The room was dimly lit, the glow from a single overhead bulb casting long shadows across the battered table in the centre. Around it sat The Vanguard, their faces etched with varying degrees of weariness and determination. A map of a fractured world lay spread before them, its edges curling from age and overuse.
For once, the air was calm, but the tension lingered just beneath the surface, waiting to break.
"So," Swift Angel began, his voice steady but heavy, "if we're serious about this, we need to start thinking about what it looks like. What it means."
"World domination," Shaman said lazily from his seat, lighting a cigarette. "Let's call it what it is, mate. There's no sense in dressing it up."
Angel shot him a sharp look but didn't rise to the bait. "It's about saving the world. Preventing the next collapse. If we take this on, we need a framework. Rules. A system that works for everyone."
Fantasia nodded, her expression thoughtful. "We're not dictators. If this is going to work, it has to be a structure people can believe in. Something they'll accept, not just fear."
Fantasia leaned forward, gesturing to the map. "We start with a single, unified authority. No factions, no nations, no splintered states fighting over resources. Just one governing body. Us."
"Us as in The Vanguard?" Shadowleaf asked, her tone sceptical.
Fantasia met her gaze without flinching. "Yes. Who else is capable of overseeing this? We have the power, the resources, and the perspective. The world needs leadership, not petty politics."
Dark Ant nodded, his voice calm and precise. "Agreed. We establish ourselves as the Supreme ruling authority. But we don't run the day-to-day. That's what a parliament is for."
"Ah, democracy with training wheels," Shaman quipped, blowing a smoke ring.
"Parliament won't be a rubber stamp," Ant continued, ignoring him. "It would serve as the voice of the people. Citizens stand for election, represent their communities, and handle legislation."
"And who counts as a citizen?" Shadowleaf asked, her voice wary.
"Citizenship has to mean something," Fantasia said firmly. "It's not a birthright. It's earned."
"Earned how?" Shadowleaf pressed.
"Service," Swift Angel said, his tone decisive. "Anyone who has voluntarily served in the armed forces or a needed profession—doctors, teachers, police—qualifies as a citizen. They've proven they're willing to contribute to society."
"And everyone else?" Shadowleaf asked.
"They live under the system's protection," Angel replied. "They have rights, they have freedom. But citizenship comes with privileges. Voting, running for office, shaping policy—that's reserved for those who've earned it."
Shaman grinned, tapping ash onto the table. "Ah, Starship Troopers, but make it grimdark."
Fantasia shot him a look. "Do you have something constructive to add, or are you just here for commentary?"
Shadowleaf leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "If you're serious about this, then we need to talk about rights. People aren't going to buy into this unless they feel like their voices matter."
"Free speech," Ant said simply. "Absolute. No exceptions. People need to be able to speak their minds, criticise the government, even protest if they want to. Transparency builds trust."
"And it keeps us accountable," Angel added. "If we're going to lead, we can't shield ourselves from criticism."
Fantasia nodded, though her expression was measured. "Free speech is fine. But security has to come first. The armed forces will need a clear mandate: containing super-powered individuals who pose a threat and defending the planet from external threats—alien or otherwise."
"Good luck selling that one," Shaman said, his grin widening. "People love a superhero until they're the one getting flattened by a flying car."
"It's not a question of selling it," Angel said sharply. "It's necessary. Unchecked power is a danger to everyone. If we don't contain it, no one will."
The discussion paused, tension hanging thick in the air. Shaman leaned forward, his grin fading into something closer to seriousness—though his eyes still held their signature glint of mischief.
"And all drugs should be free and legal," he said, exhaling smoke as though he'd just delivered a ground-breaking revelation.
The room went silent.
Fantasia blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You heard me," the Shaman said, leaning back in his chair. "Free. Legal. All of them. You want a utopia? Start by letting people get high in peace."
Shadowleaf groaned, rubbing her temples. "This isn't the time for jokes, Shaman."
"Who's joking?" Shaman asked, his grin returning. "Think about it. Legalise everything, regulate it, tax it. You cut out the black market, reduce crime, and fund all the shiny programmes Angel here is dreaming up. Win-win."
Fantasia's glare could have melted steel. "This isn't a circus. We're talking about the future of the world."
"And drugs are part of that future," Shaman said brightly. "Don't act like you don't know half the world's already stoned. Might as well make it official."
Despite Shaman's antics, the conversation shifted back to the serious matters at hand. By the time the night wore on, the outline of their vision had taken shape:
The Vanguard as Supreme Authority: Ensuring Global Security and Unity.
A Parliament of Citizens: Elected representatives who've earned citizenship through service.
Absolute Free Speech: Unrestricted expression and criticism to maintain transparency.
A Focused Military: Dedicated to containing super-powered threats and protecting Earth from extra-terrestrial dangers.
Substance Legalization (Pending Debate): Shaman's proposal remained a contentious footnote.
As the discussion wound down, the group fell into an uneasy silence. The plan was ambitious, dangerous, and unprecedented. But it was a start.
Swift Angel leaned back in his chair, his wings folding tightly behind him. "If we do this, there's no turning back."
"Good," Fantasia said, her voice firm. "The world's been broken for long enough."
Shadowleaf's gaze flicked across the table, her expression unreadable. "Let's just hope we're not breaking it even more."
World-Shaman snorted, flicking his cigarette into an empty mug. "Breaking things is the fun part. Fixing them is where it gets tricky."
The room lapsed into silence once more, the weight of their decision pressing down on each of them. Outside, the ruins of the world waited.