The cloak fit The Dark Lord perfectly, the only part of Mahon that remained fit for a trophy. At least the day wasn't a total loss on that count. A powerful potential enemy eliminated in a particularly painful and satisfying fashion.
Dealing with the battle on the steps of The Assembly would be harder to get any sort of satisfaction from. Fortunantly he had one of the greatest spin artists of all time in his possession.
The right Honourable President of The Assembly sat in her cell and waited. The wardrobe was full of slinky outfits cut to flatter and show her perfect immortal body, the bed was soft and springy with satin sheets, lacy comforters, and pillow cases, but there wasn't so much as a book or sheet of paper in the whole lavishly appointed room. She sprang to her feet when she heard the outer door crash open and closed again, and then her most ardent suitor and admirer entered the room.
"LET ME OUT YOU BASTARD!" She shrieked as she ran at him, but then she suddenly lost her focus and found herself wrapped tightly in his arms.
"My silly child," The Dark Lord smirked, "you know that I can control your body with hardly a thought, I can make you do anything I want, when ever I want. I can even make you not mind. I can even make you like it."
"You're disgusting!" She spat, and felt well rewarded by the twinge of rage that crossed his face.
"Quite, so, I believe you said so many times during the last couple elections." He sighed, feigning sorrow and weariness, "Not that it matters now. I won't be intruding on your mind, of course, it does too much harm to your creativity and original thinking. Both of which I loved long before I gave you that perfect eighteen year old body. Besides, if you weren't still useful to me you'd have been marching on the steps of The Assembly with the first wave, just like the rest of your caucus."
"You don't honestly believe that you can cover this up." She asked incredulously. It was odd that the arrogance of the creature could still astonish her.
"Of course not, madam president, but it can be spun, it can be turned from a death blow to a mark on my foes. With the right words, the right explanations, it can be remade in my image."
And then, for a fleeting instant, a glimmer of hope sparked somewhere deep inside her and the course became clear. She tried to break away, but his grip was inhumanly strong. He didn't even seem to notice what she did to him with her knee. "And you want me to help you win. But I won't, not now, not ever. You can do what ever you like to me, with me, but I will not help you."
"Oh but I think you will. I may not be willing to alter your mind, but what about your children? Your daughter would be a lot of fun, I could use her up and turn her out on the streets with just a little more intelligence left than a miniature poodle. Or your son, perhaps I could turn him into a monster. Imagine the scandal of the president's son being a serial killer and multiple rapist. Or maybe I could use your ex-husband to destroy your daughter. That would be fun, wouldn't it?"
She went limp, sobbing and he dropped her roughly. Then he chuckled. "The funny thing is that the Simple People were right all along, you know? Plasmodic Conversion really does put you completely at the mercy of those who supply it. We can re-write the hearts and minds of all the rich, important people, make them say the words we want, make them think what we want, believe what we want. And little by little, one person at a time, I am consuming humanity's humanity. And one day, we'll ferret the Simple People out of their enclaves and crush their Free Robot allies and there will be a new race, immortal, perfect and all at my command."
He paused and glanced distastefully at the weeping woman at his feet. "Aren't you at least going to tell me that I'm mad? That I'll never get away with it? That any minute now some cleft chinned muscle man will break down the door, kill me and whisk you away? Pull yourself together, help me, and you can live in the kind of paradise you always fought to create: no war, no hunger, no waste, no crime, no death; just a perfect race, carefree as children, frolicking in well groomed parks."
She reached out for his hand and he helped her up. The plan forming in her head, was he so full of himself that he wouldn't see it? Would he really let her lead him on to his own destruction? She would have to do it ever so slowly, break down and end up in his arms ever so slowly. And if he guessed, if it all went wrong too quickly, it would all be for naught. But then she had nothing left but time.
Folding her arms resolutely she forced her voice into a flat, anguished tone, "What you have to do is express your sorrow and dismay. Don't try to explain it, let the pundits fight over it like stray dogs. Just be sad and hurt and confused, show compassion. Loosen up a few laws and cut a few taxes so it looks like you're trying to do better. Then get caught in some little scandal and the whole thing will just melt away in the endless flow of babble."
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes, but it is not all." he said with a rakish wink, and then with a swirl of his ridiculous cape he left the room.