Chapitre 34: Dropping a lit match into a barrel of gasoline
Chapter 33
Dropping a lit match into a barrel of gasoline
Walking back to the sofa, Nom poured himself a glass of water, and regally sat down. He fired a round into the ceiling, and grinned for the cameras.
"Hello!" Nom said. "My name is Nom DePlume. I'm not here just to make any old boring hostage demands of the American government. That would be useless. By now just about every law enforcement agency in the country is headed towards this studio. Undoubtedly, the Vice President, is being woken up by his Secret Service detail. I don't envy him. They won't even wait for him to put on his slippers. They will carry him to the nearest secured location to preserve the chain of command. This President's codes for initiating a nuclear attack have been deactivated, and no one will take any orders from him so long as they know I'm sitting here with a gun." Nom said pointing a thumb at the President.
"Now, before I make my full speech, I want to offer a few words of advice to Der'Mo News. I'll pepper in a demand or two. First: Anyone who comes into this studio will die, unless I invite them. Second: If you stop broadcasting, I will kill the President. Third: You will open up your feed so that any other station that wants to carry the feed live, can. I will be checking on my phone to see that you do. You have three minutes to accomplish this. After that time, I will check your 'beloved' Pigeon News plus Raptor News to ensure this is getting out. If they aren't carrying me live and unedited, I will begin executing your show hosts. One every three minutes until my demand is met." He pulled out his phone and pressed the voice command button.
"Set a timer for three minutes." He said.
With a beep, a cheery artificial female voice said: "Okay, starting!"
"Tick-tock." Nom said, waving his phone.
He pulled out his three extra phones, arranged them on the table before him and opened one live feed of each major twenty four hour news network: Der'Mo News, Pigeon News, and Raptor News. Der'Mo was live with a ten second delay. Nom glanced at the camera.
"No, you morons! I said no editing. I can see you've got a ten second delay. Yes, I know that the internet bumps it a bit, but not this much. No delay! Pure live!"
"The screen blanked for a second and then came back with a tap of the refresh button. Nom waved a hand and, five seconds later, saw it on the screen.
"That's better." He said.
In a matter of moments, Pigeon News had their anchor announcing breaking news. This was followed by a live feed of the Der'Mo in the Morning set. Raptor News was already live on the set before Nom opened the screen.
Nodding, Nom opened the timer app and disengaged it before the second minute had even elapsed. He set his phone back in his holster and casually threw both arms over the back of the couch.
"So, one more matter of business then. From this angle, I can see the only entrance to the studio. It has a recessed hallway. I can see the shadows of anyone who approaches long before they would be in a position to do anything about me. As you can see, I have the ability to kill and disable a score of people. I did it faster than trained Secret Service agents can respond. Try coming in, and the President will die. That is a promise."
"Now to our main business." He said wiggling into his spot with a boyish grin.
"For years, I have watched in mental anguish as the conservatives of my country piss on liberty. They like calling it 'freedom.' Frequently they do so from this very couch."
"They fuck decency up the ass without the curtesy of lubrication. They shun and demean intelligence, all in the name of a nonexistent sky fairy they like to call 'God.' Their conservative opposition to progress is so strong that they have no decency. They have done everything imaginable, regardless of how inhumanly evil, to stop the advancement of the human race. I am at my breaking point and have decided to act to stop their insanity."
"I have elected to announce, here in the presence of one who lost the popular vote, and yet was elected, that conservatism will no longer be tolerated."
"A few months ago, I went into the darkest of your lairs. I believe you called it Lake Church. There I killed every adult present. That is right, without exception. They are all dead. The last person who was above the age of majority died this morning. I could feel it from halfway across the country."
"I cannot say how I do this, for I do not know. I can only say why. I have the ability to kill simply with a wish. Don't believe me? Look for the survivors in my wake. You won't find any I did not intentionally spare. Look at me, sitting with a gun I don't even need, next to the President of the United States. No one is alive or able to stop me."
