SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

Roberts Greert still sat unhurriedly in his Washington home.His wife and children are still on vacation at their home in Southern Colorado, and news of his treason indictment remains under lockdown.

It was late at night, and the staff who entered his house to collect evidence under the command of the prosecutor had temporarily evacuated, leaving a house seal waiting for the next day to continue.The searched room has been cordoned off, and there is 24-hour surveillance outside the house.As a high-level FBI official, Roberts is actually under house arrest, but he still holds enough dignity from the outside world.At least, in the house that was evacuated, he still has a room that has been turned upside down, a kitchen and a private bathroom available.With good cigars and black tea, soft seats, exquisite carpets, and the beautiful night view of Washington, D.C. as the heart of the United States, he even had a wonderful experience that was not like a quasi-prisoner.

So, when the block was suddenly cut off from the power supply, and the emergency backup lights of the house came on a moment later, and the mysterious intruder sat quietly across from him, Roberts even smiled happily.

The infiltrator happened to be sitting in a blind spot outside the house where the observation post could not find it.For some reason, the surveillance personnel who were supposed to rush into the house immediately to confirm the situation did not show up.Roberts turned his head and glanced out the window, the surveillance vehicle remained silent.He turned back, and the man sitting across from him took off his mask.

It's a strange face.

The man's strong muscles that have been tempered in the battlefield are wrapped in a dark stealth suit, which makes him not even make a sound when sneaking indoors.Even through the carefully designed and processed clothing and gun belts for sneaking into battle, Roberts can easily see the opponent's lion-like physique, as well as the extremely shocking fighting elite temperament revealed from the inside out.There were some inconspicuous old injuries on his face, which further deepened the rough and sturdy impression.

"Frank Myersand. Or 'Execution Agent' as you call it, whatever you want." He adjusted his sitting posture and began to introduce himself.The sound is mellow and magnetic, and it sounds quite charming.

"Myersand? I remember that long before the outbreak of the Gulf War, a warlord composed of foreign mercenaries appeared in the Middle East, and the commander there was named Myersander. Are you related to that commander?"

"Yes, he's my father." Frank gave Roberts a dangerous smile and took a cigarette from his pocket.When lit, Roberts could smell the pungent, heavy smell of tobacco preferred by Middle Eastern mercenaries.

The former high-ranking officials under house arrest did not panic, but calmly declined the cigarettes offered by Frank.He cut straight to the point: "Mr. Myersand, I'm afraid you didn't break into my house to sell me tobacco. As you can see, my house is almost vacated; considering the security situation in the neighborhood, you also There's no easy way out of Washington."

Frank smiled indifferently, with the incomprehensible madness Steven had witnessed in his expression: "No, I'm just here to provoke."

"Provocation?" Roberts frowned. "The fact that I was investigated itself was done by you. Even if they can't find anything, it's easy for you to add something to the evidence box. What's more, there are not a few people who don't like me."

"Cooperating with armed hostile forces that have carried out terrorist attacks on the United States, or even leaking national intelligence, should be enough. What's more, these are not fabricated, but there are clues to follow." Frank said with a smile.

Roberts remained calm on the surface, and even wanted to laugh: "You have indeed penetrated too deeply. I need to reflect on whether signing Agreement 23 was a mistake."

Frank shook his head: "No, that was the right decision. In a sense, I even admire your spirit of sacrifice. In order to stop Sotopia and protect the motherland in your heart, you can actually reach a consensus with the enemy of your own country. It's kind of similar to Mills." Speaking of this, he even showed a strange tender expression.But soon, he returned to his sharp and mean tone. "You probably mobilized those people to find him. But it's better to give up your mind—what do you say, using assassination methods to eliminate the hawkish high-level and core scientific researchers in various departments of Sotopia seems to be the 'second Second Scavenger Project'?"

"I should have thought of this routine long ago, but I didn't know that you guys could still make such a big fight in order to induce me to show my flaws. I can only say that I did it myself." Roberts smiled wryly. "It was you who took him away? Is he in your hands now?"

Seemingly dissatisfied with the word "robbed away", Frank glanced at the other party quickly, then raised his hand and took a deep breath of the rich smoke: "No way, Mills is always on guard against me."

