At last, the Great and Devious Psycho Gecko has come back to the United Nations! The compound, at least. The organization doesn’t really exist anymore.
It seemed a good public place to answer the challenge from Cercopagis Lysis. It’s part of the nature of men like me and things like him. See, most criminals are in it for money. I’m not talking people who get caught with a few ounces of marijuana or heroin. I get no kick from cocaine. Muggers, identity thieves, con artists, burglars, and so on, they’re in it for money.
You don’t see many people in jail for running a red light. That’s more a matter of convenience, true. Others are crimes of passion. Somebody gets mad, and someone else ends up beaten or killed. Those folks are little better than a dog scratching at a door in a thunderstorm; people whose brains are slaves to animal instinct. Same for the sex criminals. Then they get out of prison and can’t find jobs. They’ve gotten used to an antagonistic relationship with the rest of society. Their friends and even family abandoned them, but at least they bonded with other people in jail. Other people who were in for robbing, burglarizing, and so on.
I am not part of that group. I’m part of a group that cares more about greatness and audacity; inspiring fear and having fun. That’s the sort of criminal who puts on a costume and announces their crime via the United Nations. The kind of criminal who doesn’t want the money. They want the world. Which sounds somewhat romantic until you remember it puts me in the same category as the crazies and the politicians, but that’s being redundant. As a world leader, I count as one of those already. And I’m increasingly beginning to suspect that, despite my earlier firm handle on mental health, I might be a politician too.
I say all this not to justify myself or anything like that, but to explain why it is that I felt in no way phased by a crustacean from another world calling up the entire planet from his hidden moon base. If anything, that’s part of what makes my life so great.
So, this announcement of yet another damn alien?
“People of Earth, I am Cercopagis Lysis, your future ruler.” A bit generic. There needs to be a better way of putting “future ruler.” As someone who has been there before, I know “Presumptive Ruler” sounds condescending. He spoke out from televisions, computers, and radios all over Earth. The radio listeners just couldn’t see him sitting in what looked like the bridge of his ship, a panel of instruments before him. He looked much the same as when his robotic decoy visited: platinum-colored armor plates, a helmet with one horn and one tusk, three arms, all that jazz.
“Your planet has been ravaged by invaders and now by the deranged madman known as Psycho Gecko. I bring you security.” There’s the carrot. THE carrot. Security. You can get anyone to do anything as long as you say it’s about security. Trust me, I know what desperate lengths someone will go to save their own lives. It’s the ultimate way to get people to do what you want. Just highlight all the ways things seem less secure, and abuse it. It’s easy to spot once you know the trick.
“And so it is with a heavy gluback that I must persuade Psycho Gecko to step down…by crashing the moon into your planet. Everything will be fine so long as he steps down and allows me to take his place. He must do what is right for you, or you must do it for him. You have five hours to comply.” He pulled a lever, then pushed a button to end the transmission.
And with that, the moon accelerated. I saw it coming, though the frantic calls of the astronomers made it even clearer. Well, I couldn’t let that shit stand, so I had the folks at Area 51 strap a hell of a lot of helicopters to the anti-gravity engine of the alien spaceship and start flying over to Empyreal City. It couldn’t carry itself in its current state with the changes I made to it. I suppose the human scientists helped a little bit, especially after one of their contracted technicians walked out on his job. Probably thought I was bluffing, not killing him outright with the nanites.
He likely thought different when he got home and took a knife to his husband and son, then himself. I didn’t wait until the next day, with the news. Nope. I let, some might even say “forced,” the rest of the Area 51 team to watch it. Sadly, nobody else wanted popcorn. Can’t say I blame them. Tools kept slipping out of my borrowed fingers for awhile after that.
I brought my own body to Empyreal City to meet it. I didn’t expect Carl to meet me there, though it surprised me when Moai texted back that he was watching after Carl. I tried to get ahold of my old assistant, Crash, but apparently she died in the invasion. There had apparently been quite the lavish funeral. I must have missed my invite.
Oh well, there’s a truckload more where she came from. I’m sure I’ll be invited to some funeral. Maybe an important one next time. Maybe I’ll arrange for Morgan Freeman to have an accident. No, wait…I need him to narrate the hit movie about my life.
The procession from the Imperial plane started with a line of Rio Carnivale women in the bright feather outfits. Sadly, the North Korean twins “forgot” the similar outfits I got for them. Shame. I thought they were more obedient than all that. Still, totally worth it to take that detour down to South America.
