HETMAN OR HITMAN?
LAW OFFICES OF SULLIVAN & CROMWELL
125 Broad Street, New York City – 18th Floor
Heinlen and Father Dimitri stare out of the floor-to-ceiling glass panorama that their huge mahogany conference table is facing. Plates of catered sandwiches and documents cover the surface of their work area. A bank of phones is being worked by four paralegals, each diligently following up on this detail or that – everything that is or ever has been involved with the Estate of Father Semyon Thaumaturgus, known to Heinlen and Father Dimitri as Simon Magus.
Sullivan & Cromwell Senior Partner Jonathan Avery has left the room – having been summoned by the Governor of New York to discuss a new Port Authority of New York and New Jersey project on the Brooklyn waterfront. But from the moment Heinlen walked out of the elevator and emerged in the carpeted, classically appointed, regally decked-out suites of rooms occupied by the very apex of New York legal Brahmins, he felt like a circus freak.
Everybody’s eyes broadcast the same perplexed gaze: “This is the guy our immensely rich former client left his breathtaking fortune to?”
While Partner Jonathan Avery is unfailingly gracious, articulating his properly clipped words in a Mid-Atlantic-accented baritone – as he sits below his Yale Juris Doctor Degree – everything about the scene is brutally condescending.
It sucks.
Talk about a non-holistic environment. An irksome, gnawing caveat keeps rattling around in Heinlen’s brain: “You’re gonna’ trust these people with your property and legal affairs?”
Heinlen didn’t need a career in law enforcement to see that if he was on fire, this bunch of silver-spoon boobs wouldn’t piss on him to put out the flames if he wasn’t Simon Magus’ heir and now-wealthy successor. They’re a crop of highly paid Bullshit artists, swimming in a Manhattan money pool.
A den of vipers.
When hotshot lawyer Avery returns the party really starts. It’s astounding – almost surreal.
Heinlen actually grinds his teeth when he hears just how rich he’s become. And that’s when everybody pours-on the ass-kisses. They bow and scrape to him like he’s Pharoah. It’s sickening. Even Vampyres are less lacking in verisimilitude. After fifteen minutes of listening to Grand-Poo-Bah lawyer Avery drone his saccharine spiel and butchered high-society word pronunciations, Heinlen reaches for his phone and scrolls his contacts. He makes his selection and taps “call”.
Peter Xiang-Li, Attorney at Law in Warren, New Jersey picks up on the third ring. Heinlen talks into the phone confidently – unabashedly viva voce – in front of Avery and Dimitri.
“Peter? Heinlen here. Take down this phone number (he leans over Avery’s desk and reads the numbers right from the lawyer’s phone). He’s a Partner named Avery – at Sullivan & Cromwell. Yeah – THAT Sullivan & Cromwell. You’re gonna’ call him here tomorrow. I’ll stop by your place later. You available? Good. I’ve come into some money. Winner-winner-chicken-dinner….Bye”.
Alrighty then, Mr. Avery! That’s my personal lawyer in New Jersey. Peter Xiang-Li. I want you to take his phone call tomorrow. We’ll be communicating henceforward through him exclusively. He’s a dear friend and I trust him implicitly. He is your sole point of contact with me from here on in.”
Avery bolts up from his desk but almost leaves his dropped jaw behind – drooling on his blotter. His face flashes red as a road flare. He’s never been spoken to like this in his entire career. His mouth silently twitches and his eyelids can’t seem to stop fluttering.
The shocked lawyer heads for the exit. His farewell is typical, spoiled-rich soyboy slop – as Heinlen expects.
“You’ll excuse me, please…you may use the room for as long as you require….But before I take my leave, I must personally give you this box.”
Heinlen takes the box from his hand. It’s exquisitely carved and approximately 2 ft. X 6 in. X 3in. He nods a perfunctory “Thank you.”
The paralegals in the room follow Avery like cocker-spaniels at his heels. Finally, Heinlen and Father Dimitri are alone. Dimitri looks devastated. He’s incredulous.
“Have you lost your mind? What is happening?”
