Man in a black suit steps out of car in front of shady club. The club is on the edge of city center, only few blocks away from the place of illegal street races and shoes hanging on power lines, marking either drug selling or some gang member`s place of death. In the other direction, where he just came from, was expensive hotels and trendy night clubs. Here would had been much more pleasant to meet, Henry Evergreen didn`t like gangs or drugs, but he didn`t wanted policies or journalist to know the truth about his transactions. He, like all politicians and bankers, was involved in dirtier things than most prisoners.
He had never felt empathy or love, but lately he had felt like he was dead inside. He was like a machine that seeks for power and money, and tramples everyone under his feet, and he didn`t knew if he was still able to laugh. Then he shook his head, now wasn`t time for self-pity. He had came here to meet NSA leader and some of the congressmen, because they had heard worrying rumors from Suburbia. Policies had either changed side or been captured, and the army refused to attacking their own citizens. It seemed that nothing could be done, but they could not let the rebels win, or everything would fall apart. He knew that they had gone too far, intimidating and spying on people, not to mention everything that they had concealed, or blood that they had washed from their hands with money.
If it all is revealed to the masses ... He felt a shiver of horror at the thought of it, nothing would be able to hold the enraged and frustrated crowd. The world would experience a huge change, and they wouldn`t survive without great losses.
