A Dilligent Trifecta By: Matthew Wattles

 

Diligent Trifecta & Brutal Strategy

A Short by: Matthew Wattles

              “The perseverance and pursuance of this ideal is what has inspired Germany for decades, and it is our very sincere notion toward power that we encompass and embody that as diligent workers and citizens that honor our system’s launch into the next phase of a great nation that has surpassed it’s expected status! This is our time to rise, and I relish in sharing with you.” The Ambassador waved gallantly at his podium. A fearful sweat bloomed miniscule in the face of a thousand pains. The thousand pains that were his followers, the thousand followers that caused his power to become agony, doubt, and fear.

            A phone rang, and the lips of a woman were voluptuously forming a serenading betrayal that struck a quantum ring in the assholes heart. His honor is ours, and his pain is a delight we share – said the temptress. What is volatile is our weapon, and how we stomp is our electricity. She conjured her libidinal lucidness into a psychic cock trap. The senator was horny, and that bullying lump was what he had craved. Craved for years as a perverse fidgety moron. Craved all day not for position, but hedonistic simplicity.

            A basilisk horn is a crude myth in a vile weekend that sheds a water on the driest of deserts. She taunted him well, and the lead was a path. How about time travel? The senator asked? Do you think you can take me where I want to go? The senator geeked like a mallard in delight.

            “I think I can senator, I am certain we can do that too.” The Secretary said seductively.

            The ambassador’s brawn was a cruel and certain shield. The symbol of his energy penetrated the mind of his own reflection. Is narcissistic past had come to a grave moral crisis. Dire friends had grown to hate him, and his importance wasn’t even a matter or an issue. He ruminated about thoughts of armies that could inspire future generation, and he the jewel in his head at all times. That star he had in there, that guardian star in his awful head. The one that gave him forbidden scope had just told him that betrayal had entered his rotten home.

            The secretary came into the Ambassadors office, and looked at him dead in his flappable eyes. She resurrected his determination with that formal and consistent unity that wins jobs better than fellatio. Loyalty inspired the Ambassador more than anything. He was so delusional and neurotic that he thought he was inspired by something else. The best way to derange virtues is by being a moralist in the first place. This changes your definition of hope; making it something essential to restore. This alters what you think of being good. Because it is not what you have become that defines how good you are, but rather what you can bring to yourself that helps you relish. She brought him loyalty so she was good.

                        “How was your conversation with the senator?” He asked The Secretary. As far as he could tell it went well. He sensed the instantaneous transmission of confidence, and felt warm she had succeeded.

            “Victory has always been important to you. I did the best I could as a Temptress, and was surprised to find positive results.” She said to The Ambassador. “We should be able to have that conversation with Hegeth soon”. A piercing intimidation came into the ambassador’s liver. The same one he would usually drink away. It was one of those rare irritations that would finally start to bother someone after the thousandth time it occurred. The instance in which fear takes on a new layered meaning. The Ambassador imagined the first few times he was struck by this feeling. How he was baffled and uncertain there could be an opponent as formidable as Hegeth.  He remembered laughing at the thought that he had feared him in the first place. He remembered ruminating about how he’d become increasingly vulnerable, and even remained thirsty for the contest that their meeting had brought to him. He knew the electric veracity he once thought was lost had to be reinstalled in him. He suspected the same for Hegeth, and at that moment the phone rang.

            Without hesitation he timed it, but as The Ambassador reached for the phone he hallucinated a bead of sweat on the side of his palm. In a whisp his gulped down his doubt, put the phone to his ear and spoke. “Prime Minister Hegeth?”

            “Ambassador Mancheth, I wasn’t certain I had the privilege of direct access to your main line.” “Albeit your answering leads me to believe this is the right time to have the conversation we have been mutually manifesting.”

            The Ambassador inhaled with a raspy suddenness. The goal was to flow without disruption. “Yes, this is a good time.”

            “Ah, well firstly I have to commend you on your conquering of Germany’s latest tribulation; it was certainly a remarkable speech.” “If I were to procure an interpretation of the entire state of things, I’d say you must feel alleviated.”

            The Ambassador gave up on holding back a smug grin. He knew later that he’d have to discipline himself for feeling pleased at his arch rival’s psychopathic elevation. For years he had hated the grandiose continuity that they shared consciously. It was a reminder he couldn’t tolerate. It was a change he had to make, so he could be compassionate once again.

            “Hold the arrogance momentarily” The Ambassador responded. He imaged Hegeth grinning now. “I know you know the state of affairs that Germany is in. Our condition is far from sublime. I’m not even putting it past you to have your own ideas on how to reform the most problematic aspects of our system right now.” He asserted.

