Remain Nameless | Michael Langdon

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They traveled to the place where The Cooperative met. It was honesty kind of nice, Elizabeth liked it. Of course, Michael didn't. He was too lame to care about nature, it was obvious since he wanted to destroy the beautiful world. Elizabeth knew there was no stopping him no matter how bad she wanted to. She wished things had turned out differently, more than anything.

"This place is so strange." Michael commented as they walked through. He had his arm locked with Ms. Mead, to which Elizabeth admired how cute it was. Still, she didn't know how she felt, so she trailed closely behind. He didn't want her to, but she refused to walk next to him. It was hard to avoid bumping into all the people. "Why would the world's wealthiest point one percent choose to wear so much flannel and Patagonia?"

"They think true power lies in not flaunting theirs." Ms. Mead replied, and Elizabeth would admit that sometimes she forgot she was a robot. Until she replayed the scene of her shooting her sisters with the gun built into her arm.

"Idiots." Michael scoffed. It almost upset Elizabeth. "Well, I just hope I can pry them away from their horseback riding and hot yoga long enough to convince them to help me."

Ms. Mead stopped, so did Michael. He gave her an odd look and Elizabeth accidentally bumped into him. He snaked his arm around her waist and held her close to him. "You gotta be kidding me."

Michael let out a sigh and turned towards her. "I'm just... I'm nervous."

Elizabeth looked up at him with admiration. Michael has humanity in him, Cordelia was right. Often times, it was hard for her to have faith in that. "Against all the odds, you found your way to this place and to the brink of fulfilling your destiny. And those people in there are quaking in their overpriced boots because they know they're about to come face-to-face with true greatness. You're the one they're waiting for. They've all pledged their souls to your father and to serving you. And they're starving for you to show them the way. It's time for you to do what you were put on this earth to do. Destroy it."

They stepped into the private building of The Cooperative. It was all black and silver metallic. When they stepped into the meeting room, the longest table Elizabeth had ever seen took up the room, with fifty chairs on each side of it. Each one had a silver lamp sitting in front of it. All the people stepped forward, wearing all black and silver metallic masks, probably to hide their true identities. It made sense. She wouldn't want to admit that she was part of The Cooperative, either. Elizabeth stood back with Ms. Mead and watched him. Instantly, he took the stage light with his powerful and convincing voice. "Esteemed members of The Cooperative. World leaders, tech giants, media moguls, and cultural influencers. The rumors you've heard are true: My name is Michael Langdon, and I am the Antichrist."

There were whispers amongst them as they all looked around. Elizabeth didn't know how they had to audacity to whisper about the Antichrist right in front of his face. With the lifting of his hand and balling of his fist, he silenced them all, directing their attention to him. He put his hand down and they all took a seat.

"Humanity is at a crossroads. The world as it is today; the poverty, the hunger, the greed and war... It's no longer sustainable. The time has come to wipe the slate clean. Friends, it's time for the apocalypse." They whispered again, and Ms. Mead went to the box in the corner and grabbed an armful of manuals. Elizabeth wondered if she should help, if that's what he wanted her to do. She decided she had a greater purpose than handing out things. "I understand your trepidation. But let me remind you that you are here because of the gifts bestowed upon you by my father. In return, you gave him your immortal souls. He owns you. Therefore, I own you. We speak with one voice and my demands are his. Now, as you'll see from the handy guide provided by my associate, I do not intend to leave you and your families to die. When fire rains down on the unwashed masses, you and your families will be safely squirreled away in a network of luxury fallout shelters. You already have the resources. You just bought land on New Zealand's South Island. You own half of Bora Bora. The bunker underneath your ranch in Texas could easily fit 20 people. With a little construction and some retrofitting, these sites will make the perfect outposts to ride out the end of the world. And with the admission price of 100 million dollars, only the worthy will gain admission. Turn to page six, section one: Outpost Construction."