It’s high time Heinlen clears the air.
“Don’t think me ungrateful for my inheritance, but – make no mistake about this – I didn’t ask for it. I’ve always made my own way in the world and I’m not about to give up being the Captain of my own ship now. These blue-blood Wall Street law firms are all CIA fronts to eavesdrop on and surveil people our government see as a threat to their power. Most of these Ivy League, big-money guys are all on their payroll. It’s the CIA “Old Boy Network”.
There’s nothing in Simon Magus’ Last Will and Testament that conditions my inheritance -his devises and bequests – to me as his Heir. Translation? There are no strings attached to my money. There are no conditions precedent that I must comply with in order to take what’s mine. There’s nothing that says I must agree to handlers and spies- like Sullivan & Cromwell and their stooges. I don’t want handlers and spies.
“Alright. We’re alone. Please tell me what you meant the other day when you said there are things about Leeds that I should know”.
Father Dimitri’s countenance becomes grim. But Heinlen isn’t about to take no for an answer. He leans on the cleric even harder.
“This is why Simon Magus made me his Heir. Don’t you get it? He knew I was decisive. That I made decisions. That my judgment was sound. That I can smell Bullshit a mile away – and that I’m nobody’s Bitch. He knew I would be faithful to his Mission – but do it My Way.
“If you’ve got some information about Leeds that I’m not privy to, now’s the time. Please, Father.”
Father Dimitri fixes his face and tries another tack.
“Perhaps we can discuss this over dinner at Raos’ in a more neutral setting…a more salubrious, convivial environment…”
Heinlen is firm.
“I need your answers now, Father. They’ll be no Rao’s later. I’m heading back to ‘Jersey. Talk to me of Leeds. Please. All of it. From the beginning.”
“As you wish, Hetman”, he says softly.
Father Dimitri complies – but doesn’t mince his words. From the get-go, the Priest doesn’t hide his being disgusted by the topic. To him, it’s a dirty business. Blasphemous.
His tone is strident.
“I will be direct and as factual as I can be – after all, I am not a scientist.
I will reveal confidential information entrusted to me by Vatican Library personnel and science advisors – as well as other “Specialists” and “interested parties”. These people are primarily physicists at the CERN Physics Research Facility in Geneva, Switzerland. The Vatican keeps in close contact with scientists working at the Large Hadron Collider there. These days, Religion and science are becoming two sides of the same coin.
Bottom line?
Our Earth is much, much, much older than we ever thought. Modern physics has proved this beyond a doubt. Earth’s geological record goes back almost 5 Billion years. Complex life forms have existed on Earth for at least 500 Million years. Far longer than any evidence of their existence – artifacts, tools, ruins, bones, etc.- could possibly be detected by archaeologists. Human beings have only been around for – tops – about 325,000 years. That’s Thousands of years – NOT Millions or Billions.
Human Beings are clearly the new boys on the block.
There was another species that, in Earth’s earlier period, evolved, industrialized and vanished. They grew wise and technologically proficient. They ultimately took another form – inter-dimensional beings – manifesting themselves on another plane of dimensional physics yet still keeping in contact with Earth via (in the immortal words of Albert Einstein) “spooky action at a distance”.
Recent “Thought Experiments” by scientists have posited a hypothetical scenario that an earlier civilization may have existed on Earth. See the 2018 “Silurian Hypothesis” article in the magazine Science by Dr. Gavin Schmidt and Dr. Adam Frank. They only scratched the surface of a theory that hard-core physicists at CERN and the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland have since established with scientific certainty.
The truth about Earths’ primeval species is stranger than humans can imagine. Earth’s “original” race were entities of Reptilian origin, as the “Silurian Hypothesis” authors posited as only a theory. This original race was certainly not mammalian. Scientists are convinced that Reptilian-Dinosaur DNA was its core makeup. The leading candidate-progenitor was probably Troodon Formosis, an extremely intelligent, bipedal Reptile that was highly adaptive and communicated with its brethren, demonstrating advanced social skills and ingenuity.
