A Triumvirate Brairton’s minions slipped through a barely noticeable fissure. The tear would close shortly. Despite the increase in their regularity the breaches rarely stayed open very long. To the three insidious spies, the stink of the new world was almost unbearable. But in time the triumvirate would each become so used to it they would scarcely notice it at all. That it poisoned them they did not know. Brairton was not in the habit of informing his operatives of fatal consequences. Their programming precluded any thought beyond the mission they must complete. In this Brairton had been exact and had performed the necessary rituals himself. Each had their mission branded into their being. They would travel together for some time but then slip off to their secret destinations one by one, never to see each other again. The threesome latched on to their individual targets and began their particular brand of individual mis...
I write therefore I am