"I was Nom DePlume, but I am different now. Like Robert Oppenheimer and Shiva before him, 'I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' I am here to destroy your world, conservatives. I am here to bring you death, religious morons of the world."
"I do not offer quarter, shy of unconditional surrender. I will grant no mercy. Humanity as you knew it, in this moment, is extinct."
"But, being an enlightened Death, I shall first explain to you the what and why that is to come."
"It is vile and disgusting the way conservative humanity destroys the very world! A world that brought us up from the primordial slime to the pinnacle of greatness. It is revolting that mental degenerates are granted liberty to breed at will, all while offering nothing of value to that very posterity."
"Now, I have been accused of being excessively loquacious, so I will dumb this down for the average moron: As of this moment, I am reaching into every human on this planet, in the air above it, in orbit, on the earth, on the seas and in them. All of you are sterile as of this moment. mate all you will, all you will get is rug burn and possibly an STD. Enough is enough."
"In case you are convinced you are simply watching a mad man, just watch. Within a few months at the most, you will see the truth in my words. I have rendered every last human gamete on this planet dead, if it resides in a living human. All that remains are those that rest in fertility banks. I suggest you don't touch those since they too will die the instant they enter the womb."
"Next, humanity is going to change, and it starts now. Effective immediately: exposing a minor to religion of any kind is a capital offence. If I learn of it, you will die. No questions, nor mercy, just an instant trip to the deity of your choice. Exposing non-consenting adults will suffer the same penalty."
"Wealth is hereby abolished. I do not abolish economics, rather I abolish the right of one human to pass on their wealth to another via inheritance and bequest. When you die, your wealth will go to the state to serve humanity, rather than greed."
"All children will be given an education regardless of the wishes of their parents. The need by the state for educated people outweigh the so-called rights of religious morons. That education will be controlled by a board of competent secular professionals, religion and cultural sensitivities will not be taken into account."
"Now if you would excuse me for a moment, America." Death said to the camera.
"Excuse me, Mr. Secret Service agent? Yes, you, the one crawling up the hallway towards the studio. I tried to warn you. But it seems you did not listen. Oh well. So, without my even going near you or shooting you, you are going to die. Hopefully, it will help me send my little message. I wish you to have end stage radiation poisoning. You will have one minute to express the pain you feel in screams, before I silence your vocal cords."
The screams filled the studio, and Death took a moment to check his phones while passing the time. He was pleased to see that all three apps still showed him on a live feed. The screams of the agent rolled into the studio like the repeating waves of a tsunami.
Death shook his head with a depressed resolve.
"I tried to warn you." He said. He glanced at the clock over the camera and patiently waited until the moment passed. With a sigh of relaxation, Death paralyzed the laryngeal nerve of the agent. He would be dead in a matter of hours and conscious for only a fraction of that, given how fast he was crashing.
"Now." Death said standing.
"I have a little speech to make, but it was interrupted. Well, this does feel more real on my feet anyway." He glanced over at the monitor screen sitting by the now deceased director of photography.
"But, I'm a bit out of frame. While I take a moment to adjust the framing on this camera, let's give the government an opportunity to reach out. I am assuming that, by this time, the cabinet has been called into an emergency session to invoke the Twenty-Fifth Amendment. No point in asking for them then. So how about the person I really want?"
"The President may be the usual negotiator in chief for the US, but it is the Senate of the US that ratifies treaties. The US is going to need a treaty with me. So here is what I am going to do. I am giving the Senate Majority Leader five minutes to call in. If I recall correctly, there are satellite TV studios located in the Capital building. Those morons use them for their daily bull shit broadcasts. One must be set up for news broadcasters to just dial into."
"So, Senator, Mr. Majority leader. I want you in front of such a camera on a dual broadcast with me. I'll just save time and negotiate with the man who I need to push through my treaty."
Nom pulled out his phone and activated the timer.
"Tick tock, Senator." He said.
"To show that I am serious, here." Nom raised the .357 SIG he had taken from the Secret Service agent, released the safety, and leveled it at Sunny Torkret.
