On Secret Societies

Walter Mayer.

I rushed home around a quarter to four. What? Why did I decide to arrange a meeting with unfamiliar and dangerous creatures at home? Well, I didn't actually decide - in my apartment, I only needed a "conduit" - a puppet with empty brains where I would be uploading the necessary information, and then "distributing" it to my guests.

The actual assembly would take place in the conference room of a hotel. By this time, Federico should have ensured that there were no unexpected devices present. The hotel certainly valued its reputation, but you never know... Once again, I realized the value of having an old count - surviving three hundred years through various alterations and conflicts.

I was really lucky that in the fray with Morbius, he had long lost his taste for life and was, in fact, attempting suicide. Alright, the puppet is packed, the costume is on me, and it's time to take on the appearance of a Nazgul and head out. I passed through the conference room invisibly. Federico had already finished inspecting the room and was now sitting in a chair, occasionally glancing at his watch.

"Everything is fine, my lord. The room does not contain any listening devices."

"Thank you, Count. And how are our friends doing?"

"They should be here any minute now."

"Very well, then I suppose we should take our seats," I walked to the central seat, gesturing to the count to take the chair to the right of me.

As soon as we were seated, the doors of the room swung open, and seven more beings entered. Hm, it seemed that the count did indeed travel half the world to gather these Children of the Night - there were both Europeans and Asians present, and even a Latin American girl. A complete set (except for Indians and Africans, but given the count's age, that's not surprising).

The newcomers gracefully took their places, showing no visible interest in my person, but their emotional aura emitted curiosity and a kind of anticipation. Well, it seems it's time to begin.

"I am pleased to welcome the distinguished audience. I thank you for responding to my invitation and arriving so promptly. Has my proposal intrigued you?" The question was purely formal; if it hadn't, they wouldn't be sitting here. But a conversation had to start somewhere.

"We must admit, Herr Mayer, that your proposal is quite... intriguing. However, the price is high. Oh yes, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself, Manfred von Delwig. I have the honor of speaking on behalf of all those present here," the blond man with an athletic build, looking around 35-40 years old, introduced himself.

He spoke English quite fluently, but his German roots were revealed by his pronunciation and a certain sharpness in his speech. A true Aryan. I wonder if he was selected as the most authoritative among the attendees, or perhaps with the expectation that I would be more favorable to a "fellow countryman"?

"In our world, everything comes at a cost, especially for new opportunities. I offer you the sun, freedom from Thirst, and," I paused briefly, "the opportunity to evolve further. On your part, I will demand a vassal oath. I do not need slaves or mindless servants - creating those is an easy task.

I require reliable and loyal people whom I can fully trust. That's why a regular alliance treaty won't do - alliances have a tendency to break apart. At the same time, a vassal oath imposes certain obligations on both sides."

The German man nodded reluctantly; the arguments were quite understandable and logical. However, he wasn't planning on giving in so easily.

"But serving for the remainder of eternity..."

"No worse than aimlessly ending that very remainder. Though, I'm not insisting on anything, and I'm not holding anyone here against their will," I quietly monitored the emotions of those around me. Hm... still interest and slight approval. It seems I'm on the right track.

"Alright, let's assume, just assume, we agree to these terms. What exactly will be required of us?" Now a truly serious conversation was beginning.

"I need an extensive network of informants and operational cells capable of adequately responding to changes in the world. Controlling all events on the planet alone is... quite challenging. Therefore, I will need people capable of making independent decisions, whom I can trust sufficiently and not have to watch their every step."

"So, your goal is world domination? Many have tried, but they've all failed. Why should we believe it will work for you?"

"I am not 'many,' and I have quite a few capabilities. Besides, I have no intention of ruling the world - it's enough to timely adjust key events and steer people in the right direction. This is an interesting world, I've enjoyed it here, and I have no desire to witness its downfall in the coming years." Ah, now people were becoming more cautious. I can feel their directed attention towards me.

"Do you have proof of that?" The question that everyone here had gathered for.

