Water could be heard rushing, hot water. The luxury that once was, to many, a common sight. Florian was taking a shower, and though certain areas offered the public showers, they rarely had enough to last more than an hour of usage, so the people had to take showers in under a minute, and pay for it too. Florian slipped on a white coat, his trousers, and his Guardian Jacket. Today like every day fearful of what might happen. "God, have mercy on what may transpire today." This is what he normally said when walking out for work. Living in a compound built by ZetaTech, Florian had coordinated to have an entire street of brownhouses locked down and walled off, with only one entrance- a giant gate made of nano-infused steel. Inside this compound, the lucky few survive in luxury. Mostly scientists, some soldiers, but all under lock and key. Florian was, in a way, ZetaTech's New York baron- he owned the city and had sent settlers out into Connecticut to search for life- and destroy it.
Walking calmly into one of buildings, marked "Security", Florian walked up two flights of stairs to enter what seemed to be a radio room. Now outfitted with laptops and monitors, as well as a traditional microphone hooked up across the city. "Good morning, New York City. This is your benevolent leader, Viceroy. I hope you're all having a wonderful day, today's news comes from my informants. There seems to be a rise in the price of flour and water... Who ever could be behind such a crisis?!" Florian chuckled cheerfully, looking on at the monitors and grinning. "Scream all you like, people of New York. I am spreading my wings, is all. Prices shall return to normal soon- for now, please donate to the Red Cross of New York, they need the help, and anything you can donate- time, money, homemade clothing, is much appreciated. Lay down your arms and join the good fight, to a better future. These price hikes and everything, they are due to those among you wishing for my benevolent leadership to fall. You understand all of you that I am in control here only at the behest of ZetaTech, correct? They could replace me at any time (total bullshit, he's a permanent resident and regional coordinator), so fight against those wishing to go against my glorious rule. There will be bread and circuses for those that obey, hanging ropes for those that go against our Order and our Word. We saved this city once, now we are merely trying to keep it together. Can you not all understand this humble goal?" The people knew he was half-lying, though many believed him due to his sincere work. The Red Cross might have been under his foot, though he allowed them to give medical services and access to supplies at much lower rates than any hospital.
A knock on the door, and in came Florian's boss. A regional overseer from ZetaTech walked in with a crisp suit and a sullen face. "I see you're drumming up support, Hungarian. You make it sound very convincing, truly..." Florian bowed, a smile across his lips. "You ask me to come to this city and turn it into my kingdom- I shall do so. Though my reach may be little in force, the airwaves are mine to control... At least in Manhattan and Brooklyn." The ZetaTech overseer put a hand to Florian's shoulder. "Just know that any more 'experiments', must be approved by us. That's all I came down here to say. The Founder isn't pleased with the number of deaths due to your plans- as great as they are. Your New World device, however, may be put to use. Imagine a microchip, implanted into everyone's wrist or say the back of their hand, that allowed us to activate for each individual person- or perhaps groups in a certain area, the New World. They would be walking, smelling, and breathing a fantasy while living in utter hell." Florian nodded calmly at the suggestions. "I'll use the locals I've saved for the experiments, the old and the sick, if possible. They'd like a few more years of happiness, don't you think?" Florian asked, inquisitively. "I believe you're right, Florian. Again, don't kill 40 in a week... Even if it is to test out a new weapon you don't need to hold a battle royalle literally in your basement." Florian chuckled, nodded. "That was for the adults, not the children. Didn't I kick you guys up a large portion of that money?" The ZetaTech overseer nodded, gritting his teeth. "You're a madman, I should have you hung- yet who would want to kill a true flesh and blood king?" Florian nodded absentmindedly, snapping his fingers for one of his guards on the outside to enter. "Take him away. Throw him to the dogs." The sentences, spoke in his native tongue, would be unintelligable to the ZetaTech overseer. "Tell your boss everything is fine, and then leave, please." The visitor was escorted out courtly, wrote a reply, and was never seen again.
In every building, out of the 8 brownhouses Florian has locked down, each come equipped with a radio that can be turned down, but not off. Spewing the propaganda that everything is safe here, yet that they must be strong to face the outside world. The children are taught mainly in the art of war- however they are also given rigerious educations brought upon by Florian's hired teachers- mainly the poor who once taught at select universities across the globe. Florian was not always coldhearted, though at times the spoken word might enthrall him. Within one of the buildings, the three floors above were converted into barracks for his guards, with supplies being stored in the basement below. There is also a training facility nearby, where the children and teens are taught how to fight, and how to kill. "Your education is the first thing needed to fight this new, mostly uneducated, world. There will be a time when we may relent, yet not in the next thousand years. Hungary, and our kinsmen, will live on in unity and prosperity so long as we fight against the oppressors of this new world. The poor must be brought into the fold regardless of their creed, color, or background for they are the backbone of our economy. We will build factories from the old world, bring it into the new. Help and heal, tear apart any cancers we see in this new world to bring the people back to their former selves." This is an excerpt from what one of the teachers had read aloud to students at 11 years of age, in total, there were 40 of them, all aged 11-17. They lived in the compound, but were trained as soldiers, given Guardian Jackets, the whole lot. The new generation of New York was either sheltered or poor, more or less. The rich lived in the Settlements, Disnai, for one. Florian has hope, yet it is dependent upon his will- for no king can rule without the public liking him. If people outside the compound knew he lived in luxury, they'd probably riot... Thankfully, that has not happened- though there have been rumors of a bounty on his head. Here's hoping it isn't true.