That was an exaggeration. The correct number was only sixteen tops, and that was being generous because most of those probably wouldn’t have gone all the way to an extinction level event. The earlier Special Advisors had been pussies when it came to estimating what the other side was really capable of.

“Yes, Mr. President, but we need not let yesterday’s patterns hold tomorrow hostage. Franks is a remnant of a more barbaric time.” Stricken managed to keep a straight face as he said that, which was quite an achievement, since his own history was rather blood-soaked, but what didn’t make it into the President’s daily briefings wasn’t his problem. “He’s a relic that needs to be retired.”

“He’s so effective though.”

Yeah, but he’s in my way. But Stricken just smiled and nodded, glad that his eye and skin condition gave him an excuse for wearing his odd persimmon-colored sunglasses indoors, because he had no doubt that if the President saw the hate in his eyes, he’d probably scrap the whole thing and burn STFU down. “He’s Frankenstein’s monster, sir. He was built to be effective, but he’s still a monster.”

“Spare me, Alexander. Your entire operation is based on using rehabilitated monsters, and look how successful that’s proven to be.”

Idiot. You can’t rehabilitate a monster. You can only coerce them into being temporarily useful, then send the docile off into obscurity and execute the uppity. “Thank you, Mr. President.” He dipped his head politely at the ignorant attempt at a compliment. “So you realize that I understand monsters better than anyone, so believe me when I tell you that if any of my recruits continued to demonstrate such erratic, violent tendencies as Franks has, I would have them dismissed from my program.” Dismissed. That was an amusing euphemism. More like fed into a wood chipper, Saddam Hussein-style. Now, there was leadership with panache.

“I don’t know . . . We spend billions on security, and they’re still telling me our single best operative against the supernatural is this old pile of body parts that kids dress up as for Halloween. Hell, there’s cartoons and breakfast cereals based on him.”

“I take it you’ve never met the real Franks in person?”

The President shook his head. “The Secret Service didn’t think that was a good idea . . . This is just so . . . Well, I don’t know. Myers keeps telling me how vital Franks is to our defense.”