In any event, these entities evolved over millions and millions of years. They had a tremendous head start on humans and achieved an extremely high level of technical, scientific and social sophistication. They mastered physics and built machines that took them beyond the stars.
We refer to them as simply “The Old Ones”.
Ancient human writings in Sumerian cuneiform and carvings found in India seem to suggest that the Aldebaran star system wound up to be their final home. Other archaeological remnants of records mention the mysterious Anunnaki Planet “X” as being their refuge in a great war that took place eons ago – a war that had devastating physical and climatological effects on Earth.
We know that The Old Ones eventually withdrew from the Earth that spawned them and ultimately evolved into an interdimensional form. With their mastery of physics this would have been child’s play for them. Despite their existence outside of our physical realm, they keep up an intense interest in what is happening here on Earth – and the humans that have displaced them as the Masters of its surface.
The Old Ones exist. They have their own Ethos. Their own Mindset. Their own Rulebook. They have quite literally saved Earth in the past from profound celestial and physical catastrophes. Epochal earthquakes and floods documented in the Sumerian Tablets were probably events that The Old Ones shielded mankind from. Why? We don’t know.
Once humans evolved to a point where they showed undeniable promise as a species, The Old Ones set about altering human DNA to make the race more resistant to disease and increase human intelligence. The DNA of these experimental subjects became slowly absorbed into the human genome as we know it today – effectively “jump starting” our evolution into high-gear.
Their efforts at hybridizing human mammalian DNA with their own Reptilian bloodline, however, was fraught with difficulty. A very select few subjects survived – and even today their numbers are extremely limited. The Old Ones monitor all offspring of their hybridization efforts. They lord over them as proud parents. “Helicopter Parents” is an analogous popular term for their obsessive interest.
The Old Ones protect their own.
A hybridized Reptilian-Human can access the “Hive” consciousness of The Old Ones. Leeds is a hybridized human. She is part Reptilian – a large portion of her genome is non-mammalian. She has many of their strengths and psychic abilities. Unfortunately, we know few of their weaknesses. Her IQ is extremely high. Her physical strength is extraordinary. She cannot reproduce with a human male – only with a hybridized male of her race.
Yes, Hetman! Leeds is a different Race! She was not bred to be human. She was bred to supersede – to replace – humanity.
Can she love? Does she have the capacity to worship God? Who, then, is her God? Does she have an individual will – or is every decision she makes dictated by loyalty and devotion to her Hive?
I fear that Leeds is not a soul for whom Jesus died on the Cross! The Holy Church cannot countenance nor abide a relationship with such an abomination. She is a cross-bred, hybridized Human – Reptile. A desecration of God’s handiwork. She is a sacrilege, a profanity that mocks everything Jesus offered up his life for. Roman Catholics consider these beings “Infamita” – an infamy. In the Orthodox Faith, we call them Demons.
Guard your soul from this dark entity! Deny her your grace! She is a Succubus!”
Heinlen stares at Father Dimitri for what seems to be an eternity. Somewhere deep inside his guts, he wonders if he’s fallen headfirst into something he doesn’t understand – and he’s sinking. He reflects on the vertically slit pupils in her eyes…. they haunt him like a nightmarish flashback. His head is spinning.
Can this be? Is Leeds a Demon? A Succubus? Is she a Witch? Is his soul in peril?
Suddenly – as if she is listening in – he gets a text from Leeds.
Speak of the Devil.
A color picture and message.
A picture of a gold ring. A snake eating its own tail with red rubies for eyes. An Ouroboros. Next to the ring is the fire-blackened lower jawbone of a Vampyre with two enormous canine teeth jutting out of it. Next to the jawbone are two additional Vampyre teeth – also fire-blackened – looking like a dentist extracted them. Each are at least two and one-half inches long.
Her text accompanying the photo is intriguing.
“Interested”?
Heinlen texts her back – with visceral trepidation. How can he not?
” It’s my Mission.”
*NO PART OF THIS WORK PRODUCT IS AI GENERATED
Copyright, 2026 – Jon & Jedediah Croft
www.bogironfoundry.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