"Yes, but I understand you won't take my word for it. So... see for yourselves!" I transmit a portion of Kimura's memories through the puppet. A list of targets - several politicians and businessmen opposing mutants. The method of elimination - in crowded places, utilizing mutant abilities. Some of my thoughts on provocation. That should be enough for now.

The vampires gradually regained their composure. Their emotions carried a certain bewilderment and a hint of fear directed towards me. Hm, I understand; the sensations from directly transmitting even a small package of information to the brain must be quite... specific. Ah, but I didn't expect such a wave of interest and a mixed emotional cocktail from the petite Asian woman. Quite surprising.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg. However, this won't be enough for evidence, and you might think all of this is a clever trick. Therefore, I suggest you verify the truth of my information yourselves. I believe with your abilities, finding something interesting about Colonel Stryker and the project codenamed 'Sentinel' shouldn't be too difficult," I allow myself a slight grin.

These vampires are quite intelligent; I assume they also grasp the second layer of meaning in my statement. (After all, I must make sure they will indeed be beneficial. Well, from their informants at least.) "I suppose we can part ways here for now. You can contact me through Mr. Federico de Valderrama. Now, I shouldn't detain you any longer. Good night, ladies and gentlemen."

I rise from my seat. Almost instinctively, everyone else rises as well. Seems that the memory transmission trick has impressed them. Alright, now for the final touch. I head towards a separate exit.

The room was designed for bilateral negotiations, so there were two entrances. Slowly "dissolving" in the air, it would have been even better to just disappear or teleport, but vampires could potentially sense something when close by. Unfortunately, I don't possess teleportation abilities... yet.

Home, sweet home. I returned closer to seven in the morning (Let the Puppet trot its own way; I've given the corresponding command). Laura was already going through her intense warm-up routine in her new field uniform, purchased at that very military equipment store. Zinaida Prokopievna was busy preparing something delicious in the kitchen. Well, yes, I did ask her not to show up for just two days, and here she was, back to her duties, a punctual pensioner.

"Walter, you're back!" The little one waved at me cheerfully from yet another cleverly contorted pose (seriously, it seems like she doesn't have any bones in her body), "Aunt Zina said breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes. She's funny – she called me a 'skinny,' and promised to fatten me up well," poor girl, she doesn't yet realize just how deep she hit.

"Oh, so you've already met Zinaida Prokopievna? Be careful, or before you know it, you'll be fattened up to the size of a small elephant. As for where I've been," I pause for a moment and respond with a characteristic half-smile reminiscent of an anime character, "that's a secret." Oh, the expression on her face, it's a pity there's no camera at hand right now.

"And by the way, young lady, what kind of show did you put on for Miss Hardy? No complaints about the key points, but the professionalism in the choice of equipment, for an ordinary child... well, now I'll have to come up with something for Felicia, and it has to sound convincing, very convincing," I sigh heavily, "pay no attention; I seem to have gotten carried away."

"But why make something up? Why don't you want to tell her the truth, if she's your friend?" How to explain simple things to a young girl, practically raised from birth to become an assassin, who knows nothing about the intricacies of human relationships?

"You see, my dear, adult relationships are much more complicated than they seem at first glance. Mmm, I'm simply not ready to share certain details about myself with her right now. Maybe later, when I can find the right words, or if something extraordinary happens. Alright, don't worry about it. I'll come up with something, and for now, off to the shower and then breakfast!"

I can't resist the pleasure of ruffling her hair again. Man, what a delight – her hair, which at first glance seems quite stiff and unruly, is actually very soft and silky. And considering her athletic figure and cute face, in about five years, I'll have to shoo away suitors from the yard (and who knows what kind of suitors they'll be, and what kind of suit I'll need to prepare for them, perhaps even an adamantium one).

Alright, problems can wait, but breakfast won't. So, forward to storm the kitchen!

Professor Charles Xavier. Evening smoothly transitioning into night.

