Far away, in the grand and great yet grim Saiserist Palace in Hobrazia, Chairman Invil Prastnikov sat fidgeting at his desk. Time had dragged the matter on far too long, it was time to put a stop to it, but it would not be easy. At last Andre Dimitriez, one of the few members of the Inner League Prastnikov felt he could trust, cautiously entered the room and clicked the door shut. Chairman Prastnikov had ensured himself earlier a thirty-minute window wherein the cameras and microphones in his office would be switched off. No record of this meeting could exist, anywhere. Turning to Dimitriez, Prastnikov asked very nonchalantly, "Do you know why I called you in here?"
"No," was the quiet, creepy little man's reply. "But I can guess."
Prastnikov lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, it helped relieve his stress so much. "This business concerning Saiser Rodion has dragged on too long. He's been incarcerated so long he's utterly politically isolated, of little more than symbolic significance. Even if he were to escape today he would never fully realize again that unparalleled power a Saiser must possess. As it stands, he's liable to stay in his jail cell for all eternity, steadfastly making himself my ultimate political roadblock. So long as he draws breath, there can be no other Saiser."
"This is very dangerous territory you're wandering into," the little man countered, taking a cigarette offered by Prastnikov.
"No alternative exists if we truly wish to ensure our ascendancy. Irregardless, you have just become an accomplice to my crime, so I expect you to stick with me. The simple fact of the matter is that Saiser Rodion must die, and he must die soon. However, this solution, and it is the only solution, is not easily executable. We require a man competent enough to slay the Saiser in conditions of extreme security, a man smart enough not to get caught, and above all will never, ever be traced back to us. My attention has been brought to one who might be just such a man, but he is exceptionally difficult to find."
"Palinbal, you mean," Dimitriez contemptuously threw his cigarette down to the ground and put it out with the heel of his boot. "Forget it. Nobody finds Lucter. Nobody who lives, at least. You're better off chasing fairies. You don't need Lucter, hire some contrac-"
"No!" Prastnikov slammed his fist down on the table, cutting Dimitriez off. "I will not risk, at all, some fool off the common market who will without doubt ultimately be traced directly back to our door. To truly be secure, we need someone who plies his trade for far more than money. Everything you've said about Lucter is absolutely true. That's why-" Prastnikov tossed a sheaf of documents into Dimitriez's hands, "I'm handing the problem over to you. You're going to find this Palinbal Lucter, you will get in touch with him, and you will persuade him to do this 'favor' for me."
"Utterly impossible," Dimitriez blubbered. "Nobody, nobody, knows where he is, and would not tell us if they did. He knows more languages than everyone in the League put together, and is far too smart to show up on any domestic intelligence's radar screen. Not to mention, he doesn't take very kindly to us, he doesn't like us. I highly doubt he'd consent to a 'favor'. You're telling me to make contact with a ghost."
"Yes, and make that contact very soon," Prastnikov blew a great puff of smoke directly in Dimitriez's face. "I don't care what you have to do. Narrow it down as far as you can. Find the continent, find the hemisphere. If you have to knock on every door in the northern hemisphere, that is precisely what you will do. You will find a way to get in touch with this man, and you will get him to destroy this obstacle in my way. He's not likely to respond to our threats, let him know that if he carries this through he will have the debt of the Saiser, and by extension the League and all our resources. A few political differences have never stood in the way of the League before, and I'm sure that Lucter won't let our abstemious and austere policies conflict with this affair. If he ever requires anything at all, money, asylum, some young girls for whatever purposes he wishes, anything it is in my power to give him, Saiser Invil will grant it. I will place no restrictions on how you go about finding this man, as long as you stay below the radar of the press and the attention of the League proper. Though, if I know this man's mind as well as I think I do," he gently tapped one of the newspapers on his desk reporting the latest Lucter slaying, "he'll end up contacting you."
Invil Prastnikov turned to stare outside the great window that dominated the back of his office. Suddenly an image from one of Lucter's crime sites flashed through his mind, and Prastnikov gave a visible shudder.
"Something wrong, sir?" Dimitriez inquired.
"Dimitriez," Prastnikov said slowly, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "I have been in the Saiserist League for a very long time. I worked my way up from the very bottom. I've crushed little black girls' skulls with my bare hands. I once was entrusted with the responsibility of slicing off every major part of a man, his hands, his ears, his eyes and his tongue, his manhood itself, and ensuring all the while he stayed alive throughout the whole procedure because it so pleased the Saiser. I enjoyed it. I've ordered entire villages crucified, disemboweled and burnt, as lessons in proper obedience to the State. I have done all that and more, and I reveled in each and every second of it. And this Palinbal Lucter... This Palinbal frightens even me."
Dimitriez quietly left the room.
OOC: George, if you don't like the story I'll be quite happy to delete the post or edit it in whatever way you see fit.