The third man sat down at the table. True to their natures, the first two had already ordered food. The new arrival frowned at the sight of pancakes topped by two scoops of warming butter. He looked at his watch.
"It's four in the afternoon."
The other man spoke around a mouthful of syrup-coated pancake.
"Hey - breakfast is served all day. Pure luxury. I'll take it while it lasts."
Putting his greasy burger down, the last man broke his silence. "This needs more mayonnaise. How's everything?"
The man's voice tapered off as the waitress approached. He didn't bother to glance at a menu.
"Ice cream. Vanilla, or whatever you have if you're out of that."
The waitress nodded, tucked her menu back under her arm and walked away.
The man placed his hands on the table and played a brief bit of air piano, scanned the room, then leaned forward. Before he spoke, the pancake-eater swallowed a particularly large chunk and cut in.
"Relax. No one knows we're here. Hell - who even knows about us?"
"Sorry. I just had a tense trip."
The burger man finished off his cola.
"...and me. Good to go."
Everyone knows Saminga isn't the brightest fire burning in Hell. In fact, he's a bit too dense for his own good. He's missed the obvious point that simply killing people doesn't advance Hell's cause much, but he's also really passed up some major opportunities for death and destruction. Sure, there's war, but there could be WAR, and Saminga just doesn't have the wit to plan for it.
Fortunately, there are some slightly clever blokes bumping around in Saminga's middle echelons. Totally devoted to Saminga and his deathwish for humanity, they've given some serious thought to doing things in one fell swoop. The Cold War is over, and that slight relaxation in war tensions, though it may make Malphas unhappy, hasn't really reduced the number of weapons of mass destruction all around the world. Saminga missed the boat all these years, but his motivated servants aren't. They're going to do it. The whole world, all at once.
So how will they pull it off? These servants of Saminga are mainly Shedim, who have spent years familiarizing themselves with military procedures, using hit-and-miss methods to jump ever closer to those who control nuclear weapons all over the world. Once they all have access, the button will be pushed and their lord Saminga's plans will be fulfilled.
Of course, Saminga could never take this kind of success from his minions, so he'd probably disband their Forces on the spot. They're only smarter than Saminga; they're still not all that bright.
The three men made their final farewells as they walked out of the restaurant. Suddenly, a young man found himself sitting on cheap vinyl, with a barely-touched club sandwich in front of him. Outside, several pigeons broke from a large bunch gathered on the roof, each one shadowing one of the men.
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