The headmaster of the school for gifted children couldn't fall asleep. Various thoughts, plans, and doubts swirled constantly in his mind. After the incident with Landon, Charles had tried to learn everything possible about this "Nazgul," as he called himself. The information he found wasn't encouraging – appearing out of nowhere, his motives also left many questions – what does he want? Why did he intervene, and what are his further plans?

His overall style, the nickname information taken from the writings of one Tolkien, and the aura of hatred towards all living things that Charles sensed around him... oh, clearly not a positive character. On the other hand, he saved Anna, without any apparent reason. Did he simply take pity? Xavier rolled his eyes, yeah, he took pity – with such a thirst for death – saved him from that death... strange, very strange.

And Nazgul's abilities were impressive – psychic and physical power, flight, something else he used to casually knock Landon out, and the ability to bestow powers on others. If this isn't Omega-level, then he'd definitely be a candidate for it. A formidable opponent, no discounts. Charles accurately assessed his own abilities – he was an Alpha, strong, but still an Alpha, and his chances in open confrontation could only be if his opponent didn't really know how to use his abilities, which... seemed unlikely.

But still, why Rogue? Such beings rarely do anything just because, maybe he knows something about her that Charles doesn't? The telepath looked at the emotions of the girl – though her obsession with Nazgul had subsided, her feminine interest and deep sympathy remained.

She used to have similar thoughts about Logan, but now her priorities had clearly shifted. And what to do now? Subtle persuasion and guiding her emotions didn't yield much – instead of the fervent desire to join the team (and with Anna's newfound abilities, she could easily become part of it, perhaps even as the main striking force), she had doubts. As a result, she asked for time to think.

Was that also Nazgul's doing? And could he apply a more powerful influence? Logan could sense something, after all. Anna was his student, and he's capable of noticing even slight changes in behavior resulting from external influence, which could lead to undesirable consequences.

The invalid wearily closed his eyes. How complicated everything had become. In his youth, things were simpler, or is he just tired? He was tormented by a sense of guilt for essentially using children as cannon fodder – there was simply no choice. To save thousands of mutants around the world, a few dozen had to bear the heavy burden.

They needed to show people that mutants were useful, otherwise, they would be annihilated. It was unfortunate that children had to be used this way. But there was no alternative. There are too few adult mutants now, and they've already found their place in life. It's good if they're simply disinterested, but often it's those who are the most dismissive of ordinary people, living without regard for consequences, which in turn doesn't improve the already unfavorable attitude towards mutants.

Meanwhile, the younger generation far outnumbers the older generation, and in the future, they will be even more numerous. If the unleashed power has no one to restrain and control it, the consequences can be horrendous.

"Sigh, Erik, what has become of us? How did it come to this?" The old man sadly addressed the darkness of the night, where his best friend was likely plotting yet another intimidation scheme.

But Professor Xavier wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep that night.

Felicia Hardy. Night.

The girl paced nervously around the room, thoughtfully biting her thumbnail – a habit she developed back in childhood. What had she gotten herself into this time? Walter... the mysterious guy with a bunch of secrets and mysteries, the one who had captured her heart. Just when Felicia thought she had somewhat figured him out, a new mystery would appear, even more interesting than the previous one... and darker.

Before, she considered him a regular student, with his own quirks (but who doesn't have them?), a peculiar sense of humor, but still just a nice guy. And then the whole story with Michael happened – and suddenly an ordinary student had unusual acquaintances – vampire hunters who, by a strange twist of fate, happened to be in New York and at the right time. Gods, the girl hadn't even believed in the existence of vampires until that moment.

Although Walter had managed to talk his way out – his version of events was quite logical and coherent, and she didn't sense any deception... And then that shadowy figure disappeared for a few days, only to return to the city with a sweet girl in his arms. Felicia thought of Laura and involuntarily smiled.

Yes, she was a really sweet girl... except for her movements – they were similar to those of some familiar people, people who had spent decades working in various military or government structures. The same fluidity of movement and a certain... hmm... predator's grace, perhaps? And her militaristic tendencies along with her genuine incomprehension – why would an 11-year-old girl need dolls and toys... what had they done to her?

