Chapter Twenty Six

Hero's Call: Chapter Twenty Six

Weeks had passed since Xena and Destructo’s hired goons had achieved their first successful bank robbery, leaving his calling card at the scene. Since then, a half dozen other banks have had their vaults emptied, three medical labs had been raided, and a government installation was relieved of some very heavy armaments without so much as a soul being seen. The cloaking device he had provided to his henchers was something of an ingenious device that Destructo would not normally left in the hands of such indelicate brutes, but he was not foolish enough to think that the modern military would not open fire on his men without so much as a warning.

His regime of fear and paranoia was quickly taking root in the hearts of citizens the world over. It did not take a genius to realize that, when the most powerful country in the world cannot keep track of its own weapon stores, their countries were not any safer. Each time his men absconded with a large sum of money or a vial of a deadly virus, it was not just American news outlets that broke the story. The world media was having a field day with Destructo’s heists-by-proxy. It gave him great satisfaction to hear the terror in a human voice, no matter what country they allied themselves with. Much like math and love, terror was the same in every language.

But it wasn’t sitting well with the old Villain. His time was growing short. By his calculations, the rapid aging would force expiration on or around the first of the year. Destructo wasted his plan in effect by that time so that his clone could swiftly take up his mantle and see it through to completion in a body much younger and sprier than his own. His plan was not moving as quickly as he’d have liked. There was no word from Xena or the clone as to whether or not the new Hero had been located or eliminated. The widespread terror was losing its appeal without the world cowering in his presence. He was a man of action, and action would be the only true way to ensure that everything went off without a hitch.

And so, despite Xena’s insistence to the contrary, Destructo sat down behind a desk in his riverside lair to address the world. It was, admittedly, a rudimentary procedure as his henchers were not exactly a top rate film crew. Destructo had created enough equipment, however, that it shouldn’t be any harder than pressing a button or two and point a camera in his direction. The transmitted he had invented would not only take over every television and radio in the entire world, but it would instantly translate his words to the language of the region it was being broadcast to. He needed to be sure that everyone could understand his message very, very clearly.

Destructo was in full uniform, the helmet that blocked against psionic attacks covering most of his head. He sat behind the mahogany desk in an impressive leather armchair. Behind him was a flag with his own symbol emblazoned on it. Even if they did not recognize him right away, especially after the accelerated aging process, they would instantly recognize the symbol. It had been on every news report and in every paper since Xena had first left it on the scene of a crime. It would get their attention, and he would make sure that it did not go to waste.

“Broadcasting live in ten seconds, Master,” Number 1 reported.

“Thank you, Number 1,” Destructo said to his robotic servant.

He was surrounded by henchers holding boom mics and running lights. The hencher behind the camera was fiddling with some last minute adjustments presumably to make sure he looked perfect when his image was broadcast to the world. It had been a long time since he’d made such an address, and Destructo could feel tiny butterflies fluttering in his stomach. It was a good feeling being back in his element. In a few short minutes, the world would change forever.

“In 3…2…” Number 1 counted down. He pointed to Destructo just as the red light on the camera blinked on.

“Citizens of the world,” began Destructo, “I will give you a moment to get your wits about you before I begin.”

He paused for a ten count. No doubt the pirate broadcast would come as quite a shock. Destructo wanted to make sure that they all had time to see the symbol behind him and let it sink in so he had their full attention. He continued.

“Many, perhaps most, of you will recognize what you see behind me.” He held his hands out wide for effect. “It is the symbol that has appeared time and time again over the course of the last few weeks. No doubt it has caused quite a stir among your ranks. I am sure the upper echelons of each and every one of your societies has been in a panic at the implications that the symbol have brought. Analysts around the world have more than likely been doing extensive research on its meaning and origin, trying desperately to make some connection that will lead them to better understand what it means. The symbol means many things to many people. To myself, it is simply a symbolic representation of who I am. To others, it is the symbol of a nemesis, and archenemy. For the world, however, its meaning is simple. It is the symbol of your destruction.”

Again, he paused for a ten count and continued.

“There are few left alive that still remember my name. That has been due, in large part, to the last several decades I have spent wasting away in an arctic prison. I was put there by one of Earth’s last Heroes, Captain Amazing. The man was nothing more than a glorified bully, harassing me at every turn. He is still alive, but is of no concern to me any longer. He wastes away the rest of his days in a retirement home in some no name town in the Midwest. His reward for protecting the people of the world for so many years. I can think of no better fate for the man. Captain Amazing, if you are watching this broadcast, I wish a slow and painful death at the hands of time.”

For those of you who do not know my name, have never had a direct dealing with me in the past, I am called Czar Destructo. Your history books will tell you many things about me, most of which are half-truths or outright lies. But history books are written by the victor, I suppose. I care not how my past has been portrayed. The history books will be rewritten with my own historians behind the pens. I will be shown as I truly am: the benevolent ruler of the world.”

