The Promotion of Lewis Prothero

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Prometheus
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The Promotion of Lewis Prothero

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“Lewis Prothero” proclaimed the report. The man fascinated Patrick. Six years now the man had been working for him, or at the very least given the impression he was working for him. Extensive research had excluded the possibility that Lewis was working as a double agent, but no amount of digging had revealed even a hint as to his motivations. Given a name, Patrick was capable of reciting the individual’s position, accurate physical description, a doctoral level psychological analysis, and name and residence of their parents. With Prothero, the information was all readily available but set off little warning bells of deception. In short, Lewis Prothero was as good or perhaps even better then Monteaciea at his own game.

“He scares me too.” He announced to no one in particular. Hawksblood and Storm however exchanged a glance over the small oval table at which the three of them were sitting. “But that’s exactly why I need him Richard. Prometheus’ mantle is a heavy one, a dangerous one, but above all else, an impossible one to bear. Only those whose very existence stretches the limits of the probable could ever hope to achieve the impossible.” This elicited a chuckle from Gneaus.

“This isn’t the time to observe modesties Gneaus. I am not ordinary, you are not ordinary, Richard is not ordinary. I have long understood that only one individual could replace me as Prometheus, and that individual is me. And now I have found myself and I am terrified.”

He began tapping out a simple rhythm on the table - a nervous habit he had picked up as of late. Richard was the first to speak up. “You can reconsider the decision to terminate your role as Prometheus. Just because you been elected to public office does not mean you cannot continue to manage The Enterprise.”

“No!” The pens on the table jumped under the sudden impact Patrick’s fist. “I will not deceive an entire nation of my dedication to its well being. I’ve made this clear Richard. I never suggested an overhaul in The Enterprise or a sudden veer towards the philanthropic, so please do not misconstrue this as a sudden change of heart on my behalf. I was visited by no angel, no prophet or messiah. The last time I pretended to be something other than exactly what I am it cost me the life of my daughter. I will not risk everything I have built here for a modicum more of power.” He stopped abruptly when he realized that at some point he had stood up and begun pacing. Get a hold of yourself Monteaciea! he scolded himself.

Ever since his encounter with Yvonna he had become far more prone to emotional agitation - a weakness he was unaccustomed to. It was also at the heart of his decision to chose a successor for Prometheus. He was losing grasp of the cold calculating state of mind that allowed him to mastermind the intricate dance of the hundreds of marionettes whose strings he had co-opted.

“In any case Richard, it’s not like I’m - oh what’s the expression they use again - going cold turkey? I will remain in contact through the existing channels and with Gneaus with me I will be still be able to provide objective analysis of Lewis’ directives. Well the ones he wants me to see I suppose.” The last bit was spoken under his breath.

He rearranged the papers a few more times before he finally set them down and sighed. It was a strange thing to consider, meeting the man who was not there to replace him, but to be him. “Send him in.”

A minute passed before the doors swung open to admit a man of unremarkable stature sporting a shock of silver-gray hair and the slightest hint of a grin that gave the impression that he was in on the joke of the century whose punchline you would never hear. The gunmetal eyes sped from man to man dissecting each in turn. Upon reaching Patrick an eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. “Master Prometheus. To what do I owe the honor?”

He was unsurprised by Lewis’ knowledge of his identity, mostly because he knew with certainty that until moments ago Prothero had himself not known he was being brought to see the boss. He smiled and took Lewis’ hand.

“I appreciate the jest Mr. Prothero but I am hardly worthy of the titanic title you bear.”

He was surprised to find he derived no pleasure from the look of utter shock on Lewis Prothero’s face. Things we about to change in this nation. For better or worse... Well that was the Lady’s domain.
~Patrick Montiaceae

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