            “I presume your referring to the increasing speculation from the west’s awareness of our Europe’s synchronized conscious apparatus? Or perhaps you’re anxious about that Senator you adopted snitching on you again?”

            The Ambassador was jolted by a strike of anxiety. Sometimes panic hurts, but pain doesn’t dictate the behaviors of the best of dictators. “I’m very confident that you are in no way disrupting our agreement Mr. Hegeth.” “It would be a disgrace to the aligned powers of Europe.”

            “I am not. However; we both know that the apparatus has a ranking system, and that hierarchy has a sole victor. You recall it’s number?” Hegeth provokingly asked.

            The Ambassador felt a confusing conflict rising in his nervous system. It was the impulsivity of his tongue he could not control any longer. “You have no dominion over our apparatus! It is a shared agreement; we cannot blur this with selfishness! It would take the entire system down!” The Ambassador yelled. “To them it’s a name to us it is a number!” “This was the very characteristic of our project!”

            “Oh but you are wrong, this is not something that is even possible to convolute. This is a clear and concise matter, this is a matter of hierarchy, this deals in the unflappable consistency of mathematics; the impervious stability of numbers.” “You have looked at the numbers I assume?”

            “Assume?” The Ambassador blurted. He flipped the light of his tablet on and quickly accessed the master chart. The chart was a list of all the people in Europe ranked by modern Eugenics. The ranking system was data driven by microchips that were installed in everyone in the continent. The chip would assess the aptitude of the proletariats and immediately transmit their thoughts and energies to the elite. The Ambassador had been number one for the past couple of years, and was shocked to find that Hegeth was now at the top of the list.

            There was silence for a few split seconds. The Ambassador was so baffled that he lost the lazer-like visceral focus he always prepared to stay at length with Hegeth during conversation. He quickly regained his focused, but could not ignore his feeling of defeat.

            “More like an educated guess.” Hegeth taunted. “And while I have been loyal to our agreement there are certain variables that a mere contract cannot satisfy.” “Take for example this new ever so unexpected position we are in right now. When we established our agreement neither of us knew that I would surpass you. Which our synchronized conscious apparatus so eloquently states in the case.” “Fortunately for you I am willing to make a modification to our agreement that can serve as somewhat of a bearable compromise.” Hegeth said

           

            “You want to make a deal?” The Ambassador asked firmly.

            “Exactly.” Hegeth replied.

            “I am well aware of your bribing of the American senator, and I know that you understand my detest for betrayal. Especially one so sentimental to me such as our strong-hold on Europe. I am curious to know why you have kept him alive as long as you have. You always struck me as someone whom might possess a more assassination oriented approach to such an abhorrent misdeed.” Hegeth led.

            “The mercy that is being shown to the senator is merely to probe the westerners agenda to a possible involvement or infiltration of our Europe Mr. Hegeth.” The Ambassador assured him. “Our current progress on getting The Senator to talk has been a process, but our methods have yet to fail for the sake of an effective interrogation.”

            “And yet you have other priorities for the reconciliation of the unpredicted faults that Germany is experiencing. Your people are pleased, but they do not know of the Senator and it is only a matter of time before someone realizes that information has been divulged to United States and that their leader has been confiscating their thoughts and dreams for his entire administration.”

            The Ambassador felt a wooziness. He urged himself to act, yet felt the paralysis of being under control. He concluded Hegeth was going to ask for possession of The Senator, and he furiously scrambled for an alternative. In a manic stream of despair he quickly thought of a hundred options. None of which he had the authority to manifest any longer. The disappointment of this epiphany put a weight on his chest. Oh that weight, what an unbearable pressure. It was sickly and felt hollow. He knew it could not break him which made it even more nauseating. It was one of those unbearable feelings that could drive someone to madness. The kind of madness that equivocated desperation. What made it even more unbearable is that he knew in order to rid himself of it, he had to hand the Senator over to Hegeth.

            It wasn’t just the possibility of the conscious apparatus being leaked into the public’s attention, and it wasn’t the advantage that Hegel now had over The Ambassador. It was what he had seen himself do. The sense of compassion not for people or ideas, or even innovation. It was the corrosion of his faculties and sensibilities from that pesky deadly sin. Pride. His allegiance no longer mattered, his heart that he treasured as beautiful for his entire life was not a shielded, jaded stone. After you follow so many obsessions and conquer so many obstacles you might start ruminating he used to think. However; at some point it is an obligation to make a decision about what this really means. Power. Then the idea spark, then the plan created, the mission pursued and an empire created. It would be done through a trifecta and manifested with diligence. There would never be a gap until every empire must fall.

