The morning was dull and gray that morning at the Hague. As was the case through the years since the Grand War, the city remained the same concrete jungle it had always been. Yet despite its ostensible lack of excitement and its lifeless complacency, Wilhelm admired it deeply, for it had been his home for as long as he could remember. And today would be his chance to join the ranks of the bureaucrats that ran the most prosperous confederation in the world.

He made his way through the dimly lit Middenhuis, its inhabitants scampering towards coffee machines like moths towards a lamp. With a loose bundle of files clutched under his left hand, he made his way towards the elevator, the staccato of his polished leather boots swelling as he walked.

"Morning Mr. Zimmermann," came a voice from his right.

"Good morning Mathilda, I hope the kids are well."

"They are splendid, thank you." The receptionist's eyes creased into a radiant smile.

"Have a fine day, Mathilda," Wilhelm smiled back.

Upon entering the elevator, he toyed with his mustache and straightened out his speckless white shirt. Although he had been in the Middenhuis countless times now, he could not contain his nervousness, and excitement, to finally meet the entire Council in the flesh. He had heard several tales about them, the first Rosenbaum Children that had risen to prominence during a time when the world was in dire need of saving. They built shelters and fed the poor and displaced, they catapulted the world's economy to heights it had never before seen, and most importantly of all—they negotiated a peace treaty between the once Great Powers that participated in the gut-wrenching Grand War.

It was all long before Wilhelm's time, but now, the greatness of the Confederation of Vassalia, comprising the then Netherlands, Belgium, Luxemburg, and Switzerland is known world-over, and even more revered is the Council of the Hague.

DING!

Wilhelm shot back to his senses, controlling his excitement. He trod across the translucent room, admiring the beauty in the simplicity of the design. The walls here were not at all like the drab yellow walls of the previous office he had worked at. Here, they were made of pure glass. He looked above, and that too was glass. 

A woman around his age came up to him as he stared around the room like a lost tourist, and upon recognizing him offered to escort him to the Centrum, an offer he gladly accepted.

...

"Thank you, Isabella. Please, have a wonderful day." Wilhelm turned towards his companion as his boots came to a squeaking halt outside his destination.

"My pleasure. I hope you have a swell day as well." She smiled sheepishly, holding up a pink file to her mouth. "You will need all the hope you can get for dealing with that bunch." With that, she turned on her heel and scuttled away.

Wilhelm massaged his neck nervously and looked towards the room. A vivacious conversation seemed to be occurring within the thin walls, and he was not thrilled to interfere and thus turn into the object of attention. Nonetheless, he would be late if he were to hesitate any longer and so he pushed the cold glass door aside and walked inside.

...

"Nietzsche was a complete fraud. Are you brain-dead?"

"Oh, so you were dropped as a baby, is that it?"

A man and a woman, interlocked in some sort of puerile debate, sat across from one another at the large oval table made of glass. Wilhelm recognized both. The first, Michael Matthews—businessman, tycoon, philanthropist—you name it, this man had it all. The woman arguing against the denouncement of everyone's favorite First Reich philosopher was the young (whatever that meant for immortals) Izumi Kobashigawa, one half of the Kobashigawa Twins, or the 'Fumetsu no Futago' as they're known in their homeland.

The man sipping tea at the far end of the glass table was Ernst Albrecht—the current President of the Council, and thus the most revered of all. Resting his cup, he stood and gave a single clap, and it would not be an understatement to claim that there was a shift in the entire atmosphere of the room. He looked at his watch, and then at Wilhelm.

"It is time to begin today's meeting. The world waits for no man, not even the Ubermensch, Madame Kobashigawa. Come, please sit, Mr. Zimmermann."

Everyone sat up in their seats, with Izumi and Michael eyeing one another with death stares.

Ernst put on round-rimmed glasses, his eyes scanning through the documents before him. His age was showing, for he was the only one in the room who brandished a crown of silver. Certain groups mocked him for it, disavowing him as a liar who had infiltrated the ranks of the Council; for which immortal ages but one that lies?

But Wilhelm knew this to not be true because seeing the man first-hand was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. The man gave off an aura that could not be described in words. As Ernst sat silently reading his documents, there was no doubt in Wilhelm's mind that this man has power beyond all imagination. After all, he was one of the very first natural-born Rosenbaum Children.

"Before we go over today's report, how about we offer a warm welcome to our newest employee?" Ernst laid down his glasses and leaned forward on the table.

"Ah, um, it is my pleasure to join you all here—"

"Oh faak off. Ve do not need to hear your bastard life story and vaat you jerk off to at home. Now, get on vit it, Ernie."

Nikolaj Žižek, the black sheep of the Council. Born during the White Genocide of the then nigh-impregnable Soviet Russia. His crudeness and lack of basic etiquette had led to a lot of headlines and headaches for the Council. It was one of the main reasons why they were establishing a revamped PR department, and consequently why Wilhelm was sitting in this very room.

