The Revelation in Warsaw
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Natalia stood on the rainy streets of Warsaw, her mascara running down her cheeks like oil slicks. The dossier in her hand shook violently. The truth was out: Father Januarius, the man from the Vatican who had baptized her into the circle of power, was a fraud.
He wasn't a holy man. He was Sven, a third-rate actor from a cheap, late-night narko-serial. Her spiritual protection was a lie.
"It's all a script!" she screamed at the sky. But there was no time for existential dread. Her phone buzzed. The First Board—the special extraction plane—was already in the air. They were coming for her.
She wiped her useless tears. She had to move.