Lewis!
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It was no secret amongst the general population that Gates was widely disliked even by his own colleagues, in fact, he was the only Councilman one could get away with openly mocking, perhaps even to his face.
More of a rat than a man, Gates barely scratched five-foot-one, he was often seen on state media hovering within the vicinity of Head Councillor Mearsheimer like a bad smell or dancing around having to converse with the attendees at one of the Council's various public events. Worse still, he may appear for one of his infrequent public information broadcasts which were a monument to overwhelming second-hand embarrassment. His speeches were blundering, and incoherent. They were always finished with him slinking away from the cameras with a face as red as a tomato.
It was astonishing that such an overtly comical specimen had landed a position within the Security Council, this was an institution of Overwatch after all. Nobody outside of the Council was really sure where he had actually come from, it wasn't until the blockade of the city that he started his occasional public appearances, perhaps he was nothing more than the wrong man in the right place, his competent superiors had fled and he was all that was left behind, just barely capable of continuing the work of his forebears at a level of efficiency that only just kept him employed and alive.
To British observers with only the keenest eye for old-world politics, Gates may have been recognised for his brief stint as a policy advisor for Tony Blair's cabinet starting in the latter half of 2000. He had come from British Petroleum to act as a liaison and assist the government in all matters of energy strategy and to almost certainly advocate on behalf of BP. Even then as a man in his thirties, his distinctive surreptitious disposition was what mostly characterised his rare public appearances, that and his often dreadful haircut. He was most only sighted in the background of some important meeting or other.
An unnerving thought was prevalent amongst the friends and colleagues of those who had at one point worked for the office of Councillor Jean Girad, a politician who had likely fled with the rest of Genevas Civil Authority. The overwhelming majority of his former staff were simply gone. Scrubbed from the citizen manifest, their datafile inaccessible. Of course, there had been rumours of corruption within the good Councillors department, but nothing that would warrant such a comprehensive culling of the Palace staff.
It was disturbing to think that a man such as Gates, the hallmark of a Napoleon Complex and probable victim of unending and systemic teasing, bullying and atomic wedgies had come to hold such overbearing power over life and death, and perhaps even the fate of Geneva itself.
Only time will tell.
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