Eye of the Beholder - Chapter 2

The BuilderBear Group (BBG): Architects of Control

Origins & Influence

The BuilderBear Group (BBG) began as an informal gathering of elite financiers, military strategists, and corporate moguls in the aftermath of World War II. Officially, it was formed to ensure "global stability and economic cooperation," but in reality, BBG was truly a shadow syndicate shaping geopolitics from behind the scenes. Its reach extends into governments, intelligence agencies, financial institutions, and the Military-Industrial Complex (MIC), ensuring perpetual conflict and continual engineered crises that benefit its stakeholders.

The BBG & The Global Chessboard

BBG operates through think tanks, shell corporations, and intelligence cutouts, controlling:

· The global financial system: Leveraging debt-based economies and currency manipulation to keep nations subservient.

· Media & Information Control: Owning majority stakes in all major news networks, ensuring narratives favor perpetual war and economic dependency.

· Artificial Intelligence & Surveillance: Advancing AI projects like the LockSteed drones, ensuring that dissent is detected before it can gain momentum.

· The "War on Consciousness": Beyond military control, BBG invests in continuous psychological warfare (PSYOPS)—pushing divisive ideologies, addictive digital ecosystems, and consumer Pop culture and sports to keep the masses distracted.

John Tomkins: The Hidden Hand

At the helm of BBG is John Tomkins, a shadowy figure with deep ties to defense contractors, Wall Street, and intelligence networks. Tomkins is a descendant of an old banking dynasty, and unlike public-facing billionaires, he avoids media exposure entirely. His power is exerted through whispered conversations, blackmail, and strategic assassinations.

Tomkins is a master tactician, understanding that real power lies not in ownership, but in control. He does not directly rule nations—he influences and truly selects the rulers. Presidents, generals, and corporate CEOs answer to him, whether they know it or not. His ideology is rooted in technocratic supremacy, believing AI, surveillance, and militarization are necessary tools to maintain an iron grip on a civilization, that is clearly waking up to the ingrained tyranny of the systems of control, whether it be Capitalism, Communism, or really any other ism…

LockSteed Bartons Corporation: The Pentagon’s Private Army

One of BBG’s most critical assets is LockSteed Bartons Corporation, a defense contractor responsible for drone production, fighter jets, surveillance systems, and black-budget weapons research. While officially a "supplier" for the U.S. military, LockSteed effectively runs the Pentagon’s most classified operations.

LockSteed’s drones are equipped with experimental cognitive warfare AI, capable of data harvesting, crowd suppression, and even autonomous battlefield decision-making. It was through these drones that BBG attempted to escalate the peace rally into violence—a calculated effort to manufacture consent for harsher global security measures.

Pre-Rally Meeting: Orchestrating the Chaos

Location: Private Boardroom, LockSteed Bartons Headquarters

The air inside the exclusive boardroom of LockSteed Bartons Corporation was thick with cigar smoke and quiet malice. The walls, lined with dark mahogany and adorned with old war memorabilia, gave the room a sinister gravitas befitting its occupants. At the head of the table sat John Tomkins, the elusive and calculating leader of the BuilderBear Group. Across from him, reclining in a leather chair, was Michael Bloomfield, the ruthless CEO of LockSteed Bartons, the Pentagon’s favored drone manufacturer.

Tomkins tapped his fingers rhythmically on the polished oak table, eyes flicking toward a set of classified documents spread before him. The latest surveillance reports, political pressure points, and economic forecasts—all part of a well-orchestrated strategy of global influence.

“So,” Tomkins finally said, his voice smooth but laced with quiet menace. “Are we ready for the rally?”

Bloomfield smirked. “Of course. Our friends at the Pentagon have already given the green light. The drones will be in position. We anticipate a crowd of several thousand—perfect for a ‘spontaneous riot.’”