My security was handled by a small swarm of Buzzkills, humanoid bee-like people. Their exoskeleton served as black armor for them, and many used giant handheld stingers as swords. Beetrice, their queen, was more than happy to take my calls, especially after finding out I have guy parts again. She’s had a thing for me, keeps wanting me to father the next thousand or so eggs. Something like that. You wouldn’t think insects and mammals could do that, but she’s been pumping this shy guy who used to handle Human Resources for his. I guess you could say he’s now the head of her Human Resources.
The twins and I rode out on a flying Persian rug…or at least a Persian rug being carried by real Persians, chosen for both strength of arm and awesomeness of beard. I’m sure they resented me making them wear the poofy pants and the giant turbans. A Chinese paper dragon ran all around this little parade because I wanted one. I’m Emperor. If I want a paper dragon running around when I walk into a room for an important meeting at the UN with my various zone representatives, I damn well get a paper dragon. Pulling the rear, I had some guys wheel in the giant lobster tank.
I may not have a real dragon for a parade, but at least I have a really big shellfish. And if The Claw thinks his little bribe helped put him in charge of a zone…then he’s right. This thing is cool as polar bear shit.
Well, I went into the big meeting room, which seemed much less full these days. Oh, they wanted to keep up with the meetings of diplomats, despite me telling them the countries no longer existed. Naturally, I used great tact to put a stop to that. I am known for my tact, after all. Such as when the Area 51 folks landed the engine in the courtyard, then blew open the wall of the building so the cameras could get a good view of it as well as me.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Earth!” I started off. “I am your current ruler, not some wannabe who couldn’t even be bothered to save you from the aliens.”
As I went on, the some officers from the Air Force wheeled in a podium with a steering wheel and shifter on it. “And while that asshole up there shouldn’t get Earth because he’s the one who sent the Fluidics here in the first place, I have a much better reason why he’s not going to have it.”
I stepped over to the new podium and turned a set of keys. Outside, the engine groaned a couple of times. “One moment, it’s used…” I tried it again, and it finally turned over. At the same time, other engines positioned around the world also activated. I couldn’t just stick them all in one place and turn them on, not with something as big as the planet. Their geographical distribution worked to my advantage in keeping the planet whole. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to the Earth, after all.
“Now then, I have just activated a series of devices that will accelerate the Earth toward the moon, because I give as many fucks as a panda. Can’t threaten a sociopath like myself into hurting my dear Earthicans that easily, Cercopagis. You now have two and a half hours to surrender and begin moving the moon back into place, or I will move heaven, or at least Earth, to get to that damn moon and kick your ass personally.” I moved the shifter, putting the Earth into drive. I hardly felt a thing, being that close, but I could tell from all the people I possess that those further out from the engines could feel at least an uncomfortable shudder as the Earth began moving.
Behind me, the United Nations’ giant monitor lit up with the alien at his control console. “You fool! You’ll kill yourself and everyone else!”
“Exactly what you wanted. What’s a matter, Cercopagis…chicken?” I flapped my arms. “Bawk bawk bawk, ba-CAW!”
He growled and pushed another lever on his console all the way forward. “Oh yeah? Well you now have one hour and fifteen minutes to surrender, or I’ll go ahead and do it!”
I stomped on the podium’s clutch and shifted again. “Thirty-seven minutes, thirty seconds. The ball’s in your court, alien freak!”
He pushed a third lever. “Eighteen minutes, forty-five seconds! You wouldn’t destroy the world out of such desperation, I know it.”
“Ha! You really don’t know me. I’ve already tried to destroy one world. People need a man of principle like me. They know I won’t take their shit.” I shifted gears, then reached over to push a button. The CD player started up, with the sound of “The End Of The World As We Know It.” I grinned beneath my helmet, not that he could see it, and added, “Nine minutes, twenty-two and-, no just twenty-one seconds now.”
Despite the sound of the music, I heard people all over the world cry out in great pain and anguish as the end began. People prayed and looted. I just stared up into the eyes of the alien conqueror.
Maybe he ran out of levers. Probably I was right about his unwillingness to go all the way. He pulled the levers back with one hand, the other frantically turning a wheel. “Alright! You win this round, Psycho Gecko, but this is not over yet!”
I laughed and joked, “Did the Earth move for you too, baby?” I only downshifted after the astronomers got off their smelly, shit-stained asses to confirm he was reestablishing lunar orbit. Things generally got a bit more orgy-like around Earth once I won the game of stellar chicken. There was a party atmosphere everywhere. I felt like naming it a national holiday even before one particularly dignified and self-controlled astronomer came forward to message me. Due to my little game, it’s now projected to take Earth 366 and one-quarter days for the Earth to orbit the sun.
Happy Emperor Gecko day, Earth!