Fred Christ, half-alien love messiah, lounges in the headquarters of his Church of Christ, being 'tended' to by several of his Brides of Christ. With the success of his cult, the devout loyalty of his followers, and the substantial bankroll of The Smiler, he feels happier than a pig in well-seasoned shit, and
powerful - powerful enough to do anything he wants.
So powerful, in fact, that he's thinking of ditching his loose alliance with The Smiler. Why should
that dicksmear get all the credit for the hard work Fred has done staging riots at The Smiler's behest?
He knows enough secrets to bury both the candidates, and he thinks it's time to put them to good use. He knows Spider isn't wrong about these guys, and with the election so close, he's no longer sure he wants either of them in
actual power. Fuck, if he helps bring them down, maybe
he could be elected President!
But the candidates have ears everywhere, and his Brides may not be so devout, after all. Fred finishes, and shoos his Brides away. Then he falls into the deep, contented sleep of a raging megalomaniac, visions of the entire City licking his boots and groveling for his favor.
Not an hour later, one of his Brides sneaks back in, a dark cloak covering her usual habit. He's grinning in his sleep just before she drives a long serrated knife into his chest, twists, then disappears back into the night. He didn't even have time to call out. At least he died happy.
Linds, the not-exactly-innocent (but definitely not mafia) Fred Christ, cult leader, is dead.
Day 3
48 hours for votes.
