Illuminati and the Sovrumano

The 2nd chapter of Illumination X, it focuses on the structure on The Illuminati itself, as well as their (fictional) history that brings to light to the existence of the superhuman Sovrumano race.

At the same time

 

New York, New York. The city that never sleeps, the gateway to America, the Big Apple, a literal melting pot of the world. Home to more than eight million people, and a mass of businesses, organizations and the like. A home to the New York Stock Exchange, The New York Giants, Ellis Island, The Statue of Liberty, and a host of other internationally known, and unknown, monuments and fixtures. Known, like the World’s Most Famous Arena in Madison Square Garden.

Unknown, like the structure the Garden was built to originally protect.

The thing about this world, is that at times, truth can be hiding in plain sight, and no one would ever know it unless they knew where to look, or better yet, how. Think about it; an arena that massive, that prolific, smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, built right over perhaps the busiest train station in the world. Manhattan was long known as an access point in the Americas, just like Jamestown, or Plymouth Rock, or even old school New Orleans, but Manhattan saw its advent in the beginning of the mass immigration from the old world to the new.

You see, the old world (Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Middle East to an extent) for a long time has been the center of the world, which meant it was the center to all that was right and wrong with the system over there. When the mass immigration started, in the early 1800’s after the War of 1812, it was due to many different events. The Irish had their famine, Great Britain was recovering from a second straight wartime loss to the young United States, and the French and Central Europe had to recover from the wrath of Napoleon. There were detrimental things going on that kick started this immigration, but the catalyst of all of this finds its roots a bit earlier than this, about the same time as the Great Explorers started their expeditions in the New World.

For a long time, Europe was held under the thumb of a singular ruling body; you would know it as the Roman Catholic Church. The Church had vast power since its rise at the beginning of the dark ages, but it was at this time, the Renaissance, that the citizens started to question the rule of the Church. No, it was not due to differing religious beliefs, but due to the belief of the separation of church and state. For a long time, the Church had ruled with an iron thumb, using religion to justify their dominance, but in the beginnings of the Renaissance, it met a test to its iron grip in the form of the Illuminati.

Yes, the Illuminati; not the pop culture version, or the rapper’s Illuminati that is ‘known’ throughout the world, but the Illuminati. The Illuminati that warred against Ut Puri from the beginnings of civilization, from a time when humankind was first starting to grasp its dominion over this world. This was an Illuminati that believed in the values of knowledge and power, life and experience, freedom and tolerance, acceptance. Their values clashed with the Church of the Renaissance era, for this church was unknowingly controlled by this Illuminati’s enemies, the malevolent order known as Ut Puri. Ut Puri, the dark order that had rose to power in the beginning of civilization to contend against the Scions, and ever since has stood as an order devoted to erase the Sovrumano race from the face of the earth, even as they instilled their version of a New World Order, one which would see Ut Puri as the world’s sole leader.

Despite their lack of supernatural power, Ut Puri had a weapon to use against the Illuminati; religion itself. For all of the Illuminati’s teachings, they themselves clashed with religion, but not because they didn’t believe in it. No, it was because the Illuminati believed in tolerance and acceptance for all in spite of religion, human and Sovrumano alike. However, the Sovrumano’s ability to manipulate ki played against them, with an Ut Puri controlled church likening the Sovrumano race to demons and heretics, many of which faced their wrath in the forms of excommunication, public persecution, and ultimately death.

This went on for a thousand years, giving the slogan of this time, ‘The Dark Ages’, a sobering meaning for all Sovrumano and their supporters. Ut Puri used their power in the church to gather the knowledge of the world from all over, stockpiling it for their own use. They thought that with the annihilation of the Sovrumano, they would reach their self-described paradise. It was the resurgence of the Illuminati in the Renaissance that put a stop to their ambitions, as the people had a thirst for knowledge and learning that had not been quenched, and a common sense to know that killing could never be justified. Ut Puri did deal a blow to the Illuminati by massacring more Sovrumano in this short two hundred year period than they had in all of history, but by the time of Napoleon, the old world, including the churches own pope, had seen enough. With America as a young democratic country that could do nothing but grow and expand, it was seen as a mecca to the east, and thus started the great immigration.

With that being said, Sovrumano and regular humans alike immigrated to America, and not all were supporters of the Illuminati. Due to the Dark ages, the Illuminati had adapted a way of overseeing the Sovrumano and the world from the shadows, by use of their headquarters known as the Church of Illumination. The first Church of Illumination was smack in the Vatican City, surprisingly right under the nose Ut Puri, but this was due to Rome itself being a central hub in Europe. With the rise of immigration, the Illuminati’s eclectic rulers, the Exemplars, saw it fit to build new Churches, seven in total, with each being built in a city central to the world stage. To hide these churches, the Illuminati built them using ancient mystical techniques that were handed down since the time of the Scions’ stay on Earth, as well as putting them in places that not even Ut Puri would dare to openly attack lest they wanted the eyes of all the world on them. As for the Church that the Illuminati had built in New York, well, that one was followed up by the one thing America needed on a cosmetic standpoint to measure up to the empires of old- a great arena.

