Chapter 232: Planning for the Worst

Chapter 232: Planning for the Worst

Some revolutions are quick and violent, some, instead, take a long time; the latter ones are more insidious, more deeply rooted once they start manifesting. They are like a cancer that gets discovered only after metastases have taken place. The most famous one is the Christian revolution. Romans tried to persecute the practitioners, but the damage was already done.

And you know who spread religion among them? Women. Women were bored out of their mind, and religion made them feel important. Christian housewives are similar nowadays. The most ironic thing is that, once women and slaves, to be fair had started spreading their new creed, other men, feeling the importance of this new religion, took it away from them. Men decided that women shouldnt meddle with the higher spheres of their religious organization. Consequently, Christianity failed to take over. They also failed in persecuting religion, however. Both sides were governed by men. The fact that Christianity had been in the hands of women, however, made it easier to spread like a plague among the Roman empires. Why? Slaves and women, who had been relegated to the fringes of society, finally heard someone say you matter. Women amplified that message, which reached every corner, poisoned their minds, and created zealots and martyrs in spades.

I remember this lesson from high school.

And I also remember the solution I found back at the time.New novel chapters are published on

If I had been a Roman Emperor, I would have given women the job of persecuting Christians. Men, they know violence, sure. But when dealing with religion, it was the other side who recruited the ones expert in manipulation and capable of the type of warfare which even the most experienced Roman general was unaware of.

Psychological warfare.

A man will always be inferior compared to a woman in that regard. Men have dicks. That fails them. As long as a men can be governed by an appendage of his, he will be useless in finer manipulations. A woman, instead, rarely is controlled by her passionsafter being trained, at least.

If women had taken over the job of eliminating the filthy Christians from the face of Earth, they would have done the job splendidly. All the women who had been converted would have found an equally terrible foeanother woman. And that would have been their end. You cannot fight the war of minds with raw violence and crucifixion. That was so obvious even to a younger me. Instead, recruit the women who have been abandoned by the church, let them be the executioners of the men who have shunned them away; no one can be more cruel than a woman who has been betrayed, who has been stripped of the power that should have been hers.

What a sword through the head, crunching the skull, can do is extinguishing one life. But not even a genocide managed to eradicate Christian belief. All religions are the blackest poison, and once they enter the veins, the poison will never get fully eliminated, not without singing the flesh and crushing the bones in the process

Women would have solved that.

And all the most widespread religions still fear women, still want men in charge. Because they day a woman takes over, no man will be their equal in leading with faith. No greatest zealot will exist than a woman with a mission. No greater martyr than a woman who believes in something so firmly.

I sometimes contemplated the idea of waging a war on religions. All of them, not just one. Start with the closest places of cult, like the Vatican. Strip naked their leaders and have them beg on their knees, have them pray. Not to kill them after, no. Im not a man. Id torture them until they would scream every invective in existence against their Gods, have all Humans see what kind of pathetic and weak men are manipulating them. Have women, especially, see that a woman can be much more than a follower. A woman can be a leader. A woman can be judge, jury, and executioner.

Men without scruples are tyrants, women without scruples are monsters.

Delacroix painted a woman with the French flag in her hand, leading the revolution, personifying the concept of Liberty. Men are in the background, some fading along the lines the brush left behind.

As I finish cleaning the gun I used to kill the idiot harassing me, I breathe in the fresh air of a new day. There is a job for me in this city, this place that has been left to die slowly but surely. And theres only one person fit for the job.

Eating lunch around the plaza has become a ritual, and it helps gathering information. People are willing to stop and talk to the only Human in the city, it seems. And a lot of [Merchants] come around here, sometimes even ones from other cities. Ziss also learned that I dont want to be disturbed while Im working. Even though Licinium has repeatedly called him an idiot, the guy is just simple.

Not everyone has to be a genius.

I look at the notes once again, with numbers spread all over the paper.

When I raise my eyes, I see a cat on the street. Its a stray. Fuzzy black stripes, half-dirt and half his natural fur, color an otherwise blond coat. Three small mice scuttle in front of him, while he looks almost bored at their pathetic attempt at escaping. The cat unveils its sharp claws and pokes one on the back, while the other two try to run in different directions. The mice are fast, but the cat doesnt seem concerned. The one who got poked instantly froze and the cat slowly and gently places a lick on its back with a malignant grin. As soon as its personal amusement with that one comes to an end, the cat decapitates it and starts strutting elegantly in direction of the other two.

The cat takes its time, knowing that theres cat and theres mice. And the cat eats the mice, always. One of the two remaining mice is hiding behind a small stall, but the cat catches it quickly. Theres no escaping. The mouse dies a boring and unsatisfying death. The predator swallows it wholeif not entertainment, let it be food.

Then, looking at the remaining mouse, frozen as well, probably on the verge of an heart attack, the cat walks up to it and prods it with a paw. It doesnt kill the little creature trembling in terror. Not like this. Not without fun. Not without entertainment.

I look at my plans again, at all the notes Ive scribbled downand I tear them up.

With a feline smile over my face, I get up, ready to finally conduct some proper businss.

My pouch is empty, and my reserve of food is going to follow soon. The ride I hitched has finally come to its destination. I got a bit further than I wanted to. Around two weeks from Leggiadra. Distant enough to conduct proper business without being traced.

One of the main reasons Ive tried several drugs is to avoid looking like a cop. You want to participate to the right parties without looking like a ball-buster? You have to snort, ingest, shoot what you need to. No one likes a boring person. And the most important thing is that you are sending a message, we are the same. Theres nothing worse than looking too different when you are among a crowd of real or pseudo-criminals. And you will have to go through the pseudo criminals before meeting the real players.

Huge apartments in the center of Paris where you find the new generation, twenty-something year old ingesting pills, snorting cocaine, showing off some golden guns that they have never shot. You can even find some famous rappers at those private parties. French rappers, obviously. But even though most are posers, sometimes you can find a real one keeping an eye on the idiots, or simply providing protection. If you want to be noted, you have to show that you are one of them, but you also show restraint. No one wants to do business with a woman, and even less with a junkie.

So, if I want to do business with half-giants, I need a ticket to enter the right circles. I cant just waltz in the Glass and Steel District and wave guns around.

I have to shoot the guns.

And shoot the right people.