning.

I proposed meeting up with The Charlatan sometime soon. Ana knew about his predilection for beautiful women and overpowering them, so I put this to my advantage. I offered to take him on a trip to Australia with a few women of his desire. He wanted to take his jet, but I convinced him that mine was better for this. He was more popular than I was, and multiple bloggers tracked his every move. I stayed under the radar. He’d fly with me in my party plane, have a good time, then we’d live it up in Sydney. He was sold after a little nudging from Ana’s sliver and we exchanged contact info for a date that next weekend.

Before we left the party, I sent a message to The Widow and The Analyst, asking them to meet me on the balcony. It didn’t take long for them to arrive, and they were both shook when they saw me standing there with Megan, Kira, and Fernando. The Widow was first to arrive, having just excused herself from the pompous posh twat she was stuck listening to. I greeted her without saying a word, and asked to wait for the other to arrive. The Analyst was next, looking very concerned. He did an active ping when he approached. The Widow cringed for a moment while simply nodded and sent him a ‘confirmed’ message. I sent a quick message to both of them.

‘You are not alone. We are in this together. Your secret is safe with me.’ I then sent them my address in L.A. and told them to stop by next time they’re in town. The Analyst was shocked and blasted us with hundreds of questions in seconds. The Widow was overwhelmed and wanted to run, but Megan caught her and calmed her down. Guilt spread from her as she couldn’t help but broadcast to us how she killed her last three husbands with a little TK and took their fortunes. I smiled, letting her know that we’re not here to judge. It was then that they recognized Meg and I from the dreams. We had a brief conversation about what was happening and how the world would soon know about our existence and how we can prepare ourselves. The Analyst shared plans he had for taking over the hedge fund he ran and how he used that to influence the world view in our favor when the time came. I encouraged The Widow to strike up conversations with The Charlatan’s brother, as he may soon come into a very large fortune. She caught my meaning and we planned to meet in L.A. in two weeks. Almost all of this was done mentally, with only mindless chit-chat taking place between us. The only thing more suspicious than three people planning crazy shit is three people standing around not saying anything. That just looks weird.

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The weekend came quicker than expected. We met at my private airport outside of my Bombardier Global 7500. The Charlatan arrived with his small entourage of security personnel, his assistants, and his brother. 6 people in total. I arrived with myself, Meg, Fernando, Kira with Ana riding shotgun, Candace, Sabrina, Tate, and the flight crew. Aside from the 2 pilots, the crew were 6 women that I was very familiar with. The flight attendants were Veronica Kilshire and her stepsister Taryn, Doris and Claire, and the twins Izzy and Elle Starlight. Meg decided to bring her harem with us since the main reason The Charlatan wanted to come on this trip was for a 16 hour orgy, and Meg wants some fun, too. The other women were guests that might’ve had a clue what was up, but they weren’t passing up a chance to get close to some billionaires. Candace was a VS model, Sabrina was an actress turned musician who was the hot flavor of the summer, and Tate was an up and coming musical artist from Canada with a set of legs that could start wars.

The Charlatan and his brother were a little confused by the amount of crew, until it became obvious why they were there. It took less than a half hour after taking off before The Charlatan had his hand up Taryn’s skirt and his brother was throatfucking the gymnast Veronica. The rest of us got into the act and I decided to get to know Sabrina while Meg was seeing how far Tate’s legs went. By the time we were two hours into the flight, everyone was into it whether they liked it or not. The Charlatan was doing his best to fuck every woman on the flight, but Kira and Meg weren’t letting him near. His security and assistants let their guards down once they saw that no one was armed and enjoyed themselves to their hearts content. Not gonna lie, tag teaming Sabrina Carpenter while getting a rim job from Tate McRae definitely made my day.

I don’t know what The Charlatan does before getting on a flight, but it took until we were 12 hours into the flight before he finally tired enough to take any suggestions of sleeping. That man lived to feed his ego, and nothing does that like fucking hot chicks. He finally passed out four hours from touchdown with the twins in bed with him. Once he was out, I entered his mind to root around in his memories and dreams while he was unconscious. I found his source of power and had to decide what to do with it. I seriously contemplated killing him right then and there, but that would be a little too obvious. Instead, I did something more insidious.

I gave him a stroke.

