February 3, 2013 by Lyn
“For News Flash, I’m Guy Peterka.”
October, 2011. Year 17 of the Addergoole School
“This is Guy Peterka for News Flash.”
The middle-aged white man has lost weight since the last episode. He is back in a suit, but one that clearly fit a heftier man. His eyes are bright, but in a way that looks almost unreal. He is smiling; his smile has the edges of madness to it.
He chuckles a little bit, but clearly is unaware that he’s doing this.
“And I am here in Detroit. Or, should I say, what is left of Detroit.”
He gestures behind him at the smoking ruin of a building.
“Detroit, claimed not only by someone claiming to be Vidar. Vidar, brother of Thor in Norse Mythology, is known as a god of vengeance. What he is here to do, we are not certain, but what we are sure of is that he is, indeed, doing it with a vengeance.
“It is clear that these invaders are here to stay. Not just in Detroit, but all over the United States; not just in the US, but all over the world. We hear every day of more so-called gods claiming territory.
“But that is not what has happened to Detroit. What has happened to the building behind me came at the hands of our would-be saviors. “
Guy begins walking. He trails his hand along the rubble. The touch is intimate, disturbing to watch. He is petting the broken building.
“There are, you see, not just those aliens we have seen, those that have come demanding fealty. There are other alien creatures, those that claim to have lived with us for decades, for centuries, even for dozens of centuries.”
Cut to a studio interview set. The man in the chair looks sleeker, taller, more perfect than is reasonable. He is dark-haired, olive-skinned, with a slender goatee and very long fingers. His voice is the smoothest, most accent-less silken music the listeners have ever heard.
“I was born at the birth of this country. A happy accident, but one that has allowed me to watch the United States of America grow with particular personal pleasure. This is, inasmuch as any territory can belong to any one of our kind, my place, and I will protect it from all interlopers.”
He leans forward, his fists on the table, his eyes very intense. The question from the interviewer is cut off, but his response is completely audible. He raises one perfect eyebrow.
“Arrogant? No. No, I do not think it is arrogant. I have lived here since the seventeen hundreds. I am rather protective. I am protective of the nation, of the land itself. And I will do everything I can to keep it safe.”
This time, they show the interviewer. Guy Peterka, again, looking more alive better-tailored.
“But wouldn’t you agree that it’s the job of the National Guard and our police to keep our country safe?”
The man laughs. It is not, in any way, a nice sound.
“I would like to see what your police can do against a would-be God. I would like to see your National Guard when Mars walks among us.”
Guy leans forward. His fists are on his lap, clenched, and his voice struggles for journalistic neutrality.
“Do you think that your people are that much stronger than normal humans, then? Do you think you’re that much better than us?”
The man laughs again: louder, longer, and with a smile that shows his perfect white teeth.
“Better? That is a matter for quite a bit of debate. But stronger? Oh, yes. Yes, Mr. Peterka, the fae are stronger than the humans. We live longer. We heal more quickly. And we have access to forces you cannot even begin to comprehend. Yes, we are stronger than you.”
Guy leans back. He is smiling. You would have to look hard to see the madness in the smile, but if you know what you are looking for, it is there.
“I think I have some idea.”
“You may. And, if you do, then you know what it is that your National Guard is facing.”
“I have some idea. Tell me, Atheketos, your people may be strong, but they’re old, too. How will they deal with a tactical nuclear weapon?”
“And where would you aim that weapon?”
The scene fades on Atheketos’ perfectly raised eyebrow.
Cut back to Guy, standing in front of the ruins of a building.
“Where, indeed? The problem may have begun with these so-called returned gods, but they were a small problem compared to those who claim to be protecting us.”
For a moment, the scene cuts. We see Atheketos, his hands on fire, the air in front of him rippling. He shouts incomprehensible words, and the building nearby explodes in shards of concrete and metal. People run away, screaming, although the sound is muted. The road ripples, and the fleeing throngs begin falling into gaping pits.
We come back to Guy, who looks solemn and tired.
“Aliens like the ones that called themselves Bast and Kokopeli, like Vidar, like Mars, may be nusiances. But it is the so-called protectors of mankind who are destroying our cities.
“For News Flash, I’m Guy Peterka.”
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