contributed only a small part to the greater equation.
Those experiences proved an epiphany for the young, struggling actor, and his fortunes changed as a result. Yes, he continued to strive to be a great thespian, but he also strived to know who would be at which cocktail party, which executive had an axe to grind with which director, or how to get a screen writer a meeting with a producer in exchange for a part written in to the film for Brad Gannon.
At that moment when he spied the Leviathan towering above the twin tops of the 800-foot tall Metropolitan Government building in Shinjuku, Brad Gannon felt certain that his efforts in playing the Hollywood game had become irrelevant, that he was now nothing more than a face in the crowd running for his life before the next blast of supersonic wind could tear him apart along with the rest of what remained of Tokyo. Indeed, he remembered laughing hysterically as he fled, knowing he had become an extra in a real-life Japanese monster flick.
Not until Spider Sentries and sword-wielding 'monks' attacked the shelter in Yokosuka did Gannon realize his skills might yet have some application. That is when he met one of the missionaries of The Order. Gannon convinced the odd fellow that he could help the man-or, whatever he was-coax the refugees from behind the barricades.
Using a combination of his acting skills and his pre-end-of-the-world status as a celebrity, Gannon managed to do just that. Dozens of Japanese men, women, and children were carted off for parasitic implantation while Gannon survived, intact. He felt he deserved an award for that performance, considering he performed for a Japanese audience but spoke only English.
Gannon did not see himself as a traitor, a sell-out, or a puppet of propaganda. He saw himself as a survivor. One without a Voggoth implant because he proved more useful than the typical drone.
He now found that usefulness to be a curse. His role as an intermediary between The Order, the Witiko, and President Godfrey resulted in constant shuttle trips from the mainland to the base, usually in one of the radar- evading Stingrays. And like his other recent trips, he found himself confronting his leash-holders with Godfrey's demands.
Gannon moved along the organic hall followed by two robbed monks, creatures that had once been human. They were armed with unsophisticated swords as well as growths on their wrists capable of firing some type of lethal pellet.
Gannon knew that when the day came that he angered his masters or lost his usefulness, he might just receive one of those implants and join the ranks of the monks. Or worse. He had long ago vowed to do whatever necessary to avoid that day.
'Greetings, Mr. Gannon.'
The voice belonged to Gannon's contact. At first glance, he resembled a man, perhaps even a priest based on the black clothes he wore. He had a thin frame but broad shoulders; the skin on his face drew tight around his jawbone and his wide eyes seemed afire with life. Old, perhaps, but not elderly.
Gannon first met this agent of Voggoth upon his return to the Americas. Apparently the 'Missionary' suffered a setback on the east coast during the early years of the invasion only to be re-assigned to California.
They had worked together, in secret, after Gannon earned a public position with the California resistance. When the gateways closed and the tide of battle appeared destined to turn against the Witiko, the Missionary ordered Gannon to change from spying to public relations. The result? The California Cooperative.
While not as effective as a complete Witiko victory, The Cooperative-the Missionary often said-still served Voggoth.
Gannon left behind his escort and followed the Missionary along a side corridor into a half-circle room with closed skin-like shutters. Protrusions from the wall served as seats but Gannon did not sit; not when he saw what waited in that room.
The actor bowed his head and addressed the other, 'Your Excellency, I was under the impression you would have departed by now.'
Another human form, this one dressed in an ornate robe of red and gold. The splendor of his garb contrasted with his decaying, flaking skin. Patches of green covered his throat. While his eyes may have once been human, now they appeared as emerald balls with pulsing red veins.
'Mr. Gannon,' the Bishop replied. 'I leave today for other commitments. However, I am quite pleased to see you one last time.'
Gannon felt the hair on his arms stand straight. As much as he had come to accept the Missionary, the Spider-Sentries, and the living machines that were not really alive, the presence of the Bishop caused him a cold sweat. 'I serve, you know, at your pleasure.' The Missionary steered the conversation, 'What brings you here again so soon?' Gannon licked his lips. 'The um, President, that is, Evan, asked me to relay a message.'
Brad knew that his associates would translate the phrase 'message' to 'demand.' The Bishop-as he always did-stood patiently and watched but the Missionary-as he almost always did-showed more reaction.
'What is it this time? We have already begun cleansing operations. After all we have done for him, he had best remember that he serves Voggoth.'
Gannon coughed. He knew President Evan Godfrey did not, in any manner, work on behalf of Voggoth. Godfrey had never even met one of The Order's ambassadors. To Godfrey, Voggoth remained just another alien invader and a convenient ally against Trevor Stone.
While Gannon did not feel compelled to recap all that, he did feel the need to remind, 'Evan Godfrey does not think he serves Voggoth at all.'
The Bishop spoke in a soft, almost sympathetic voice, 'No, his kind never do.'
'Well, yeah, but the point is the President would like you to, well, he requests you finish up what you're doing and get it over with. I mean, he'd feel a lot better with Trevor Stone dead.'
'How dare he dictate to us,' the Missionary pounced in a manner Gannon felt sure was for the Bishop's benefit. Despite how inhuman these creatures had become, they still maintained a trace of human weaknesses. Ambition, in the case of the Missionary. He certainly served Voggoth, but made sure his service was noticed.
Gannon said, 'Well, now, from his point of view you gained a lot. He's just asking that you finish it up. For his sake, you know?'
The Bishop said, 'We have only had access to Stone for a week. More time is required for blessed Voggoth to be satisfied.'
Gannon paused and cocked his head. In the silence, the steady hum-almost a breathing sound-of the complex filled the room. 'Wait a sec. I mean, you've had him since day one. That's, like, six or seven weeks now.'
The Bishop enlightened, 'Do you think we were prepared for this? In short order we arranged for the necessary pieces in the plan to deliver Mr. Godfrey into power. Do you know how great a sacrifice this was? Hundreds of Voggoth's children slaughtered in order to cover the truth. We asked only that Stone be given over to us, intact, for the greater glory of Voggoth.'
Gannon remembered those negotiations. He remembered how Godfrey insisted that Stone could not merely disappear; his body-a body-needed to be seen by the public.
'Yep. I mean, yes, your Excellency, I am aware of this.'
The Bishop appeared agitated. Whatever lurked beneath his robe squirmed. Gannon gulped. He did not want to know what waited behind those covers.
'Yes, we received Stone and before the tranquilizer dart wore off we put him into stasis…to wait until we were ready.'
'I don't get it. Ready?' Gannon glanced around the room but thought of the entire complex. 'You've had this place out here for months. You weren't ready for Stone?'
'This facility, yes, but not what we needed for Stone's arrival.'
The Bishop turned away from Gannon and glided toward the shuttered windows. Those membranes pulled away, revealing the room to be an observation area looking down on a much larger chamber.
Gannon hesitantly followed to the plastic-like windows.
Over the years, Gannon witnessed many iterations of The Order's machines. He once viewed a field of gestating Lesser Guardians, first mistaking them for massive fungi before knowing their true purpose. He once met with a contact in Japan at an implant growth and processing assembly line.
Still, in all his experience he learned little about the technology used by his masters. The equipment, the walls, and the apparatus that served Voggoth appeared to be alive; organic. Yet what little human intuition remained in Gannon's beaten mind told him that Voggoth's machines were very much not alive. They were, it
