"Sir. They are ready. They no longer need our guidance."
Aristotle turned around. "Oh, Socrates, how shortsighted you are. Think of the bigger picture. I know, I know, it will stretch your tiny brain, but try. They will always need our guidance. We hold their loved ones in our control. Without us, their loved ones die. Without us, they die. It's that simple.
Socrates nodded, but grimaced slightly at the insult. "I understand that, but with their strength, I fear that they could... ahem... attack and overwhelm us."
Aristotle chuckled. "I keep them on a tight leash. They are like dogs, and only I rule them. Only I control them. So they will never be free. They will be my slaves, controlled by the whip, afraid of the flogger. So never fear, Socrates. Your family jewels are safe."
Socrates rolled his eyes. "One thing I don't understand, sir. Why must we use these silly codenames? I find it exceedingly foolish."
Aristotle glared at Socrates. "Because, my dear fool, you cannot know my name. It would place me in danger. And it would imperil my entire business. That is something that I cannot afford. So I would be careful talking about these 'silly' codenames as they are the only reason that you aren't quite dead right now."
Socrates laughed darkly. "Oh, how little you understand. I pity the years that have gone by where I pretended to be your inferior, only for you to rain idiotic and shortsighted comments upon me. Perhaps I show you who is truly in control." With that, Socrates pulled off his mask, revealing under it, a very different, and very familiar, face.
Aristotle gaped. "Brother?" Socrates laughed maniacally. "Indeed. And now, my revenge shall be complete." He raised his hand towards Aristotle and said one word. 197Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwkzqOhm9w0
"Attack."
Instantly, hundreds of animalistic humanoids attacked Aristotle, ripping at his flesh, tearing at his body, swallowing chunks of him until there was nothing but a bloody pile of bones and other indigestibles.
Socrates heard a quiet gasp and turned to the shadows in the corner of the room. "Who's there?" He demanded angrily. A tall, grim man walked from the shadows.
"I have all the proof I need," He said calmly. "You're going to jail. Permanently."
Socrates raised an eyebrow. "I find that highly unlikely."
"I'm a witness. And I'll talk."
Socrates laughed, then raised a gun and shot the man. "The dead don't speak."
He turned to the man, who had dropped to the ground, and saw he was trying to say something. Intrigued, he walked up to the man, who whispered six words. Words that struck terror deep into the heart of Socrates.
"But they still shout to the Devil."
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