Lazarus spotted only one familiar face amongst The Illuminati in the room: a sallow, cadaverous man named Augustus Hubbard. Hubbard was from California and had amassed a fortune in the firearms business. Lazarus had crossed paths with him in early ’31, when Hubbard had attended a ritual magic session in Los Angeles. The attempt had been to somehow influence the stagnant American economy through occult means. Hubbard had been one of the leading proponents of ritual and in the aftermath, his own business had improved greatly, though most of America had continued to wallow in the poor house.
It soon became apparent that Hubbard was the master of ceremonies for tonight’s event. When he cleared his throat, conversation slowly trickled to a halt. Looking like a mortician about to inform the next of kin that their relative was now deceased, he clasped his hands behind his back and stared at Emerson. “Professor,” he intoned, obviously enjoying his role, “We invited you here because the time has come for you to step outside conventional circles… and embrace a greater Truth. Like you, we are all men of science and breeding. It’s up to us to illuminate those who are less fortunate than we are.”
Professor Emerson smiled uncertainly. “So is this a charitable organization? Will we be raising money for the needy?”
“Not quite,” Hubbard answered and there was a ripple of laughter across the room. “You see, we’re all about helping raise up those who deserve it. Make the strong stronger and it helps the entire species, if you understand. In fact, we’re willing go outside the normal avenues in hopes of bringing about such things.”
“You’ve lost me, I’m afraid,” Emerson answered.
“There are things out there that can’t be explained by textbooks and by scientists. There are places that can only be described as haunted, objects that defy classification and entities that have never been seen by the majority of mankind. When it comes to levels of membership in our group, we have two major splits: there are those like myself, who are Leaders. We’re here of our own free will, having decided that it’s better to be on the winning side than to worry about outdated concepts of morality. And then there’s the other side of it: there are those who are Followers. Most of them serve us freely but there are some like you, what the rest of the world would call ‘good’ men. You’d never do anything that resulted in the deaths of innocents, would you?”
Emerson was looking around now, staring into the smiling faces of those around them. They looked almost reptilian in the dim lighting, their lips stretch thin and their eyes gleaming with dark enjoyment. “Of course not! I say, what’s going on here?”
Several of the men surrounding him had grabbed hold of Emerson’s arms, holding him tightly as he began to struggle.
Hubbard turned and accepted a small urn that was being held out to him by another member of the group. He removed the lid and reached inside, pulling forth a small grayish lizard, about five inches in length. He held it aloft by the tail and the creature writhed in his grip. The reptile had protruding eyes and a forked tongue that repeatedly tasted the air. “This, Professor, is a Chaos Lizard. They feed on both ectoplasm and also on pheromones, of the sort produced by fearful mammals. This is only the barest hint of The Truth that you will come to know. But before you learn all of our secrets, this beast will burrow under your skin and find a home at the base of your brain stem. From there, he’ll make you pliant and easily susceptible to our commands.”
Emerson cried out as one of the men grabbed him by the chin and forced his head back. Hubbard brought the lizard up to the Professor’s neck and the reptile immediately began growing more agitated, as if it could sense that a potential new home was close.
It was at this moment that Lazarus revealed himself. He sprinted across the room, pistol-whipping one of the men holding Emerson. He then pointed his gun at one of the others and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught the man in the stomach and sent him to the ground, writhing in agony.
Hubbard threw down the Chaos Lizard and began to back away, shouting for the others to kill the intruder. Unfortunately for him, the men in the room were not trained killers. They were no match for Lazarus, who easily dispatched all who came within reach. He slammed one of them into the wall, delivered a painful blow to the throat of another and finished off yet another by shattering the man’s nose.
Emerson, for his part, was completely at a loss for words. The evening’s transformation from one of frivolity to one of extreme danger had been so abrupt that he had yet to switch gears. He stood rooted to the floor, mouth agape, as Lazarus turned his attentions upon Hubbard.
“Winthrop!” Hubbard gasped. “It’s you, isn’t it? I heard that you were back.” He held up his hands in front of him. “We can talk this through. What do you want? Money? Information?”
Putting his gun back into its holster, Lazarus took several long strides towards Hubbard, gripping him by his coat lapels and lifting the slender man off the floor. He drove him back until Hubbard’s head collided with the wall.
“It’s over,” Lazarus hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. “The Illuminati’s lost. They just don’t know it yet.”
“You can’t be serious,” Hubbard stammered. “It’s too big, too powerful, too old… One man can’t stop them. It’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible — if there’s one thing I’ve learned since my rebirth, it’s that. Think about this: The Illuminati tried to kill me but they failed. Since they learned that I was Lazarus Gray, they’ve sent Lunt after me again and again; alongside mummies, demigods and assassins. But I’m still here.” Lazarus leaned closer, so that his mismatched eyes seemed to bore into Hubbard’s. “The current Illuminati isn’t like the old group. This one’s grown fat and lethargic. They’re too secure in their own power to even realize what a threat I am to them. But you see me for what I am… don’t you?”
“Yes,” Hubbard stammered.
“Good. Then I want you to send a message to the current chairman — Mobius, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him that if need be, I’ll kill every single one of you. But for now, let him know that I’m turning over all my files on your organization and all of its known members to Doc Daye, The Peregrine, Fortune McCall and every other vigilante that I can think of. I’m going to list all the sins I can think of that your group is involved in. And I’m going to ask them to declare open season on The Illuminati.”
Hubbard shivered under the force of Gray’s stare and when Lazarus tossed him aside, he bolted for the front door.
Lazarus yelled after him, “Tell Mobius that you’re the only survivor from tonight. I’m going to put a bullet in the head of every other man here.”
When Hubbard’s frightened exit was complete, Lazarus turned to look at Emerson, who was still standing sheepishly in the middle of the room.
“Are you really going to do that?”
“Kill them all?”
“Yes…”
Lazarus looked around at the fallen men, many of who were beginning to struggle to their feet. “I’ll take them out with a canister of knock-out gas. I have a friend in Manhattan who owns a specialized college. They take hardened criminals and perform surgery on them, removing that portion of the brain that regulates criminal activity. They’re then trained in a new career, given a new identity and returned to the greater community.”
“But some of these men… they must have those lizards in them. Can’t those creatures be removed?”
“They will be but the damage is already done. They’re dark souls now, Professor, and there’s only so much that can be done for them.”