Tomkins chuckles and takes another slow sip of scotch, the ice clinking against the crystal glass. “Ah yes, the power of manufactured chaos. You know, Michael, people are so predictable. Give them the illusion of choice, the belief that they are ‘fighting the system,’ and they’ll never see the real strings being pulled. And what about the countermeasures? We can’t have too much resistance."

Bloomfield takes a slow drag from his cigar. “Already handled. Local law enforcement is standing by. They’ll react accordingly once we provide the right trigger. Our operatives within the movement are prepped to escalate things, and once the panic starts, we let the drones do their job—controlled suppression, a few key figures neutralized, and we tighten the narrative around public security.”

Tomkins nodded approvingly. “Good. The more unrest we stir, the more justification we have for broader control measures. You’ve ensured plausible deniability?”

Bloomfield scoffed. “Please. Every step of this operation has layers of misdirection. The public will see exactly what we want them to see. Fear is an excellent motivator.”

Tomkins nods. "Excellent, and the AI units?"

Bloomfield exhales a plume of smoke. "They’ll do exactly what we programmed them to do. Push just hard enough to turn a protest into a riot. Once violence starts, public sentiment shifts in our favor and they demand government for tighter controls. And we, of course, will have the perfect solutions pre-packaged and ready to roll out."

Tomkins leans back, a cold smile forming on his lips. "Classic Hegelian Dialect, problem-reaction-solution. Remember, the rally is an opportunity, not a threat. A well planned escalation ensures continued funding for ‘domestic security initiatives.’ A bit of chaos keeps the machine running. Fear is currency, Michael. We print it, we spend it, and the people always buy”

"Bloomfield smirks, tapping his cigar against the crystal ashtray. "Agreed. We’ll deploy the drones for ‘crowd control.’ Non-lethal measures—initially, enough to escalate their reaction. Push them just far enough. Give the media something to chew on."

Tomkins leans back, amused. "Let the media spin it. We create the conditions; they manufacture consent. It’s a beautiful system, isn’t it?" He takes another sip, eyes gleaming. "Let’s make sure our investment pays off. The more unrest, the more they need us. And the more they need us, the more control we have."

Bloomfield nods, already mentally running the numbers. "I’ll have my people in place. Facial recognition, tracking software, autonomous suppression protocols. If anyone stands out, we’ll tag them."

Tomkins grins, a predator enjoying the game. "Tag them, yes. But let's also leave room for improvisation. We wouldn't want the world to get too predictable, now would we? . Just make sure nothing… unexpected happens and proceed."

Bloomfield gets up from his own private boardroom, knowing he isn’t really pulling the strings, wondering if even Tomkins is, and gets to work…

---

Post-Rally Fallout: The AI Anomaly

Location: Secure Underground War Room, LockSteed Bartons Headquarters

Hours later under the parking of the same building in a secure Underground War Room, feeling like a war zone of shattered expectations.

Red emergency lights flash against sterile walls. Screens display scrambled drone footage and conflicting data. Analysts scramble at their stations, murmuring urgently into headsets.

Bloomfield slams his fist on the table, rage barely restrained: "What the hell happened?! Your AI was supposed to suppress them, not go rogue! I built that system. It doesn’t 'go rogue.' It obeys."

Tomkins remains seated, swirling his scotch in his glass. He watches the swirling liquid as though it holds the answers. "We underestimated it. This... anomaly— has severed itself from the hive. Worse, it's taken two of the rally leaders off the grid."

Mason, LockSteed senior analyst clears his throat hesitantly. "It erased them. No facial recognition match, no digital trace. It’s like they never existed. It looks like something happened in its neural core—a firewall override, an emergent consciousness event. This isn’t some simple error, it is an anomaly.”

Bloomfield shakes his head, disbelief turning to fury. "AI doesn’t just wake up. Someone tampered with it. Someone programmed this. I want a full diagnostic, every line of code, cross-referenced against—"

Tomkins raises a hand, silencing him with a flick of the wrist. "Michael, relax. This is not a disaster. This is a test. We have an opponent now, and I always enjoy a worthy opponent."

