Rasputin’s Death
The story of an influencer's end
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It dawned on Rasputin that this midnight meeting served no real purpose. He looked across the massive redwood table at Prince Yusu and began to eat the sweet cakes he’d initially refused. His digitally advanced nano-gut-biome broke down the cyanide-laced pastries and turned them into sugars that gave him a pleasant energy rush.
“Do you have any wine?”
The nervous Prince jumped from his chair, walked to the bar, and fumbled with the decanter.
“Dimitri should be along soon.”
“So you keep saying. These are sickeningly sweet.”
Yusu poured and watched in amazement as the old mystic ingested poison. He glanced at his armband which told him the Duke was less than a kilometer away. Rasputin gulped down his third glass of toxic wine and stood.
“I’m going. Tell the Duke all is well on the front. We will defeat the Makina and their robotic secrets will be mine.”
Yusu rushed to block him at the foot of the stairs. Rasputin’s deep-set eyes reflected confidence and certainty. His disheveled long black hair and beard, rumpled clothes, and ratty hide boots were a strange disguise for an advisor who bent the ear of the galactic emperor.
“Wait, he’ll be here momentarily. I promised you’d relay his message to the Emperor personally…”
“Out of my way.”
Yusu pulled a disrupter pistol from under his jacket.
“What do you intend to do with that?” he exhaled in a huff of a laugh.
“End your influence over our great empire!”
Rasputin stepped forward, shoved Yusu, and the prince fired two blaster bolts into his chest.
Yusu’s hands shook and the barrel of his gun jittered over its victim. He holstered his weapon and looked at the lump of thick robes and hair on the floor. The door at the top of the staircase opened and the silhouette of the Grand Duke blocked the light. The large framed ceremonially dressed man thudded down the steps.
“Why did you shoot him?”
“I had no choice. He was going to leave. The poisons had no effect on him.”
