Dodge This! (Reptilian Conspiracy Thriller)

[Molly Mirthless]

Having grown up with The Matrix and The X-files, the wilder side of conspiracy thrillers have always been a guilty pleasure (I mean, people actually believe this shit, man- that's scary), and I've always wanted to try my hand at writing one.

So! Here it is!

Drawing from The Matrix, The X-files, UFO and Ancient Astronaut conspiracies (hello, van Daniken), Indiana Jones, Conspiracy X and Dark*Matter, and of course Assassin's Creed, I present Dodge This!, a scifi action-thriller romance with globe-trotting heroics, themes of abuse of power, the eternal struggle between tyranny and freedom, the strengths and failings of violent revolution, the futility of the concpiratorial mindset, how much of a fucking moron David Icke is, and last but far from least, how hot it would be to be rescued from certain death by a latex long coat-wearing badass assassin.

~o0o~​

(Bare with me- I'll be a bit organizing everything.
Note: uses AI and photoshop art.

 

[Molly Mirthless]

Name:
Simone Sable (human identity)
UNPRONOUNCEABLE (birth name)

Spoiler

Species: Reptilian shapeshifter
Apparent Age: Mid-twenties
Actual Age: ~200-250 years old (born circa 1775-1825)
Lifespan: ~700 years (still young by Reptilian standards)

Physical Description (True Form):

• Yellow eyes with slit pupils
• Long prehensile tongue
• Enhanced strength, speed, healing
• Reptilian features (scales, claws when manifested)

Physical Description (Human Form):

• Dark jaw-length hair, slicked back
• Blue-green eyes (color varies with lighting)
• Pale skin
• Lean, athletic build

Personality:

• Professional, competent, reserved
• Deeply committed to freedom and autonomy (Romantic philosophy)
• Performs "effortlessly cool human woman" but the persona has cracks
• Reptilian dragon-like tendency toward drama, ceremony, and status displays (cannot help herself)
• Blunt, direct in communication

Skills:

• Speaks 15 languages fluently (French, English, Mandarin, Arabic, Russian, German, Italian, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, Hindi, Swahili, Hebrew, Cantonese, Reptilian)
• Expert combatant and assassin
• Skilled ar infiltration and disguise

Abilities (Reptilian):

• Shapeshifting (appears human)
• Greater-than-peak-human strength
• Enhanced speed and reflexes
• Accelerated healing (minor gunshot wounds heal in days)
• Hearing extends into ultrasonic range
• Night vision with slit pupils
• Extreme poison/toxin resistance (caffeine and alcohol have almost no effect)
• High metabolism (needs significantly more food than appears)

Background:

• Lived through: French Revolution, Napoleonic Wars, both World Wars, Cold War, digital revolution
• Present during La Belle Époque (1871-1914): drank absinthe at Le Cabaret du Néant, moved in Symbolist/Decadent circles
• Met Romantic poets including Lord Byron in England
• Inspired by Romantic Luciferianism (Byron, Shelley, Blake)—the rebel angel, freedom from tyranny
• Witnessed the Taxil hoax unfold in real-time
• Joined the Awakened (rebel faction) sometime in her past, driven by Romantic ideals of liberation

Cultural Influences/Humansona:

• Film: The Matrix (seen 47 times; Trinity is her template), La Femme Nikita (1990), Le Samouraï, Underworld series (guilty pleasure), Léon: The Professional, French Neo-Noir, early Bond films, Atomic Blonde, Ghost in the Shell (1995), philosophical cyberpunk in general
• Literature: Gnostic texts (Nag Hammadi library), Sartre, Camus, Marguerite Duras, Foucault, Deleuze. Cyberpunk

Quirks:

• 'Loses' her earpiece frequently when she "doesn't need help" (drives Kassandra crazy)
• Drinks coffee black (French press or espresso only; American drip is "an atrocity")
• Coffee and wine are purely for taste/ritual—no physiological effect
• Needs to "den up" in darkness after large meals (reptilian digestion)
• Eats meat very rare (almost raw), in quantities that would concern humans

Relationships:

• Kassandra: Collegial working relationship with her Mission Control; respects her skill but frustrates her constantly
• Morgan: Developing feelings she doesn't know how to process; sees Morgan as someone who truly sees her real self

Gear:

Kevlar-lined ankle-length leather coat. Slim, closely-tailored. Advanced bulletproof tech.
Twin custom FK BRNO Field Pistols with hypertech suppressors in shoulder rigs.