I am sure that you are all wondering exactly what I have in store for you. It is, after all, only human to want to know how complete domination will be perpetrated upon you. I have used many different methods in the past to attempt world domination. There have been robotic armies. There have been invading Atlantean mermen. I once held the moon itself hostage, threatening to bring it crashing into the Earth if my demands were not met. As you have probably guessed, none of these plans have proved fruitful as I had hoped they would. It matters not. Failure is the mother of success. And success will be mine. Normally, I would not stoop so low as to reveal my plan to so lowly an individual as many that are watching this message. I am making a one-time exception in this case as this plan has already been set in motion and is, as of now, unstoppable except for by my command.”

You see, I have become quite fascinated with this Y2K crisis that is rapidly approaching. To a brilliant mind such as mine, the concept is laughable. Whoever created this crisis must have been a struggling newspaper owner contriving to sell more copies of his floundering periodical. Asinine as it is, the Y2K crisis has inspired me. A complete and utter breakdown of all technological systems, setting the world back by decades? Now that was an idea I could get on board with. I have created a single self-replicating nanobot that is capable of infiltrating any computer system on the planet. Every minute it replicates itself, and those replicates will do the same on each subsequent minute. For those of you that are excellent at mathematical calculations, you know how quickly this issue can get out of hand given a single day to run amok. The first nanobot was introduced into the world’s information system three days ago.”

Another ten count. His penchant for dramatics was what had always made Destructo an exceptional Villain.

“I’m willing to wager that every single computer on the planet is now rife with these nanobots. Yet you see now symptoms, no ill effects. That, my future minions, is where things really get interesting.” He produced a small remote unit from a pocket on his uniform and held it up for all to see. “This remote will send a command to each and every nanobot in the system, ordering them to attack. The result will be catastrophic, as I’m sure you can imagine. All systems will be rendered useless and the data therein will be wiped clean. Everyone will be set back to zero.”

I will have no choice but to press this button unless my demands are met. Those demands are simple: submit. Submit to my rule. Submit to my will. Submit, and you will all be spared. You can carry on with your meaningless lives, only you will do so under my regime. I will grant you complete and utter freedom. You will be free to follow my laws. You will be free to praise my just rule. You will be free to obey, or you will be free to die. Keeping in line with the idea of Y2K, the deadline for complete submission will be 12:00 a.m. on January 1^st, 2000.”

If control of the world has not been released to me by that time, America will be used as an example. With the press of a button, the most powerful country in the world will be brought to its knees. The rest of the world will have twenty-four hours from that time to obey or meet the same fate. The choice is simple and I eagerly await your responses.”

Destructo leaned back in his chair and feigned a pondering gesture.

“I wish to turn my focus to another issue,” he continued after a brief silence. “A short while ago, a young man had a rather unfortunate encounter with the side of a house. There was much speculation as to what caused his fragile frame to be hurled through the side of a neighborhood home with such force. The story faded into obscurity rather quickly as my symbol first surfaced not long after. Unfortunately, it was not I who perpetrated such an act on young Mr. Macledowny. I do, however, know who did. Or, rather, I know the kind of person who could. I speak now to this person directly.”

Destructo stood from his chair and walked around the desk. He stood in front of the camera and leaned back against the desk, folding his arms in front of him.

“I do not know your true identity,” he said candidly, “but I do know that your Hero Gene has activated. You have somehow managed to grow immune to the debilitating virus that has ravaged the Hero population for decades. For that, I applaud you. I suspect you were also involved in the resolution of the hostage crisis in Cleveland earlier today, though no witnesses confirm such as of yet. I want to extend an olive branch to you. At 11:30 p.m. this Wednesday night, I will be waiting for you in the lobby of the Empire State Building. You will be welcomed by my side with open arms. Together we can be unstoppable.”

If you choose to side with the forces of good like some self-righteous do-gooder, you will still find me waiting, but you will also find the welcome will be less than friendly. You have a choice, active: dominate the world, or attempt to save it. It is yours to make, and I think I can speak for the world when I say that I eagerly await your response.”

Destructo walked back around the desk and sat down in his chair. He leaned forward onto his elbows and looked sternly into the camera.

“Until Wednesday,” he said calmly. “Destructo out.”

The red light on the camera went out and he relaxed back into the leather armchair.

“Excellent broadcast, master,” Number 1 said encouragingly. The henchers were now scurrying about, deconstructing the makeshift set and dismantling the recording equipment so it could all be destroyed.

“Thank you, Number 1,” he said distantly. His mind had turned to the challenge he had extended.

Now the real game begins, he thought. And what a game it shall be.