And then Walter reappeared with yet another acquaintance – this time, a mercenary who "cleared out" some place where they were presumably holding a little girl against her will, and then handed her over to Mayer. In light of these events, the guy's eternal joke about world domination doesn't seem like much of a joke anymore.

The girl nervously chuckled and squeezed her stuffed cat, recently given to her by her boyfriend. It seems that both she and her mother are destined to fall in love with rather... specific people. Recently, the older woman in the Hardy family confessed to her daughter – her father, a well-respected businessman, was once known more as "The Cat" – a high-class thief, and now he's somewhere unknown for the simple reason that in his youth, he managed to find out something he shouldn't have.

Mhm, with my luck, Walter might end up as the head of assassins or some kind of mercenaries, the girl thought indifferently. Should I try to get him to come clean? And do I even have the right to? After all, as it turned out, I also have a few well-fed skeletons in the closet...

The girl leaned her forehead against the cool window glass. Night reigned outside, but the city showed no signs of sleeping – on the contrary, it looked much more alive and vibrant than during the day.

"Who are you really, Walter Mayer... I'll wait until you decide to answer. But please, don't make me wait too long."

Walter Mayer.

Omelette for breakfast, huh... not bad, not bad, if only the portion were about three times smaller – then it would be just right. Laura stared in horror at the meager pile of food that the kind-hearted pensioner had dumped onto her plate.

Heh, I did warn her. I give a cheerful smile and wink at the girl, and in her look, I can clearly read, "Et tu, Brute?" But it seems she's been taught to treat food responsibly – the little one managed to devour everything that was on her plate, which greatly delighted the old woman, who immediately offered more to the dear child. The "dear child" made a horrified attempt to crawl away from the table, which he managed to do with some effort.

As for me, I settled for a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. Oh, don't forget to call Federico after breakfast and ask him to help with the guardianship documents. Alright, let's see what they're writing here. Hm – nonsense, nonsense, I'm not interested in oil prices either. And then I nearly choked. The article may not have been on the front page, but it was quite intriguing, at least for me.

Just judge for yourself – one headline alone is quite something – "Victor von Doom – Bankrupt?" Journalists were reporting on the dire financial situation of the magnate. For the past few years, the man had been plagued by constant failures – one project after another ended in disaster, even the latest one, seemingly destined for success, an experiment involving cosmic rays via an orbital station, ended quite disastrously, and Victor, honestly speaking, found himself in a deep... um... potential pit.

Victor von Doom, I almost forgot about him... an outstanding scientist and magnate, not Stark-level of course, but still quite impressive. A steel man, in every sense – to build his own empire from scratch by the age of thirty, and not some café but a powerful military-industrial complex, while simultaneously conducting research in chemistry, physics, cybernetics, and who knows what else – you have to be a genius.

Moreover, as far as I remember, this individual, despite all the bugs in his head, ALWAYS kept his word. And as a character, I really liked him. And now, he's not just a character, he's a real person who's found himself in a not-so-great situation. They've been to the space station already, which means the Fantastic Four will soon make their presence known... damn, as if New York didn't have enough with just Spider-Man (Well, from a crime-fighting perspective – there's really not enough of him) and Victor might face major problems.

Although... he's simply short on money, and I have a stash of nearly one and a half hundred million dollars lying dead weight, and I doubt he wants to remain as the Steel Man – no beauty, and you can't even have a conversation with the opposite sex, in short – it's boring. So why not help a good person? Especially since his production capabilities could be extremely useful in the future?

But how do I involve him in my little club? Or rather, in what capacity? Hm, ideally – I'd like to acquire another vassal, but the role of a junior partner also looks quite appealing for Mr. von Doom. Yes, that's probably what I should do – the only thing left is to convince Victor himself. Oh, how difficult that is, and how all the other Dark Lords have always managed to find assistants and followers so easily?

Well, enough daydreaming about a free ride, there's simply no such thing in life, you have to work. And first and foremost, I'm concerned about the fate of my adoptive daughter. Taking a deep sigh, I dialed the count's number.