Spoiler

Twin boot stilettos.
Kerambit at the small of the back.
Custom motorcycle.

 

[Molly Mirthless]

MORGAN CROSS

Species: Human

Spoiler

(with trace Reptilian DNA)

Age: 34
Occupation: Horror author

Physical Description:

• Not conventionally feminine—no makeup most days, no heels
• Chronic bad posture from hunching over laptop
• Dark circles under eyes
• Brown usually in messy bun/ponytail
• Wears: hoodies, jeans, boots, band t-shirts
• Small jewelry: trollcross necklace (always), possibly silver rings
• Signature hoodie: black with Jack Skellington, text reads "I'm A Nightmare Before My Coffee"

Personality:

• Blunt, direct communication style
• Introverted but has close friends
• Humor as defense mechanism

Background:

• Horror author with small but dedicated fanbase
  • Final/Girl- moderately successful, she HATES it
  • Blackwater Parish- exorcism/religious horror, ambiguous theology
  • Blackening the Roots- Appalachian folk horror
• Writes smart horror: philosophical, character-driven, genuinely disturbing, but also gory and shocking
• Uses real name despite it sounding like a pen name (autistic bluntness/refusal to perform)
• Parents were "goths in the 80s" (hence the name)

Skills:

• Research and pattern recognition (writer skills translate to investigation)
• Knows forensics/cleanup from horror writing research
• Creative lateral thinking under pressure
• Good with information synthesis

Pets:

Lovecraft: orange tabby cat, screams at nothing,

• "He hates dogs and fish—it seemed appropriate"

Criminal Record:

• One traffic citation (ran red light)
• One night in county lockup
• Extensive music piracy (ISP sent multiple cease-and-desist letters before she got VPN)

Quirks:

• Wears trollcross necklace to ward off internet trolls (knows it's fake Norse paganism from 1996, doesn't care)
• Forgets regular meals, lives on coffee/instant ramen/protein bars
• Can cook but rarely bothers for herself
• Apartment is organized chaos: books everywhere, coffee mugs on every surface
• Pirated SO. MUCH. MUSIC.

 

[Molly Mirthless]

THE GRAND DIRECTORATE FOR THE ORDERING OF THE WORLDS

Type: Reptilian shadow government/conspiracy
Philosophy: Order, control, stewardship, stability

Spoiler

Core Beliefs:

• Humanity is dangerous—brilliant but self-destructive
• Without guidance, humans would destroy themselves (nuclear war, environmental collapse, etc.)
• "We are the gardeners. Humanity is the garden. Left untended, it becomes overgrown and chokes itself."
• Reptilian superiority (we're older, wiser, more advanced)
• Stability and survival outweigh freedom
• "This world is ours- we have ruled since the wheel and fire."

Full Formal Name:

• "The Grand Directorate for the Ordering of the Worlds"
• In Reptilian: [Unpronounceable ultrasonic frequencies] translates to something even MORE pompous
• Also called: The Directorate, The Stewardship, The Concordat (various formal sub-names)

History:

• Been on Earth for millennia
• Guided human civilizations from the shadows
• May have started with genuinely good intentions (preventing human self-destruction)
• Power has corrupted over time
• Low birth rates, genetic bottleneck

Organization:

• Massive bureaucratic structure
• Multiple departments, specializations, committees
• Centuries of precedent and protocol
• Clear hierarchy with formal titles and ranks
• Shadow control of: finance, government, intelligence agencies, religious organizations, corporations, think tanks