I ripped his speech center to shreds, making him permanently aphasiac. He couldn’t understand what others said, and they couldn’t understand what he said. Since his empathic power rests in his power of speech and language center, if he couldn’t speak he couldn’t impress his thoughts onto others. Just to be an extra bit of a dick, I planted a couple mental blocks that would keep him from ever using his abilities again, and a trigger to be used later on.

The next couple hours on the flight were pretty quiet. Most everyone was exhausted, but that didn’t stop everyone. Meg was enjoying her first time fucking a Victoria Secret’s model and modifying her personality to be open to her advances in the future. Ana was having fun inside of Sabrina riding my cock for the third time that night. The Charlatan’s brother spent half the night fucking Veronica and her stepsister Taryn, and Kira was just tired. Kira only wanted to sleep with me, which I obliged once or twice, though she was a little upset about sharing me.

I slept lightly until we were about a half hour out. That’s when the shit hit the fan.

Our first clue that something was wrong was when Izzy and Elle felt weird when they woke up, like there was a bad vibe in the room. I knew this was because he wasn’t projecting how amazing he was. When they tried to get him up, they couldn’t understand what he said. He was speaking gibberish. Nobody could understand him. His security was in the room in seconds flat. They were trying to get him to tell him what happened, but no one could understand him, and he was freaking out as well. They helped get him dressed, and demanded that we land as soon as possible. We were 20 minutes from Sydney so I asked the pilots to phone ahead for an ambulance to meet us on the tarmac.

We landed and the mood on the plane was somber. Meg, Ana, and I went through everyone else’s minds about what happened so far that morning. I also gave Candace, Tate, and Sabrina a little nudge to not talk about this to anyone. We’ve already programmed Meg’s girls, so there wasn’t any work needed there.

The Charlatan’s guards walked him down the stairs, but he pushed them away. He would regret that for the rest of his life. He was ten feet up in the air when I activated the trigger. A blood vessel ruptured in his brain, causing his entire right side to collapse. He lost his balance and flopped over the side of the case, landing awkwardly on the ground and cracking his skull off of the pavement. The medics were on site right away, doing everything they could for him. They loaded him into an ambulance, only his assistant was allowed to follow. Well, Ana too. She hitched a ride inside of The Charlatan’s assistant to keep us in the loop until we got there.

After making sure our celebrity friends left the scene unseen, Kira got us transport to the hotel then to the hospital. It didn’t take long for the world to find out that The Charlatan had a pretty bad stroke and was temporarily paralyzed. When he fell, he broke one of his vertebrae, severing his spinal cord and turning him into a quadriplegic. He was trapped in his body, unable to communicate or move. He had all the money in the world to try a bunch of crazy solutions, but his injuries were too severe. It took about a week before he succumbed to his injuries. He developed an infection which gave him pneumonia. Since he couldn’t cough it out, he choked in his own lungs. As tempting as it was to let him know it was me that did this, I thought better and let him have his peace.

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Admiral Nelson was pissed about how I handled the situation. “I said compliant, not a vegetable.” I let him have his anger in my office for a bit.

“That was the original plan, but we found out more about him and his aspirations. Long story short, he was planning on turning himself into a god-like king, and our government was just a means to an end. I gave him a night of pure bliss before a week of Hell. That’s more than he deserved.” I said to the Admiral as I drank a coffee.

He was pretty pissed, but admitted that I did the right thing. I didn’t push this thought to him, and neither did Meg. The Jamaican gave him a slight nudge, which both men admitted to. The Admiral didn’t want to admit that I was right while he was mad. That’s just how stubborn some men can be.

I held up my end of the bargain, and he held up his, at least in the short term. We were off of the U.S. Government’s radar and had free reign to continue our mission and experiments, and they would leave us alone as long as nothing too crazy happened. If it did, he’d stop by for a visit. It took a few months for something crazy to happen, but that’s a different story.

As far as The Analyst and The Widow go, they’re stories intertwine with mine more over the years. The Analyst soon became obscenely wealthy and used the bulk of his fortune to fund humanitarian operations under the pretense of helping the less fortunate but really funded our rise over the next century. The next time I saw The Charlatan’s brother, he was attached to the hip to The Widow. He was dead within 2 years, and she was a lot richer. She joined the cause as well, and we soon became fast friends. One regret I would have over the years was teaching her how to change bodies, but like I said that’s a story for another time.