"Normally, I would simply use my power to kill, but I want something nice and messy to make my point." Nom fired a shot between Torkret's eyes. Shaking his hand, he lowered the weapon.
"Damn, that thing packs a kick!" Nom said.
"Now, before America loses its collective breakfast, I am going to put something over that."
Looking around, Nom decided on the suit coat of the agent whose gun and flak jacket he had claimed. He walked over and collected the garment. He placed it over the impressionist painting Sunny Torkret's brains were slowly dripping into.
"Oh, I forgot the frame needs adjustment! How rude of me." Nom said.
He went over to the camera and raised it to better show him in his preferred standing position. Returning to stage, he checked the time.
"Two minutes thirty-two seconds, Senator." Nom said to the camera.
A quivering male voice came in over a loud speaker in the ceiling.
"Sir, this is the Control Room. Can you hear me sir?" It said
Nom nodded.
"Yes, I can hear you. Is the Senator ready?" He asked.
"We're working on it, sir."
"Good. Why are you wasting time talking to me then?" Nom asked.
"We're trying to set up a video link sir, but we need to get you ready. We need to send in a tech to put a mic on you and an earpiece." The voice said.
"What do you mean? Just pipe the second feed into the monitor screen here." Nom said pointing.
"We will sir, but we can't just broad cast the Senator's audio into the studio." The voice said.
Nom felt like a fool.
"Feedback." Nom said, nodding his head. "Okay. You have a legit problem there." Nom said.
Nom walked over to Tom Glopyy and pointed at his right ear.
"Can you pipe the audio into the ear piece Tom is wearing?" Nom asked.
"Yes. But we would still need the tech to wire you." The voice replied.
"No, you won't. Don't send the tech. I do not have much TV experience. However, I did do a year's internship at a radio station as a tech for the news department, and I grew up running my church's sound board. I'll manage. Is the microphone he has on still working as well?"
"It is a bit crackly after the gun shot sir, but it is sending a usable signal."
"That's fine." Nom said.
He pulled the ear piece from Tom Glopyy's ear and ripped open his dress shirt. The wire had been threaded through on the side, to a transmitter receiver on his belt. The microphone seemed to be wired into the same unit.
"Is this a two-way device?" Nom asked.
"Yes."
Nom nodded. He removed the pair and their control unit. Then he reached into his right front pocket and took out his handkerchief. Pulling the bottle of hand sanitizer from his left front pocket, he liberally soaked a small section of the cloth.
Made from mostly pure grain alcohol, it would not only clean the ear piece, but sterilize it as well. Nom took a moment to clean it and then put it in. The mic he attached to a Velcro strap where his lapel should have been. The control box was tucked into his left hip pocket. Nom pulled out his phone.
"The Senator has twelve seconds. Control Room, can you hear me?" He asked.
"Yes." Came the reply over the speaker in the ceiling.
"Okay, how about you grow a brain, you conservative moron! Try the ear piece. I'm sure the poor people watching this are half deaf from all the feedback by now." Nom said in disgust.
"Sir, can you hear me?" Came the reply in his ear.
"Yes, I can. Can the audience hear you as well?" Nom asked.
"No, they can't."
"Well put your audio into the mix as well. I want the world to hear whatever I hear. Is that understood?" Nom asked.
"Yes." The controller said.
"Now, is the Senator ready?" Nom asked.
"No sir. He is being rushed to a studio, I'm being told they pulled him from the floor immediately." The controller said.
"But he's not there by my deadline?" Nom asked.
"Please sir, we are moving as fast as we can." The voice pleaded.
"Believe me, I do understand that." Nom said.
"But as the orange idiot over there would say, life is about making deals. Well, I depend on people keeping their word when I make a deal. They depend on the same from me. I have no choice but to keep my word."
Nom raised the pistol again and shot Tom Glopyy. His head had flopped to the side when Nom removed his ear piece. The bullet entered just above the ear and painted a surrealistic Jackson Pollock onto the sofa.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone