Che Garcia Hansson
Hell yeah, we’re with the Morninglight. You’ve seen the flyers, you’ve seen our commercials, you’ve probably even talked to some of our good people. Can’t escape the light, my friend. It’s all-fucking-encompassing. Like air. We’re like air. Breathe it. So some people feel a need to badmouth us – big fucking deal! Happened to Jesus, happened to the Buddha, it was bound to happen to Philip Marquard as well. There are some that won’t ever see the light, y’know? They’re jealous of those who do, and they wanna destroy it. The Morninglight is about change, about improvement, about shedding our shells and, you know, sprouting wings. Like a motherfucking butterfly, my friend. We’re all about freedom. About casting off our tired old lives and starting anew, in the light of a new sun. And the end is coming, good buddy, and we need to prepare. We need to help get it done. We can’t sit and wait for the world to turn, no. We need to turn it. We need action. And the Morninglight? We’re all about the action. We’re all about making change happen, and happen right now.
We were, you know, just passing through with our little band of merry fucking hippies when that shit rolled in from the sea like whipped cream on a blueberry pie. But it’s not like the fog caught us by surprised. No, man, this is what we’ve been preparing for. The end of motherfucking days. This is what the Morninglight has been preaching for years. And now? Hah! Now we’ve got the last laugh. We’re laughing our asses off. This shit? This shit is exactly what we deserved. Being prepared, we didn’t really lose anyone… important. We had some dudes run off when it first happened. Got themselves eaten alive. Could hear ‘em screaming in the night. I was, like, good fucking riddance, man. They were traitors. Cowards. They didn’t see the light. They didn’t see that we need this. That the Earth needs change. This is change. This… is change for the better. So we got stuff to keep us safe. We were prepared. Some good voodoo, man, to protect those who believed, those who trusted my word, trusted the Morninglight. Here, we got everything we need, and we’ll stay put until the end comes – and Marquard himself leads us into the brave new world. Oh, I can’t fucking wait.
Beaumont’s got a direct line with Marquard himself. Knows him personally. That’s like knowing someone who knew Jesus, y’know? A red telephone to our motherfucking saviour. The Morninglight saved my life. Beaumont saved my life. Thirty years ago, when we met, I was a wreck. Strung out, man, and ready to roll over and die. Couldn’t move forward, didn’t have anything to live for. But the Morninglight? They gave me hope. They made me see that there’s a future for those who believe in change. I don’t remember the exact details of what happened around that time. I’m pretty sure I was in Amsterdam at some point, and then I woke up somewhere in Scotland – and after that, eh, I have a memory of being in Venice. At some point in there, Beaumont grabbed a hold of me and yanked me back into reality. All I have left from that time is a weird tattoo, a missing toe, and faith in the motherfucking Morninglight. Amen!
The Secret Societies
So you guys, you run around like you’re young gods, like you rule the fucking planet. I gotta say, I thought I was arrogant back in the day, but I was nothing – nothing! – compared with you people. You take arrogance to a whole new level. Say what you will about the Morninglight – and it’s probably all untrue – but from what I hear about your “secret societies,” we’ve got nothing on you. The Templars, they’ll burn down a city to destroy a single demon. What the fuck is up with that? And the Illuminati – look at what they did to this place. Puppet masters who don’t give a shit about what happens to their puppets once they cut the strings. Don’t know much about this “Dragon,” but I kinda like the idea of manufactured chaos. Change, man, It’s what the Morninglight is all about. But I’m betting the Dragon doesn’t have the best interest of humankind on their minds. I bet it’s all about getting power and wealth and control. Us? We’re about setting the human spirit free. About making motherfucking butterflies, man. Go on, pretend you’re a hero if it makes you feel good. Pretend you’re all about saving mankind from the darkness. Go out there and fight evil, get your little rewards, your ranks, your whatever – it probably makes you feel good, right? Like a rat on a wheel, round and around it goes, chasing that little bit of cheese. You’re really something, aren’t you. And you dare criticise us? Motherfucking hypocrites.
A carrier must make a speedy delivery of an important package, but many dangers lurk outside the safety of the camp.
I followed the courier. He apparently failed the “listens well to instructions” part of his orientation week.
The Morninglight is not respectable, but we are unaware of the extent. They are certainly not in Kingsmouth to save lost souls. Continue to tread softly and infiltrate their midst. They are a classically misguided top-down organisation. The sheep are mindless - used to distribute pamphlets and deliver packages. The head, Philip Marquard, is currently beyond our reach, but everything about him is crafted to be perfect: perfect family, perfect dog, perfect teeth. On the other side is Che Garcia Hansson: dead family, dumb dog, rotten teeth. We are interested in what links these opposites, the one called "B." 1E3548891-1
Cassandra of the Morninglight is making a pick-up and would welcome some company and perhaps protection. Che is not comfortable with Cassandra going alone to pick up the package. After your previous help with the courier, he suggests you tag along.
As I traveled further into the maintenance tunnels I ran across Phoenicians. What are they doing here and what were they looking for? Cassandra and I finally make it past all the security traps and to the package and, as I’m about to pick it up, Cassandra stuns me with something called “Black Kiss: A paralyzing incantation, courtesy of the Wicked Witch of the South” and tells me the package doesn’t belong in the hands of the Morninglight. She grabs the package and takes off.
The Cassandra King variable fascinates us. She will be a tsunami in this world. Mt = a log h + b log R = D. We should have suspected that she did not fit the mould of a typical Morninglight sheep. A runaway, yes, but not one who is lost. When she finally strikes the fathomed shores, we will be ready. Having borne witness to these early waves, we can prepare a response to meet her projected measure. In the meantime, continue to take an interest in the inner workings of the Morninglight, and the motives of the one called "B." If even the Phoenicians are chasing their packages, it means they contain much more than pamphlets.