Bharata stood at the forefront of the table, his palms resting flat on the mahogany surface. His eyes looked up over the rims of his glasses, searching the faces of each and every person at the table. He stood silently, questioningly. His fingers rapped softly, and as he stood there - scanning their faces for any sign of treachery, he began to question their motives entirely. Why were they here? Had they any intention of taking this seriously, or did they simply show up to appease the boss man? The members of the board weren't quite the smartest of the lot, chosen instead for their inability to disobey the boss, than their ability to actually run Xanathan. That was up to him, he'd taken it from a single country to a worldwide supplier of goods. They grew more and more as the years passed, and their foothold over Africa was only the beginning. So, he looked at them and wondered if they even cared about that - or if they simply wanted to ride on his coattails. They'd certainly done that, no one in the room was worth near what he was - but considerly more than the average person in a company such as this one. 

"All in," he said suddenly, pushing a fair amount of chips to the center of the table before settling back into his chair. He knew he had them beaten, his hand was a good one. Two pairs. He just knew they couldn't beat that. None of them were that lucky, surely. So, as he sat back down he watched the table. Each man, in turn, laid down their cards into the discard pile. Folding their hands, and conceding defeat to their boss. His laughter rang out, and he pulled back twice the amount of chips he'd pushed into it. "I knew I had you guys beat, you're all so easy to read." 

They chuckled nervously, and the deck passed on to the next man, to be doled out in kind again. As the man began dealing, the double-doors leading out of the conference room busted open. There stood the bald-headed man with an eye tattooed in the center of his forehead. Markus walked across the room, and shifted to sit on the table next to Bharata's growing chip pile. He didn't speak, in fact he couldn't speak. His tongue was cut out long ago by people who didn't enjoy hearing their own thoughts spoken aloud, or their futures told in the voice of a child. 

"We have a problem, boss," the other transmitted into his brain, his psychic power overruling Bharata's intense focus and defenses. It became something of a game to them, to see whose mind was the strongest - though Markus always won," our convoy heading out of Lamda-5 was hit. We're not entirely sure by what, or who, but they took him." 

The him Markus referred to was well known to Bharata, they'd sought him out for years now. Out in the Glasslands, where nothing could survive for long on its own - especially not without the proper defenses against the environment. Finally, they found him and now Markus was here telling him that the man was gone? They needed him. He was essential to their plans, to their studies. Bharata slapped the table with enough force to knock over everyones pile of chips. 

"Goddammit, Markus." He spoke back into the other's head. Even his mental voice seethed with anger, with frustration. But, not at the loss of the man. "You interrupted the game, I was winning - there was no way they could have beaten me. I bluffed them out easy the last hand, and now you're here interrupting when I could take them for everything they have." 

"Sir," Markus began, a slight chuckle to his mind-voice, "the man to your right folded a Royal Flush. Of course you were going to win, they knew you would win before they ever showed up here. They always let you win, because a happy boss means a happy workplace." 

Bharata slammed his hand down on the table again, this time with his anger seething out in his real voice. "Johnson, are you letting me win? Are all of you letting me win?" He bellowed, his eyes dark and cold. No sign of human emotion, of empathy, within them. The people gathered around the table nodded their heads, each slightly but enough to notice. Nerves filled the room, and their hands shook. 

They knew what was coming. 

Bharata whipped out his personal firearm, a Beretta .45. Firing one shot a piece, he put a bullet between the eyes of every single person sitting at the table. 'Was that really necessary, sir? Now I have to find and vett you another board of directors, and you know how time-consuming that can be.' 

'Shut up, Markus. Meet me in my office in ten minutes, and we'll discuss what we're going to be doing about this situation.' 

[b] Five minutes later[/b] 

Standing in the middle of his office, an array of televisions lined up on the far wall and his eyes focused on them entirely. He watched the footage of XSF Delta, taken from their security feeds and stored wirelessly in their satellites. Then, he watched the footage from Mt. Cameron, and on another screen the footage of his convoy violently exploding upwards, into the sky. He watched silently, as Markus prepared to speak. They'd made haste here, especially after learning of two other attacks on their people in the field. 

"What could be causing this, Markus? Who could be doing this? Have we not done right by the people of Africa, who would seek to turn against us?" 

"Probably the people living in the wildlands, sir. They tend to not like the oversight, or the good lives we've offered. Their families eat because of us, survive because of us. The diamond mines are a great source of work, and they are paid fairly for their tasks." 

Of course, in a civilized world their pay would be considered very subpar, almost insulting. But, for the jobs they had available, they made a wage that could at least allow a person in their household to survive. Probably not the whole household though, and definitely not in anything considered a house. 

Bharata nodded, and walked over to his phone. Pressing the one button, and the intercom button he immediately rang up his secretary's office. "Martha, connect me with Operations." 

"Immediately, sir," her soft british accent always got him. That's why he hired the woman, not for her ability to do the job - but for her ability to suck a dick. 

A bit later, one of the screens on the wall shifted - and the face of a hard, violent woman stared back at him from somewhere near the Glasslands. "Colonel, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on out there?" Bharata demanded, his voice laced with the hint that if she didn't, there would be hell to pay. "You've been attacked three times in one night, and I'm not sure by who or what. Care to explain?" 

"Sir, from what we've gathered from...information obtaining techniques....it's a group of militant radicals. We're unsure of their motives, their means, or what they hope to accomplish. In fact, we don't even know the names of their leaders, or how many of them there are. It's like, before last night, none of them even existed." 

"Well you better damn well find out something we can use to stop them, Colonel, or I might be looking into replacing you along with the rest of the board." 

In the background, a man stopped moving. On her screen, he turned and looked - but didn't truly see. Without thinking, he spoke; "HOW DARE YOU TALK TO MY WIFE LIKE THAT, WHO IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU A-" 

Before he could even finish his insulting words, Bharata's hand snapped to his left. It shifted as if through a pool of nothing, and came out on the other side. His hand grabbed the others jaw and pulled him through, all the way from the Glasslands to Johannesburg HQ. His nose touched the others, and his eyes were cold and dead inside. 

"I think I am Bharata Rendenvauld, your boss. The boss of your wife, and the man who will happily spit-roast you and watch as your skin melts away and your meat cooks, before I enjoy you with my evening tea. Now, I think it best if you hush your insolent mouth and return to your post, do your job, and I might find it in my heart to let you live long enough to see me fuck your wife, are we clear?" 

The other man nodded, fear prevalent above all else. Bharata releasted him with a shove, sending him back through the opening in space/time and letting him fall on his ass behind his wife. He immediately stood up, steadied himself, and then rushed off-screen. Presumably to return to his assigned tasks. 

'You shouldn't be so rude with them, sir. What if they turn on you, because of the way you treat them?' 

'Ah, Markus. They don't have the balls to turn on me, they know what would happen. They can't run, they can't hide. They can only cower in fear of my strength, before I remove them from this life. They are unimportant anyway, mercenaries hired and trained to act as Xanathan Security Forces. There's a million more where they come from. No, the important ones are gone - they had custody of our charge and they failed in their task. Hopefully a survivor comes forward to tell us what happened, but even he will be put down for his failures.' 

Bharata turned back to the colonel, and he gave her a look of pure hatred before shutting off the screens. He immediately returned to his desk, and began sifting through the days paperwork and preparing things in case he had to get out in the field himself and handle the situation. Something he was not fond of doing, but knew might become necessary soon.