"Please, Nikolaj, let the man speak for Christ's sake."

Peter von Neumann. Engineer, scientist, and all-around savant of the modern age.

"Peter's right, Žižek, this man's going to heal your image, are you not glad?" The prior slanderer of Nietzsche responded.

"Eat my cock, filthy American." Nikolaj spat and stormed out of the room.

Izumi was about to go fetch him back, but Ernst's thousand-yard stare made her sit back down.

"We are late. Let us proceed. Peter?"

Peter cleared his throat. Donning a suit of suede and slicked-back hair, he appeared more so a businessman than a scientist. "The experiments are proceeding as per usual—"

"By which you mean we're still bleeding funds on a fool's errand, do you not?" interjected Izumi.

"Shut your trap, you blithering tramp," came Michael's response.

"Please, let us be civil," replied the scientist, "Yes, Ms. Kobashigawa, we are bleeding funds, that is no secret. But this is no fool's errand." He pulled out a tiny container of powder. "If we perfect this, we would no longer need to live in fear."

"Peter is speaking sense, sister," replied Kazuo Kobashigawa, the other twin. "We would no longer need to suffer."

Peter nodded. "As for the other project, we are having a bit of trouble due to the new regulations mandated in India, but the results so far have been astonishing. A dramatic decrease in gene expression through 60% of the test subjects. Can you imagine?"

Ernst's pale blue eyes turned to the last person in the room Wilhelm hadn't yet noticed. Ivonne Rosenstein. Former President, and the second oldest of the Council. Born in the earliest days of the experiments conducted by the Third Reich. But what never ceased to surprise Wilhelm each time he laid eyes upon her was that she never looked a day over 30.

She moved a tuft of auburn hair from her ear and replied, "Project Bloom is proceeding as expected."

A woman of few words, the frost in her voice was palpable to the green Wilhelm at the opposite end of the table. He rubbed his neck nervously.

"Ivonne, from what I have read in these reports, the Immortalists have been causing you trouble once again?"

"It is no large matter, Ernst. I have witnessed so many of these petty vermin through my years, I know how to deal with them."

"Then I shall take your word for it." Ernst then turned towards Michael. "Finances?"

"Down the drain," muttered Izumi.

Michael rose furiously, "You fucking bi—"

...

tic

...

BOOM

...

Sirens blared from all four directions. A disoriented Wilhelm sat up, his shirt soaked with sweat.

"Are you alright?"

A woman's voice. He adjusted his vision.

"Come. There was a blast. We need to move. Now."

He coughed up blood. Must be nice to be immortal, he thought. He accepted the helping hand and pulled himself up. Who in their right mind would attack the most powerful people in the world? How would they even infiltrate a building with such high security as this? There was something about this whole situation that did not make sense to him. But truthfully, he cared very little about the safety of these people, they did not need his care. Rather, what truly irked him the most and made him curse his luck was the fact that this happened the very day that he had begun working there. None of this bode well for his career going forward.

"You are unhurt?"

Wilhelm nodded. He now recognized the familiar face. Izumi Kobashigawa.

"Good. The others are in the courtyard. Follow me."

As he walked, his previously spotless leather boots now trod over the dust and debris that had settled. The smell of sulfur and blood coated the room. Blood? He turned around. Several bodies lay splayed over the ground, their entrails spread across the translucent glass coated with soot. His gaze rested upon a dismembered arm holding a familiar pink file. Tears came to his eyes and he desperately controlled his urge to vomit.

"You will get used to it, trust me," Izumi held his hand and pulled him forward. "I wish that imbecile would've died instead of Isabella. I quite liked her, you know?"

Wilhelm could not comprehend the nonchalance in Izumi's voice. Was he really speaking with a fellow human being?

...

CRACK

...

A piece of glass collapsed in front of the pair, blocking the only exit to the courtyard.

"Wait. There is another way."

A hole the size of a crater had eaten a chunk out of a part of the Middenhuis.

"Do you trust me?"

Wilhelm was taken aback by the sudden question. "Pardon?"

"Do you trust me?"

"I—"

The next moment, all he could feel was the rush of wind against his face as he fell tumbling through the air. But he wasn't tumbling. He was held in place. A hand.

...

THUD

...

"Sister...why would you risk that jump?"

"And for that runt, too." Michael scoffed.

Warm air rose around the still-dazed Wilhelm. He was lying on his side, shivering in fear.

"Come, we have no time to waste."

A helicopter swayed in the near vicinity and eventually came to rest upon the landing pad.

Wilhelm was still incapacitated, shuddering as if he had nearly died, which wasn't very far off from the truth. Izumi held him up and put her arm around him. Her brother helped prop him up on the other side.

"Hah! Poor bastard pissed his pants." Nikolaj appeared out of the blue.

Ernst entered the helicopter, and the rest soon followed. Little did Wilhelm know at the time, but this day would be the start of a series of events that would lead to his fate becoming intricately intertwined with that of the Council. A fate that would change the world as we know it.