            The hundreds and hundreds of books he read in isolation, and the sheer quixotic fuel that it gave his imagination. The visionary, but the vision was scary. Just an abhorrent dream destined for corruption. The bridges burnt both metaphorically, allegories torn from fiction and into reality. The hateful, monstrous jealous rings he saw in the eyes of the beasts he shook hands with. The cruel black as gasoline tear that was never shed, and hardly even fathomed. The toxicity of passion and all the poisoned adventures. The absurd laughter of an apocalyptic justification. Mansions full of megalomaniacs, governments built by kakistocratic crickets. The sad epiphany of the extinction of the grasshopper. Every mentor forewarned him, and every generation told him this event would one day happen. The Ambassador had found a way to surpass America, but there was no documentation on just how powerful a regime could get. Fortunately for him, he was now number two.

            The one weakness The Ambassador had always suspected about Hegeth is that he was overly meticulous. The compulsive alignment he had exhibited in every interaction always surrounded by weaker opponents. After all everyone was an opponent to Hegeth, and it was that level of psychopathy that made him a formidable ally from a distance. So what was it up close that he remembered as a flaw. It was his orderly presentation, a creepy empiricism hidden in between the lines of every symmetrical structure. On the surface everything was productive and positive, but in between the matter that could never quantumly touch there was a deep dark history sinister bloodshed, brutality, and elitism.

            “How wicked is this person?” The Ambassador thought. He jolted down the stairs in a heavy vicarious heartthrob was put into dizziness that rung in his head. Déjà vu adrenaline dazzled his equilibrium, and in this instance he almost lost his balance at the very middle step. The secretary calmly smiled at him as he glided down the last few steps. The Ambassador felt serenity, and the warmth of a motherly ally. All the things she had done for his allegiance brought him a warm melting pleasure, and his spirit hurt from the lashing of all the times she must have been scared when no one ever knew.

            The Ambassador threw on his brown leather coat, stabilized himself and reach quickly for the brass polished door knob. The hundred pound mahogany door flew open out of a routine that had been perfected through many episodes of frenzy. The vibrations of the plants in the front yard and an invigorating stimuli from the breeze eradicated the false arena of doubt that has been congested in his brain washed down into a void that no one has ever seen.

            “I’m as crazy as they think, and I have forgotten my debit card. Fuck!”

            The Bugatti was cold and needed to be hot. Things happen incrementally, and then they flex with displacement, most of the time this is a very scattered and confusing apparatus. The Bugatti’s cylinders on the other hand were aligned and ready to go now. The roar, the torque, the prayer, and fate. She was hot and The Ambassador wanted to see how fast they could get there: together.

            An iridescent skyline with phantasmagoric vulgarities was the horizon to the left of his shoulder. His brow was tense and stressed as always. Meditation and acceleration generally do not mix, unless you were however able to use cleanliness and purpose as a balance. After all godliness is the avoidance of death, destruction, madness, and chaos not the inducing of it. The Ambassador thought of The Lieutenant that used to hold his position in Germany. He remembered sitting in the passenger seat with his heart pumping as fast as the Ferrari. He remembered trying to calm himself in the presence of that young man, Nazi written all over him. He remembered his cerebral promise; if he scares me again, I have got to hit him. He remembered the time it took to get where he was today.

            The lieutenant’s laugh and a obnoxious clanking beer glass. The harmonious energies that oozed and bounced off the walls. The unbelievably beautiful women he considered with honesty and treated as a gentleman. After all there was respect there. The Ambassador recalled their unnecessary disagreeances, and remembered the lieutenant as a unique and sentimental package in a warehouse that was a single, tiny component of the lunatic factory that Europe had become.

            He reminisced of the alleviation of resentment that would occur upon mutual accomplishements. The distance that he knew would have to happen when the student finally surpassed his mentor. Communicative eyes were in the his temples, the same ones that were shot at by one of Hegeth’s hentchman. When the conscious apparatus was launched the Lieutenant spun into an anxious frenzy. It seemed as if his brow was shocked and disaligned by a frequency that had hurt him all his life. The constant taunt of the hope of it never happening and his relentless efforts to suppress the idea were now a present whirlwind here to disrupt his effervescence and multiply his doubt. That tormenting clout that finally came true. The lieutenant’s angry resistance had blown his cover as an American soldier undercover, and Hegeth took him out before they could discombobulate Europe’s evil agenda: together.