"The FBI is investigating his whereabouts."

"I know." Frank replied casually. "But until it's over, I'm going to keep him in a place that's absolutely safe."

Listening to Frank's words, Roberts seemed to remember something important for a moment.The older man couldn't help laughing, pushing the tense atmosphere to a critical point; the uninvited guest sitting opposite just watched with cold eyes.After putting away his laughter, Roberts faced Frank again with a scrutinizing expression, with more contempt and sarcasm in his eyes: "Before the Silver Castle incident, you were probably the one who could make Fraser go to that extent by any means. .”

Frank spread his hands, noncommittal, but Roberts already had his own answer.He sneered knowingly, and quickly reached out with one hand to the alarm bell placed under the table beside him.At the same time, Frank, who has experienced many battles, has pulled out a small, sharp-edged dagger from the leather scabbard on his chest, and threw it forward steadily and fiercely.The dagger was stabbed impartially on the wooden board in front of the table, just in time to intercept Roberts' movement of ringing the alarm bell.

"Mr. Greert, it's not a wise choice to play small tricks at this time." Frank stood up with a smile, walked forward slowly, and pulled out the dagger embedded in the wood with a little force.

Roberts withdrew his hand wisely.He sighed and said, "I lost this time, I admit it. But it's a bit too much to label me 'treason'. Those of you who don't have a motherland, I'm afraid you can't understand my feelings."

“Aside from other things, Sotopia focuses on the new order of the world in terms of cultural community affiliation and action goals. From this point of view, we really do not have a motherland.”

Roberts sneered: "Are you going to bring the European 'workers without a country' set a century and a half ago to the United States?"

In this regard, Frank sneered mercilessly: "I really didn't expect you to read Marx."

"Aren't you going to kill me?" Watching Frank put out the cigarette in his ashtray, put the cigarette butt in his outer pocket to prevent leaving physical evidence, and then stood up as if preparing to leave, Roberts couldn't help asking.

Frank smiled.He even saluted the other party provocatively: "Keeping you alive is probably more cruel than killing you, but I like this kind of bad method very much."

Taking nothing and leaving nothing behind, the eccentric guest strolled away from Roberts' place as he would in any ordinary house that was deserted.

Maynard saw his former boss again, in a private meeting room in the prison.

Without the tie and suit that his wife was in charge of, as well as the hair gel and hair dye, Roberts Greert, who was officially put into prison, looked haggard.But as a former senior official—even though he was a former senior official who committed treason, the prison authorities still gave him enough treatment.For example, the positioning is obviously different from the special prison for ordinary prisoners, independent and clean rooms, and even the rest that cannot be fully enjoyed during working hours.

Maynard, who flew over overnight, sat opposite him through a partition glass, not knowing what to say.After deliberating for a long time, he asked without any hope: "Is the evidence of treason 'real'?"

"You've seen it all—even though you don't want to admit it, it's true." Roberts' voice seemed to be the same as before, determined and profound.He raised his hand to show Maynard the shackles on his hands.But in the next second, the man who was pulled from the position of assistant director of the FBI suddenly came to the front of the dialogue and lowered his voice: "Yes, I don't deny this. Alexander is indeed a member of the anti-American armed organization, a veritable terror We even wanted him before reaching a consensus with him. But he is also firmly opposed to Sotopia, which is enough as a prerequisite for our cooperation."

"You're crazy." Listening to Roberts' almost paranoid words, Maynard couldn't help but feel a chill hit from the bottom of his heart.He became more and more aware that the truth behind the chess game that he didn't understand was something darker than the essence of Agreement No. 23.

Roberts smiled. "Only a madman can defeat a madman. That's part of the plan." He leaned back in his chair, and there was a slightly screeching sound from the metal swivel chair's wheels. "You will all be proven to be ignorant, there will be no punishment for me, the special office will continue to exist, our country has not completely lost this war. You can spit on me as a traitor, but only one One thing, please keep going: stop Sotopia, stop those lunatics who want to rewrite the world order. In a way, this organization is more terrible than terrorists."

Maynard's hands on the table clenched subconsciously. "I will," he said quietly. "But not in this way."