Chapter 11
The Broadcast
The meeting in the great hall concluded, the lords of the Third Kind rising from the table to disperse into the night. Their true forms, flickering and monstrous in the candlelight, passed by me with a series of nods and guttural grunts. My brothers. So full of arrogance, yet so blind to the true nature of the enemy. I had no patience for their petty squabbles. The real work was just beginning.
As I turned to leave, Lord of Flies, Number 3, stopped me with a dry, buzzing sound. He floated a few feet in the air, his cloud of insects a frantic, humming vortex. "A moment, Lord Light," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly drone. "A word, if you will."
I stopped and faced him. His eyes, two brilliant pinpricks of light in the insect cloud, held a cold, unwavering intelligence that separated him from the others. He was the one who saw the bigger picture, the one who understood the true threat.
"You have done a great job in your role for everything," he said, and for a moment, his voice was free of the buzzing. "You've proven your worth. But your father will need you to continue performing well. There is more to do."
I felt a familiar wave of unease at the mention of my father, the one they called Lucifer. The supreme ruler. The victim. I hated the term, hated the weakness it implied. But Lord of Flies' next words brought me back to the present.
"We need to put in place the system," he continued, the buzzing returning to his voice.
I understood. The next phase. The one that would secure our final victory. I simply gave a cold nod. "I understand."
Without another word, he and his swarm of insects vanished into the darkness. I returned to my Rolls Royce, the feeling of purpose replacing my earlier distaste. The car moved silently down the mountain, leaving the mansion behind. I was in my element now. The planning, the orchestration, the grand manipulation—this was what I had been born to do.
I arrived back at the world capital, the grand new White House I had built. I walked through the quiet, pristine halls, my mind racing. I found my agents in the command center, their faces pale from the events of the last few hours.
"Set up an emergency broadcast," I commanded, my voice cold and calm. "Connect every speaker, every radio, every phone, every television screen. Global broadcast. I need to be seen and heard by everyone, everywhere, at the same time."
My agents moved without hesitation, the command center coming to life with a frantic energy. A few minutes later, I was on the main stage, the bright lights shining down on me. I looked directly into the camera, knowing my image was being beamed to every corner of the world.
"Hello, people of the world," I began, my voice clear and reassuring, the very voice that had promised them peace and unity. "We are in a dire situation. We are under attack by forces unknown, and our unified military has been unable to stop this catastrophe. But I have found a way to save mankind."
Light held his hand up to the camera, a small, dark tattoo visible on the back of it—a symbol of my loyalty to my brothers. "To stop these creatures, you must get a mark on your hand. It will indicate that you are not a threat, and the creatures will leave you be. Any and all institutions, hospitals, public offices, will provide the tools you need to receive the mark. As you can see, I already have it, and I have been left alone by the beasts, as have many of my staff. It works. It is crucial for mankind's survival."
My image was calm, my words a balm to a terrified world. I gave them what they craved most: a lie wrapped in the comforting blanket of hope. I looked into the cameras, my gaze unwavering, and knew they would believe me. They always did.