Chapter Text
It had been a while since President Sulfur had had the chance to breathe fresh air. Trying to contain all the hazards to his society had been a challenge - with a loss of too many innocent lives - but oddly enough, once one went down, the rest were easier to deal with. Almost as if they directly or indirectly relied on each other.
He was amused at the thought. To think that two rogue robots, an interdimensional being, an apex predator and a manic magician were somehow connected to each other would be ludicrous. All commit the same actions, yet for different reasons. Trying to string that together would inevitably lead to a dead end; his detectives knew that much.
Nonetheless, they had done it - no more killers set loose. Government and civilians alike could rest without having to worry about being killed, and that was something to be celebrated!
So what better way of celebrating it than punishing those guilty? Of course, there'll be a party, something for the civilians to enjoy, but revenge was yet to be served. Sulfur wanted something to show civilians why the government shouldn't be opposed; to show why they were superior to threats and instil fear into those who considered crime. Morbid, yes, but a way of keeping everyone safe through burning vermin from the roots.
Something that would soon be fought over, however, was how the killers would be punished. Some just wanted it to be over with, others called for justice in the form of torture. One of his own scientists put up something he was interested in, thus leading to where he sat now.
His office wasn't as large or decorated as the average civilian expected it to be. A simple desk, some computers and a filing cabinet. More often than not, he went over to the leaders of different industries for their reports.
This was a special case.
Walking through the busy corridors, he didn't have to struggle much while others got out of his way. He liked that. It made him feel important.
At the end was a small room, nearly the size of a kitchen, but not quite there. Standing in the middle, awaiting the president, was Dr Cobalt. PhD in something - he couldn't remember anymore - and the mind of a sadist.
Sulfur expected a grin from the man; for the honour of reaching the president's ears, being able to bring one of his fantasies to life, something.
And yet his expression was completely neutral.
"Good afternoon, sir," he greeted bluntly.
"Good to see you, Cobalt. I take it you've noticed my interest in your prospect. Would you like to explain it to me?"
"Of course," he opened his laptop and cleared his throat, "I'd like to put forward a game for the killers to compete in. One where they are forced to destroy each other until only one stands- or remains. Perhaps we pose a 'prize' for the winner. Not a breach of containment but-"
"How do you plan on making it a fair battle?"
He stared at Cobalt, waiting for a response.
"You want a fair battle?" he seemed genuinely surprised.
"Yes. Do you have any reason not to?"
"Well- where's the fun in having a fair game?" He looked exasperated, "it'll just drag out until they all want to die."
"I'd ask you where the fun in a game that'll instantly be won by the rogue is!"
"...Fair enough. How are you planning on making it even?"
"I have ideas. But we'll need other people to know in order to be able to verify it would work. For now, though, this stays between us. Understand?" He straightened his jacket before getting up to leave.
"I understand, sir."
Once the door had closed, Sulfur allowed for himself to slouch his posture.
He couldn't get his mind off his discussion with Cobalt. It was the perfect punishment. Turning the killers into their victims; putting them in those shoes.
Plus, it's always fun to watch the deadliest powers go against each other.
He made his way back to his office, this time ignoring everything and heading to the balcony. There, he looked down at the civilians passing by. Most of them would walk into the parliament building, for trials they had to attend, classes from the scientists, or for training.
Some of them instinctively looked up to see the president, and would smile when they made eye contact. He pretended to be unfazed; a little wave here or there, but it made him proud to see his civilians doing their duties.
The dinging of his smartwatch pulled him out of his thoughts. He was still getting adjusted to life with technology, but was grateful to have such luxuries back.
A notification had popped up, an email from one of his researchers (one of the most productive ones for gathering information about the Harken, he recalled). He skimmed the contents as his mind cycled with other thoughts.
Typing singlehandedly, he replied, 'Great to hear. But would you mind one query?'. He wanted to get the show going as soon as it could, and that meant finding the experts of the killers and ensuring an environment that fit all of them was made.
Easy to plan out, hard to execute, he figured. But he'd be able to do it. After all, it weren't so long ago that he were helping his analysts. 'He was president for a reason', was the excuse he'd come up with when the bunker were created and all hope had seemed lost. Now wouldn't be any different.
But this was far from being close to fruition.