They stand at the forefront of a new dawn for humanity. They are the posthuman supersoldiers of the 21st century's new cold war. They are the European branch of Vanguard International. Join them. . .
William’s day
4:30am
Wake up. Shower. Shave. Get dressed. Work on thesis on US prison reforms and rehabilitation.
6:00am
Leave for work. I take the helicopter to avoid traffic.
7:00am
Arrive at Paragon Industries home office, Los Angeles, CA.
8:00am
Board meeting.
10:00am
Fly out to NYC for press conference on my new self-help book.
4:00pm
Stop in Nevada for dinner with a friend. . .
A greasy diner in southewestern Nevada. William “Doc” Paragon sits in a corner booth across from a tall, thin, man in a grey and black suit. The afternoon sun is cut off from them by window blinds, though small shafts of light scrape through on Paragon’s side. The other man however, seems to bend the light away by his very presence.
“Have you considered my offer?” Paragon asks, his hands folded in front of his face.
“I’ve been terribly busy hunting Spector, you know.” the man answers. “I am the Shadow Chancellor, William. This is not a fancy name I made up for myself. It is my title.
My job. I govern the twilight worlds.”
“I know, Edmund. Your title and connections are one of many reasons I’d like you to participate in this.” Paragon answers, still optimistic.
A waitress walks over and motions towards the blinds. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like-”
Edmund Gaunt gently deflects her hand and cuts her off smoothly, his voice showing just a slight trace of a british accent. “Just because the sun is out, madam, does not mean I wish to be in it.”
“Oh.” she answers walking away a little put out.
“But,” he continues, “I have thought of this, and I think it could prove. . .useful to me in my search.” He finishes, taking a sip of coffee.
“Fantastic. We’ll discuss terms later. In the meantime, I need you to stop off in the Carribbean for me when you’re done here. . .”
