[Nepharski]

It should be no secret that people's brains tend to me smarter than the actual people to whom the brain's belong. It's people who want to see whether or not it is possible to bite or hurt oneself, but the brain that says, politely, to the teeth, "Damned if you do." It is because of this subtle piloting that no one ever noticed Rumor Kontrol.

Rumor Kontrol was a grand building with exceptional architecture and banners and smoother, calculated design. But, for all the people who took time to admire it, it might as well have been a rusted old warehouse that smelled of onions because, inheriantly, no one ever looked at it. Despite curiousity's best efforts, the brains of all those not-so-innocent bystanders who were unfortunate to drift or dwell within the mere shadow of Rumor Kontrol, were naturally programmed to blur it out. No one saw it. For all official purposes, it didn't exist, and people knew it didn't exist because Rumor Kontrol took special care to come out and directly announce their lack of existance. Daily. The actual purpose of Rumor Kontrol was often wondered of by those whose brains were not on the same page as everyone elses, because everyone else knew better. Sticking one's nose or any other appendage into Rumor Kontrol buisness was a definite non-survival trait, and those who did anyway never did anything else again.

And so, the hours clicked by.

Deep within the bowls of the unofficial building with it's unofficial staff, an unofficial janitor was unoccicially clearing out an unnofficial office that was, at a change of pace, officially shut down. The desk was carried off for the woodchippers and various objects of questionable existance were hauled off for inspection (AKA to be filed someplace and forgotten about). Finally, the janitor turned to the door of the office, and removed the plate on the front, tossing it into a trash can. The letters V, I, R, and half of G were visible from within the waste. Afterwards, anyone who set foot in, or merely touched the doornob of, the room was disinfected and rushed into the inspection champers (AKA put someplace from where escape was improbable and forgotten about). Shortly there after, the word "Virgil" was erased from all records and newsreels and, eventually, was schedualed to be erased from the general populous' minds when brainwashing was legal again (once every Wendsday). Soon, eveyone would forget he had ever existed.

Well, almost everyone...

Virgil had been incarcerated under the charge of disrupting the Magog Cartel. That was what everyone was officially told. The truth was that he was stealing (His defense insisted borrowing, however) company secrets...and when your company is, itself, a secret, that tends to create problems.

Problems like Virgil.

Fortunately, Rumor Kontrol was well equiped to handled problems, namely by making them somebody elses.

But not this time. This time, they needed to don the gloves themselves. Virgil was to valuable to be killed...

...Yet.

To Be Continued...