            The Ambassador felt a tear hoard itself and disappear. Within that vanishing there was a rage, and a heartache. He hit the pedal hard and sped down the snakerun highway. The massive cedars blurred like a convoluted montage, the wind whipped his Bugatti like a demanding master summoning speed out of his creature with abuse. The Earth always births causes, and the dawn magically puts them to sleep. This time it was Hegeth’s turn to rest, and the stars gleamed to show that they admired and approved of this mission. The Ambassador was prepared to utilize the dark side of futility’s greatest recreation: assassination.

 

            Hegeth’s plantation was a giant diamond. Hegeth’s bungalow mansion was located at the north west corner of the entire landscape. A punishing flash of focus illuminated his skull, and a target set a view on the longitude and latitude where he needed to find this motherfucker. Extra sensory perception like a tarantula picking out raven eggs. The shadows showed guards with agility and stability. A ethereal deathism vibrated and rippled shadow puppets that he did not need to find his prey. A thunderous flammable landmine jumpstarted his journey; one that would lead to a mission long inevitable.

            A dark passenger sang to him a silent song. A demon floated at him in front of a cabin. A rotten hurt that would take an energy out of him, guided him to destination number 2. Aside the cabin he crouched and took a few analytical seconds to separate fiction from reality. Psychosis knows no limitation when a psychotic endeavor runs through a champions DNA. Various radicals where ghosts in the moonlight, and the other were real walking life forms that carried sinister souls in capsules pretending to be people.

            The Ambassador ran to his next check point. He modified each step to avoid crunching leaves alarms. “Hi” he whispered as he slit one of Hegeth’s servants. “Bye” he said as he layed a the body lifeless. “I really don’t need you right now, the dark passenger said to him.” “You should just go home because things are already lawless.” “Well I don’t really like you he voiced back to the demon.” “I don’t even need you to complete what I am doing.”

            The Ambassador cycled through an experience of redundancy. He jostled and wrestled with the fact that he had been here before at least three times. He wondered if in previous lifetimes he had failed at this task. Then he wistfully ran closer to the peak of his objective. The trees were darkened like shadows that swayed as forgotten soldiers of an abused promise land. The wind never once whipped across the grass, but instead it steadily created patterns that drew him closer to his objective. The air of the plantation felt more like a simulated interdimensional forcefield of sinister stagnancy rather than a free and natural landscape of oxygenation. The Ambassador’s adrenaline pumped in ways that altered his normally calm and almost even tranquil perception.

            He visualized portals and tunnels of fear soaked in red that could confiscate him from his mission. He imagined falling into these demonic wormholes, and felt the sadness of having to start all over again. His footsteps quickened to a patter to a light crispy thump on the grass. The beautiful mansion was now in plain sight. He conscientiously prayed for the guard he had just ruthlessly killed, and silently scolded the ruthless dark passenger that he had always hoped would leave him alone after he freed himself from Europe’s awful, tyrannical Reich. Emotionlessness is not just a moral weakness it is also a lost cause. Even if he were to be evil, feelings would be something that he could absolutely not live without. The absence of such a substance creates meaningless that is worse than a position on either side of any conflict, army, political purpose, or event.

            The mansion was grainy and gritty like a wood and stone haven filled with a just righteousness. Strangely the house was sitting safely in the center of one of the worst places in the worst times in human existence. How do I get in? The Ambassador thought. He glanced at the bright fluorescent and yellow shine that heaved an angelic gleam into the field and onto the tree that he was hiding behind. He started to become aware of the fact that hiding was no longer necessary. Hegeth had him figured out and the conscious apparatus had probably revealed frequencies that gave his location away.

            The Ambassador thought of the sacrifices Europe had made to push it’s evil reich this far. He thought of the eerie fact that death and genocide were hardly even apart of the control of the kakistocratic government he decided to join. He thought of the rejuvenation of the proletariat’s hope, and how their celebrations gave him hope but also pity. He thought of that dense guilt that felt like a mucky burden he’d have to live with for the rest of his life, and possibly through eternity. He took his phone up and remembered that he isn’t a sucker. The he stomped to the front door of the mansion and fought through a minor head ring of shell shock and banged on it three times.

            The door was a glowing rosewood giant. The banisters and barriers surrounding the face of the house had been the host of much of the wealthy and disturbed sickness of the German Empire.

