- New York City - 567
- Paris - 483
- Tokyo - 521
- Prague - 234
- Cairo - 123
- Beijing - 789
- Moscow - 365
- London - 256
Cities and numbers continued to scroll beneath her glacial gaze as the Beremud scion sat at her desk, immobile as a statue. As the list drew to its end, she turned to her omnipresent assistant, Silas, and nodded perfunctorily. “We’ve met or exceeded our targets in all major population centers, then?”
If Elsa Beremud’s demeanor was cold, her assistant’s could best be described as perfectly flat. No one had ever observed Silas to so much as change his facial expression, much less display any outward sign of emotion. “Correct.” His voice was as bereft of human feeling as the rest of him.
“And the MRF sleeper units have been concentrated in these cities?”
Another nod. All the pieces were in place. The message would be sent to her...clients, and she would wait for their signal to launch an operation that was years in the making. Idly, she experienced a twinge of regret that the completion of such a labor involved her relocating; perhaps she would alter her plan enough to allow herself to observe the coming harvest. It was likely to be something she would never regret.
Humanity almost certainly would not, after all.