Hence, the creation of Madison Square Garden, ‘America’s Coliseum’, and the de facto protector of the New York Church of Illumination.         

“Move out of the goddamn way!” a short, nearly dwarf like Mexican teen wearing an odd looking sleeveless brown trench coat yelled, albeit to no effect in the bustling streets of New York City. The teen had a look of frustration on his face as he shoved his way through the Manhattan pedestrians, aggravated at their ‘normal’ speed of foot traffic as he made his way to the prolific Church of Illumination. Being the size that he was, only 5 feet even, made it very difficult for him to navigate, and that was quickly pissing the Mexican teen off, yelling at anyone he could, his accent thick due to his angered state. Despite his anger, one could see the edge of anxiety on the face of the teen, the kind that had nothing to do with a timely arrival to his destination, rather, just the feeling that he had to make it to said destination.

Santana Del Rio, despite just becoming an adult in the eyes of the law, was already a ‘veteran’ member of the Illuminati, having pledged himself to their purpose at the age of 16. He, like most of the members of the Illuminati, was a member of the Sovrumano race, more specifically a Felis. Being a Felis granted him certain supernatural abilities, those being the ability to render himself or any object of his choosing invisible, as well as to create doppelgangers of himself at will. Just like the creature that they took their namesake from, the Felis were masters of stealth, even when they weren’t actively using their abilities.

‘F**k this s**t,’ Santana thought, his patience well past the limit with the normal pace of New Yorkers due to his upbringing in Mexico. Making up his mind, he pulled his coat even higher around his body before stepping into an alley close to him. For a minute all anyone could see of him, if they were paying much attention that is, was the trench coat that was pulled so tightly around Santana that not even his face or boots were visible. However, the coat fell away after a few seconds, and Santana was nowhere to be seen… or was he?

‘Finally,’ Santana thought, still standing in the same spot he was before he let the coat fall away, having rendered himself invisible to any onlookers. ‘Now to get to the church.’

Kneeling down, Santana placed a hand on his trench coat as he watched the pedestrians on the sidewalk in front of him go about their daily business, oblivious to what was taking place in the alley. Still watching, Santana’s face took on a focused look as the hand on the trench coat glowed with a faint light. It only lasted a second, but Santana had succeeded in his endeavor; he wasn’t too fond of leaving that particular trench coat lying in a New York alley, especially when he had just bought it from a designer in Italy a few weeks ago for a fair amount more than he made working for the Illuminati.

Yeah, the Illuminati was an occupation that was more of a calling rather than a lucrative career choice.

After folding up the trench coat and tucking it into his belt loop, he scanned the alley for a way out, and the sidewalk was exempt. His gaze landed on a ladder, most likely one used for a fire escape, and smiled before walking to it. The bottom of the ladder was still a good six feet over his head, but Santana had no worries about that. Being a Sovrumano had its quirks other than ki control; Sovrumano also were extremely physically fit, with the weakest, most untrained of them still having the physical capabilities of an Olympian competitor. Grinning softly, Santana leaped, catching the fifth rung from the bottom with ease, before quickly climbing up to the landing. Santana continued to leap around, using a mixture of free running and parkour to make his way up the various fire escapes (and sometimes the walls themselves), until he finally made it to the top of the 30 story building.

‘Alright,’ Santana thought, looking down at the alley he had come from. ‘Now to find HQ.’ Not the response one would expect from a member of the Illuminati, but Santana, despite his time in the Illuminati, had never been to the New York Church, being based out of the Church of Illumination in Alexandria, Egypt. This was his first time in New York City period, and if it wasn’t for a very good reason, Santana knew that he would have never come, not liking the congested environment of the city. ‘Give this report, and back to the desert for this gato,’ Santana pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, which had quick directions that he had received en route to the Church itself, and held it up to try and orient himself.

Once he got his bearings right, Santana took off in a blazing run over the rooftops, leaping clear over the streets as he got to them, now knowing that his destination wasn’t too far. With a final, almost impossible leap, Santana jumped from the rooftops across to the Garden, landing on the lowest part of the Garden’s own roof. If Santana was visible, the sight would have been enough to freeze the legendary hustle and bustle of Manhattan, but since he wasn’t, he just closed his eyes, enjoying the rush of air as he plummeted to his destination. At this point, it was beneficial that he was invisible, as he had just missed the roof by a hair, and the average person would have written off the Felis as dead, but Santana, aware of where he was at all times, suddenly opened his eyes, catching the lip of the roof to stop his descent. Laughing to himself from his own personal thrill, he hung for a second to orient himself before letting go, safely falling to the ground.