            The door smoothly opened at a pace that gave him a sense of a final destination. Sometime video juegos mock and pretend realities like this. He found it laughable that the asshole he was about to visit probably found amusement in the similarities of such fictitious simulations. It was even more ironic and strangely predictable that once he glanced upon the elegant staircase that was brightened by a surprisingly humble sized chandelier that Hegeth was there to embrace and welcome him with a questionably believable attitude.

            Hegeth was tall and thin. There was only one story the Ambassador had heard about Hegeth. It was that he was a little over six feet and slightly underweight, but when he was addressed by someone they noticed that he seemed to shrink and grow. The Ambassador suddenly realized that he might be one of the few and possibly the only person in Europe that ever got this close to Hegeth without being an affirmed affiliate or dead.

His cheek bones were sunken into his jaw line, and he was pale in a way that seemed doctored by cosmetics and the remnant energy of bad deeds. His hollow vibrations were wavy and glossy like paint dripping down a soaked wall. He face The Ambassador with a slight lean that was almost undetectable. It was hard to tell if it was from a broken pelvis or just a casual posture. Either way it was enough to make Hegeth seem that much more peculiar. He made a face that suggested he had completed a thought and made the decision to let The Ambassador into his home. There was a silent conversation among them that was relieving and disturbing all at the same time. As if Hegeth and The Ambassador were not so different after all. Just then he let his assain in and spoke.

            “We know Mr. Collins, we know.”  

            The Ambassador wiped his brow and forced a focus to his glare. Hegeth seemed anxious and in a hurry to welcome him. This troubled The Ambassador for a second, but then gave him a relief. Hegeth seemed to be walking down the stairs faster than usual with a humiliated wobble that The Ambassador was not sure about. He couldn’t tell if he was using this a gimmick, or if he was showing intimidation, or if Hegeth was frustrated at the destruction of his own lower chakras. However; he was charmed and felt a sense of joy that he knew he’d have to fight in moments to come.

            The serene closing of artistic sequences glared a grandiose visual that gives a grand entrance to conduits, sensation, and existential answers. Moral confusions fluttered and combined themselves into a visceral experience that gave an eerie scenery to a get together of important people. The Ambassador’s heart kept jumping and pounding. The ivory and stone staircases that he had just walked up were not in his head anymore. All he could see now was the truth. The truth of how behavior and conquest bring people together. The answers that men like to have to be more than confused, lost, and angry at their own existences. The beautiful and haunting thing to The Ambassador was that this made some sense now, and maybe there was a reason for all the trials, tribulations, and efforts. The one thing that meant something more to The Ambassador than anything else was that somewhere in this get together. Somewhere in the way these elite and powerful people were tranquilly facing each other was that there was not just hope, but also peace amongst them.

            It was now apparent to The Ambassador the things that he had fought for made sense. He felt affirmed by his accomplishments, and was thankful for his gift to observe that creations are gifts but also burdens. All the microchips, landscapes, negotiations, and endeavors him and the people he worked with his whole life. They had a purpose and their purpose was to be manifested. However; the one thing he should have known was to be a little more careful. Then all of a sudden a vein buldged in his head. He felt like a conduit that suddenly realized he wasn’t in control of his own body. “Am I really going to take this shit from the person that I have been looking to take down this whole time?” He thought? “I mean it’s Hegeth, he’s a monster, he’s disrupted families, poked his nose in the business of others, he’s even gone after some of Germany’s most innocent people.”

            It was then that the Ambassador felt a pulse in his brain that he was able to regain control of.  He hated this and he was already disappointed that he hadn’t done what he came here to do. He became more and more tempted to listen to the conversation that he could have with Hegeth. Yet he was paralyzed. Paralyzed by a morality that told him to forgive at all costs and never retaliate. Paralyzed by fighting fire with fire when he knew water was the only thing that could extinguish the hateful heat. He was manipulated by a confusion that made him think that he is after all this, one of the rich and decadent psychopaths that wanted to control and harm everything they oversee for the sake of their own sick pleasure. He regained control of himself and felt his arm tempted to swing at Hegeth’s face.

            He felt the crash and the sick pleasure of shedding somebody’s blood and feeling the pain of an asshole he could smash, but he stopped himself. He stopped himself because he knew there was a regret on the other side of that decision. He knew it was just more pain, more blood, more anger and sadness. He knew it and he hated it because he felt and beilived that it was sin. He felt a water balloon full of sadness bust open and fill his gut with sweaty tears. He wanted to show Hegeth how to fall down and roll on the floor with the Holy Spirit where the humility modesty of the broken before him layed in their struggles in order to remain faithful to God. He wanted to show him that pain and sacrifice was what God wanted his followers to have.