1 Prologue

American Representative, 23-year old Xavier Morales, had a headache.

Taller than average with warm beige skin, he looked at the men and women in front of him who had grim faces. They were all staring at the message in front of them with unwilling eyes. Taking another glance at the corresponding data, Morales looked around the table, exhaled, and said, "Well then ladies and gentlemen, what propositions do we have on the table?"

"This will cause worldwide devastation if we can't fight against it," Assistant Grover, a tall, handsome, 22-year-old Italian with a medium-olive complexion, added. "They've only given us 40 years to prepare. The question is, what are we going to do? What measures can we put in place?"

One of the men, Andrew Jackson, a young Australian with warm ivory-tanned skin, spoke, "We need to raise elites, fighters, strategizers, and, most importantly, those with innovative ideas who can create something new, powerful, and unmatched in this century."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"An academy."

"An academy?" Morales raised a brow "What for? I don't think we can task a bunch of schoolchildren with such a project."

"Young minds are more capable and flexible than our fully developed brains. We can push them to think outside of the box and more creatively than we can." Jackson says animatedly. "If we give them the resources and proper supervision, just think of all the amazing things that can be created and improved. And of course, we wouldn't be telling them all this right away but once they reach the age of 18 and hence would be considered adults, it wouldn't be too difficult to have them placed in various government agencies old and new to more proactively take a role in the fight."

"I see." Morales nods his head. "I like this idea. The only thing is, how do we hide this from the public, what kind of ruse do we come up with? I hardly think that the parents of these children would just happily give their children up to be child soldiers."

"Now let's not paint in it such a light, Xavier," Jackson admonished. "Since we are planning to put them in very real government positions, I don't see the harm in just calling it a school for exceptionally gifted of sorts. Needless to say, we're not just asking for brains but even the most outlandish child could be of use when we pick their brains."

"Picking brains? You sound worse than I do now!" Morales says with a laugh.

"Boys, I believe that's quite enough of that," chastises a stern but amused looking Moira Walters, her British accent prominent. Leaning forward towards the table to gain the focus of the table and, clasping her hands together, Walters suggests, "Why don't we make up an aptitude test of sorts? Something that can show us the quirks and tendencies that would best help this institution of yours grow, while also being pillars of support in the various governments and associations. And why stop strictly at the government? We're going to need a lot of fingers in a lot of pies so we should train these students to be the best at whatever they aspire to be. Whether it is government-related, the arts, literature, or even archaeology. I suspect we will need experts in every field when this disaster comes upon us."

"That's true," another voice pipes up, "and when you think of the advantages, we'll have the best pilots, surgeons, or heck even pop singers ready at our beck and call willing to put their alumnus above all others. Naturally, we cannot abuse the trust that they will put in us, but we can have leaders ready at any moment for all the different people to be represented and have someone they trustingly listen to."

"That sounds like a good idea of a motto 'Loyal to Family First Before All' translated into Latin and there! A super posh school everybody can't wait to attend." quips Morales with a childish grin.

"Yes, but what about the costs? If we want to test all available children, we can't put a price on attending otherwise we lose bright minds to poverty," remarks Walters, "not to mention stationery and supplies they may need to go along with whatever classes they are taking." The conversation falters as those sitting around the table began thinking about how to budget and finance their new project.

"Well, we can't point-blank use government budget only, even with the multiple government influences we have between all of us." contemplates Jackson. "All of us are millionaires in our own right so we can donate some of it towards the funding."

"And, if we pull the right strings we can get some billionaires on board with us. They could use the extra minds for their companies and once more we have fingers in every pie. Heck, maybe some kids could inherit the fortunes from the childless ones." quips Oliver Wilson, a freckled, red-headed 18-year-old junior assistant to Morales, "I'll bet that there are plenty of rich parents who'd like their kids to become super successful and would happily donate millions of dollars for the comfort of their darling children." Walters puts her face into her hands and groans.

"Great, now we have bribes to worry about. The extra training against bribery to worry about, we can't have parents trying to sneak in unqualified children or trying to hush misconduct," Assistant Grover pipes up at this moment who had been silently listening since he spoke earlier.

"I think we don't have all that much to worry about," despite the dubious looks thrown at him he clears his throat and continues, "Although there are a few weak-minded individuals, we can pick the more firm ones to start with and if necessary replace the ones who don't fit well." He sits up straighter in his chair, and firmly looks each member in the eye, "we can make this into an unbreakable, unbeatable, and impenetrable organization if we play our cards right and give no room or reason for doubt in the leaders that are here in this room right now and the ones to come in the future. Because no matter what, we shall remain victorious."