Aesthetic:

• Roman Empire meets corporate branding
• Marble, gold, clean architectural lines
• POWER displayed through ceremony and grandeur
• Classical imperial style
• Everything is a status display

Puppet Organizations And Stooges:

• The Work: Secret Opus Dei faction (they think they serve God, don't know masters are reptilian)
• Cells embedded in: intelligence agencies, corporate boards, think tanks, religious institutions
• David Icke and other famous conspiracy theorists: counter-reliables, fed exaggerated information in order to discredit the truth

Exonym (what Illuminated call them):

• "Demiurgic Collective"—insult implying they think they're creator-gods shaping reality but are actually misguided tyrants playing God, and too stupid to realize it.

Relationship with Humanity:

Collecting genetic data on entire populations, maintaining control over government and religious institutions from behind the scenes

 

[Molly Mirthless]

Type: Rebel faction of Reptilians and human allies
Philosophy: Freedom, self-determination, enlightenment

Spoiler

Core Beliefs:

• Humanity deserves self-determination, even if they make mistakes
• The Directorate has become corrupt/tyrannical (may have started with good intentions, but power corrupts)
• True evolution requires risk and freedom
• Both humans AND Reptilians deserve autonomy
• "We are not jailers. We are not parents. We are not gods. We are gonna kill us some lizard-fascists."

Founding/History:

• The Schism: broke away from the Directorate at some point in history
• Inspired by various human liberation movements
• Many members influenced by Romantic era philosophy (Byron's "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven")
• Multi-generational rebellion (some second/third generation rebels)

Symbolism:

• Primary symbol: Eye-and-pyramid with REPTILIAN eye
• Very Illuminati-coded (intentionally provocative)
• "We ARE the thing you fear, and we're fighting for your freedom"
• Gnostic resonance: the eye of enlightenment breaking free from the pyramid of control
• Graffiti tagged in cities where they operate
• On gear, weapons, safe houses

Organization:

• Underground headquarters (literally) in another nation
• Cell-based structure (compartmentalized for security)
• Mix of Reptilian operatives and human allies
• Humans in support roles (hacking, intelligence, logistics)
• Despite claims of equality, probably has rank structures they pretend not to care about but definitely do

Aesthetic:

• Rebellious drama vs. Directorate's imperial classicism
• Punk rock/anarchist visual language meets reclaimed Illuminati-style visuals
• Black leather, tactical gear, street art
• Still Reptilian though—cannot help the peacocking and ceremony
• Argue for HOURS about exact shade of green for the eye symbol

Known Members:

Seattle Cell-

• Simone Sable (field operative, assassin)
• Kassandra (Mission Control, hacker)
• Lizard Dave (armorer)
• Others unnamed

Relationship with Directorate:

• Active war/conflict
• Directorate sees them as dangerous terrorists/traitors
• Illuminated see Directorate as fascist tyrants
• Both sides engage in espionage, sabotage, occasional direct combat
• Using human proxy organizations against each other

Naming:

• "The Illuminated" = those who see the truth, broken free from the Demiurge's prison
• Directorate calls them: terrorists, traitors, the Schism, apostates
• They call Directorate: "Demiurgic Collective" (insult—"you think you're creator-gods but you're just tyrants")

Weaknesses:

• Internal ideological debates (how much violence is acceptable?)
• Resource limitations vs. Directorate's vast power
• Generational trauma (fighting a war for centuries)
• Dragon tendency toward status competition even within "egalitarian" structure
• Risk of becoming what they fight against
• Risk being mistaken for those they fight against by outsiders

 

[Molly Mirthless]

Seattle, Washington. Tuesday, May 12, 2026. 22:47 PST.

