The Vatican
A ngelo Cardone had been addressing and thanking all his followers across the globe via social media. Looking at his phone’s screen, he saw them gathered everywhere. Everyone was ready for the war on Wonderlanders — known as terrorists in the past.
The genius thing he liked about all of this was how he’d managed to get them to want to fight the terrorists themselves. Some men and woman had guns and knives ready with them, waiting for a signal from Angelo, and then they’d start attacking whatever Wonderlander he told them about.
But Angelo liked the women and men with cooking pans, brooms, and chainsaws better. Not that these home weapons were more effective, but he wanted this to end up in pure madness — if not melancholy.
Angelo smiled widely. There was no point to war if it wasn’t madness. Or it’d be just boring.
“You’ve surprised me, Angelo,” the man in the black suit said. “You’ve surpassed my expectations by far. We’re proud of you. The secret order in the Vatican has been waiting for you for years. We’ve always wanted a pope like you.”
“I know. I know.” Angelo stood up and gulped from another bottle of scotch. “I have to warn you of what’s coming, though. Things are just starting.”
“You have more to offer?”
“Other than just brainwashing people that they have to kill the Inklings everywhere?” He snorted. “Of course. The show has just begun.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Just watch me when I go out on this balcony.” Angelo began walking. “Just watch me speak.”
“But you’ve already told them what they need to know.”
“That was for the people in the piazza,” Angelo said. “Now watch me speak to my followers all over the world. Specifically, my fellow Brits.”