INFAMIA. ⟡ NAME. ⟡ 27, M.
OF ALL THE HOUSES AND FAMILIES THAT PULL THE STRINGS OF THIS WORLD, YOURS IS THE ONE THAT KNOWS POWER BEST. Power, true power, sempiternal and enduring, lies in empire-building, governance. A modern political dynasty that rivals the legend of the Kennedys and Nehru-Ghandis, you were born, bred and destined for greatness. The first son of a family that has shaped the political present and future millions, the weight upon your shoulders is one that even Atlas would struggle to bear. You have borne it all with dignity and gravitas, the prestige synonymous with your name overshadowed only by your innate magnetism. There is no argument or problem you could not conquer with the sheer force of your rhetoric and rationality. Student president, debate club champion, Olympic-qualifying athlete, you were the ultimate golden boy your parents had always dreamed of. Until the whole house of cards came crumbling down upon you. The accident changed you, unleashed something inside of you wild and seething. Now, you would sooner burn an empire to the ground than ever dream again of building one.
DYNAMICS.
VINDICTA. ⟡ EQUAL IN MIND & AMBITION.
Before you met him, you had never known what it was to have a true, indisputable equal. All your life you had been surrounded by admirers and sycophants, those who bowed and scraped and bent the knee for a scrap of your largesse. He was unlike anyone you had ever encountered, his mind a vast and infinite mirror of your own. If it was rare for you to find true friends, it was even rarer you to find genuine contenders. His brilliance and mastery of any subject he approached earned him your immediate respect, and his wit and sharpness of humour won you swiftly after. You compete like its bloodsport, a battle to the death, forever neck and neck to the finish line. You admire his ambition, his zealousness, the hunger that drives him to push harder, farther, faster. It shouldn’t have surprised you, how thoroughly he had orchestrated everything for GULA’S downfall. He was Verdamme’s reigning chess master after all, always thinking ten, twenty steps ahead of his opponents. Ahead of you.
DESIDIA. ⟡ BETWEEN THE SHADOW AND THE SOUL.
How could you have known what he would come to mean to you? You dismissed him from first impression, unimpressed by his insouciance and frivolous devotion to art for art’s sake. Despite your tactical nature, your blatant antipathy darkened the room every time you were forced to share your circle of friends. It was a sort of affliction, a malaise, feverishness setting into your veins that consumed your waking thoughts with how much you wanted to loathe him. Somehow, against your better judgement, he broke you. A lifetime of compartmentalisation abandoned in a lapse of reason. You loved him in between stolen fragments of time and space, amidst all the words that flowed from his mouth in a language you had never heard but wanted to dream in. The unspeakable, abominable truth is, he reminds you of the boy you killed that night of the accident. The lie is that you never told him. For all your rhetorical prowess, you never had his gift for speaking honesty. You should have never told you loved him. You should have lied.
IRA. ⟡ AT THE END OF THE WORLD.
The Fourth Estate has always played a crucial role in defining history, society, and reality as we know it. Your families were close—which is a polite and diplomatic way of saying they were entwined in a mutually parasitic relationship. Her father’s media outlets fed the myth and aggrandisement of your family’s legacy, and in turn your family paved the way for deregulation, tax cuts for billionaires and legislated approval for their casinos and theme parks. In the midst of all this scheming and politicking, you found common ground. A bitter cynicism at the part you would eventually play with your respective inheritances. Together, you watched the world go to ruin, smoking stolen Arturo Fuente cigars and toasting to the wreckage with your pilfered Macallan 25. You entertained yourselves with fantasies about it letting it all fall to decay—striking a match against everything you’ve ever swallowed in the name of family legacy.
OPEN. ⟡ FC: ADONIS BOSSO.
ALT. FCS: Broderick Hunter, Mekhi Alante Lucky, Kofi Siriboe.