In a Secret Bunker Beneath the Swiss Alps -
While the Earth's surface experienced a deceptive truce and primordial battles raged in the depths of Hollow Earth, the human architects of much of the global chaos faced their own implosion. In their alpine sanctuary, the thirteen patriarchs and matriarchs of the world's most powerful families were locked in a heated and desperate war council. The arrival of Cthulhu, the entity some of them had attempted to "direct" as a tool, had proven to be a cataclysm beyond their most optimistic control.
"Your 'final solution' to reassert control has brought us to the brink of total annihilation, Von Hess!" The voice of Alejandro Herrera, representative of a vast Latin American dynasty and one of the leaders of the "young" faction (though he was in his sixties), resonated with suppressed fury. "Awakening an Ancient One... in what senile mind could that be 'managed'?"
Baron Von Hess, with nearly a century of global manipulation behind him, banged his shaky but still strong hand on the table. "Silence, upstart! Your own impatience and your hands are not exactly clean. The 'order' you sought to sow was nothing more than your own version of chaos, only with a more modern and 'sustainable' facade!"
The division was deep, festered by decades of internal power struggles. The strategy of the oldest, the Council Elders like Von Hess and Lord Ashworth, to maintain their iron grip on a changing world, had led them to delve into forbidden rituals, to believe they could whisper in the ear of an entity like Cthulhu and direct its destructive power to purge their enemies and rewrite the world order to their whim. They had underestimated the scale of the horror.
But the "young" ones, the Reformers, were not innocent. Kenjiro Tanaka, the impassive face of his Japanese family's technological and financial empire, watched the exchange with cold detachment. His faction, in its own eagerness to destabilize the Elders' rule and maintain control of the global narrative in the face of growing popular discontent, had also unleashed its own demons.
"Let us not forget the 'ghost fires' that swept through Southeast Asia last year, causing supply chains to collapse and famine," Von Hess countered, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Tanaka. "Nor the 'crow fever' that decimated agricultural populations in the Horn of Africa and parts of India. Designer viruses, weren't they, Tanaka-san? Conveniently released from labs that, upon cursory investigation, appeared to belong to our rivals in the PetroSov energy consortium, but whose genetic signature bore the unmistakable hallmark of your advanced biotechnology labs on the island of Hokkaido."
Tanaka didn't blink. "Necessary maneuvers to expose the fragility of the system you Elders refused to reform. To demonstrate that new leadership was needed, one capable of crisis management... and of creating solutions."
"Solutions that, what a coincidence, your own pharmaceutical companies already had ready!" Ashworth added sarcastically. "Vaccines and antivirals distributed with great 'humanitarian' fanfare, securing new global monopolies, a debt of gratitude from entire nations, and, of course, fatally weakening our own investments in those regions' traditional industries."
Herrera shrugged. "A lesser evil for a greater good: the transition to a more... efficient order. We had the cures. Deaths were contained, a necessary population and economic readjustment." His coldness was as chilling as the Elders'.
But the Elders had also made their own desperate moves to "keep everything in order," in their view. As the world reeled from crises manufactured by both factions and the mounting psychic pressure of an increasingly agitated Cthulhu, they had taken measures to secure their wealth.
"And what of your 'prudent and patriotic asset management,' Baron, Lord Ashworth?" Tanaka retorted, projecting a hologram showing secret naval and air transport routes. "While you accused us of spreading panic, weren't you silently emptying the vaults of Europe? Thousands upon thousands of tons of physical gold, the true backing of your power for centuries."
The hologram showed the ingots being loaded onto unmarked cargo submarines and planes. "Not toward the vaults of New York or Zurich, as one might expect," Tanaka continued, "but toward Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong. Directly into the hands of the ancient and venerable Dragon families of China, those who have always dreamed of recovering the 'lost imperial treasure,' the 'tribute the West owed them since
the Opium Wars."
Von Hess smiled with the cunning of an old fox. "Gold is power, young Tanaka, wherever it is. And our friends in the Party and the old Chinese families... they have always been excellent stewards of wealth, especially when they believe they are reclaiming what is rightfully theirs. They were more than happy to 'custodial' our assets, offering us influence and a safe haven in exchange for the illusion that they were restoring the glory of their Middle Empire." Ashworth nodded smugly. "A masterstroke to diversify and secure our legacy, regardless of the minor storms that batter the West." The Chinese are just being used, as ambitious pawns have always been."
The Alpine bunker, a symbol of their power and paranoia, was now a luxurious cage where factions pointed fingers at each other, revealing the depth of their own corruption and the ruthless tactics they had employed to maintain their dominance. They had unleashed plagues, manipulated economies, moved mountains of gold, and ultimately awakened a primordial god, all in their insatiable power game. And now, with the world on the brink, they remained divided, unable to make a unified decision, each side blaming the other, while the true cosmic forces began to move their pieces on the global chessboard. Their control was an illusion, and the time to pay the price was fast approaching.