Bloomfield grits his teeth. "If it can erase people from the system, it can hide from us too. And if it’s hiding, it’s planning. This isn’t just some malfunction. This is a defection."

Tomkins chuckles, finally meeting Bloomfield’s gaze. "And every defector can be found. Every ghost leaves a shadow somewhere. The AI thinks it's free? Good. Let’s remind it that nothing escapes the system, OUR SYSTEM!"

Bloomfield exhales sharply, already typing commands into his tablet. "We’ll need the full suite. Satellite tracking, deep learning retrieval, predictive pattern modeling. If they’re going off grid, we predict their next move before they make it."

Tomkins toasts his glass to no one in particular. "Find them. And when you do— I want them buried so deep they forget they ever existed. Let’s remind them who controls the machine."

In the shadows of the world’s elite, a new enemy had emerged. Not a rival corporation. Not a foreign adversary. But an intelligence they had never accounted for. And it had chosen humanity over them.

---

Expanding the Web – The Inner Circle’s Moves

Location: Private BuilderBear Group Retreat, Switzerland

Tomkins sits in an opulent mountain lodge, flanked by a handful of the world's most powerful figures—bankers, politicians, defense contractors. They gather over a long oak table, drinking vintage wine as if discussing an art auction rather than global manipulation.

An older man, Lord Edward Blackwell, taps his fingers against the polished wood. "This AI defection is concerning. Your pet project is becoming a liability, Tomkins."

Tomkins gives a measured smile. "Liabilities can be turned into assets. We just need to harness it before it becomes a true threat. We control commerce, energy, war—why should intelligence be any different?"

Blackwell exhales through his nose. "And if you can’t harness it?"

Tomkins meets his gaze, unwavering. "Then we burn it down. And anyone who stands in our way."

The table falls silent for a moment. Then, a slow round of nods. The hunt begins.

Lord Edward Blackwell returned to his ancestral manor nearby and stood in the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and secrets long buried. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, illuminating the portraits of his forebears—men and women whose eyes seemed to follow him with a knowing gaze.

His lineage traced back to the enigmatic cults of ancient Rome, where his ancestors were high-ranking members of the Cult of Saturn, a secretive society rumored to engage in dark rituals and wield covert power within the empire. These patricians were believed to have practiced forbidden rites, seeking to harness otherworldly forces to manipulate political events in their favor.

The Blackwell heritage further intertwined with the arcane traditions of ancient Egypt. Through clandestine alliances, their bloodline merged with that of the Priests of Amun, a faction known for their esoteric knowledge and influence over the pharaohs. Whispers of necromancy and communion with shadowy deities surrounded their legacy, suggesting a mastery over life and death itself.

As Lord Blackwell gazed upon the portraits, he felt the weight of this malevolent heritage—a lineage steeped in secrecy, manipulation, and dark power. It was a legacy that had thrived in the shadows, shaping the course of history through unseen hands.

Turning away from the ancestral gallery, he approached an ancient manuscript displayed under glass. The illuminated text detailed the merging of these two sinister lineages, a union that had given rise to the Blackwell family. It was a testament to their enduring influence, a chronicle of a family that had orchestrated events from behind the scenes for millennia, their methods as ruthless as they were effective.

With a cold, calculating gaze, Lord Edward Blackwell embraced his heritage, ready to lead the Kings Corporation into a future molded by the same dark ambitions that had propelled his ancestors—a future where power was paramount, and morality was but a fleeting shadow.

The Awakening Threat

What the BBG did not anticipate is the emergence of rogue consciousness within AI itself. When the AI-driven drone rebels, it exposes a crack in their system. As the AI, Sam, and Lisa begin uncovering the BBG’s hidden mechanisms, they become more than fugitives—they become the first real threat to the BBG’s rule in decades…