Once on the ground, Santana, still in his invisible state, weaved around the pedestrians, who were more loosely spaced due to being in the large clearing in front of the garden’s entrance, moving not towards the entrance to the arena, but to one of the many entrances of New York Penn Station, which was underneath the famed arena. He ran, free ran, and slid down the many steps and railings until he made it to the large lobby of the station, finally slowing down to take a look around. Santana’s gaze sharpened as he saw a restroom sign at the far end of the spacious room; unlike the other restroom signs places around the lobby, this one was different, only due to the sticker of a pyramid holding the Eye of Truth stuck on the heads of the male and female figurines. The sticker was in no way obvious, only about the size of a thumbnail, but Santana could see it easily due to his heightened eyesight, which was another advantage of being a Felis.

Santana followed the sign to the restrooms it was pointing to, which oddly had a maintenance sign posted up on it. Santana shook his head as he chuckled; that sign was there as long as he could remember, and he was willing to bet that it was there since the building was first erected. Walking past the sign, he stopped for a second to pull out his identification, flashing a grin at a security guard who was eerily staring directly at him despite his invisible state. Santana held up his card in the security guard’s direction, and after a fit of laughter from both individuals, the guard flashed him a quick thumbs up, granting him access.

Santana kept his humored grin on his face as he walked into what still looked like a bathroom in dire need of maintenance. It was a running gag between some of the security details that patrolled the outer limits of the churches (such as with the security guard, who only saw Santana due to his own status as a member of the Felis) on the ability of people to overlook something staring them straight in the face. Turning a corner, Santana finally de-activated his invisibility as he stared at the large ornately decorated door that stood before him. The door looked to be made of solid onyx stone, with its own polished copper Eye of Truth insignia inlaid in the center of the door. It had no handle, but Santana, like any other member of the Illuminati, knew how to pass the door.

Looking up, Santana saw a USB cord hanging from the ceiling, which he had to admit, was well out of place in this area. ‘They must have a hell of a lot better security than we do back home,’ Santana thought as he grabbed the cord while withdrawing his phone, plugging it in to the jack once he did so. This was the start of ‘unlocking’ the door; a recognition process that verified the identity of anyone attempting to enter. Santana held his phone, a Samsung Galaxy, eye level to his face as a green sweeping laser shot from the phone into his eye, which scanned his retina. Following the completion of this, he was prompted to type in his personal password, which was the second stage in verification.

Once that was done, Santana placed his hand on the center of the Eye of Truth on the door, steeling himself so he wouldn’t flinch. The reason for a potential flinch was twofold: the third part was a small blood sample, taken by a hidden needle in the center of the eye; not only did the needle sting to someone who wasn’t prepared for it, but Santana, who in fact was, still hated needles with a passion. Once that was all said and done, the eye took on a bright yellow glow, before the stone door slid up soundlessly, granting Santana access to the famed Church of Illumination.

_______________________________________________________

As soon as Santana entered the threshold to the world most famed Church of Illumination, he was stricken with a look of disbelief, marveling at the grandeur of the church. He had not expected the entrance hall to be as massive as it was, a good seventy feet long and just as wide, nor was he expecting it to be as packed. It was a good deal larger than the church he was used to that was for sure. The hall was jammed to the max with both other members of the Illuminati as well as other Sovrumano, who had come to the church for reasons of their own. There were people sitting in the many seats and the floor, and there was a fair amount standing around, conversing with one another in conversations Santana paid no heed to.

Shaking his head furiously, Santana remembered the reason he had come this far; he had a message that was to be delivered, personally to the Exemplars themselves. Normally, one wouldn’t just come to the headquarters to ask for an audience with any of the Illuminati’s leaders, especially the Exemplars, but Santana was sent to do so, because of a tidbit of information that could potentially turn the tide of the Illuminati’s current cold war like conflict with Ut Puri in their favor.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Santana walked up to the front desk to find someone to direct him, completely disregarding the long line that was in front of said desk. Santana’s blatant disregard for the line was evident in many of the people waiting in line, but Santana had played it smart by choosing a line that was predominately Sovrumano that weren’t directly affiliated with the Illuminati, so they could not argue with his butting ahead. ‘The perks of having rank,’ Santana thought as he pushed aside a much larger man at the front of the line, getting in the face of the receptionist sitting behind the desk.

“Can I help you?” the red headed receptionist that was sitting at the front desk asked, not even bothering to look up, or even acknowledge Santana’s presence.

Santana took another deep breath, controlling himself from letting the receptionist know how he felt about being ignored. He knew it was probably unintentional, as her job revolved around taking crap from pretty much anybody all day, but Santana wasn’t exactly in an understanding mood. That meant he had no qualms about slamming his palm on the desk, startling the fairly attractive redhead. “Yes,” Santana said in an even voice. “I need an audience, right now, with one of the Exemplars.”

