Gord Zajac - Major Karnage

“Yes.”

“Good. I offer my congratulations to you, Captain. Melvern had always intended to start up those generators himself. It’s a shame he never figured out how to get them to work. He must be very angry with you.”

“Who’s Melvern?”

She held up her book, revealing it to be another copy of Awaken The Worm Within . She discretely pointed to the blue-haired man on the cover. “He prefers to be referred to as the High Prophet. No doubt you’ve seen his pudgy face floating around the compound.”

Loud squiggling screeches rattled the bars, followed by a woman’s terrified scream in the distance. Karnage sat up in his bunk. “What was that?”

She didn’t bother to look up. “That is the fate that awaits you unless you listen to me very carefully.”

“Was that The Worm?”

“Yes.”

Karnage sprang to the window. “I’ve got to get near that thing!”

“I’m beginning to see why you are wearing the remains of a straitjacket. Do you have a death wish, Captain? If not, then please sit down. You are drawing attention to yourself again.”

Karnage sat down. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Captain’?”

“Why wouldn’t I call you ‘Captain?’ You’re ex-military, aren’t you?”

Karnage scowled. “What the hell makes you think I’m exmilitary?”

The woman sighed. “There’s that poker face again. Let’s go over the facts, shall we? You successfully infiltrated this camp without detection. With very little effort, you were able to get the emergency generators up and running. You are obviously very familiar with the layout of this complex and the technology herein. Not to mention the havoc you caused before being captured. Suffice to say, Captain, you could not have announced your military credentials any louder if you had ridden into this compound on a white horse wearing full dress uniform while rattling your sabre. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“I suppose it does.”

“Good. As you learn more about me, Captain, you will find that I am quite clever. It is only through the most embarrassing series of events that I have ended up in this prison. This is, however, quite fortunate for you, as I am the only person in this compound who can get you out of here alive.”

“And why is that?”

“Up until a few months ago, I was the High Priestess of the Church of Spragmos. You, however, may call me Tristan.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“You’re a terrible liar. I don’t blame you, though. I wouldn’t be pleased to make anyone’s acquaintance in here, either.”

“How are you going to help me escape?”

“I helped Melvern build this religion from the ground up. We used to rule it side-by-side until he got it into his deluded little head that I was planning to depose him and take control of it for myself.”

“Were you?”

“Of course. And I cannot tell you how put out I am that he successfully outmanoeuvred me. If I believed in Fate, I would say she had a hand in this. Fortunately, I do not. Melvern merely got lucky. But now that you’re here, his luck is about to change.”

“Why? What’s so special about me?”

“You, my good Captain, are about to become the Messiah.”

Tristan read from her book. “‘And he who has truly heard The Word shall step forward and show us The Light. The Guiding Light which will show us The True Path. The True Path to Awaken The Worm Within.’ Et cetera. Ad nauseam. It goes on for quite a while, but I think you get the gist of things.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Have a look outside, Captain. You have brought us The Light.”

Karnage looked out at the floodlights shining in. “That is The Light?”

“Yes.”

“You sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure. I helped write this book, you know. Why else do we call the generator building The Temple of Light?”

“But why didn’t anyone else figure it out? How come nobody else fixed it first?”

“My dear Captain, you give these people far too much credit.

They’re mindless simpletons, easily led around by their noses. Leave them to fend for themselves, and they’ll wander aimlessly, like cows grazing in a field.”

There was another squiggly screech, followed by a scream. “We are running out of time,” Tristan said. “You will be summoned soon. When you are brought before Melvern, announce that you are the Lightbringer at the earliest possible moment. Once you have been proclaimed the Lightbringer, you will declare me as your High Priestess.”

“Won’t Melvern object?”

“My dear Captain, Messiah trumps High Prophet every time. Melvern won’t know what hit him. Just remember to go in there and give a good performance. This will be broadcast all across the compound. You don’t have quite the right look for television. They prefer them younger, and much more charismatic, but it can’t be helped. You do have a sort of sad quality about the eyes when you’re not trying to look so angry. Try to play that up a bit. You’re the underdog in this production. And everybody loves an underdog.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. No matter what happens, no matter what they say to you, you must remain calm. And stay on message. You are the Lightbringer. You have brought the Light. If you repeat it often enough, it becomes true. That is the magic of television. But only if you don’t lose your temper. No one likes an angry monkey. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask of you, then. They’ll be coming for you soon. Good luck, Captain.”

“It’s Major,” Karnage said.

Tristan let slip a small smile. “Is it now? Well then. Good luck, Major.”

They took Karnage to the observation deck of the WTF. Panoramic windows offered a wide view of the pock-marked ground in the canyon below. Remnants of military vehicles lay strewn amidst hillocks of churned earth. A throne stood upon the dais in front of the central window. The room was filled with Spragmites holding D-pads pointed at Karnage. Karnage caught sight of a shock of blue hair off to one side. It was Melvern.

Melvern stood beside a Spragmite holding a microphone who was interviewing him intensely. His face was broadcast on all of the D-Pads hung around the room. He and the interviewer stood in front of a green screen. The monitors around the deck showed them standing in the middle of the testing grounds.

“High Prophet, it has been said that this is our strongest slate of competitors yet. Would you agree?” The interviewer thrust the microphone at Melvern.

Melvern wore a heavy layer of bronze foundation and thick black eyeliner. He looked like a trampy hobo in person, but on the screens behind him, he looked like a golden god. Melvern looked directly into the lens, his gaze sucking in the viewer on the multiple screens. “Miki, I’ve been judging this competition since its inception, and I can say without a doubt that this is the strongest, brightest, most talented slate of candidates we have ever seen. I will be very surprised if the Arbiter doesn’t find someone who is Worthy this year.”

“Do you have any favourites among this year’s candidates?”

The High Prophet laughed. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter what I think at this point. It’s all up to the Arbiter now. As I said, these are all worthy candidates, and if one of them isn’t picked I will truly be surprised.” At this point, he took an exaggerated pause and then shrugged. “But stranger things have happened. The opinions of people like you and I no longer matter. It is now in the hands of The Worm, and as you know…” He looked directly into the camera, his blue eyes sparkling against the black eyeliner. He gestured towards the screen with a single knuckle. “…The Worm is The Word.”