Everywhere he looked, he found signs of the conspiracy. Financial institutions, militaries, religious institutions, businesses: every aspect of life contained the insidious tentacles of the Oligarchy. He dug deeper, and deeper still, tracing sources of funding, of ideology, of power and control, and found more and more numerous tentacles, a proliferation of limbs tangled together, interwoven. The Secret Masters, he came to believe, weren’t even human.
It wasn’t until he encountered one, stalked it, cornered it, grasped its tenebrous flesh and pulled it from its gasping host, that he realized the truth.
There was no head. There were only tentacles.
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