Rain hammered the warehouse district with the kind of cold persistence that turned the Puget Sound into a study in grey. Water streamed through gaps in rusted metal, pooling on concrete that hadn't seen maintenance since the tech boom killed whatever industry had operated here decades ago. A playground for urban explorers, and a perfect breeding ground for crime.

The agent moved through the abandoned building with practiced silence, boots finding purchase on debris without disturbing it. Handmade, British, custom reinforced toes and heels. Solid. Reliable. Surprisingly stylish.

Third floor. Northeast corner. Once an office, the window offered good visuals.

Sightline confirmed.

A typical operative would have brought a rifle. Maximum distance, maximum control, clean shots from three hundred meters and gone before the bodies cooled. But the agent had never been typical.

Two pistols emerged from shoulder holsters- matched pair, black-finished, angular lines that suggested they'd been designed by someone who thought conventional firearms lacked ambition. The pistols were custome pieces, based on FK BRNO Field Pistols, Czech engineering, with modifications no armorer outside certain circles could replicate. Custom hypertech suppressors added weight to the barrel, made them look even more like props from a film that hadn't been made yet.

The agent checked both magazines with movements worn smooth by repetition, then holstered them again. Close-quarters work, then. Personal.

Across the gap between buildings, light spilled from ground-floor windows of another warehouse. Newer construction, or at least maintained. The kind of place that appeared on no commercial listings, that neighbors learned not to ask about.

A high-powered monocular was removed from an internal pocket, adjusted, and used. Visual assessment: six figures. No, seven. Four standing, armed. Two more by the door—perimeter security, shifting weight like amateurs trying to look professional. And the seventh, zip-tied to a chair in the center of the space.

The target.

No. The objective.

Civilian. Female. Early thirties by appearance. Wearing—the agent's expression didn't change, but something in the stillness suggested restraint—pajama pants with a pattern that might be moons or stars, difficult to tell at this distance. Fuzzy slippers, ears flopping as she shifted in the chair. A hoodie with some kind of cartoon skeleton.

Not dressed for action. Taken from her home, then.

One of the armed figures was talking, hands gesturing with the theatrical fervor of someone delivering a speech they'd rehearsed. The seated woman's expression cycled through confusion, fear, and- the agent noted with faint surprise- irritation.

The agent's fingers drummed once against a thigh, then stilled. Waiting.

The armed figures were fanatics. The tattoos visible even at this range confirmed it- religious iconography, dense text, the kind of permanent commitment that marked true believers. They would monologue. They would explain. They would give the bound woman a chance to repent, to understand, to accept her fate.

Fanatics always did.

The agent could wait. Would wait, until the speech reached its peak and attention turned inward, focused on salvation and damnation rather than the perimeter they should have been watching.

A rifle would have been safer. Cleaner. Snipe from the window, never even entering the building until all targets were down. More professional by any standard operational doctrine.

But they'd stopped caring about doctrine somewhere around the third decade of service.

Also, they would have to kill all six in a very narrow window of time, before any had the opportunity to scatter for cover, and by the time the agent had made it into the other building, multiple targets could have escaped; worse, the objective could have been terminated.

Unacceptable.

Down the fire escape, across the street, and through the unlocked side door. The target building had a catwalk overlooking the warehouse floor that would provide ample opportunity for further reconnaissance, if needed.

Across the city, in tunnels that predated the current street level by more than a century, servers hummed. Screens glowed. A voice would be speaking into a headset, monitoring, coordinating, preparing extraction routes and emergency protocols.

But here, in this moment, there was only rain and patience and the weight of matched pistols in leather holsters.

One of the armed figures pulled a phone from his pocket. Checked it. Nodded to the others.

The agent's hands remained loose, ready. Not reaching for weapons. Not yet.

Below, the speaker was reaching his crescendo. Arms raised. Voice carrying even through glass and distance. The bound woman said something sharp enough that even without audio, the body language read as profanity.

The agent's lips curved, barely. A human gesture, quickly suppressed.

Professional. Focused. Ready.

Soon.

But not yet.

Not yet.