Quetzalcoatl stood—or coiled, or whatever it’s called when a snake rests on his tail and gives a speech—before his gathered minions in the hollowed out remains of the Bellagio casino.
“Assorted smelly people in my employ…”
“You’re not paying us,” shouted Jill from the back of the crowd.
“I’m not charging you, though. Think of all that money you’re not giving to me and consider it your earnings.”
“I don’t think…” said Jack, standing at Jill’s side.
“I know you don’t,” said Quetzalcoatl, cutting him off. “And that’s OK. We don’t pass judgment on the mental shortcomings of others here.”
“Speaking of stupid people within our ranks,” continued Quetzalcoatl, “it’s come to my attention that some of you may be wavering in your belief of me. Rest assured, I am still one hundred percent committed to whatever it is I told you I believed.”
“World peace,” said one member of the congregation.
“The dismantling of the patriarchy,” corrected a second.
“Puppies!” shouted a third.
“Exactly,” said Quetzalcoatl. “And I know some of you are also questioning just how and why things got so violent in the general areas I was inhabiting at any given time. The thing about that was, it wasn’t. You’re simply not opening your minds to their… openest. It wasn’t violence at all; it was performance art! The flames you see engulfing this city are the literal interpretation of our ideas setting the world on fire.”
“But,” said Hil, “isn’t that exactly the opposite way a metaphor is supposed to work?”
“Well, they’d clearly be expecting that, wouldn’t they? Metaphorical burning is so played out.”
A large portion of the crowd began nodding in approval. The ones who didn’t—Hil and Jill included—furrowed their brows instead. Quetzalcoatl noticed this mass furrowing and addressed their concerns directly.
“If that still doesn’t convince you to do what I say, just remember that I will kill you all without even a second thought.”
The furrowed eyebrow to raised eyebrow ratio shifted significantly.
“Where are Bill and Phil?” asked one particularly swift and observant member of the Quetzalcoatl fan club.
“Not here,” replied Quetzalcoatl. “Turns out neither of them could fly.”
The raised eyebrow percentage skyrocketed, as did the angle of the raised eyebrows in question.
“More importantly, though, gentlemen and ladies, is that gathering of people not on fire over there,” continued Quetzalcoatl, making his way to the far side of what passed for a room and pointing through the broken wall in the direction of the Eiffel Tower.
“That is a state of being that needs to be corrected.”