The Iscariot Agenda

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Senator Joseph Cartwright, an ambitious man whose weighted arrogance was so often exhibited at the podium on the Senate floor, knew he was about to die at the hands of the very monster he created.

Inside the study of his residence, the senator closed the blinds against the inconstant flares from the evening’s lightning storm and moved as quickly as possible to his desk to bundle together some very special dossiers.

There were eight in all, the documented pieces of the creature he helped assemble into a single, unstoppable mass that was forever at the beck and call of the man holding the highest political seat in the land.

In haste the senator bound the manila folders together with rubber bands, his arthritically challenged hands moving with surprising deft while hoping that his death would serve as the beginning of the end of something that had gone horribly wrong.

Closing his eyes and clenching his teeth as he leaned over the files, Senator Cartwright couldn’t help the pang of regret that tormented him for believing that he was untouchable, which allowed his conceit to carry him too far by pushing certain dignitaries too hard, too fast, or without giving any measurable thought of the terrifying powers they wielded.

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