The news surprised him, though.
Mr. Door and Mrs. Door had been found dead in their home without any reason. No break-in, no theft, nothing was missing. Everything was orderly put where it was supposed to be put. Heart-attack? Maybe,
The police and coroners were investigating. So said the radio.
Of course, when he heard the news, he was sitting in his office working and the news gave him a powerful internal happiness. Of course, it was something he hoped for. Something he had waited for so long.
Two less, he thought. And he was happy.
Something has started. He thought again with a smile of satisfaction. But he was surprised, nevertheless. His words had been listened? He believed so, but he still had hard time to believe it.
They were not humanity, they were aa scam. They did not deserve to live. They died. And it was what they deserved.
He watched the garden outside the office window. It was February tenth. His birthday. That was a great present made by a great donor.
He liked watching the street from above, behind the steamed-up glasses of the window, from the third floor of his office.
It was like fluctuating above the passers-by, who kept alerted their attention on where they had to put the feet along the sidewalk. The ice was insidious. It had snowed between 3:00 and 4:00 pm. And it was very cold out there.
He was invisible, he watched without being watched. It was like...like being dead. And he liked being a dead man. There was a freedom in it. There was a subtle tell in it that spoke of another world.
Luke lately had made himself a monk to gain holiness, to gain more power.
Just when you are holy you have the power to ask and obtain. That was what he learned soon, from the very beginning.
He remembered that vision. A woman of light offering him an iron sword.
And now it wore that weapon on his left, ready to be unsheathed like a sword. That weapon was given for the first time to Saint Dominic when she appeared to him.
He understood that he had in his hands the most powerful of all the weapons of the planet earth. He could fight being along in his battle, in communion with the greatest centre of energy imaginable. Ever.
Mr Door was found sat in front of his computer. No signs on his body.
Mrs Door dead on the toilet bowl
No evidence of murder. They just were in their pyjamas—expensive silk pajamas and negligees.
The only anomalous thing that had been detected was a persistent aroma of rose, that remained even after opening all the windows. And there were no roses in the house. No roses in the huge park surrounding the house. It was winter. It was very cold. The lake before the house was iced.
The death of the couple was raising discussion about the causes. In the beginning, the police suspected them of having committed suicide but in the end, they couldn't find any valid reason for their death.
The Media were flooded by news about their death. It had become a global subject.
Mr Door and his lady were full-time philanthropists. They liked to be called philanthropists. They had invested billions in philanthropy. They did what they did for humankind's sake.
Through their foundation, they made billionaire investments in helping people all over the world. They both acted as a messiah. Their principal purpose was to save the world from a cataclysmic disaster. Above all preserve humanity from infectious diseases and pandemics. The world, the entire planet had defined them, heroes and saviours of human gender.
Luke would have never envisioned this happened. But it did happen. It had truly happened.
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