CHAPTER 142: Insurrection-11

CHAPTER 142: Insurrection-11

Several hours later…

The lit sign read "Days of the Believer – Munich 2025," and an echo of voices, laughter, and absurd theories filled the huge pavilion. There were stands with flying saucer models, posters of politicians with reptilian eyes, metal mannequins representing "government androids," and a lady with a megaphone shouting that the Earth was hollow.

Marcus walked through the crowd with his hands in his pockets, visibly uncomfortable. Beside him, Agnes looked at everything with a mix of fascination and secondhand embarrassment.

"Have you ever dealt with something like this?" she asked, raising her voice over the general murmur.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, observing a stand where a man sold "Area 51 anti-radiation amulets."
"Yes," he replied with a half-smile. "In the thirties, in New York. Fénix and I. But we weren't hunting conspiracy theorists… we were helping Marius's army. We were part of his squad, and, well, also…" he shrugged, "we robbed a bank. Things from another time."

Agnes looked at him with wide eyes.
"You robbed a bank?"

"Let's say it was part of the plan," said Marcus with a tired sigh, looking around. "But that was before everything went to hell."

They walked a bit more among aisles crammed with theories about presidential clones and messages in water. Marcus watched her out of the corner of his eye.
"Tell me something, Templeton. Why do you idolize Fénix so much?"

Agnes lowered her gaze, nervously playing with her fingers.
"I don't idolize him… I just admire him," she said, though her tone betrayed her. "I've read all his reports, seen the recordings of his missions… how he survived Berlin, how he protected Enid when no one else could. He's someone who lost everything, but still keeps fighting."

Marcus nodded in silence.
"And that's why you admire him?" he asked in a softer voice.

Agnes looked at him sincerely.
"Because I want to believe that someone can go through hell… and still be human afterwards."

Marcus observed her for another moment, then looked away towards a sign that said "Politicians are Programmed Clones."
"I hope you're right," he murmured. "Because if not… none of us will come out of this hell as humans."

Agnes and Marcus entered a large room set up like a motivational talk. Folding chairs aligned, a small stage with a microphone, warm lights, and a huge sign on the back that said:

"KNOW THE TRUTH – THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW"

They sat in the third row. Slowly, it began to fill with people: entire families, young people with aluminum foil hats, men with homemade printed signs. Agnes leaned towards Marcus and whispered:

"This is where it all started. Elena gave talks like this. She won over thousands by saying exactly what people wanted to hear."

Marcus frowned.
"Idiotic topics, you said."

"More like… desperate topics," replied Agnes.

Just then, a man waving a flag entered, wearing a shirt that said in giant letters:

"ELENA STRAUSS IS THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD"

He sat in the front row, hands together as if waiting for the Messiah. Within seconds, triumphant music played. And Elena entered.

Perfectly dressed. Impeccable smile. Rehearsed movements.

"Thank you, thank you from the heart for staying awake!" she exclaimed as she took the microphone. "The media keeps trying to hide the truth, but you are the true people."

The audience exploded in applause and shouts of "Wake up, Germany!"

Elena continued, in an almost messianic tone:

"The governments of the world are replacing important humans with intelligent holograms."
"Vaccines are designed to erase specific memories and change political opinions."
"There are hidden hands that decide what dreams we have at night to control us without us knowing."
"And listen carefully… vampires exist, and some of them already control banks."

More applause. Shouts of "We knew it!".

Marcus watched her, without blinking.

How the HELL do these people believe this nonsense? he thought.

And then, what chilled him:

"But if I am elected president, we will create a national spiritual shield, a mental protection network that will shield every German citizen against global manipulation."

More ovations. Tears. Absolute fanaticism.

Marcus exhaled very slowly.

"This woman isn't dangerous because she lies. She's dangerous because they believe her."

Elena finished her speech with absolute theatricality.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes with irrefutable proof," she said, raising a golden folder. "Don't let them tell you what to think. See you soon."

Ovation. Shouts. People running to get a spot for the next talk as if they were giving away eternal salvation.

And then the fan in the white shirt—the one with "ELENA STRAUSS IS THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD"—stood up very seriously, without greeting anyone, and slipped into a side corridor forbidden to the public.

Agnes touched Marcus's arm.

"Marcus… let's follow him."

"Why?" he murmured, not moving yet.

"Because those sick fanatics always know more than they should. And if Elena trusts anyone… it's her most loyal fanatics. She trusts them more than her guards."

Marcus looked at her for a second… and nodded.

Both followed him stealthily through the convention—between stands of "Europe is controlled by psychic gnomes" and exhibits of "scientific proof that the moon is solid and inhabited by reptiles"—until the fan entered an unfinished service door.

Fresh cement. Unpainted corridors. An empty room used for materials.

The fan entered a room at the back.

Marcus and Agnes stopped before the doorway. Marcus discreetly pulled a 22mm pistol from his coat and placed it in Agnes's hand.

"Take it."

Agnes froze.

"WHAT? Marcus, I don't—!"