The room, which until this moment was filled with the noise of small talk and ringing phones, abruptly silenced itself. The redhead titled her head, staring at Santana as if he had lost his mind for a long minute before she laughed in his face. “Like you’re the only one here who needs to talk to the Exemplars,” she laughed, glancing at Santana’s ranking insignia pinned to his chest. She started to point to random people in the hall as she spoke, both to prove her point, and honestly finding it hilarious that the younger teen would even make that kind of request. “You’re a mere Corporal. What in the world would make you think you’re important enough to demand a meeting with any of the Exemplars?”

“Yeah,” the man Santana had pushed aside asked, with a heavy Siberian accent. “You’re just a wet behind the ears newbie who thinks a successful mission makes them all that.” Santana turned his head, noting that the man was quite a few ranks above him, holding the rank of Chief. The man looked decently strong, but Santana could tell the difference between a real warrior and a sorry excuse for one, especially with the circumstances that led him to the church in the first place, so Santana tuned him out as if he was never there. The Chief took that as disrespect from Santana, and quickly let his temper get the best of him as he lashed out at the smaller teen. “Get out of here, whelp!”

That proved to be a mistake, as the receptionist bore witness to a little quirk in the ranking system of the Illuminati: Except for the high ranking Judge Magisters of the Divino and the Exemplars of the Supremo that ruled, advancement in the Illuminati was dictated not only by strength, but aptitude. Although this Ursa chief was higher ranked, he was about to find out that the difference in power between himself and Santana was a lot smaller than he had assumed. Santana caught the strike from the Chief in his left hand, before suddenly going lower to deliver a de-habilitating elbow shot to the sternum. The quick yet efficient hit did its job, bending the Chief over like a piece of paper and bringing him to his knees. This had the added effect of dispersing the little amount of self-control Santana had tried to hold on to.

“Now listen up puta!” Santana yelled, slamming his palm on the desk yet again in a rage, his patience spent. “I don’t care about rank, and I damn sure don’t care about your personal opinion, but I need an audience with an Exemplar, NOW!”

“And why should I do that?” the receptionist asked with a blank stare, in no way fazed by Santana’s outburst; she went through this on a near regular basis. “Especially with your disrespectful attitude?”

‘Do not kill, do not kill,’ Santana thought, trying to calm himself. As he did so, he noticed, for the first time, that the receptionist had a computer next to her, and it, like every other computerized piece of equipment in any of the Illuminati’s various Churches, was hard-linked to their mainframe. “Alright,” Santana said, reaching into his other pocket to pull out a folded brown envelope. “Do me a quick favor. Read this, and then tell me if I need an audience. You can use that computer if it’s too hard for you to understand.”

The receptionist gave Santana a dismissive look as she took the envelope from his hand, opening it to see what Santana was talking about. She got to about the second line of the enclosed letter before dropping the whole thing, face paled in a mix of shock and disbelief. She turned to her computer, frantically typing into it to try and make sense of the contents, at the same time nervously looking from the computer to a now pompously smirking Santana. “Is that-?”

“Didn’t believe it myself,” Santana said, his feelings of victory over the receptionist clear in his voice. “But as you can see…” Santana, instead of finishing his sentence, beckoned the receptionist with a circular wave of his hand.

The Chief, however, had no idea as to what was going on, so he made it his business to ask after recovering from the shot from Santana. “Wait a minute,” he asked, not quite comprehending the receptionist’s newfound sense of urgency. “So this midget of a Felis actually gets what he wants?”

“Yes,” Santana said, elbowing the Chief once again, this time solely for his own amusement, before putting him in a tight headlock so he could whisper into his ear. Santana wore an even larger smirk of victory as the Chief’s eyes nearly popped out of his head before quickly putting a fair amount of distance between the two. As he tossed the receptionist a final smirk, making sure she was going through the proper channels to acquire him an audience with the highest in the Illuminati, his mind started to turn, trying to prepare himself for his imminent speech with said Exemplars. They would not want him to mess up, especially considering the subject matter. After all, it wasn’t every day you just stumbled upon the location of a mythical weapon capable of slaying the closest thing the world had physically seen to a god.

Soulbreaker, the bow that put down the indomitable Achilles, had found its way back to center stage.

 

 

Author's Note

I have a few questions surrounding this chapter that I would love feedback from. What is your opinion on the Illuminati in this story, especially with the depiction of them as the 'good' guys, so to speak. Also, what do you think of my 'Sovrumano' concept? As before, reviews are greatly appreciated! :)

Reviews

[The Templar]

Illuminati? *X-Files music plays* Also, very neat concept, I'll definitely make sure to look at the rest *puts on tinfoil hat*